#tiit

“You’re a menace,” Obi-Wan says, and his tone is supposed to be flat, unimpressed, but it comes out almost awed. 

Anakin preens from behind the bars of his jail cell. He goes back to looking surly a second later though, like it’s his resting demeanor.

“Two planetary incidents in one fucking day,” Obi-Wan continues, still trying to wrap his head around…this. He starts pacing, because pacing usually helps. “The Vun and the Jael peoples hate each other, Anakin. They’ve not agreed on anything for the past two thousand years, hence the entire civil war. And yet in the span of one day, you’ve managed to unite them behind one thing. Hatred for you.”

Anakin bears his teeth, air spiking with the scent of—of—sticky sap.

“Are you—sorry, are you aroused?”

“No!” Anakin scowls and shifts from his seat on the jail cell bed. His cheeks are flushed though, and he can’t maintain eye contact with him.

“You are,” Obi-Wan says slowly, the awe accidentally slinking its way back into his voice. “Do you know how many hours of my night I just spent negotiating for your release and our safe passage off Vu/Jaelo? Too many to fucking count, Anakin. I am furious with you.”

Anakin shifts again as if he can’t help it. “Yeah?”

“Force,” Obi-Wan rubs a hand over his beard with a shake of his head. “Both sides wanted to kill you, Anakin—the only reason they didn’t is because they couldn’t agree on how.”

“No,” Anakin says and Obi-Wan’s eyes narrow.

“Oh, I assure you they did. It took all of dinner to convince them not to—why are you aroused, Anakin? This is neither the time nor the place!”

He doesn’t mean to raise his voice, as Anakin never responds well to yelling, but he’s feeling his own instinctual response to Anakin’s arousal stirring in his stomach. His omega is wet and Obi-Wan just spent twenty odd hours defending him and protecting him aand the alpha inside his chest is clawing at the bars of its cage to take his reward. 

Obi-Wan automatically starts on a very reliable breathing exercise, but it just pulls more of Anakin’s scent into his lungs, which is so distracting that he doesn’t even realize he’s stopped regulating or counting his breaths all together and is just standing half a step away from his omega’s prison cell, mouth open and watering.

Had he really ever, actually thought that his life would get easier after mating Anakin?

What a fool he’d been.

“Not knowing how wasn’t the only thing that stopped them,” Anakin says, rising from his cot to press himself against the jail bars. “You did. You’d be a pretty shit alpha if you let your omega get killed over a little diplomatic misunderstanding.”

Obi-Wan feels his lips pull back into a snarl. “I should put you on your knees,” he hears himself say as if someone else were growling the words. How can Anakin affect him so much, so easily? Half the time they’re together now after their mating, he feels like he’s coming undone, like he’s two seconds away from being swallowed by his instincts to take. To possess.

 “You could,” Anakin agrees. “You’re my alpha. You could order me to do anything, and I would. You could tell me to kneel in that tone, and I’d drop for you. I wouldn’t be able to help it. My body would listen because it knows it’s yours.”

“I’d never,” Obi-Wan says, horrified by the very thought, and then doubly so when he’s hit by the idea that perhaps Anakin is expecting him to do so, has been waiting for it to happen, for Obi-Wan to snap and—and abuse him. He’s stepping forward to cradle Anakin’s cheek through the prison bars.

For the first time since they mated, Obi-Wan wonders if they should have. If he could ever be a good enough alpha for Anakin, when he’s never going to be able to stop being his master.

And being Anakin’s master historically has meant a lot of nagging and berating and attempts at controlling.

But as his alpha, the nagging and the berating and the attempts at control…Anakin must have worried Obi-Wan might actually control him, use the alpha command, force him into compliance.

Anakin presses his cheek against the palm of Obi-Wan’s hand, practically nuzzling him. “I know,” he murmurs. “Of course I know, Obi-Wan. You’re the best alpha in the entire galaxy.”

Something settles in Obi-Wan’s chest at this admission, and he watches as his thumb strokes along the edge of the scar over Anakin’s cheek. “Best omega,” he replies rather nonsensically as the omega in question is currently standing behind prison bars after causing a round of serious diplomatic incidents.

“Don’t lie,” Anakin admonishes with a smile. His cheeks crease with the force of it.

“My omega,” Obi-Wan corrects himself, and Anakin lets out a noise that can only be described as a purr. He goes through the motions of unlocking the cell and is rewarded with Anakin in his arms, cold nose rubbing over the mating bite on Obi-Wan’s neck.

“I knew,” Anakin mumbles several hours ater after he’s thoroughly scented all of Obi-Wan, and they’re laying on their sheets, basking in the afterglow of sex that has yet to lose its electric and heady magic.

Obi-Wan hums to show he’s listening, but most of his attention is focused on the arduous task of stroking his fingers through Anakin’s soft hair, from root to tip over and over again.

“But I had to make sure,” Anakin continues, and it must be important because his scent goes sharp with nerves and he props himself up on Obi-Wan’s chest. “So. Sorry. You know. About the last few months.”

Obi-Wan blinks, eyebrows furrowing as he tries to think past his sex haze to what Anakin is saying. “You had to make sure,” he repeats.

“Yeah,” Anakin’s hair has fallen down across his forehead. He bites his lip. “I knew you’d never really command me or, you know. Be like that. But—but I just needed to make sure.”

“Wait,” Obi-Wan says. “Sorry, just—are you saying that you—for the past few months you’ve been so awful and incorrigible on purpose? You were testing me to—what, see if I’d snap?”

Anakin shrugs with one shoulder, looking torn between stubborn and sheepish. “I’d never known you as an alpha, just as my master. I needed to see for sure that you’d—you’d be an alpha I could trust as much as I trust my master.”

“Healer Che gave me meds to help with the migraines you’ve been giving me,” Obi-Wan says flatly. “She didn’t even question why I’d need them. You’ve been a menace. You poured soup on the lap of the Queen from Balion. You stole every left footed boot I own and hid them around the ship. You told the cook that my favorite food was ushral paste and to use it in everything. I despise the taste of ushral. You know that.”

“Well,” Anakin sniffs. “Tastes can change.”

“I’ve spent ninety-seven days wanting to throttle you.”

“Well,” Anakin clears his throat. “I’ve spent the last ninety-seven days falling more and more in love with you. Because of how you’ve—because you’ve never—you never snapped. You never commanded me to stop. You just went all Master on me.”

“All Master on you.”

“Yeah, like. I’m very disappointed in your antics, padawan, if you want to behave like a child, I’m sure we can find a spare cot for you in the creche—”

“I never said that,” Obi-Wan protests, because even at his most annoyed with Anakin, he never even considered sending him away.

“You practically did,” Anakin shrugs with his other shoulder. “But I would have deserved it. I was being awful.”

“Agreed,” Obi-Wan says. “I think I understand though.” “Of course you do,” Anakin drops down to rest his head on his chest again.

Obi-Wan lets the quiet envelop them again, resuming his Force-given job of scratching at his omega’s scalp gently. “So you’ll stop then, right? No more tests?”

“No more tests,” Anakin says. “You’re a good alpha.”

“Excellent,” Obi-Wan replies. Then with a bit of a grin he can’t keep off his face if he tried, “and I can’t wait to see you attempt being a good omega.”

Anakin bites him.