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"Anakin!"
It was not the first time that Obi-Wan had woken with the name on his lips.
He was already upright when his eyes opened, staring unseeing at the room around him, lit in monochrome by the dull glow of the moons through the window. He was panting, out of breath, a hand reaching out before him toward an empty space that just moments ago had contained…
He cursed, flopping back into the bed, covering his face with his hands. He could still feel the cool metal touch of Anakin's hand on his skin, hear the rasp of his breath, mechanical and strained, the unfamiliar tenor of his voice as it spilled out of him, filthy and compelling.
Beneath the sheets, in his thin shorts, Obi-Wan could feel that he was still impossibly hard, his body straining toward a release that had felt inevitable.
He closed a hand around himself before he could even truly begin to think, his body making demands of him that he was incapable of resisting. His hips rolled, fucking helplessly into his own warm grasp, finding himself somehow longing instead for the cool unyielding touch of metal around his flushed cock.
He came in what felt like seconds, already hopelessly primed, and something sordid within him wondered if somewhere in the galaxy, Anakin was doing the same, coming into a metal fist while craving the heat of Obi-Wan's body.
He faded back into sleep, and tried not to regret when he woke in the morning that the rest of the night had been utterly dreamless.
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"Obi-Wan."
There was a tugging against him, a pulling at his soul that he hadn't felt in decades until very recently, since the last of his training bond with Anakin had faded. Anakin had shown up at the door to his room that night, haunted, and Obi-Wan had gathered him into his arms, holding him close, assuring him that the loss of the bond itself meant nothing between them, that they would remain at each other's sides forever.
Forever, it turned out, had shattered to pieces within a single night.
For so long, he had believed Anakin dead.
Now, inexplicably, all this time after he had looked the broken man in the face once again, their eyes meeting through a splintered mask, Obi-Wan would close his eyes to sleep and find himself being dragged back to the man's side, reeled in like a blackfish on a line, helpless to resist the inexorable pull of Anakin's power.
"Anakin," he replied, his voice mild as it had ever been, even as he could feel his emotions roiling within him.
Instead of a response, there was Anakin's touch, his cold grasp closing against Obi-Wan's body, dragging him close.
"You have been waiting for me," he said in that resonating, unfamiliar voice, the words holding not even the hint of a question. "You go to sleep, and you long for this. For me to claim you, to take you."
"Anakin…" Obi-Wan tried to object, but a low laugh echoed from within the menacing helmet.
"You know that's hasn't been my name in years," Anakin told him. "I even have a title, if you care to use it."
Despite the mingled trepidation and arousal coursing through him, Obi-Wan managed to chuckle. "Shall I call you 'Darth,' again, then?" he asked, the words coming as close to the fondly mocking tone they had once shared as he ever had during these nightly visits. "You didn't seem to enjoy that when we last met in person."
He could feel Anakin's snarl more than he heard it, his fingers going tight and bruising against Obi-Wan's skin. "You will call me what I want you to call me," he said harshly. "And you will give me what I ask of you."
Instead of instilling fear in him, Obi-Wan could shamefully feel the words going straight to his cock. He managed to keep a smirk curling across his lips as he replied, "And you, padawan? Will you still get off on calling me 'Master'?"
A jolt slammed through his body as he was shoved against the unyielding surface of a wall behind him, Anakin crowding against him, cold and hard and as immovable as the durasteel at his back. "You have no power over me anymore," he declared, and indeed, Obi-Wan's body seemed determined to prove him correct. His hips arched toward the thick metal of Anakin's thigh without his permission, body squirming against him to get any kind of friction against his full and interested cock.
Ignoring his body's insistence on indulging its urges, Obi-Wan regarded Anakin steadily through his helmet. "What would you do with me?" he asked, voice even. "I appear to be here at your mercy, Anakin." He could feel that the ground he was treading was precarious, but there was something intoxicating about feeling Anakin pressing against him, at the very edge of his control within this dream. For so long, it had been Obi-Wan's responsibility to try to rein him in before he reached this state. Here, in the nothingness that was their shared unconscious, with no one else to protect, he felt himself captured by the uncharacteristic urge to provoke him, to test the limits of how far Anakin would take his fierce and unchecked need.
