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The man formerly known as Obi-Wan Kenobi stared out at the galaxy through the transparisteel windows of the Imperial Star Destroyer, the twinkling lights and distant planets no longer the novelty they’d been long ago. Even now, years later, he could still hear the digital screams of younglings falling to the hum of a kyber blade echoing in his head. At least by now he was somewhat accustomed to the taste of the bile that threatened to creep up from his throat to his mouth.
Technically, Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi was dead, just as technically, Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker was dead. Both had pledged to Darth Sidious their service; both had let the dark side wash over their flesh and bones even as it ached terribly to do so. Those who took their place became Inquisitorious Prime and Darth Vader, respectively. Anakin became the sith lord's apprentice to save his wife. He failed her. Obi-Wan Kenobi became Palpatine’s highest ranked inquisitor because he had failed Anakin, and what point was there in fighting for the light if his former padawan was not there by his side? Once steeped in the dark, sadly, Inquisitorious Prime also failed at any attempts to locate the former Jedi Knight.
Sidious was all too aware that Anakin Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi’s bond was near unbreakable – all the better to use it for his own gains. The Empire had plenty of use for Inquisitors, and Sidious was careful to control every move that Prime and Vader made so they were never in the same place at the same time.
He let the reports and rumours of Obi-Wan and Anakin's deaths reach both the men in their own time, making sure there were enough shreds of doubt so that Prime didn’t do something stupid like commit suicide. The Empire had near infinite resources, but there was such satisfaction in controlling the movements of a man who had so irritated the Emperor for all of the Clone Wars.
In contrast, Vader’s expression of grief for his wife was howling mad; it swallowed the loss of Obi-Wan Kenobi whole and promptly digested it into spectacular fits of anger and rage, perpetrated upon many undeserving beings across the galaxy. The Emperor wasn’t worried about him.
Sidious intended to enjoy the fruits of his labour as long as possible, and Darth Vader had been too distraught at losing both his wife and children that when the news of Kenobi’s death came, he hadn’t even thought to question it. As it was, both men were masked at all times to conceal their former, slain identities. After all – the Jedi were no longer allowed to exist in the Empire, only Inquisitors.
Other former Jedi had joined the inquisitorial ranks, but few of them had been so legendary, so publicly lauded as The Team of the Grand Army of the Republic. Their faces did not need erasing, and it did not matter if former Jedi recognized each other so long as they kept up appearances and were loyal to the Empire.
The mystery of the two right-hand men to the Emperor only served to heighten the aura of fear their presence commanded. It was furtively whispered between the ranks that the reason they were never seen together, was that no one who'd been with them both in the same room ever lived to tell the tale (save Sidious).
Prime himself snorted at that, bemoaning his current lack of caf. The fact of the matter was, the Empire was a large machine constantly needing to gobble resources – planets, politicians, people – and keep a large population in line with the appropriate negotiation. There was simply so much work to be done that he and Vader never crossed paths.
As the top ranking inquisitor, Prime tended to work with the political Galactic Emperor side of Sheev Palpatine, tactics for bringing in rogue holdouts of Jedi and rebels that popped up as well as advising on keeping key high ranking officials in line. Vader’s duties were connected to the Sith, the Sidious identity of Sheev Palpatine. As an apprentice he had his own training and lessons to learn as well as being the man that the Empire called in for teachable moments whenever someone well and truly had karked up.
As far as Prime was concerned, there was no need for him to meet Vader, and vice versa, unless the Emperor planned on having them coordinate a particularly tough campaign, or had decided Prime’s usefulness had ran out and had summarily sent an executioner. In fact, Prime had only just recently gotten a glance at Vader through a holocomm meeting, walking through in the background unexpectedly while he gave his report to Sidious regarding new recruits to the Inquisitorial program, as well as updates on his political surveillance.
With the stiff way the man’s legs moved and fell upon the ground, Prime privately wondered at the time if Darth Vader, for all his mystery, was actually just a very fancy assassin droid that Sidious had brought to life with Sith Magic.
Anakin was the kind of man who’d made droids really come to life.
He was grateful for his mask then, as he could hide his grief that sprouted in his heart and grew toward his eyes behind burnished red metal and plastoid rather than force his facial features into the calm, emotionless mask he once donned in his old life. The slits were just wide enough to see, keeping his useless tears to himself.
If Prime recalled correctly, C3PO and R2D2 were stationed in Alderaan, serving the Organa family. He was certain they were aiding the rebels, but there was not enough tangible proof to make it worth the political upset it would cause.
He grew tired of the stars and turned around, surveying the rest of the bridge. Once, he’d been a General, his presence on the bridge natural and commanding. Now, he almost felt like an interloper when it came to the Imperial Fleet, but no officer, lieutenant or even admiral would dare imply that Inquisitorious Prime was not welcome to be present on any part of a spacecraft he happened to be travelling with.
Patience, like many things Prime aspired to in the past, had been slowly bleeding out of him for years now. He was no longer content to repeatedly place himself in serenity. He desired work; he desired results. He was quietly annoyed by the delays that were preventing the ship to jump to hyperspeed. Thinking about the past would not help him to pass the time – not without consequence.
The Star Destroyer, after a few more feats of incompetence, took off on its designated hyperspace lane. They were en route to rendezvous with the Emperor’s flagship within nine standard hours.
***
Darth Vader groaned as thirst and a vague soreness plagued his throat. He was cutting his arrival time close, and of course there were no drinks stashed about the TIE fighter save the liquid electrolyte ration he’d already drunk. He felt an urge rise from his past life to sip a gentle Deychin tea blend that Obi-Wan used to keep in their shared living quarters in the temple. Vader’s throat ached further still as he let the memory simmer at the back of his mind, evaporating into fuel to further the power of his own hatred. He did not hate Obi-Wan, far from it – rather, he had loved Obi-Wan so much that when his former Master dared to die without him, the wound it carved into his heart still ached even in the present. The only thing it might be possible for Vader to hate Obi-Wan for was the fact that he wasn’t still alive. It paled in comparison to the hatred of his Master, Sidious, which was but a moon to a star when compared to his own self loathing. Vader had made hatred an art as well as a weapon, now that love could only be his companion in grief.
If he did not dock his ship in time, Vader would need to make up the distance by increasing the pace of his gait. He would not have time to quench his thirst, lest he risk the Emperor’s ire. Vader's entire moon of hatred for the man aside, he still served the Sith Lord and did not seek to collect more punishment for himself than was necessary.
Years by Sidious' side and Vader was still only an apprentice, biding his time until he became strong enough to destroy the Sith lord and take his place as the Sith master. The rule of two meant he would have to take a second, an apprentice to fill in the hole, but Vader had no time or energy to ponder that for long, other than to remember that there were plenty of inquisitors who would eagerly fight to the death for the chance, regardless of whether he thought them worthy.
Vader’s TIE fighter fell out of hyperspace, and before him loomed the Eclipse, Emperor Palpatine’s Executor class Star Dreadnought. The crew had expected his arrival, and Vader piloted into the docking bay with practised ease. Before exiting the vehicle, he took a moment to run his hand through his own lightly sweaty hair, trying to encourage what little cooling he could before reaching for the skull-like helmet glowering at him from the other side of the cockpit. Vader emerged fully suited, the eye sockets of the helmet shaded dark enough that to look at them was to look upon the void. Besides being intimidating, it also served to shield any information that any allies, enemies or otherwise might have tried to glean if they’d been able to see his eyes.
Vader, too, was able to shield the reality of his eyes from himself in the mask, was able to funnel the rage and pain and sadness that bled from the bloody coloured limbal ring of his fiery golden irises. Uncontrolled flames would burn a fire-starter alive; such was the same of the dark side of the Force if Vader did not contain the all consuming power, to bend and trap and hone it to his will. It was easier to do if he did not have to look upon himself.
