#maceani

They're cut off from their men, and rescue won't be possible for days yet. Mace would risk it on his own, but Skywalker is stumbling and dazed, bleeding sluggishly from a wound in his abdomen; it is small, from a dart carrying something, and would have likely ended up quite a small hole if not for how the fabric had been yanked to one side by a passing droid during a flipping maneuver, and torn the projectile out in the most damaging way possible. Skywalker is likely concussed and almost certainly poisoned. Mace doesn't trust that the boy would make it, if left to his own devices while Mace runs for backup.

Skywalker growls low, and Mace hums a little as he starts pulling away the layers of tunic. The growl raises to a snarl, and Mace looks up. He meets Skywalker's eyes, trying not to let himself believe that this is turning into a battle of wills. Skywalker's just too unmoored to think clearly, that's all.

"I just need to access the wound," he says, clearly as he can. "I have bacta in my bag. It won't be enough, but it will help. Does that sound doable?"

Skywalker stares at him for a moment, struggling, and then his head falls back with a groan.

Mace takes it for agreement. At the very least, Skywalker doesn't protest when the muddied robes and tunic are pulled away. Mace wastes some precious water washing the wound out, and then smears it with bacta and covers it with the sealant.

Skywalker grunts. "We might've needed that, later. It was just a flesh wound."

"It was worse than it looked," Mace counters, "I suspect it would have gotten infected sooner rather than later without some kind of antiseptic applied, and bacta is what we have."

Skywalker huffs, but doesn't argue.

"I'm going to look for more blankets," Mace says. "Try not to move. See if you can meditate to neutralize whatever that poison was."

He gets an affirmative grunt out of the Knight, which is about as much as Mace could hope for right now. He heads off, scouring the small building for anything useful. There is one blanket he finds that's worth taking, heavy and thick, though too scratchy to place against the skin, and some towels that don't yet smell musty or overly stale. There is even a drawer of table linens, and he takes a few of those as well; they will make for a good barrier between them and the scratchy top blanket.

There isn't any food, but the water runs. He doesn't trust it. However, he does have a few purification tablets, so that'll still work fine. It runs clear enough after a minute or so.

By the time he makes it back to Skywalker, the young man is pretty clearly trying to meditate, but Mace has doubts as to how successfully. There's a pinch to his brow, and sweat that Mace can smell from across the room.

Frustrated, anxious alpha.

Frustrated, anxious, aroused alpha.

"Skywalker?" he asks, hoping he's wrong about the assumption he's got brewing.

"I think they dosed me with a rut-inducer," Skywalker says, jaw tight and voice tighter. He does not yet open his eyes. "If they're using it as a weapon, it's going to be a strong one, isn't it? The kind that the medics warn can be deadly?"

Probably. Mace isn't a medic, though, and he's more familiar with his own anatomy than that of an alpha. Being older than Skywalker doesn't mean much when it's a subject like this.

"Is there still time to flush the toxin?" Mace asks. "I may be able to help."

Skywalker grimaces. Finally, he opens his eyes. "It's worth a shot."

--

Anakin simmers in his Council chair, glowering at the wall as the actual Council members continue talking around him. He tries to push away the jealousy he feels and yet it keeps surging up, a fear rising again and again that he cannot quell. "I agree that it would be prudent to send Obi-Wan on the mission with Mace," Master Mundi says, and other members nod in agreement as well. Anakin frowns. Mace is supposed to go on an undercover mission with another Jedi pretending to be a couple, and even if he knows it’s fake, he can’t stop thinking about the readiness in which Mace and Obi-Wan have accepted their roles.

Looking at them standing in the middle of the room together, they look so much more a couple than Mace and Anakin will ever be; they are elegant and refined together while Anakin is just a childish mess. And the fact that he’s slouching in his chair pouting just proves it. His thing with Mace is still very new and they haven’t really talked about it yet, so Anakin’s anxiety is taking every chance it can get to use this against him, to tell him that this would never work anyway.

"I could go instead," Anakin says loudly, before he even realizes he’s said it. He flushes when everyone else stops talking and turns to him, Mace and Obi-Wan both with matching raised eyebrows, but Anakin has to plow on. "I know that place, so I could have more useful information for Mace," he attempts weakly.

"Because you are known there, that could cause problems if someone recognizes you, rendering the disguises useless," Depa says reasonably, though not unkindly. "Besides, we’ve decided that having two human males closer in age will be less conspicuous." Anakin lowers his head, flushing even more at the reminder of his and Mace’s age gap. Instead of being hot like it seemed in the past, now it makes him seem juvenile and foolish. He tries not to look at Mace and Obi-Wan, not wanting to see their likely disappointed faces watching him, so he sinks back into his chair and continues to sulk.

He’s still not a full member of the Council anyway, so he doesn’t know why they insist on him being here for such things if he doesn’t get much of a voice. It just makes him seem even more like a clingy Padawan who’s followed his Master into important Jedi duties today. "Then it’s settled; Obi-Wan and I will leave tonight," Mace says in finality, and the rest of the Council takes that as dismissal. "Anakin, a word," Mace calls to him softly as he starts to stand up, and Obi-Wan gives him an encouraging look before leaving with the other members. Anakin shuffles to a stop in front of Mace, finally looking up at him when they’re alone.

