Love's an excuse to get hurt, and to hurt.

[citizenjess]

In complete honesty, parts of this story have been in my/our head(s) for ... a long time, really. Not sure what all made them come out, but there you go. To give credit where it's due, in the past, I have loved stories like epigram and illstarred's one_clear_call, and also some other 'fics of epigram's involving Anakin and/or Obi-Wan as a slave (which do not seem to be online any longer, alas). I only hope I have done all of the tropes herein (and there are a lot of them!) justice. This also references/is meant to fit kinda snugly somewhere within the Jedi Quest series canon, probably after Book 7, Moment of Truth.

Summary: Granta Omega, son of Xanatos deCrion, kidnaps Anakin, with plans to send him back to Tatooine as a sex slave. (Fun fact: We've been calling this the "whoreakin" story). Warning: Contains graphic rape/non-con descriptions. In addition, Anakin is barely 16 here. Includes Omega/Anakin, Obi-Wan/Anakin with Omega as a voyeur, and implied Omega/Obi-Wan, largely referencing patientalien's companion piece (read that one first), I've Got a Hunger and I Can't Seem to Get Full. Both stories are titled after lyrics from Bright Eyes' "Lover I Don't Have to Love." Rated NC-17.

I Want a Boy Who's So Drunk He Doesn't Talk

*

It had been surprisingly, delightfully easy to capture Anakin; though their paths had crossed before, even, on a couple of occasions, in such a fashion, the boy was simultaneously aware of his powers, and yet, sheltered in several ways, from interest in him by the outside world. He was sixteen now, Omega knew intimately, and foolhardy, and he made many clumsy mistakes; but Granta Omega did not, and once he had decided that he would have Anakin Skywalker, it was simple enough to make that happen.

The drugs had worn off more quickly than they might have had their unwitting user not been a Jedi, nay, perhaps the most powerful Jedi yet. Fortunately, Omega had still managed to spirit the boy away off-planet to a Mid-Rim system to a factory that made up one of a small pile of properties both inherited directly from his father and purchased with Xanatos' extensive wealth before Anakin had his full faculties about him again. From there, it had been child's play to drug him - Zan Arbor's Zone treatment had only been enhanced, tweaked since his last encounter with Team Kenobi-Skywalker, and upon waking up, it was obvious that the Padawan had played right into his hands ... and he knew it.

"I'm going to kriffing murder you, you scum-sucking sleemo." Anakin twisted furiously in the straps holding him spread-eagled and face-down across an uncomfortable and bare mattress. Cut off from the Force with a non-descript black collar wrapped forcibly around his neck, however, his threats were unable to come to fruition, and they both knew it. Still, Anakin struggled. "Let. Me. GO," he yelled, but Omega just smiled. When Anakin stopped flailing quite so much, the elder man calmly sauntered nearer to the bed, reached out, and patted the boy's bare rump. "Don't TOUCH me," Anakin snarled, and Omega tsked.

"I'll bet you don't say that to that Master of yours, now, do you?" Omega's voice was silky, belying the danger his looming stance promised. "Unfortunately for you, brat, you'll be unable to say anything at all for a while."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Anakin said heatedly, injecting his voice with false bravado to hide his anxiety, not only regarding his immediate situations, but the repercussions of whether or not Master Obi-Wan knew what had happened to him, whether he'd even see his Master again ...

Omega, however, was unhelpful. "Sordid boy," he scolded, and then produced the ball gag from his pocket to which he had hinted moments before. "Open wide," he grinned, and Anakin, of course, did the opposite, clamping his lips and teeth down tight. He glared at Obi-Wan's sworn enemy, hoping it detracted him from drawing near once more.

It did not. "Mmmgh," Anakin grunted as Omega pinched his nostrils shut; and then his struggling stopped as he concentrated on holding his breath for as long as possible, until ... until ... he gasped brokenly when Omega finally released him, drawing in two, three heavy breaths before the ball gag was fitted between his lips, and then maneuvered forcibly by Omega's fingers until it bobbed against the back of his teeth, pressing his tongue down and, if he wasn't careful, quite literally gagging him. Omega fastened the device tightly around his head, and then cupped his face, pressing a little on the red ball, now half-covered with saliva. Anakin made a gargling noise and Omega smiled.