The Emperor awaited him, and so Vader swiftly made his way across the ship, his strides purposeful and his head and back held high. He reserved any bowing and scraping for Sidious – everyone else was to fall in line to his command, lest they wish to face the consequences of Vader’s wrath. No imperial technician or stormtrooper would dare. Vader could sense Sidious on the other side of the dreadnought and groaned internally, increasing his pace.
Every set of magna-locks that had to slide open and close hindered him by fractions of a second, hampering his speed. In Vader’s haste, his helmet clanged against the opening doors, his patience all the thinner as he refused to wait for them to fully open. Any sentient or droid worth their parts made sure to be categorically out of the man’s way as he stalked through the ship – all except for a shorter figure who was coming through the same doorway from the opposite direction at the exact same time as Vader.
Neither party gained awareness of the other until they had collided with one another, half a chest and a shoulder clattering against each other with the awkward sound of plastoid and metal. Vader almost stumbled, whirling around just after their bodies bounced apart.
The other sentient had a moment of unsure footing, technically a stumble but the being recovered with such grace that Vader wondered, for a moment, if he had been seeing things, and the other had not lost their footing at all. Vader looked at his chrono and growled audibly under the mask. Now he would be late regardless, so it only made sense to address his temper by slaughtering whoever had dared to walk into him.
“Lord Vader, your prowess and temper is legendary, but I refuse to engage in potentially being murdered until I have had a bloody cup of caf.”
Who in their right mind in all the galaxy would dare speak to him this way? And behind a modulator, no less? Never mind the hypocrisy that Vader constantly spoke behind a modulator himself.
“You make an interesting choice of your last words.” The blast doors closed behind the figure Vader faced, and he held up his hand to apply a nice, relaxing choke to this fool’s air supply when he saw the inquisitor logo glowing softly on the other’s shoulder pauldron. Vader swore under his breath. It would be too much of a headache to kill an inquisitor without precedent. Even a 10th brother or sister would have him under a mountain of paperwork and in a vat of bacta if the Emperor so deemed it fit. Vader lowered his hand, the force brimming with his frustration and self-imposed impotence. The extra stripe across the circle emblem meant he’d just ran into the highest ranked inquisitor: Inquisitorious Prime. Just Lovely.
The two men – at least, rumour had it that Prime was a man – stared at each other for a long moment of tense silence.
“Well. Since you haven’t taken it upon yourself to murder me, I’ll be on my way.” Prime waved his wrist badge to reopen the doors and walked off as though nothing of import had happened. Under the mask, Vader picked up his slack jaw and followed Prime into the next corridor, grabbing his shoulder, intending to whirl him around and punch him in the face. That was not what happened.
Prime sighed internally as he heard the heavy footfall of steps behind him, sensed and felt the leather glove about to grab his shoulder pauldron. It been a long rotation. He’d finally gotten done with giving Sidious his report and all he wanted to do was karking sequester himself in a room, lock the door, sit down and drink a cup of caf. He didn’t ask for much in this life anymore. Rarely did he ask for or expect anything, but to now have to deal with Darth Vader wanting a pissing match?
Prime placed his left arm over his chest to grip Vader’s grabbing hand and swiftly dropped to his knees, using the momentum to throw the Sith Lord over his shoulder and into the floor. Really, Prime knew better than this. The move wouldn’t incapacitate Vader, only provoke him... but it had been a very long day.
“I suppose we’re doing this then, are we?” he asked, affecting boredom into his voice. Prime didn’t know exactly how well he and Vader were matched, but if he did have to die today, he would make the Sith Lord regret tangling with him for as long as possible.
“You have made an unwise decision you will not live to regret,” Vader replied, returning to his feet with an elegance that impressed Prime, even as the Sith lit his saber.
They were doing this, all right.
Prime lit his saber in return, another screaming red to match Vader’s. To Prime, as their sabers clashed and danced, it almost sounded as if they were crying together. Both men took the offence and defence interchangeably, and Prime wondered at what point this had started to feel less like the immature dick measuring contest the fight had started as, and more like a sparring practice, or a dance. There was something so achingly familiar about the way Vader moved, but Prime couldn’t quite put his finger on it. It annoyed him that he couldn’t remember, so he instead put his energy into annoying Vader.
“Getting tired? I can’t help but notice it seems a bit difficult for you to... keep it up.” There, now they were back safely into dick joke territory.
“You insolent piece of-”
“Is it really insolence in equivalent ranking?” Obi-Wan parried, in words and saber. “Though if you keep fighting like this? I’ll have you outranked by day’s end.”
“Keep it up, I’ll cut your smart mouth off in front of the mess hall caf machine, drink a cup while you bleed out,” Vader replied, and Prime laughed, his grin widening under his mask.
“Now we’re getting somewhere! I was starting to think you didn’t have any creativity!” Oh, he hadn’t had a good banter in ages. Maybe this was why they were kept in different departments. They’d never get any work done if they were at each other’s throats like this.
Vader growled. He wasn’t having nearly as much fun as his opponent was. How could Sidious’ master tactician and political savant be so damned glib and also have such command over the Force? How was it possible? Who was this man?
The desire to know who Vader was facing, to see the man under the mask surged up in him all at once, along with a deep seated instinct that told him he’d done this before, that he'd danced in circles around this man and traded blows, volleys and insults not as a way to maim each other, but test each other and improve each other’s skill.
“You’d be surprised,” Vader replied, taking advantage of an opening Prime couldn’t cover and head-butting the man in the face, using the Force to sharpen and direct the blow.
Prime was thrown back into the wall, and as he fell to the floor, bloody pieces of his mask began to loosen from his flesh and trickle down his face and neck. When he opened his eyes, recycled air cooling the sweat on his face, Vader stood rigid, dropping his lightsaber to the ground.
“What, is there something on my face?” Prime sneered, not understanding what he was feeling in the Force. Vader’s anger was still present, but now it was nearly dwarfed by a painful, kaleidoscopic amount of different emotional colours.
“Obi-Wan...” Vader whispered, the sound of it laced with heartbreak, even through the voice modulator.
“Now that’s a name I haven’t heard in a long time,” Prime replied. With the way that his head had been rattled, it had taken up until now for Prime to realize that he was speaking in his own voice with no modulator to morph it. That too seemed to have an effect on Vader, who walked over, haltingly, and knelt down by his side.
So Vader recognized him, but that didn’t explain his reactions. He shuffled himself up into a sitting position, hissing as the few pieces of mask still embedded in his face moved and cut him further as a result. He was still a bit dazed and confused when Vader helped to prop him up with the utmost of care, brushing tiny bits of plastoid off of his face and neck when Prime didn’t make any move to stop him.
“Look, I’m certainly no stranger to the flirtatious nature of sparring, but I would like to recommend that we keep our working relationship professional-” Prime froze as Lord Vader's helmet came off with the click of a release button to reveal the one person who mattered more to him than anyone else.
“Anakin...” he whispered. It would appear that Obi-Wan Kenobi wasn’t dead after all, and neither was his former padawan, so steeped in darkness and grief and now tentative joy as he pressed his former master’s forehead to his own. Obi-Wan watched as Vader – as Anakin – cried and held his shoulders almost hard enough to break.
“Tell me this is real. Tell me you’re real. Tell me you’re alive.” Anakin demanded, golden eyes fixed on Obi-Wan’s. “You fell...”
“I’m real,” Obi-Wan said. “I’m alive, how could I not be? There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you,” Obi-Wan replied, his own eyes watery, a thin smile on his lips. “I could not die while the possibility of you being alive remained.” As to the fact that he had fallen, Obi-Wan could only shrug.
“What, you thought you could fall without me?” It was a weak joke, and Vader hated it as much as he hated seeing the red rimmed, sith-gold eyes on his Master. It was hypocritical, he knew, but in his mind, Obi-Wan should only have those beautiful blues he remembered, the ones he’d wept over in the privacy of his rooms night after night.