In response, he felt his entire body pinned back against the wall, a heavy pressure closing in against every part of him, instead of focused under the grip of Anakin's hands. He was held helpless in Anakin's intangible grasp as Anakin stepped away, removing even the meager relief of his thigh between Obi-Wan's legs, standing back to regard him like a specimen spread out for his inspection. His Force signature felt as overwhelming as it ever had, now concentrated down to the dark heat curling against the embers at the center of a blaze, rather than the incandescent inferno it had once been.
He could feel the phantom touch of Anakin's fingers closing around his throat, though his gloved hands remained at his side. They gripped tightly, making Obi-Wan's breath squeeze out of him harsh and loud.
"Anakin," he choked out, not quite pleading, not yet.
"I wonder," Anakin said dispassionately, "what would happen if I killed you here."
"I would prefer we not find out," Obi-Wan managed.
A harsh exhale blew out of the mask, a sound that may have been a laugh in another life. Anakin's mask tilted downward, raking across Obi-Wan's body, and even without being able to see his eyes, Obi-Wan knew his gaze was lingering against the thick swell of his cock, which had not diminished in the least with the pressure against his throat. It may even have been growing thicker with each dizzying gasp of an inhale Obi-Wan managed to catch past Anakin's grip.
Obi-Wan felt a sound that may have been a sob if he had been allowed more breath escape him as the Force curled around his cock, stroking him without Anakin lifting a hand. He was engulfed in the softest, wettest heat he had ever felt, his whole body spasming in Anakin's grasp as -
He woke alone in his room.
He swore fiercely, finding his hips already arching off the bed, body so close to coming that he felt a cry of agonizing frustration tear from his lips. Instead of dropping a hand to wrap around his cock, however, he closed it against his throat, feeling his pulse pounding beneath his skin as he spilled helplessly across his belly and chest, entirely untouched.
"Anakin," he gasped out as he let his hand fall to his side, and distantly, he thought he could feel an answering tug against a bond that should have been long severed, Anakin reaching out greedily to drain the last spasms of his pleasure from him.
______________
"Beg me."
Anakin was leaning over him, too close, Obi-Wan's own gaze reflecting back at him through the inscrutable eyeholes of his mask. His hand was around Obi-Wan's cock, cool and smooth and jerking him relentlessly at just the rhythm and angle he knew would drive Obi-Wan entirely out of his mind.
"I won't," Obi-Wan choked out, and he woke unfulfilled, the grip of his own hand incapable of bringing him any relief.
______________
He was held, not by the Force, but by the grip of solid unyielding arms, the chest behind him studded with knobs and dials that dug into his skin, the breath low beside his ear hissing out with an unnaturally steady rhythm.
Beneath him, he could feel the thick metal of Anakin's mechanical thighs, his own legs hooked around them, spread, baring himself to Anakin's touch.
And oh, did Anakin touch. One of his hands was wrapped around Obi-Wan's body, pinning him in place, but the other…
His glove was thick, the metal beneath it unyielding as his fingers teased at the head of Obi-Wan's cock, trailed down its length, cupped his balls, did everything but actually close around it, everything but what Obi-Wan craved so desperately from him. He had lost track of how long Anakin had kept him like this, time fading into a meaningless concept within their dreaming state. He may have spent years, lifetimes cradled in Anakin's arms, in his lap, his cock thick and flushed and needy beneath the too-gentle touch of Anakin's fingers.
Against his ear, Anakin's voice crackled within his mask, spilling out an endless litany of fantasies, threats and promises both, all of the ways that they both had and had not had the chance to touch each other in their lives together, all of them still vibrant and living within Anakin's mind.