"There. That wasn't so hard, was it? I bet Obi-Wan wishes he could shut you up like this. Maybe he already does," he ventured, but Anakin did not react. "Hm," the other man mused. "Or maybe it's the other way around, yes, Anakin? Are you still waiting for your Master to touch you? Are you still waiting for him to get over his pathetic allegiance to that overly-restrictive Code and show you what it really means to be fucked?" He petted the boy's face a little; Anakin made a half-hearted show of jerking his head away, but it, of course, came to naught. "Is that what you still want, Anakin?"

"Hmf."

Omega's eyes gleamed. "No more sass? Well, Anakin, you'll be pleased to know that where you're about to be heading, there will be plenty of opportunity to get loosened up for your precious Master Kenobi." He was gratified when this made Anakin swallow, slowly and yet still hard, his throat vibrating with the effort. "I'm afraid most of them aren't going to be as kind and ascetic as he probably would be," Omega continued, and Anakin's heart raced; unwittingly, his gaze was rapt, his attention exquisite. "Ergo, I should probably help you prepare for the worst of it right now."

Omega stood up then, and pulled a wad of fabric (black) from within the folds of his clothing. "No peeking, now," he said teasingly, and then Anakin's vision went dark. He tried to thrash his head around, but the tug on his tiny ponytail surprised and stopped him in his tracks. "Sit still," Omega barked, and Anakin obeyed. "Good," the man hummed. "Pay attention, Anakin. Pretend you're studying for something far more exciting than your next Galactic Geography exam."

The first whack across his naked ass was sharp, and probably hurt as much as it did because he didn't see it coming. He mewled and dug his toes into the mattress as much as the ankle cuffs would allow, which was not a lot. The next hit with the thin switch criss-crossed the first one, and Anakin heard Omega chuckle. "Already welting," the older man told him, and then hit him again. And then again. It went on for a while, and Anakin wished he had paid more attention to Obi-Wan's lessons on pretending as though he were outside of his body looking in. His Master, he knew, had perfected it, and could even persuade himself to acquiesce to such an experience without Force aid. Anakin, however, had no particular finesse or interest in the meditation exercises required for such a feat, though he vowed to himself that if he got out of this in one piece, he would remedy that.

He suspected he was bleeding at least a little when Omega seemed to tire of whipping him; his ass, back, and the backs of his thighs all stung, and he outright hissed when Omega trailed his fingernail, seemingly purposefully, across one of the abrasions. "You're starting to warm up, I see," he noted, and Anakin knew he meant the boy's half-hardened erection; the friction of his bare cock against the mattress, teenage hormones, and the humiliating-yet-stimulating whips with the switch had all served to bring forth his arousal, and he hated himself a little for it. Sex, in his limited-though-curious experience, was a power-play, and he currently held none of the cards in play whatsoever.

And then: "Hnnng," he bit out, and the finger - gloved, he could tell, and thus even less comfortable - pressing against his perineum, the rest of the digits on the same hand spreading him apart stilled, and then moved again, working its way further into Anakin's ass hole. "Dnnnt," Anakin growled, but this only seemed to encourage Omega. A second digit began to probe him, and he wasn't lubricated for it and in spite of the things he had done and seen at the Outlander and on the Holonet when Obi-Wan wasn't home and he was mostly bored and a little horny, he'd never done this before and it hurt. He shook his head as if that would stop the violation, but Omega's fingers simply began to move more fervently in and out of him; they scissored, and he yelled around his gag. His stomach heaved; beneath the blindfold, he shut his eyes tightly, trying to draw up anything he could recall from Obi-Wan's lessons.

Unfortunately, in his panicked state, he could only conjure images of his Master in pain, slumped in a chair, in a room much like this one, moaning softly as the same man currently working a third finger into Anakin stood over him, gloating, and then backhanding him across the face while his Padawan watched, powerless, once more, from across the room. Obi-Wan may have been blocking some of the sensations of Omega's roughing him up that day, but more than likely, he, too, had been weakened considerably by the drugs in his system, and had simply endured it all. Anakin's rescue of him had been a desperate, somewhat accidental event, and it had terrified the boy to see his Master brought so low; laid out on the small infirmary table in their ship afterwards, Obi-Wan had looked pale, shaken, had allowed Anakin to touch too much and keep almost pathetically close to him both during the journey home and in the Healer's Ward at the Temple proper, perhaps needing the same comfort his Padawan had so craved.