“Don’t,” Anakin said, bringing him into his arms and holding him to his breast. He would mourn Obi-Wan’s presence in the light, but like his former Master, he was selfish enough to take what he could get. Better a dark side Sith Obi-Wan than a dead light side Jedi. “I’ve missed you so much...” Vader pressed the side of his face to Obi-Wan’s, nuzzling him, letting his movements brush away any stubborn shards still clinging to his face. Only Vader should be allowed that privilege; only Vader should be able to caress that ginger beard, that freckle-kissed skin.
Obi-Wan shivered as Anakin’s face touched his own, the skin on skin contact the first he’d had in a very long time. His entire body ached for it, ached for the love that he knew still existed between him and his former padawan, now Sith lord. Technically, he supposed, he himself was a Sith...knight? Advisor? He wasn’t sure what the equivalent title to Inquisitorious Prime really was. At this moment, it didn’t truly matter. What mattered was that his precious Anakin lived and breathed, that Obi-Wan could feel his skin against his own, could turn his head and brush his nose against Anakin’s angular cheek.
“Still so smooth,” he murmured, lips only centimetres away from Vader’s skin. “You never could grow much in the way of facial hair.” Obi-Wan's spoken word was useless. Their bond cried out and sang between them, weak from years of disuse. There was no need for speech between them as their feelings flowed in and out of the connection, desperate to enmesh once more.
Anakin took Obi-Wan’s face in his hands and pressed his lips to his brow over and over, gloved thumbs sweeping away the last of the debris. He kissed Obi-Wan’s wounds, quietly whimpering as though they had personally offended him, had cut jagged scars into his own heart.
I’m never letting you go, Anakin told him, trailing his kisses over each cut until he hovered near Obi-Wan’s lips, suddenly hesitant. Yes, they had always loved each other, had always been two halves of a whole, attached far beyond appropriate, but they had not been lovers, no matter how inseparable they’d been. Obi-Wan breathed in Anakin’s exhalations for a moment, savouring the proof that the man was alive before enthusiastically closing the gap with a happy sigh.
Obi-Wan finally felt not just satisfied, but complete in a way he’d never been able to achieve before in his life. Kissing Anakin, feeling his kiss in return gave him what he’d never known he needed to truly be whole. There was nothing to keep them apart now – not Sidious, not appearances, not the Jedi code or even the light side of the Force. They could just have this, could take this and make it theirs. Anakin moaned and smiled against their kisses, finding delight in the way the dark side had so beautifully fastened itself to Obi-Wan’s psyche, draping like the finest gown over his soul.
You are mine, Obi-Wan told him, taking Anakin’s lower lip into his teeth and claiming it for himself. I am yours, he continued, opening his mouth to Vader’s insistent questing tongue and letting him inside with the tiniest of groans.
Nothing will ever part us again. The thought reached them simultaneously, as though they willed it into being towards each other. Obi-Wan gripped Anakin’s biceps as the younger man sucked on his tongue, voracious and starving. Anakin pulled a ragged whimper from Obi-Wan’s throat, keeping him as close to his body as possible.
An alert chimed on Vader’s comm unit, and he looked as though he might murder the thing for interrupting his reunion with his old master. It was Sidious, seeking Vader out, likely to punish his tardiness.
“He can’t know you know,” Obi-Wan said, crossing the room to retrieve Vader’s helmet, handing it to Anakin, his lips flush from their desperate kisses. Anakin nodded, locking the helmet in place and moving to answer Sidious’ call from a point in the hallway that was free of the broken mask of Inquisitorious Prime. It was a good thing Obi-Wan had already gone through his meeting - he had no desire to show himself unmasked to Sidious or face the consequences that came with that decision.
The call connected, and the spectre that was Darth Sidious appeared, eyes glowing under the hood.
“Greetings my Master.” Vader knelt before the Emperor, the deference applicable to comm calls as much as it was in person meetings.
“What has waylaid you, my apprentice?” Sidious asked, his holographic apparition falsely making the man appear diminutive, like his golden eyes couldn’t kill someone where they stood.
“I beg your forgiveness, Master. My ship required repairs I could not trust to anyone else.” It was as good of an excuse as any. Vader was sweating beneath the mask, his breath heavier than normal.
The worst part of all this was that Obi-Wan hadn’t left the room. It was now too late for the other to slip out undetected – the sound of the pressurized doors opening and closing could either be a background sound the Emperor ignored, or one he honed in on if he sensed Vader’s emotions. Anakin swallowed and drew on the Force to make himself as calm as possible, his mind locking upon itself like a durasteel trap.
The now unmasked Inquisitorius Prime was doing his damned best to blend into the ship’s walls as Lord Sidious’ mouth curled into a dubious frown.
“Running when you are already late is beneath the status I alone continue to give you.”
Vader felt a familiar swell of anger rise in his breast. Sidious was never above reminding him of the place he occupied under his boot. He’d never truly accepted that place, even as much as the Emperor abused him and played on his own self-hatred. Even though so much of Anakin had already died inside of him, Vader had forced himself to keep going, the thought of his eventual victory over Sidious bolstering him with every painful step forward.
Now, however, it wasn’t just the Sith Lord Vader who longed to snatch the title of Master from Sidious by his teeth – it was also the former Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker who sought to rid the galaxy of the black hole that was Emperor Palpatine. No longer simply about his own victory, killing Sidious was now an urgent necessity that screamed through Anakin’s entire bloodstream and beat on his broken soul for good measure.
He would not let Sidious harm Obi-Wan, whatever the cost. The grief, a tumult of anger, sadness, rage and a yawning, aching emptiness flared behind the walls he’d erected in his mind to keep them inaccessible to the Emperor. While Vader was able to calm the majority of his body and keep his mind locked, his eyes burned so brightly behind the mask that Prime swore he could see them through the red tinted lenses. He fervently hoped the brilliant gold blazing there was a figment of his own imagination, and not something Sidious could see or feel.
The inquisitor (perhaps former now, Obi-Wan considered), breathed as slow and silent as the darkness of space as Vader and Sidious’ gazes locked on each other through the holocall. The miasma of hatred, he noted, went both ways, and Obi-Wan was almost surprised to feel the answering echo in his own limbs and heart. Palpatine had kept them apart intentionally for years, feeding on their grief and stringing up the guts of their pain as decoration to solidify and self-congratulate his machinations of keeping them in the Sith Lord’s power.
“There is no need double your failures, Darth Vader,” Sidious continued, “You have already amassed so many.” The Emperor paused, giving time for his apprentice to reflect upon said failures, which Vader used to imagine the satisfaction of plunging his lightsaber through the old man’s heart. Every moment Lord Sidious continued to breathe was yet another one of his failures, Anakin thought, his teeth grinding beneath the mask. It was long past time for the Sith Lord to become one with the Force as a result of one particularly satisfying success.
“You will make your way to me and deliver your latest findings. I should not have to remind you not to tarry,” Sidious sneered, before cutting the transmission, leaving Anakin and Obi-Wan in tense silence.
Both men stared at each other, Obi-Wan in that moment hating the mask that was covering Anakin's face.
“Go,” Obi-Wan insisted. The Emperor was already losing patience.
“I'll find you,” Anakin promised, and even as the mask distorted his voice, Obi-Wan could still feel the pain and the hope behind his words. “Don't you dare leave this ship.”
“I wouldn't dream of it,” Obi-Wan replied, his mouth a taut line matching the seriousness of his eyes. He watched as Anakin walked through the doors, and forced himself not to cry as the man he cared for most disappeared behind the pressurized hiss of closing metal. He looked at his reflection in the polished parts of the chrome walls – the jagged remains of his mask wouldn't even come close to disguising his face. The cuts and bruises still left him recognizable.
“Damn,” he muttered, and wished he and Anakin had picked an actual location on the ship to meet rather than just relying on Anakin's sheer will. He needed to think of a way to control the imminent revelation of his true identity. What route did he take through the starship? Who did he let gaze upon his face first? Anakin was his first answer, of course, but that had already happened.