"Do it, then," Obi-Wan finally snapped, Anakin halfway through describing how he would bend Obi-Wan over and take him apart until he was begging for mercy. "Do any of it. Anything more than - " he dropped a hand to close around Anakin's wrist, fingers digging into the cuff of his glove. "This."
He could practically feel the wicked grin behind Anakin's helmet as the Force pinned his hand back down, and Anakin's thumb worked the gentlest, most teasing circles just beneath the head of his cock, catching the slow trickle of Obi-Wan dripping with need and smearing it against his skin.
"Weren't you always trying to teach me patience?" he asked in a voice Obi-Wan nearly recognized.
That night, Obi-Wan woke directly into the middle of a trembling orgasm, face down, body fucking his helplessly sensitive cock against the mattress. He clutched at the sheets and buried his face into the pillow as he came harder than he had in years, the soft fabric swallowing up both his helpless cry of Anakin's name and his tears.
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He didn't dream for a long while.
Weeks passed, months, until he found that he was the one reaching out as he laid down, rather than feeling the insistent tug of Anakin's need dragging them together across the galaxy. His connection to the Force was thready, rusted with time and the disuse that came with maintaining anonymity, but still he found himself questing out into it, seeking the collapsing star that Anakin had become.
For so long, he found nothing.
He wasn't sleeping when the connection finally came. Instead, he felt the bruising grip of Anakin's Force signature close around him like a fist, dragging him from his body, leaving it to crumple uselessly to the ground as he was hauled across the galaxy to collapse at the feet of Darth Vader.
"Kenobi," he snarled, towering above Obi-Wan. He reached to tangle his fingers into Obi-Wan's hair, dragging his head back to look up at him. There was something unfamiliarly wild in his voice and touch, something that for the first time made Obi-Wan unable to think of him anything but his assumed identity, rather than as what remained of his Anakin. He was burning with rage, though it did not feel targeted at Obi-Wan. It was nebulous, unfocused, the helpless flailing of a creature despairing within its cage, and so Obi-Wan did not allow himself to respond with any matching anger or defensiveness. Instead, he let himself go pliant in Vader's grip, feeling the sharp tang of satisfaction beginning to sing through his emanating darkness.
He was relentless in Force and body, pinning Obi-Wan to the ground, grinding against him until Obi-Wan felt that he might come just from the weight of him pressing down against him, the ferocity of his need echoing through the connection between them. He bared Obi-Wan roughly without the use of the Force, dragging off the intangible clothes that covered him in this dream state to leave him spread out beneath Vader's implacable gaze, a feast for the taking.
Obi-Wan wondered distantly what Vader saw when he looked at him - the Jedi that Anakin Skywalker had known, or the ragged old man that Obi-Wan Kenobi had become.
Whatever he saw, it seemed to be exactly what he was looking for, because he folded himself to the ground before Obi-Wan and shoved his thighs roughly apart with his chilled grip, fingers working easily and smoothly into him, the inexplicable logic of dreams easing his way. Obi-Wan's body opened for him as if he had been crafted especially to hold this man inside of him. He had been craving this touch for years, for decades, and as he finally felt Vader's cock driving into him, he found that his body was helpless to do anything but give himself over entirely to what was being demanded of him.
He felt himself being fucked deep and hard, the Force pressing him to the floor, Vader's body curving over him, wracked with helpless heaves of breath that gusted loudly from his mask. There was something inexplicably erotic about how the thick hot curve of his cock within Obi-Wan contrasted so sharply with the cool metal of his limbs, the blank glare of his helmet. All around Obi-Wan was a cold, impersonal, constructed facade, but deep within him…
He felt Anakin.
He could feel the sudden grip of metal hands against his skin, something within the bond between them pulling tight. He reached to cup the mask in his hands, holding it as he would have once held Anakin's face, fierce and tender. When a voice once again choked out through the modulator of the helmet, he found that it was heartbreakingly familiar.