It was not an experience Anakin had ever wanted to repeat, let alone think of again. As his Master tirelessly told him, part of the trick of successfully releasing his emotions into the Force was allowing himself to first dwell on them long enough to ascertain why they tormented him so, until they no longer did. Obi-Wan's entrapment by Granta Omega still shook him to the core; he was fairly certain he had a ways to go before he could consider the memory successfully released.

This one, too, would take quite some time. "Hgggh mmnng," Anakin moaned around the rubber in his mouth, and then he heard Omega spit. "Nnnn," he gasped, but Omega was already fitting himself inside of the boy, unslicked and tense and scared. "The slavers will appreciate that you're this tight," Omega said, his own voice also appreciative, and Anakin whimpered and strained in his bindings, the movements his captor was making knife-hot. He screamed and pleaded through his gag, nostrils flaring, and once the tears began, many of them caught and mopped up by the blindfold but a few escaping to his now-damp cheeks below, they did not stop until Omega was well and truly finished, spending himself with a grunt and then pulling out with little tenderness. He smacked Anakin's abused ass cheeks, and Anakin sniffled and wondered whether the other man was smiling.

"Delectable," Omega crooned. The blindfold came off, though he left the ball gag in; a line of drool had found its way from Anakin's propped open lips to the mattress below, and his chin was wet. "You'll fetch a high price with many clients," Omega proposed, and Anakin glared at him blearily. Condescendingly, Omega patted him on the head. "Better work on your attitude while you recover this evening, brat," he said, and then: "Tomorrow, you're going home." The way he said it did not seem to imply Coruscant.

The ball gag was removed. Bending, Omega gripped Anakin's chin roughly and tugged it upwards until their lips met; his tongue moved in a leisurely pattern around inside of the boy's mouth, and Anakin shivered a little at the pressure in his neck as it seemed to go on forever. Finally, Omega pulled away, and then swept two fingers along Anakin's lower lip. "I should make you clean off my cock with that pretty mouth," he threatened, and Anakin went stock still, saying nothing. Omega chuckled at this. "Perhaps later," he acquiesced, and then smirked. "You'll be getting lots of practice at it in the meantime." He released Anakin's face, then, and made his way to the room's single doorway, which, Anakin knew, locked with a key inside of Omega's right pants pocket. "Sleep tight," the older man intoned, and the room went completely dark just before the door shut anew, Omega now on the other side. He heard the lock click, and imagined the footsteps falling in the opposite direction.

In pain, a little bit cold, and missing Obi-Wan a lot, the boy eventually gave in to the urge to cry anew, pressing the side of his face into the mattress as he hiccupped quietly and miserably in the dark. He didn't bother to let his eyes adjust, but shut them and willed himself to rest, the next best thing to his Master's studious meditations. He dreamed again of his Master in Omega's bondage, and then of older memories, of hot, endless sand and the undeniable stench of the inside of a Hutt's palace; of fixing up Watto's spare 'droids and his mother's sparse, yet filling meals, her frequent hugs, her easy affection. He cried harder, and then, finally, fell asleep, tears drying on his eyelashes and staining his thin face.

*

It was here, Obi-Wan Kenobi thought, looking up at the tall, dull, sand-colored rock structure just ahead. He just knew that this was it. The Force seemed to jump as he'd approached from across the Dune Sea, and he trusted it implicitly, as a newborn trusted its mother. This, he thought, was where he would finally find his wayward Padawan, and from whence he would bring Anakin back to the Temple, back home, or die trying.

It had been nearly two weeks since Anakin had disappeared. At first, he'd had veritably nothing to go on; nobody at or around Dex's diner had seemed able or willing to supply him with details as to the nature of Anakin's captor or his plans for Obi-Wan's teenaged Padawan. Frustratingly, the abduction seemed to have happened in plain sight, and yet, nobody had seen a thing.

Then the note had come, on fancy cardstock, signed with a graceful 'O.' Granta Omega's signature and gall were intentionally reminiscent of his father, and Obi-Wan had felt gratified by the small, callous act of ripping the paper into many tiny pieces before burning them; not, however, before memorizing the words elegantly scrawled across it: "Once a slave, always a slave. He screamed for me when you did not." He would not need a physical memento to remember them for as long as he lived.