He supposed he could slip into the routes that maintenance used to get around the ship to avoid most sentients, but perhaps it would be better to get his face out front and centre, to face the Empire head on and ensure that respect given to him was either equal to or greater than what he'd received when disguised. Sidious could bitch and moan, of course, but Obi-Wan secretly thought he might be pleased with this development, that the Empire could capitalize on their prime inquisitor having the face of a fallen, former Jedi – a General of the Grand Army of the Republic, even. It certainly would decrease the overall morale of the remaining Jedi in hiding.
Obi-Wan chose, in the end, to slip into the maintenance routes and make his way towards his assigned quarters. He'd sent his belongings there by droid ahead of his meeting with the Emperor, which included a spare mask, thank the force. All of the maintenance personnel were droids, blessedly, and Obi-Wan's bio-scans looked the same to the few cleaning unit droids he came across as they would have were his mask not smashed in by Darth Vader.
Anakin, he corrected himself. Not destroyed by Anakin, who was kneeling in front of Darth Sidious even now, having to hide any changes in his heart from the man. What if the force gave him away? What if Obi-Wan, having ushered Anakin to go to the Emperor's side instead of making a fucking plan had just sent him to his death?
The cleaner droids helpfully swept up the remains of broken glass and tech that Obi-Wan ripped from the remainder of his damaged mask, the whining sound of their vacuums covering up the sound of Obi-Wan screaming into his own bloody hands while hidden inside the ship's walls.
It was such a relief to lock the door to his cabin and let himself fall upon the mattress. Anakin would return to him, he decided. He had to. There could be no other outcome than this, because Obi-Wan's heart couldn't bear anything less. He didn't dare try to reach the other across their bond; who knew what they could truly keep secret, even in their own minds.
Obi-Wan ached twice-fold for the feel of Anakin in his arms - Anakin before they both fell, and Anakin now. He longed to twine their limbs together, to press his love for Anakin across his skin and against his mouth. He longed for Anakin to do the same, to push his love inside of him where it could remain warm and safe and unharmed and bloom into pleasure for the both of them.
Any guilt Obi-Wan might have felt once as a Jedi Master of old for these desires was gone now – he'd done far, far worse things to this galaxy than the crime of putting someone before it in love and lust. Compared to the sentients he'd made suffer, directly or otherwise, this passion, this reclaiming of his love for Anakin with a new, bright flame burning now felt like an all too natural, all too right need. Falling to the dark side was the price Obi-Wan had already paid handsomely to keep Anakin by his side, and he hadn't even begun to reap the rewards on his end of the bargain. It was as though the universe, the force itself, had finally delivered on the most important thing that Obi-Wan had failed to seize and collect for himself.
Sidious, Obi-Wan swore, would die for this. Or, Obi-Wan thought, perhaps he would allow the Sith Lord to live if only so that he could suffer an agony worse than death at Obi-Wan's hand. The real question was whether Anakin would allow him the pleasure, or if he would be greedy and self-centred in the torturing of Sheev Palpatine. He'd wounded both members of the former 'Team' equally; they had equal claim to the fate of that rotten flesh, that future carcass, Obi-Wan would argue.
Still, arguing wasn't what he truly wanted to do now that he was reunited with Anakin – even if it was one of their most popular pastimes. Obi-Wan wanted to forget that the rotten core of the galaxy was one that he'd helped Sidious shape, in order to better infect it with more aspects of the Empire day by day. He wanted to hide, just for a little while, in Anakin's arms before they figured out what to do with themselves. Obi-Wan would have to decide if he wanted to listen to his conscience once more rather than steadfastly ignore it while pinning those past actions on the grief of losing Anakin.
Anakin was alive – he'd been alive when Obi-Wan had fallen to the dark. Obi-Wan was not under the illusion that there was any passable excuse for what he'd been doing – he simply hated himself, deep inside in new and awful ways that both fuelled his dark side power and tunnelled painfully deep into his heart. The self-loathing ate away at him one cruel deed at a time from the inside out. He doubted he could ever forgive himself...but at least they were both alive and terrible people together, right?
Obi-Wan laughed bitterly to himself up until the moment the door panel access pad lit up, indicating a visitor. He tensed, reaching out into the force rather than confirming a visual, and his muscles loosened when the force floated back with an all too familiar feeling.
He opened the door to the face of Darth Vader, carrying the soul of Anakin Skywalker somewhere beneath those robes. Obi-Wan immediately closed the doors behind him once he'd entered, paranoid that the wrong person would see him without his mask, or see Vader interacting with him and get ideas.
The moment the door shut, Anakin threw his mask down to the floor and swept Obi-Wan up into his arms, kissing him hard enough to be just shy of violent. Obi-Wan groaned at the sensation, gripping Anakin's sides just as hard to make sure he was real and not a phantom that would puff into smoke if Obi-Wan held him too close. Anakin tasted like exertion and blood and kept kissing him as though he could keep the universe at his command if only they never parted their lips.
Should I be concerned? Obi-Wan bit into the fulsome flesh of Anakin's bottom lip, getting a soft growl in response.
You're always concerned, Anakin argued, hands roaming desperately over Obi-Wan's body, grabbing his ass and pulling him even closer. Don't worry. I won't let anything happen to you.
Obi-Wan wanted to argue that he could handle himself, but the truth was that with all that was happening today, it was becoming difficult and...he didn't want to. He didn't want to suffer alone. He wanted to fall into Anakin's protection and the shield of his thick black cloak and his warm, almost oppressive embrace. Obi-Wan wanted to press his suffering against Anakin's and let them grieve and love together.
Anakin made a mournful sound through his nose, a hand sliding through Obi-Wan's hair, shaking. He would never let Obi-Wan go again. He would never let anything hurt him again. Anakin promised Obi-Wan over and over as he pushed him forward to the bed that he would take care of him, shelter him, hold him and keep him safe from anything and everything – including Anakin and Obi-Wan themselves, if he had to.
Obi-Wan was letting Anakin into his mind now as surely as he was planning to let the man into his body. Anakin saw his desires and his fears, his hopes and his shame, and found that no matter where he slid into Obi-Wan's consciousness, that it was all worth it to him, because it meant he had Anakin in his arms.
Anakin groaned softly, pressing desperate lips against Obi-Wan's flushed, heated skin.
“You're mine now,” Anakin said, inhaling the man's scent and placing kisses that landed just shy of bruising on Obi-Wan's throat. He vacillated between hard and gentle, his mouth pressing down passion as well as tenderness while he kissed and sucked down to Obi-Wan's clavicle.
“I always have been,” Obi-Wan confessed, prompting a wave of aching love from Anakin flooding their bond, reverberating in their minds, bringing tears to Anakin's eyes.
Anakin spoke Obi-Wan's name aloud, but what he was really saying with that name was: I have loved and will love you forever.
Their combined desperation for each other resulted in torn fabric as each piece of clothing was defeated and dragged from each other's bodies. Obi-Wan was fairly certain he'd bent the metal clasps holding Anakin's cape to his shoulders clean off. Anakin growled as it proved more difficult to yank both their boots off than they anticipated. Obi-Wan laughed at the look on his face, reminded of when they were both younger, Anakin frustrated and impatient with himself that he wasn't learning something fast enough.
Anakin smothered his laughter in a kiss, and Obi-Wan used the force to yank the last offending socks and underwear from their bodies, because he had fallen now, and blatant misuses of the force no longer chafed him they way they once had.
Anakin kissed his way back down his favourite red-haired chest, latching his lips on tight, whereupon he valiantly attempted to draw Obi-Wan's soul out from his body into his mouth through his nipples.
“Fffuck...Anakin-” Obi-Wan gasped, wrapping his now bare legs around Anakin's own while raking his nails up the other's back. Anakin groaned and let his teeth skirt around Obi-Wan's areola, nipping from time to time to make his lover jerk and twitch below him. Anakin could feel Obi-Wan's firm length press up against his own stomach, warm and needy and insistent. Pride swelled in him, knowing that he was the one who could make Obi-Wan so desperate for all the pleasure Anakin could give him.