"Please," Anakin practically sobbed out. He dropped his head down against Obi-Wan's shoulder, the words sounding broken as they spilled from him. "Oh, Obi-Wan. I - " a shattered cry tore from him as he drove into Obi-Wan, filling him so completely that Obi-Wan felt as breathless as he had with the phantom clutch of Anakin's hand around his throat. "Master..."
Obi-Wan felt the Force hold around him dissipate into nothing, the only weight left against him the press of Anakin's body. He raised his newly freed arms to clutch Anakin tight to his chest, tangling their legs together, holding him impossibly close.
"Take me, Anakin," he insisted. "I'm yours."
Anakin seemed helpless but to obey, driving into Obi-Wan with all of his considerable strength, pounding him open, Obi-Wan's cock trapped and leaking between their bodies against the cool metal of Anakin's suit, driven to the edge just from the thick stretch of Anakin within him. He could feel Anakin trembling, even through the parts of his suit that remained, his body reaching its limits, breath ragged as it rasped out from the mask.
This time, when Obi-Wan felt the familiar pressure closing against his throat, it was Anakin's hand rather than his Force signature - his right hand, ungloved, the one that had once known the touch of Obi-Wan's skin. It closed against his neck, the sensors Obi-Wan knew were helplessly sensitive pressing to where his pulse pounded beneath them.
He tilted his head back into the grasp, and came to the feeling of Anakin filling him, thick and hot and alive, every sensation heightened as his cool mechanical hand trapped Obi-Wan's life within his throat, making dark fireworks burst across his vision.
He reveled in the feeling of Anakin continuing to fuck him after he'd come, taking his own pleasure from Obi-Wan's oversensitized body. He had never come in this dream state, and he expected to wake, to be jolted from it immediately, but instead he found himself lying there beneath Anakin, feeling the glorious burn of each thrust, hearing every trembling exhale as he drove himself closer to release.
Obi-Wan reached up, curling his hand around the back of Anakin's helmet the same way he used to twist his fingers into his hair, drawing their foreheads together, gazing into the depths of darkness behind the mask, seeking for his eyes.
"Come for your Master, Anakin," he demanded, and with a choked cry, Anakin did.
He spilled deep within Obi-Wan, once again wrapping him in the Force apparently instinctively, Obi-Wan feeling his touch all over him in a way that would have had him instantly hard again had he been a younger man. As it was, he found himself shuddering with oversensitivity, gasping for breath within Anakin's hold, spent cock twitching uselessly between them.
Anakin remained draped across him as he softened within him, his suit impossibly heavy, crushing Obi-Wan to the ground. Obi-Wan struggled for breath beneath him until Anakin finally rose up on an elbow, looking down at him.
"You're still here." He sounded dazed, exhausted, and yet still with an edge of menace, a warning lurking behind the words.
Obi-Wan lifted his shoulders in a shrug. "You brought me here, Anakin," he said mildly. "If I'm still here, it's because you want me to be."
Anakin shoved himself off of him, standing abruptly with an effortless gust of the Force, his armor whirling around him before settling back into place against his body. Obi-Wan was left sprawled beneath him, the picture of someone bare and used, but he knew that his Force signature must be radiating out his satisfaction toward Anakin.
"This will not happen again," Anakin snarled within his helmet.
Obi-Wan looked up at him placidly. "As you say, dearest," he allowed, and the impact of him jolting back into his body was the most violent he had felt yet.
He felt himself slam down onto the floor of his house, as if he was waking into the same moment that he had fallen. The impact shuddered through his body, though without quite enough force to dislodge the ripples of pleasure still clenching within him. He dragged himself to his bed, toppling into it face down, knowing that every part of him would be aching horrendously in the morning.
Despite the building pain, he felt himself drifting off to sleep with the faintest smile curling across his face. Tonight, he knew, he would sleep dreamlessly.
Tomorrow, however, or the next night, or a night that would come weeks or months in the future…
Eventually, inevitably, he and Anakin would share their dreams again.