The package had also contained Anakin's lightsaber.

Here, then, was the results of numerous sessions with the Council, of the entire order of twelve meditating simultaneously to ascertain not simply a clear path to Anakin, but traces of upset in the Force, things that could help him to prepare himself for the inevitable rescue mission - because, he'd made abundantly clear, before Master Windu had eyed him dubiously and told him to take a seat, that if the Council decreed Anakin a lost cause, he would leave to seek the boy on his own. The collective denomination of highest-ranking Jedi had agreed, most of them kindly, to help, and they had. Anakin had not been physically present in the Force, per se, nor could he be reached through their training bond - Obi-Wan suspected that the boy had almost certainly been forcibly cut off from such contact - but his absence spoke volumes, enough so that an eventual 'anti-vergence,' as Windu had called it, and some wary deduction ("Once a slave, always a slave") had led the former Padawan of Qui-Gon Jinn here, now. To Tatooine.

He knew that Omega was also here, his own 'anti-vergence,' on account of his startling lack of Force sensitivity, becoming more prominent as Obi-Wan drew closer to the nondescript facility. The Jedi had stashed his ship several miles in the opposite direction, relying on smaller, albeit still motorized vehicle (still parked a ways away, behind some rare foliage) to get both him and Anakin away from this place. He'd anticipated this, of course, and had impressed upon the Council the importance of subterfuge - Omega, himself a master of disguise, would be two steps ahead, but Obi-Wan liked to think he still had a few tricks up his sleeve.

And how; he gave himself a dubious once-over. His usual garments had been replaced by dark pants and a cloak with a hood, and the half-mask covering his eyes and most of his nose were an added precaution. He had shaved his beard. The voice modulator had been the perhaps least-pleasant aspect of the process - he didn't think he could ever get used to swallowing one of those things. "I'm looking for a slave," he said quietly out loud, testing it now; it was more commonplace than his Coruscanti accent, harder to trace, a bit gruff - good enough, he decided. The black boots on his feet provided him roughly three additional inches in height, and he hoped it, too, would fool Omega, at least long enough for Obi-Wan to take back what was his.

The heavy double doors opened swiftly at his brief knocking. The Gamorrean guard who peered out at him seemed to know that he was expected; the doors opened wider and he was escorted inside. "You are here for the new arrival," the guard said, and Obi-Wan nodded slightly. "He's a pretty one," the Gamorrean smiled toothily as they walked towards a winding hallway, with offshoots of passageways going in several directions. "Blond, good skin, all his teeth. A fighter, too, but he's starting to lose some of his spitfire, now. Still," the guard assured him quickly, "A good whore, worth the price."

"I should hope so." Obi-Wan worked to remove some of the natural joviality from his voice, made it duller, a little more menacing. "I'd hate to feel as though I'd been cheated." It must have worked, because the Gamorrean visibly gulped.

Another few twists and turns, which Obi-Wan mentally catalogued the way he had learned from Qui-Gon as a very young Padawan, and they had arrived at an unmarked door. Inside, Obi-Wan was unsurprised to find, was Granta Omega. "Good evening, my friend." Omega's voice - his real voice, Obi-Wan knew, not the ones he had used to lure the Jedi into traps in the past - was murky and soft. "I trust you found your way without fuss."

"Yes," Obi-Wan said simply, and then once more pushed the limits of his disguise. "Let's not go through the motions of small-talk," he demanded, and Omega looked surprised, but recovered quickly, smiling pleasantly with steepled fingers. "You have received my fee?"

"All of it," Omega told him. "An impressive sum for one boy; though he is a special one, of course."

"Yes," Obi-Wan said again, willing his fists not to clench at the notion that Anakin's gifts, such that they were, were being, he feared, ruthlessly exploited here. He cleared his throat a little, commanding respect once more. "Let me see him."

Omega stood and moved away. Obi-Wan followed, bracing himself. They wound around several more hallways, and Obi-Wan could sense that they were moving underground quite significantly; the Force shuddered around him, asserting the need for caution. Passing several barred cells, Obi-Wan glimpsed desolate creatures of several species - many Twi'lek, a couple of Togrutas, some humans, most female, some not - in various states of repose and obscene act alike. It was not his plan to free all of them - if things went as they should, he would not even need to use the lightsaber tucked securely inside of his darker clothing - but he could feel their suffering nonetheless, and wished it were not so.