“You're so hard for me,” Anakin groaned, pressing the words into Obi-Wan's skin with admiration, tongue and teeth. “I used to picture this, before,” he confessed, grinding his cock into the meat of Obi-Wan's thigh, leaving damp trails of precome as his former master arched his head and shoulders back from their rutting.
“And...ah...how accurate were you?” Obi-Wan had to concentrate now to keep up his snark, which normally ran on autopilot. Anakin grinned and shifted even lower, sucking a hickey into Obi-Wan's pubic bone that had him writhing before deigning to reply.
I was right about how desperate you might be, but not even close to how incredible you'd look spread out on the sheets.
Obi-Wan felt he ought to reply to that, but found himself wholly unable to do anything but gasp wetly as Anakin placed one of his testes entirely inside his mouth with a positively filthy moan of enjoyment. The other of his balls soon met the same fate as the first, and Obi-Wan wondered idly if he would run out of oxygen, the way it was so difficult to get it into his lungs now. Anakin was exceedingly smug about that thought too.
“Don't forget to breathe,” he teased, laving Obi-Wan's scrotum one more time with the broad flat of his tongue before dragging it up through the neatly trimmed red bush to the underside of his lover's cock.
“Fuck you,” Obi-Wan laughed, smiling with his whole being as Anakin smirked up at him from between his thighs.
“I plan on it,” Anakin replied. His tone was somehow both mere jest, and yet also deadly serious. Anakin would settle for no less than getting deep inside of Obi-Wan in every conceivable way possible. He bathed Obi-Wan's cock in firm, languorous licks, making his former master's abdomen clench along with his teeth at the teasing.
It would be like Anakin, Obi-Wan thought, to toy with his prick and lick it over and over with absolutely no intention of actually putting him fully into his mouth. He began to groan in dismay as Anakin pulled away, leaving him bereft of the continuous pleasure that was so good but not enough.
“Sithspit, what was all the damn lead up for?” Obi-Wan hissed, glaring as Anakin started to snicker.
“It's just funny, you know, because your dick is currently covered in Sith spit...”
Obi-Wan was tempted to suffocate Anakin right then and there between his thighs, but the man would probably die happily, the bastard. Anakin laughed again at the near murderous expression on Obi-Wan's face and grinned up at him with a wink.
“Thought it might be fun to make you beg,” he purred, and before Obi-Wan could come back at him with so much as a 'well you thought wrong', Anakin swallowed his entire cock down in one go. The man known to the rest of the galaxy as Darth Vader let himself drool so heavily that his saliva dripped down to slide across Obi-Wan's taint and then pool at the entrance of his puckered asshole.
Obi-Wan whimpered as the combination of Anakin's voracious warm mouth and the gradually increasing wetness between his ass cheeks slowly started to undo him. Anakin sucked hard and firm, revelling in the ache of his jaw as he watched Obi-Wan buck up against his lips. Obi-Wan had what Anakin thought of as a perfect saber of a cock – satisfyingly thick and just the right length to be wielded expertly without it being overmuch.
“Ah...Anakin...” Obi-Wan moaned, almost pleading even though he'd tried to tell himself he wouldn't beg. There was no sense trying to limit himself or follow any sort of adherence to stricture when it came to Anakin, Obi-Wan realized. He would do anything for the man. Had already done anything and nearly everything for the man even when he was only marginally sure his lover was alive. What was pleading and begging when it compared to falling, to slaughter, to letting evil use him like a tool in the dark side of the force? There was no reason for him not to fully surrender and give in except for old habits which refused to die – just like he and Anakin.
Anakin popped off of his cock for a moment and gave Obi-Wan a look.
“You're thinking too hard,” he accused, no mercy for Obi-Wan's whine of dismay as he gently smacked his balls – too gentle to leave any lasting ache but hard enough to command the man's full attention.
“It's all about you, so you should be insufferably pleased, actually,” Obi-Wan countered, though Anakin was quick to adjust his attitude problem by rolling the older man over, face down and pinned by Anakin's knees to his calves.
“Good, that's all you're allowed to think about.”
Anakin stopped any retorts before they started, spreading Obi-Wan's cheeks with his palms and diving in between them with a groan of delight, kissing his way down the cleft of his former master's rear end. He grinned to himself as Obi-Wan squeaked at the application of tongue to his rim, teasing the entrance around and around until Obi-Wan was a shuddering, whining mess, doing his level best to suffocate Anakin between his ass cheeks in the hopes that it would get that maddening tongue further inside of him.
Greedy, Anakin said fondly, sucking on the furled rim with a rather conceited hum, Obi-Wan thought.
As though you wouldn't be. Obi-Wan couldn't help that his thoughts were automatically a criticism – it was like old times, constant bantering while doing something they enjoyed. It was just that before they enjoyed sparring and fighting, and now they were purely enjoying each other with no middleman.
Anakin didn't even have to think about it. He'd always been greedy for Obi-Wan – his attention, his time, his presence, his love. It had taken far too many years to finally fulfill all of his deeper desires – and he knew it would never be enough. He would always be greedy to get Obi-Wan under his mouth, under his hands and hips and however else.
For you? Forever. Anakin had said it about his greediness, but it was more than that – the two of them were more than that, and always would be. Forever was a bond, a promise, a vow and a threat all in one as he thrust his tongue up inside of Obi-Wan's hole, eager to claim him in as many ways possible that night. Obi-Wan's moans became long and strung out as Anakin ate him out, squeezing his ass like it belonged to him.
Which really, by this point, it did.
Obi-Wan couldn't fathom the amount of time that passed as Anakin tongue fucked him into the standard issue Imperial sheets. He only knew that he wished it would go on forever, the slick and squirming pleasure of Darth Vader's tongue wetly cherishing every inch of his inquisitorial hole. Anakin chuckled as he lifted his damp face from between Obi-Wan's, cheeks, taking personal satisfaction and delight how Obi-Wan was once again whining from the sudden lack of attention.
“Don't fret Obi-Wan,” Anakin reassured, stroking the other's beautiful back muscles, marvelling both at its strength in muscle and softness of skin. “I'll be back inside you momentarily,” he purred, leaning up to gnaw at the shell of Obi-Wan's ear like a hungry predator playing with its meal.
Obi-Wan shuddered and groaned as Anakin wrapped a hand around the base of his cock, and then, maddeningly, just held it possessively to enjoy the feel of it in his palm while kissing and biting at Obi-Wan's neck.
This is mine, the grip seemed to say. You are mine. Anakin sent that one through their bond on purpose as he let go of Obi-Wan entirely to secure a generous amount of lubricant, which he then squelched inside of the older man's hole, one finger at a time.
It sounded filthier than it ought to, Obi-Wan thought, and he could practically feel Anakin's dick throbbing in time with his own in the Force. It was like being The Team again – one mind, one goal, one mission to seamlessly slide into, the way Anakin managed to glide in and out of him, the illusion of effortlessness created by perfect timing and exacting precision.
Anakin was more or less purring in their bond as Obi-Wan moaned and bore down on his digits. It was like Obi-Wan's ass was desperate, wanting to suck in more and more of Anakin until he became lost inside. No – until he was finally home inside of him.
“Anakin please,” Obi-Wan begged, his cock ruddy and runny with precome while Anakin opened him even further. “I need you.”
“I know,” Anakin said, curving his fingers just so, making Obi-Wan gasp and tremble and start begging all over again. It made him smile, knowing that he was the sole focus of the older man's consciousness.
“I'm not going to rush this; I won't ruin this,” Anakin said insistently, even as he began to press on Obi-Wan's prostate, making him cry out. “I won't fail you.”
The unspoken this time weighed down their bond as firmly as Anakin used his fingers to desperately pry his old master's forgiveness out of his body and soul so that Darth Vader could eat it and be sated.