Mace doesn’t look nearly as displeased as he thought he would, at least. "I have a feeling you didn’t speak out against the plan because you wanted to prove something to your former Master," Mace says with a wry lift of his brow, crossing his arms across his chest. Anakin lowers his gaze again and gives a jerky shake of his head.

"Sorry," he whispers.

"Don’t be," Mace replies, voice as warm as he’s ever heard it. "I admire your fire and spirit, even if it gets you into trouble. You’re much like your Master when he was younger in that sense," he continues, and Anakin’s eyes snap up to meet his again.

"Really?" He asks a bit disbelieving; he’s heard stories about Obi-Wan as a Padawan, but it’s still hard to believe his Master ever having the same troubles he has.

"Yes, though you have to make sure that those passionate emotions don’t become ones that gnaw away at you and corrupt how you feel," Mace says gently, and Anakin nods.

"I know," he replies softly.

"The Council is here for you and we are willing to help," Mace says. "I am willing to help you."

"Okay," Anakin whispers, not sure what else to say, fidgeting on his feet and feeling strangely emotional. Mace suddenly strides over to his Council chair and sits on it before patting his legs.

"Come sit on my lap," Mace tells him, and Anakin just blinks in surprise.

"What?" He asks, looking around as if he half-expects Yoda to pop out from behind something and say, "A prank it was, young Skywalker!" But that doesn’t happen, and instead Mace just gestures him over.

"Yes, come here," he instructs, Anakin finally shuffles over. He awkwardly gets into the chair on top of Mace’s lap; this chair isn’t exactly meant for two people to do this but he still manages to fit with his knees on either side of Mace’s thighs, staying rigid because he doesn’t know what he’s allowed to do. "I know we haven’t talked about what we have since that night," Mace begins, referencing an evening when Anakin got emotional and let loose his feelings and Mace had kissed him so sweetly. "And I gather that you need some clarity to soothe the loud thoughts in your head," he says, accurately assessing the tangled knot of emotions in Anakin’s mind right now.

He nods, eyes downcast and unwilling to look at Mace, but Mace reaches out to gently tilt his chin up to make him look at him, dark eyes glowing with warmth. "You have to trust me when I say that I want you and that you’re more than worthy, alright?" Mace tells him firmly, again seeing right through him. Anakin scrunches up his nose, not sure if he can. "Tell me you believe me," Mace instructs, raising his brows at him. Anakin grumbles, but Mace is having none of it. "Anakin."

"Yes, I believe you," Anakin finally says, and while he wants to sound irritated and roll his eyes, he can’t help but answer it honestly. That’s just what Mace does to him.

"Good boy," Mace praises, which sends a sudden shock of pleasure through Anakin. A faint smirk shows itself on Mace’s face, and Anakin already knows he’s blushing fiercely. "I intend to use that to my advantage as much as possible," Mace teases lightly, before his strong arms wrap around Anakin’s waist and his lips find Anakin’s neck. Anakin gasps in surprise and arches his neck, allowing room for Mace to maneuver as he presses gentle kisses up Anakin’s throat and over to his jaw. Anakin’s eyelashes flutter as he sighs, heart beating rapidly in his chest at the feeling of Mace’s lips on his skin, the soft scrape of stubble.

"May I show you how much I want you, to help you believe?" Mace murmurs, practically against his lips. Anakin suddenly pulls back in surprise.

"In the Council chambers?" He asks, slightly aghast but also giddy at the idea of it. "I’m pretty sure that’s sacrilegious or something," he jokes, though he knows the effect is ruined by his face that’s turned even more bright red from thinking about being with Mace in this way.

"I’m a member of the Council so I can do what I want in here," Mace replies with a raised brow, and Anakin’s mouth drops open in not-quite-feigned shock.

"Mace!" Anakin says, a surprised laugh coming out of him. "I can’t believe you."

"Oh, so do you not want me to—?" Mace says playfully, pulling his hands away from his body, but Anakin rushes to cut in.

"No, no, continue!" He says quickly, and there’s that hint of a smirk again. Anakin barely suppresses a sigh when Mace’s hands come back up to grip his hips, his thumbs rubbing circles into his hipbones.

"Is that so?" Mace says casually, languidly, like he has all the time in the world. Damn his Jedi patience.

"Yes," Anakin gasps out. "Please."

"Since you asked so nicely," Mace murmurs, and then he’s leaning forward to press his lips against Anakin’s, who inhales sharply in surprise and then relaxes into it, letting his lips part and his head tilt and Mace to eventually slip his tongue inside his mouth. As they kiss, with Anakin needy and a bit sloppy while Mace meets him with steady slowness, one of Mace’s hands wanders down to palm over Anakin’s rapidly hardening cock through his trousers, making him buck his hips forward and suddenly break the kiss. He can’t help but moan as Mace rubs lightly over the wet head of his cock, and it has him rutting forward again.