Omega seemed to know what he was thinking as the walk continued: "I'm saving the best for last," he grinned, and then he gestured, and ... there. Obi-Wan stared at the gangly creature before him, nude, save for the collar around his neck and the wide chains around his wrists and ankles that did not seem to prevent him from walking, and bit his lip to keep from calling out to his Padawan. "His name is Anakin," Omega said, again, uncannily, and Obi-Wan just nodded. "You don't have to tell him yours." Omega then extracted a key from somewhere, and traversed the short distance towards the padlock of the cage; the key turned, the small clicking noise sounded, and the cage opened in the same brief moment. "You may have an audience," Omega told him casually, indicating that, in fact, he might very well watch the proceedings. Obi-Wan nodded, prepared for this eventuality, and yet irritated nonetheless.

He let Omega bring him into the cage, waited until it was re-locked before being led towards the center of the cell. It did not have a bed, and Obi-Wan saw only the barest remnants of food, water; in the corner, vaguely, he could smell waste. At his feet, now, Anakin kneeled, head bowed. Obi-Wan catalogued briefly the bruises he could see, noting with particular sadness that the boy's Padawan braid had been removed and, likely, discarded. His eyes were downcast; it had been two weeks of waiting, pining, even, of anger and worry and something Obi-Wan feared above all else, the loss of yet another precious thing, first his Master, this time his apprentice, and now that he was here, seeing that Anakin had fared so much worse than he had, locked away, safe, behind the Temple's comforting walls, it hurt in a new way entirely.

Still, he could do this, he knew he could. "Anakin," he murmured in his disguised voice, and the boy's eyes snapped up, wisps of defiance still apparent in spite of all that had likely been done to him. He presumed his Padawan had been trained to speak only when directly questioned - under different circumstances, he would find the implications of that amusing, but right now, it quietly horrified him - and so he questioned him: "How are you today, young one?"

Anakin's voice was soft, tentative, not at all like Anakin. "I am well," he said simply, adding after a beat, "I am ready to serve you in any way that might please you, Sir." Beside him, he heard Omega shift somewhat. "I would like to inspect him further before I claim what I have paid for," Obi-Wan said to him, feeling sick for it, and Omega smiled, and then gestured tellingly with but one finger.

Anakin abruptly stood. His hands strayed to dust off his knees and shins, but he straightened again quickly, arms at his sides, or as well as they could go there with the chains on his wrists. His stomach muscles quivered ever-so-slightly, and his eyes flitted across Obi-Wan's masked visage for only a second before skittering back down again.

The fact that the man's touch was gentle seemed to surprise him. He let Obi-Wan raise his head, lightly stroke his jaw, run a hand briefly across a bruise that had blossomed on his cheek from where a client had been angry because he had, apparently, brushed the cock he'd been ordered to suck with his teeth, and had backhanded him across the face, hard enough that he'd seen stars. In other circumstances, he might have caught the man's hand, now sort of rubbing curiously at the small nub of hair that was all that remained of his Padawan braid - it still made his stomach clench to think about it - as if he expected something to be there that was not. Anakin had no Force sensitivity with the collar around his neck, which was usually how he ascertained whether another being was a threat to him or not, but for some reason, he did not feel overwhelmingly repulsed by this particular man, for whatever reason.

Then the hands trailed to his, picked them up and turned them over, seemed to inspect his palms and short, dirty fingernails (sometimes, when a client was particularly rough and he was on his knees, he would scratch fruitlessly at the floor), even patted at Anakin's forearms a little, and that's when Anakin knew. It wasn't him - he seemed taller, beardless, and the clothing and voice were all wrong - but then also it was, somehow, and he swallowed hard when Obi-Wan's hands trailed down his stomach, fingers just barely grazing the curly thatch of hairs surrounding his crotch. He had no idea how his Master had found him, the means to which he had gone to ensure that Omega would not know that it was him; at the same time, it was obvious to him that the success of Obi-Wan's presumed rescue mission lay heavily in his ability to play his part.