It was I who failed you, Obi-Wan protested, unable to say the words aloud with how Anakin was taking his time so pleasurably rearranging his insides. This was presumably done in order to fit his cock inside him sometime this century.
“You've become so impatient,” Anakin said, kissing Obi-Wan at the base of his neck, nuzzling him as he spread his fingers even further still inside of him.
“Perhaps -oh fuck-,” Obi-Wan moaned, “You've stolen it all from me over the yeeeeaaaaarrrrs!” he wailed, Anakin punishing him for his quip with fast hard thrusts in quick succession. The smirk on his face was cocksure – and Anakin's cock was damn sure that Obi-Wan falling apart because of him was one of the hottest sights in the universe.
Anakin sucked a hickey into the juncture of Obi-Wan's neck and shoulder, feeling like he could never claim the man enough, visually or otherwise. The whole galaxy should be aware that Obi-Wan belonged to Anakin, and that Anakin alone was allowed to love him.
“Anakin please!” Obi-Wan pleaded yet again, doing his best to ride the other's long fingers. “Give me your karking cock or I'll fucking kill you!” Anakin laughed, leaning down and angling his neck to kiss Obi-Wan, silencing his threats with his mouth and tongue. He knew Obi-Wan would never truly do it, despite having the very real ability and track record for the job. Obi-Wan growled and whined in protest, the pitch of his complaints entirely dependant on how deep and hard Anakin slid his digits.
Eventually, even Anakin couldn't handle not having his manhood inside Obi-Wan, and he pulled his fingers out to trade places with his dick, pushing inside the other's hole with a moan that slipped inside Obi-Wan's ear as much as it permeated the air between them.
“Oh...” Obi-Wan's vocalization of his pleasure was one of soft awe, as the feeling of having Anakin so intimately connected with him flourished into a trifectra of mind, body and soul. Obi-Wan could feel Anakin pressing into the deepest parts of him that Obi-Wan had already carved out for the other man before he'd even been conscious of doing so. Anakin clung to his lover's hips, watching as Obi-Wan placed his head on the sheets and then turned it back so he could look into his eyes. He shuddered, nestling himself as deep as possible into Obi-Wan's ass and holding himself there, staring at his maddeningly beautiful former master.
This was where they truly belonged.
Obi-Wan clenched sphincter muscles pointedly around Anakin's cock, spurring him into canting his hips forward and back, giving Obi-Wan smooth and powerful thrusts. The push and pull between them made Obi-Wan's toes and fingers begin to curl, and Anakin felt the pleasure Obi-Wan was receiving from him deep inside himself, as though Obi-Wan in turn was sliding into him and making that luscious tension rise.
“Obi-Wan...” he groaned, barely able to keep his eyes open but determined, not wanting to lose the sight of the other man taking his cock so beautifully. Anakin forced himself to keep a steady pace to his movements, tempted as he was to go faster and harder. He leaned in and down and pressed hot kisses to Obi-Wan's back, nuzzling and licking at the sweat as his lover cried out below him.
“Anakin, fuck...” Obi-Wan moaned, shuddering and arching at every kiss and thrust Anakin gave him. It all felt thick and hot and full and perfect, especially when Anakin would occasionally let his weight fall on Obi-Wan as he rolled his hips into him. Obi-Wan knew Anakin was more than athletic enough to keep himself aloft and realized that Anakin must have done it specifically because he could sense in the force how much Obi-Wan wanted to be pressed down and pinned by Anakin's body, held in place by a man who he wanted to never, ever, ever let him go.
“Never ever,” Anakin half-snarled, driving his cock deeper into Obi-Wan to emphasize his point. “You're all mine now,” he panted, flesh and metal hands alike bruising Obi-Wan's thighs as he used them to shove Obi-Wan's body back onto his cock as much as he was himself thrusting forward. Obi-Wan keened as the deeper, harder thrusts hit that spot inside him that drove him closer and closer to the ultimate ecstasy.
“And you...are mine in turn...” Obi-Wan gasped, his hot tight hole squeezing Anakin with each successive slam of his prick inside of him. As Obi-Wan's prostate lit up in pleasure, so too did his cock, the echoes of Anakin's pleasure tumbling into the bond at nearly the same intensity as his own. Obi-Wan wailed in bliss as Anakin surrendered to the siren call in the force to go faster, to go harder, to claim and take.
There were no more words spoken, all energy conserved for the desperate, frenzied slam of Anakin's pelvis against Obi-Wan's ass over and over as lust and love and dual, carnal possession from both parties flooded into their bond. Anakin moaned, long and sonorous, as he fucked as deep into Obi-Wan as possible and drove his spurting hot come inside of him. Obi-Wan's own orgasm ripped through him shortly after, and he screamed at the intensity of feeling. Anakin managed to get his hand up to rub over Obi-Wan's cockhead as he came, making him nearly choke on his own cries as his former master reeled from the sensations that were just shy of too much.
The feedback cycled through both ends of their bond, and both men trembled, twitching in pleasure as they clung to every part of each other, riding the feeling well after all their seed ebbed out of their spent pricks. Anakin let his body flop gracelessly on top of Obi-Wan in a move that nearly smothered him. Obi-Wan groaned weakly and let it happen, whimpering as his ultra sensitive cock was trapped against the mattress.
Anakin nuzzled at Obi-Wan's neck over and over, inhaling the aroma of sweat and sex along his lover's skin.
“We should have done this so much sooner,” Anakin said, kissing the nape of Obi-Wan's neck where tiny red baby hairs caressed his nose in turn. “Why didn't we do this sooner?”
“Moral codes were rather in the way,” Obi-Wan murmured.
“Not for me, not if I knew I could have you,” Anakin said.
“And that's exactly why, at the time, I repressed as much as I could. One of us ought to have stuck by the code. If I could deny it to the point it didn't exist, then neither of us would have to worry about it. At any rate, I was getting shot at often enough that even wanking off took too much energy most days,” he admitted.
“But not now,” Anakin said, gripping onto Obi-Wan's arms with his hands.
“No, certainly not now,” Obi-Wan laughed, the tone of his voice more reminiscent of Inquisitorious Prime when he'd secured a victory and was having fun toying with his current victim. “Not much point in literally falling to the dark side for you if I don't get to experience all the benefits.” Obi-Wan rolled his ass back against Anakin's pelvis, pushing against the cock still inside of him to emphasize his point.
“For me?” Anakin asked, his breath catching.
“I certainly didn't fucking do it for Sidious, “ Obi-Wan hissed, rolling his eyes. Anakin let out a groan of dismay.
“I don't want to hear that man's name in our bed,” Anakin complained. If he wasn't soft already, he certainly would have been with the mention of that particularly inconvenient Sith Lord.
“Well once he's dead, the galaxy will rarely have to hear his name at all,” Obi-Wan reasoned. He flexed his glutes and smirked as Anakin's noises were back to being all about their shared pleasure. To his slight dismay, Anakin had the nerve to pull out of him, leaving him emptier than he wanted to be. His lover turned Obi-Wan over onto his back so he could kiss him properly, running his hands over the older man's sweaty body.
Anakin broke the kiss with a nip to Obi-Wan's lower lip before lying on top of him, the two of them curling into each other's bodies. Obi-Wan knew that as soon as he stood up he would start to feel Anakin's seed starting to run out of him, and for now he wanted to keep it inside of him, the way he had wanted to keep Anakin deep inside of him by his manhood and never let him go.
Anakin heard him through the bond and his smile was absolutely insufferable as he squeezed Obi-Wan's hip.
“Should I slip my fingers back inside, keep it in you until morning?” Anakin asked, tempting Obi-Wan, who wasn't entirely sure if he'd be able to fall asleep like that but felt a throbbing in his spent cock at the idea of trying.
“I was rather hoping you'd want to go another round,” Obi-Wan replied. “Unless you're already tired. Disappointing, really, when the rumours of Darth Vader's combat stamina were so relentless.”