"What do you want, Anakin?" Mace asks him as he just softly teases his cock, and though Anakin adores this and wants Mace to keep touching him, he wants something else even more, has been thinking about it every time he’s sat in these chambers watching Mace.

"I want to suck your cock," Anakin says simply, looking at him beseechingly, knowing his desire is leaking into the Force and letting itself be known. Mace’s eyes flicker over his face, taking every part of him in as if to help him make a decision. And then he nods, and Anakin could sigh with relief.

"Alright, Anakin," Mace murmurs, and Anakin wastes no time in sliding off Mace’s lap and getting onto the floor, Mace spreading his legs for him so he can kneel between them. Mace’s hands go to his hair automatically, petting through his curls, and the expression Mace gives him is one of disbelief, of reverence, of uncertainty, and those are all unfamiliar on the face of Mace Windu. Anakin looks up at him with wide, pleading eyes, placing his mismatched hands on Mace’s legs and slowly sliding them up his thighs. At Mace’s nod, Anakin turns his attention to Mace’s trousers, undoing them and then feeling the hard press of his erection through his briefs before he finally pulls Mace’s cock out.

Anakin is sure he’s looking at it with stars in his eyes as he takes in the veiny length with the flushed, slick head, the way it throbs in his grip. "You’re bigger than I expected," Anakin says honestly, very pleased about that, already loving the ache he’s sure to feel in his raw and the weight of him in his hand. He would be fine with anything, but the large size of him is a plus, he can’t deny.

"I bet you say that to everyone," Mace jokes, though he actually looks a bit shy, which is also strange on Mace’s face.

"Who’s everyone?" Anakin murmurs, stroking Mace’s cock a few times while looking up at him through his eyelashes. "Just you." He hears a hitch in Mace’s breath at his words before he leans in and wraps his lips around Mace’s cock. Anakin hums as the taste of Mace floods his mouth, immediately starting to suck eagerly and take more and more of him down. Mace doesn’t make too much noise as he does this, but Anakin relishes every soft groan and gasp as Anakin sucks and writhes his tongue along the underside and hollows his cheeks.

Mace’s broad hands remain in his hair, just gently holding him there; he doesn’t push or take or force, simply holds him so tenderly in a way that has Anakin blinking back tears, and not just because of the tip of Mace’s cock hitting the back of his throat. "I know you can give it to me better than that," Anakin playfully taunts when he pulls back just as he's about to choke, almost unable to take this softness and instead part of him wants Mace to just take what he wants. But Mace sees the truth of his feelings, yet again.

"Just keep doing what you’re doing," Mace encourages, his voice lightly commanding. "You’re so good, you’re doing so well," Mace praises him, and that makes Anakin moan in surprise and immediately put his mouth back on Mace's cock. Anakin groans around him, adding that to the filthy wet sounds already coming out of his mouth. Anakin has to touch himself now, he cannot bear it for any longer.

He shoves a hand down his trousers and takes his own cock in hand, letting out a muffled whimper as quickly starts stroking himself off, pleasure flooding him so suddenly that he feels dizzy. "Yes, make yourself feel good for me, too," Mace says, eyes hooded and molten hot as he watches Anakin touch himself while having Mace’s cock in his mouth. Anakin’s pace quickly gets sloppy with the way his own pleasure is distracting him, but Mace doesn’t seem to mind too much. In fact, it seems he likes how messy he is with it, the way drool pools in his mouth and slips down his jaw, how even more obscene sounds are pulled out of him, how his eyelashes flutter and those tears start to trail down his cheeks.

So this may not be the most polished blowjob ever, but he hopes his enthusiasm and the sight of him coming undone is enough. It seems like it is, because Mace slumps in his chair, his legs trembling slightly as his fingers twist a bit more in Anakin’s curls, unable to resist against the buildup of pleasure. It makes Anakin extremely pleased, and he manages a glance up to see Mace with his face scrunches up, his own eyes struggling to stay open, with his mouth parted and breathing heavily.

He so rarely sees Mace look anything less than calm and composed, but to see him far from those now is enough to do Anakin in. Anakin suddenly comes hard, his vision whiting out for a moment as he shakes all over and moans loudly around Mace’s cock, coming all over his fist and nearly choking himself on Mace’s cock in the process. Mace’s hands are running soothingly through his hair when he comes back to himself, his forehead pressed Mace’s thigh where he had to take his mouth off of him to pant heavily. His eyes dart to the side and he sees Mace’s still-hard cock, so before Mace can say anything, he sinks his mouth back down on it.

Anakin sucks on him with vigor, and it doesn’t take long before Mace is groaning low and deep and pulsing in his mouth as he comes, fingers shaking to try not to pull too hard at Anakin’s hair, not that he’d mind. He swallows Mace’s spend and then coughs once, before pulling back and licking his lips, feeling pleased. "Thank you," he tells Mace as he looks up at him, his voice rough. Mace nods, his head tilting back and his chest heaving. It makes Anakin smile, that he got to see Mace like this.