He continued to pretend as though the man were a stranger, though he wondered whether Obi-Wan had sensed that he'd figured it out. In truth, Omega had not been wrong back in the filthy facility in which he had raped him before setting him up here: He hadn't done a lot yet sexually, and most of it was just dreams and random thoughts percolating about this or that act or image (he often dreamed of Queen Amidala from Naboo), but lately, perhaps for at least a year or so, those acts and images had included fantasies of his Master, kind, blue eyes boring into him as he thrust into Anakin, the boy's legs secured around his waist, Padawan braid curled in the older man's fist. Obi-Wan would be gentle, Anakin had always assumed, not like Omega, who had ripped his flesh and then laughed at him the next morning when Anakin had looked a little pale and sickly (perhaps some of the abrasions from the switch had become slightly infected overnight).

Likewise, he wanted his Master, had decided he would be willing to get on his knees for him, to arch up and moan prettily while his Master graciously jerked him off, perhaps in the shower in their private quarters. The last couple of weeks - Omega had only just told him how many days had passed since the beginning of his captivity, as he was being roughly hosed off for the impending arrival of this particular client, who had paid, Omega had sneered, a very high sum for him and expected nothing but the best - had been harrowing, and in truth, now was not the place and time when he would have preferred to be with his Master in such an intimate way for the first time. Still, Obi-Wan had risked everything coming here, must have known intimately just what Omega was capable of, and he had come nonetheless. Because of this, Anakin knew he would put aside his hesitations. He would be the pretty little whore Omega kept assuring him was his lot in life. He would be perfect for Obi-Wan, and Obi-Wan would set him free.

Imbued with a sudden interest in putting on a good show, Anakin acquiesced to Obi-Wan's slow gesture to turn around and then some, kneeling on the ground on all fours and presenting his backside, his head bowed low. Above him, he could hear his Master startle a little, albeit in his well-disguised voice: "I only meant ... never mind, this is quite acceptable." Then the hands were back, skimming his flank, rubbing and even pinching one of his cheeks a little, and then, going further, even, holding him steady while fingers spread him apart. Unlike Omega, Obi-Wan did not fill his ass hole with any fingers or his cock (yet), and when he spoke again, there was a veiled anger that chilled Anakin in its ferocity. "For someone who claims to know the value of a good slave, you certainly allow this one to be mishandled."

Omega's voice also took on an edge. "Many of our clients wish for a little more than simply to pet a pretty face." The implication was obvious: Obi-Wan needed to start performing, and quickly. "I admit," Omega continued, and there was that sneer again, "I am curious to see where you are taking this."

"Hm," Obi-Wan said, and then snapped his fingers a little, a universal sound requesting obedience. Anakin quickly righted himself, beginning to pull himself into a standing position, but then Obi-Wan patted his head: "No," his Master (his Master!) said, tentatively, and then, seeming to collect his bearings more, "I wish for you to pleasure me, Anakin."

"Your wish is my command, Sir." This was easy enough, he thought, minimally invasive, probably exactly why Obi-Wan had requested it. He made sure to wet his lips exaggeratedly - he'd been told several times over the past fourteen or so standard days that he had a very fuckable mouth - before reaching over to tug his Master's cock from the folds of his dark clothing. He started slow, lapping studiously at the rim beneath the head for a bit before taking the entire top into his mouth, making little suckling noises. He gripped near the base with one hand, and then stopped sucking only so he could wet some of the fingers of his other hand, which he then used to play with Obi-Wan's balls. Then he moved back to his original task with gusto, licking the head with the flat of his tongue, using the tip to trace the underside of his Master's member from beginning to end, and then returning to the sensitive edge beneath the head again, letting his tongue dance until, finally, he could hear his serene, pious, beautiful Master's husky gasp. He looked up, met Obi-Wan's veiled gaze, making sure he had both his and Omega's rapt attention, and then took the entire length into his mouth, earning him a strangled groan. He held it inside of his mouth for several long moments, using as much suction as he could muster, even swallowing around it a couple of times. Then, he watched Obi-Wan watch him release the entire thing again slowly, a particularly obscene gesture that he could tell his Master appreciated.

"Excellent." Omega did too, of course. He continued fondling his Master's genitals, but Omega seemed to grow bored with it. "Why don't you see what else he can do?" the dark-haired man asked. "Let him fuck himself on his own fingers and touch himself while you watch, perhaps."

