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"Enough, Anakin! I will not hear another word!"
"But-"
"I said not another word, Anakin," Obi-Wan sternly pointed a finger at his Padawan. "Not another word. We will discuss this in the morning. Perhaps then your attitude will have improved and you'll have the sense to apologise for your foolishness!"
Anakin rolled his eyes. "As you say, Master." The young man rose from his seat, bowed mockingly and turned, walking away from Obi-Wan.
"Where do you think you're going?"
Anakin, not stopping or looking back, simply replied, "To my quarters, Master. Not another word ‘til the morning, remember?" Obi-Wan could hear the smirk in his voice.
As he watched his Padawan disappear to the other end of the ship, Obi-Wan sighed, bringing a hand to his brow. If the younger man actually intended to discuss the matter again, the Jedi doubted it. He had the feeling that Anakin was satisfied simply with knowing that he had struck a nerve with his Master.
Obi-Wan, seeing nothing left to gain from the situation, rose and made his way to his own quarters, turning off the lights and changing clothes before flopping down onto his bed. He scrunched his eyes and huffed in frustration.
Over the hours, no matter how he tried, he could not sleep, tossing and turning in the sheets. He watched the stars pass through the porthole, trying his best to calm his mind. It was a silly argument, really, and the long trip had worn down on both of them. Obi-Wan sighed again, frowning. Anakin tested his patience like no-one else ever had.
And it made him want to fuck him into oblivion.
Whenever he saw that cheeky smirk, or whenever he looked over to catch Anakin already looking at him. Whenever they were on a mission together, fighting side by side, adrenaline coursing through them. When he watches the muscles the Padawan’s back flex as he takes his tunic off. When he comes out of the shower in nothing but a towel around his waist. So nonchalant, oblivious to the wickedness running through his Master’s mind.
Obi-Wan moaned in frustration when he realised he was achingly hard, cock straining against his breeches. He hadn’t indulged himself in years, preferring instead to meditate, or read, or train, anything to keep the thoughts of his Padawan out of his head. He shifted his hips, and just the friction alone caused Obi-Wan to lose his breath and bite his lip.
Hazy from sleeplessness, lust, and a lingering frustration, he reached down and pulled his trousers down to his thighs, freeing his cock. He grasped it, almost experimentally at first, sliding his hand up to smear the pre-cum around the head before sliding down and up again. His eyes fluttered closed and he let his head drop back to the pillow.
He jerked himself off slowly at first, building up to a delicious ache, and massaged the head of his cock with one hand as he skimmed aimlessly over his body with the other. His hip and leg muscles flexed instinctively, wanting to thrust up into his hand. He moaned quietly, breathlessly, as he lost himself in his ministrations.
Images of Anakin danced in Obi-Wan’s mind. He imagined himself running his hands over the younger man’s chest, his soft skin, teasing his nipples and placing kisses on his collarbone. Creeping his hands around his waist and down to his ass, pulling Anakin’s hips towards his and grinding into each other. He imagined Anakin’s breath tickling his neck, moaning his Master’s name. Begging to be fucked.
Obi-Wan knew that Anakin wasn’t the type to beg but just picturing the pleading look on his face, being so vulnerable, drove him wild. Please, Master. Please, Obi-Wan. Fuck me.
He knew it was wrong, so, so wrong, to think of his Padawan this way. Even more wrong to include the emotional side to him, to fill his heart with fantasies of Anakin letting himself be honest with his feelings, opening up to him and letting him in. For those were the moments the Jedi secretly relished the most with his protégé; when they took care of each other’s wounds, when he wiped the emotional Anakin’s tears away. The quiet, intimate moments that made his heart flutter and his hands tremble.
Obi-Wan was so ashamed of himself, and he blushed furiously as his cock twitched and a particularly loud moan escaped him. He slapped a hand to his mouth to quiet himself. He was slick with pre-cum now, and the heat in his abdomen was coiling tighter and tighter as he thrust up into his hand. His toes curled, tangled in the sheets, and he squeezed his eyes tight as he came hard onto his chest and stomach. He stroked once, twice more, riding out his high as the last spurts of cum dripped onto his belly.
He lay there for a short while, catching his breath and staring up at the ceiling. His whole body felt warm. With a grunt, he propped himself up and wiped himself off with some napkins he had nearby.
He then turned back into his bed, finally settling down. He closed his eyes and sighed. He hoped that these thoughts of Anakin would pass by soon and they could go back to normal. Back to being Master and Padawan. Back to being friends.
He could only hope.