It was bait, pure and simple, and Anakin was smart enough to know it while unashamedly pouncing on it and Obi-Wan. His old Master could manipulate him into any corner he wanted, and if he was being honest, Anakin was more than ready to let him, especially when the prize for springing the trap was railing Obi-Wan into the mattress for hours on end.
***
“I don't want you going near him!” Anakin shouted.
“We need our combined strength and skill to take him down!” Obi-Wan snapped. Why couldn't Anakin just see reason, even after all these years?
“I won't let you, Obi-Wan!”
“I don't recall needing your permission! Why do you doubt my capabilities?”
The argument Obi-Wan had predicted was in full swing, and was well on its way to becoming a full fledged fight. They'd managed a blissful five hours of sleep together, waking up in each other's arms, clinging to each other to reaffirm that their reunion was real and not just a cruel dream. They'd even gotten about half way through eating a meal before they'd broached the topic of the Emperor's murder.
“It's not about your capability; I need to keep you safe!”
Obi-Wan snorted – there was no way Anakin could honestly take Sidious on alone and expect to be the victor. Anakin's protectiveness was clearly borne out of fear, and Obi-Wan no longer had the patience to deal with his former padawan's banthashit.
“We are safer together. We always have been – the moment we were separated, we played right into his hands. I'd rather not repeat history if it's all the same to you,” he sneered.
“So you're blaming me,” Anakin accused.
“Are you not yet capable of even doing that on your own?” Obi-Wan said, watching as the barb landed and Anakin's face twisted in anger. Better anger than fear, he supposed.
To Obi-Wan's surprise though, Anakin didn't lash out. He instead met him with the mirrored energy of his frustrated restraint. The food lost all its previous warmth as the two men glared at each other. Anakin felt like he could feel all the accusations Obi-Wan wasn't saying to him in the force, and Obi-Wan hated how aggravating and naively sweet it was that Anakin wanted to keep him safe, now that Obi-Wan himself felt like someone who people needed to be kept safe from.
“You know what? Fine. If you're not going to cooperate, I will take him on alone,” Obi-Wan said.
“NO! You can't! That is the stupidest fucking idea I've ever heard!”
“Hah! So you admit your own stupidity in doing it yourself!” Obi-Wan crowed.
“Why do you have to be like this?” Anakin snapped, banging his fist on the small table, utensils and dishes clattering.
“Took the words right out of my mouth,” Obi-Wan retorted, golden eyes growing redder at the edges of his irises. “We need to be able to work as a unit once more, or this is going to drive us mad. I have just as much invested in his elimination as you do, and exactly as much need to enact my vengeance. Our skills are complimentary and neither of us will be a match for Sidious alone. I will not let you shut me out of what is rightfully mine simply because you cannot abide the risk,” he hissed, his emotions heating up, a contrast to the cold, calculated hatred he so often embodied as Prime. With Anakin, he was so much more than that.
“I cannot abide losing you!”
“And you think I can?!” Obi-Wan roared, standing up and leaning over the table, slamming his palms flat on the surface as their abandoned meals and tableware began to float and circle around the table from the older man's anger and fear in the force. “You stupid boy, what part of you thinks that you would be sparing me pain and protecting me by making me live on without you there in that life?!” Obi-Wan spat, every part of his body tense.
Anakin was furious that he wasn't winning the argument, but also exceedingly smug that he'd managed to piss off his Master so much that he was losing control of the force. Instead of answering him with words, he pulled Obi-Wan further across the table by his collar and kissed him with a snarl, as though if he could make him shut the fuck up, maybe somehow he would get his way.
Very mature, Lord Vader, Obi-Wan sneered into their bond, pretending like Anakin's show of power and the way he was holding him possessively wasn't making him weak in the knees.
I was mature enough for you last night, Inquisitorious Prime. Anakin used the force to squeeze around Obi-Wan's cock hard enough to make him gasp, making all the floating objects drop and clatter around the furniture.
They were still kissing as Obi-Wan scrambled over the rest of the table, ignoring the remnants of their food in favour of sitting in Anakin's lap and wrapping his arms around the man's neck, holding him tight enough that it was a wonder Anakin could still breathe. He bit into Anakin's plush lips, drawing a ragged noise from his lover's lips before pulling back, wiggling upon his lap purposefully to incite the man's cock to rise.
“I refuse you to go anywhere without me from now on,” Obi-Wan growled, yanking Anakin forward by the back of his neck while grinding upon him, eyes blazing. “You said yourself that I am yours - that means you are not to leave me behind or abandon me ever, even if your stupid nerf ass thinks it's for my own benefit,” he panted, the feeling of Anakin hardening up against his ass igniting his passion, fuelling his argument.
“You are mine just as much as I am yours,” Obi-Wan continued, putting a hand over Anakin's mouth as he attempted to come up with a rebuttal, glaring at his former padawan with the same fierceness as Anakin was giving him. “If our plan is not intelligent, precise and calculating he will end us; we cannot afford to leave this to one party or to chance. You know I'm right,” he said, rocking his hips back and forth on the other.
Anakin might have known Obi-Wan was right, but it didn't mean he liked it. He pulled Obi-Wan's hand off his mouth and pinned both of them behind the other's back, using the position to push Obi-Wan right up against his chest while still flush with his lap.
“Sometimes, I fucking hate you,” he hissed, freeing one hand to press the heel of it against Obi-Wan's cock, watching as the man made a very satisfying noise of desperation.
“Good thing I love you more,” Obi-Wan replied with a chuckle that turned into a strangled whine as Anakin encouraged Obi-Wan to grind on him by shoving him up against him harder.
Their rutting was as desperate as it was quick, both men coming across each other's skin, glad they hadn't bothered to get dressed as of yet that morning. Obi-Wan slumped in Anakin's lap, pressing their foreheads together so they could breathe the same air, pass the afterglow back and forth between the scant distance of their faces.
“Together,” Obi-Wan panted.
“Together,” Anakin agreed, twining their seed-slick fingers in reverence.
***
Lord Sidious surveyed the display of stormtroopers assembled in rectangular formation to mark the official processional of the Emperor through the hangar bay to his starcraft. He was flanked on all sides by his hand picked red guard, the bloody symbol of protection that was nearly as menacing looking as his guards deadliness.
It was important for the Empire to have a carefully curated image and presence, specifically: awe inspiring, intimidating and vast. The illusion was constantly crafted to invoke a particular reality upon the Empire's masses - that they were everywhere at once and that their control and dominance was inevitable. The draping of each red robe was constructed down to the millimetre, the tailoring for presence as much for practicality in combat situation.
Every one of the red guards stood at the same height by virtue of careful selection, or in some cases, higher heeled footwear for those skilled in fighting yet shorter in stature. Obi-Wan had never been more grateful for all his detail oriented training regarding stealth operations – it would have been impossible to leave the choice of whom to impersonate down to luck, as Obi-Wan's natural height would have immediately given him away. Today, Obi-Wan stood the same height and breadth as Anakin while both masqueraded as protectors rather than traitors.
The precision sound of boots marching step by step came to a halt, with the clang of each red guard's pole spears hitting the floor marking the end of the mass parade. All stormtroopers stayed in salute formation as the red guard reassembled themselves for Emperor Palpatine's boarding. As the ramp came down, the emperor's guardians stood four before and four behind the man, with the rest standing back in parade rest.
In their bond, Anakin and Obi-Wan traded silent questions and concerns. The craft itself was imposing – not quite a star destroyer, but certainly more than able to accommodate Palpatine's entire compliment of security, plus any political retinue and hangers on besides. Perhaps the rest of the guard would fall in afterwards, but Anakin doubted it. They had both reviewed countless hours of footage to memorize and embody the patterns of the red guard, and this current one was usually employed for smaller craft, where the emperor wished for more privacy. The fact that it was happening now meant that there was a larger possibility that Sidious was onto them.
Either way, Obi-Wan thought, it was better to stick to the plan and see it through regardless of whether they had been made. There was no galaxy in which letting the Sith lord continue to live was acceptable to either him or Anakin. Thankfully, the two of them had accounted for this possibility and were already in position as part of the eight guards poised to accompany the emperor to his next destination.
Two by two, the guards marched up the ramp and through the entryway in perfect unison, the emperor the only single line, evenly spaced between two squares of four. Any navy personnel, admirals and stormtroopers accompanying Palpatine had boarded and completed security and diagnostic checks well before the ceremonial parade boarding had commenced.
Once inside, Anakin and Obi-Wan continued to pose as the emperor's defenders. The tension grew thick and heavy as the seconds marched onward, moving forward where the red guard stood at attention and still, everyone awaiting the emperor's whim.
Anakin and Obi-Wan were starting to feel as though perhaps Lord Sidious was toying with them, waiting in fact for them to strike out and spring the trap. It felt like a contest of wills as to whom would move first.
Anakin's blood rang hot and he longed to immediately take the revenge he felt he was owed, but he wouldn't act without Obi-Wan. The force would reveal when the time was right to both of them, together. That was what Obi-Wan told himself, at least, to battle against the gnawing fear in his belly that only grew hungrier as the emperor stood as stock still as his guard.
Sheev Palpatine let out a long aggrieved sigh, shaking his head.
“It pains me, apprentice,” he said, “that in all the machinations you might have set in motion to betray me, you honestly thought that you could disguise yourself while situated a mere metre away from me without my notice.”
Palpatine's mastery of the dark side of force was so great, that Darth Vader's attempts to cloak himself from being sensed in the force were like that of a child hiding its face behind a wall while the rest of its body was still in view. He shook his head, a faux-paternal look of disappointment set onto his face.
“I was almost proud of you for a moment.” When the emperor paused, he did not look at any of his red guard, and Obi-Wan and Anakin refused to give away their positions despite having been discovered.
“Leave us.”
The crimson robed figures shifted on their heels at 90 degrees and parted in opposite directions, leaving the two imposters by themselves. Treacherous, bloody twins thinking they could take from Sidious that which belonged to him.
“It is unfortunate that your usefulness to me is coming to an end, Prime. Rest assured, however, that while you have managed to bring about this...inconvenience...the Inquisitor division and the empire shall remain strong as ever and will not mourn its traitors.”
“If this altercation is too inconvenient for you my lord, feel free to offload your burdens by surrendering your life. We are more than happy to take care of the empire from here on out,” Obi-Wan said, pulling off his disguise to ensure that Sidious would see the smirk on his unmasked face. Anakin followed suit, allowing himself a cocky smile of his own.
The emperor delighted most in causing fear,pain and suffering, so it was particularly pertinent for his former vassals to rebel through mockery. It annoyed Sidious, and they both knew it, that both Vader and Prime no longer took the threat of the emperor seriously. They had known that their chances of taking the sith lord by surprise were slim, and were confident in their contingencies.
“I think not.” Sidious sneered. “It is clear you both require a lesson in power. There is no doubt you both have it,” he said, his sneer becoming wider and more malicious. “But I am the one who wields it,” he snapped, throwing out a blast of dark force power strong enough to throw both men's bodies against the hull of the ship at breakneck speed.
As the sith lord had expected, both Vader and Prime bounced off the walls relatively unscathed. They drew their lightsabers, twin beams extending with the silent scream of their abused kyber crystals.
“Every power you possess, every skill you've ever honed, and everything you will ever be is because of me! I made you! I own you!” Sidious jeered, brandishing his own ruby blade with a familiar cackle.
As he leapt for them, the sith lord fantasized about how he would break what little remained of Vader's heart by painfully murdering his lover in front of him, snuffing out the last of the light, the last dregs of Anakin Skywalker that resided in his apprentice for good. Sidious would finally banish those last pathetic pieces that held Vader back from true mastery, and then his apprentice would rise to greatness...as long as his emotional pain was carefully forged into anger and power by Sidious' hands rather than crippling the man and making him useless.
Oh yes, Sidious had every intention of turning this annoyance into yet another victory for him. It had been practical to use Prime while he was serviceable, to put the mind and body of the man formerly known as Kenobi to the service of the Empire...but now that he had reunited with Vader and they both knew each other's former identities, the emperor knew that both men would prioritize the other before their emperor, before their Master. That would not abide, and so Inquisitorious Prime would tragically pass in the line of duty and his position would be given up to the second most senior inquisitor. The current second brother would be an acceptable replacement.
Sidious fell upon the two men, blade whirling so fast that both Vader and Prime were on the defensive more often than any of the three parties expected. Surely his apprentice wasn't foolish enough to go easy on him, or try to hold back his power.
“Any last words?” Palpatine sneered. “Get them in now before I tire of toying with you.”
“Oh, is that what we're about?” Vader asked. “It was my understanding that we'd let you show off for a while, but if you're not interested we can wrap this up real quick.”
No sooner than the words fell from Anakin's mouth, Obi-Wan disappeared and reappeared behind the emperor, the crimson headdress of the red guard twisted into a rope that dug harshly into the twisted grey flesh of Sidious' neck. The sith lord wheezed and threw his lightsaber backwards to stab the man somewhere between the vicinity of belly and thigh. Obi-Wan sharply turned his hips, suffering a sizzling burn as the plasma fused his clothing to his flesh at the saber's glance. Before Sidious could make another strike, his windpipe was sealed shut with the power of the dark side.
There stood Vader, advancing towards the decrepit sith lord, choking him from the front while Prime cut his air off from behind. Spots began to creep into the emperor's vision, and he would have howled if either man would have allowed any breath whatsoever to reach his irradiated lungs. It was such an undignified way to die, Sidious thought, and then...a chilling smile curled up at the edges of his gasping mouth. If he was going to die, he would make it count.
Obi-Wan and Anakin locked eyes at the same time. What hadn't they accounted for? What did the emperor have up his overly voluminous sleeves even as his body began to shut down from lack of oxygen?
Just his hands and the weapon they held.
Instead of scrabbling at his throat with his hands like so many of Vader's previous victims, Sidious had used the last reserves of his ability to keep a death grip on his lightsaber. He pressed the emitter to his belly with the blade still ignited, bright angry red boring through him instantly, intending to take Inquisitorious Prime with him. The last of Sidious' consciousness saw his cracked facsimile of a smile fall into abject rage as Obi-Wan calmly stepped in front of him with no stab wound. The former jedi grabbed the lightsaber embedded in the emperor's stomach with hands, smiled wickedly and pulled it straight up...
***
“It didn't make sense for us to both choke him at the same time for that long. I should have stopped the moment you took over,” Obi-Wan said later, as Sidious' corpse was launched from a torpedo cannon, its trajectory perfectly calculated for the hotter of Tattooine's twin suns.
“Felt good though,” Anakin countered, putting an arm around his lover's shoulders. They both stood at the viewport together, watching both space itself and the nearby tactical display. “Just try not to cut it so close next time,” he said, leaning to place a kiss on the redhead's cheek. Not one member of Imperial staff dared to even breathe wrong at the display.
“Oh? Are we planning to murder more important heads of state?” Obi-Wan teased, using the force to commandeer a rolling caf cart, startling the imperial cadet who hadn't expected it to be whisked away. He poured them both a cup, placing the tiniest amount of sugar in Anakin's, and only a drop of cream in his own.
“Sacrelige,” Anakin murmured, his lips in a wry grin.
“You'll forgive me,” Obi-Wan replied.
Anakin hummed in reply, his smile morphing to something far more sinister as the torpedo was incinerated and swallowed by the sun. In truth, Anakin would give his blessing to every crime Obi-Wan did or might commit so that forgiveness would be entirely unnecessary.
They were no longer good men, but they could come back to the light at some point, Anakin reasoned. Maybe after a few more strategic high profile murders. Whatever the cost to eradicate slavery. It wasn't like either of them could become much worse, right? Anakin knew now that it in fact took two to bring peace, freedom, justice and security to their new empire.
The End