Once more, the chill from Obi-Wan was palpable even without the Force. "I have my own ideas," he said, extra-gruff, and then: "Anakin. All fours again, please." Anakin suckled one last time on his Master's cockhead before obeying, turning around and fisting his hands in the dirt. He heard his Master kneel behind him, and wondered a little at what was happening.

Then, he learned: "Oh!" he gasped, and squirmed a little at the sensation. None of his clients had so far fucked him there with their mouths, and both the knowledge that it was Obi-Wan and that he was pleasuring Anakin in such an intimate and filthy way was incredible to him. Without even needing to act, he felt himself straining for his Master's touch, felt his own cock grow hard, and yet resisted reaching a hand down to rub at himself, knowing full well from recent experiences that this was not favorable in these parts. Still, he moaned needily, stomach muscles clenching and unclenching, sucking in breaths as the pressure in his groin expanded, warmth pooling in his belly. His Master was making small noises himself, and his hands clenched at Anakin's upper thighs, holding him in place, as if Anakin had any choice in the matter, as if he would even consider leaving at this point.

He shivered and moaned and then Obi-Wan stopped and he had to stop himself from outright wailing at the loss of that particular sensation. He nearly craned his head to see what the holdup was, but then Obi-Wan spoke: "I trust you have a lubricant available for use? If not, I have brought my own."

Omega's voice was almost icy. "Of course we do. Something was exchanged behind his back. "Most of our clients do not wish to use anything more than their natural juices," Omega told Obi-Wan casually.

"Yes," Obi-Wan replied, voice carefully blank, "I know." Then, again with those hands, rubbing around Anakin's entrance, stopping when Anakin instinctively tensed, readied himself for the pain that always followed. "Calm, Pa - Anakin," his Master said, and the slip-up did not seem to be noticed by Omega, but it made Anakin's heart flutter. "Relax. Good boy," his Master crooned, and soon he was slicked, able to take four of his Master's fingers, and everything felt hot and wet and his cock ached now. And then Obi-Wan removed his hands and snapped again. "Come sit on my lap, Anakin," he ordered, and Anakin backed up until he was able to do just that. His Master held his own cock in place, and Anakin, understanding, began to lower himself onto it, inch by inch. Hands gripped at him, soft words spoke gruff encouragement, and when Obi-Wan was finally all the way inside of him, he lifted Anakin up slightly and then brought him back down and Anakin let out a guttural moan. He let his head fall back a little against his Master's shoulder, resisting the urge to reach around the back of Obi-Wan's head and turn the other man's face to him and clamor for a kiss - slaves, Omega had told him repeatedly throughout his captivity, do not kiss - but nonetheless showing how much pleasure he was receiving from this, and secretly, how much he loved that it was Obi-Wan making him writhe and keen in this way.

"How is he?" Granta Omega asked, and it would have been funny if the situation weren't so perilous.

Fortunately, Obi-Wan Kenobi was a diplomat, through and through. "He's quite tight," his Master affirmed, and ran a possessive hand across Anakin's chest, stopping to play with a nipple, and then he used both hands to quickly rub at both of them repeatedly with the pads of his fingers. It felt good, Anakin thought, and he arched his back, and then rose up a little and drove his Master's cock back inside of him, making them both grunt. His cock dripped now with his own arousal, and his Master also seemed to notice this. "You like this, yes, Anakin?" he asked, and Anakin nodded quickly and continued fucking himself slowly on his Master's dick.

The hands, always the hands, began working their magic anew, one wrapping blissfully around Anakin's penis and rubbing purposefully over and around the head, coaxing pre-come from the tip and, if Anakin were honest, moving him extremely close to an orgasm. He did not spend himself often with his clients; sometimes, during the few hours of sleep he received, he would curl upon the sandy floor and masturbate himself to completion, which would then allow him to drift off to sleep for at least a couple of hours. Often, he was so tired from being so used that he would simply black out after the endorphin rush, only to be roughly shaken awake at far too early an hour the next morning. Sometimes, Omega, or one of his ugly guards, would slap his face until he was pulled from whatever nightmare he was having, and then he would be escorted to the facilities and fed something, and then thrown back in here to await the day's work. It had been a long and arduous captivity, but now, here, with Obi-Wan milking him with a gentle firmness that was categorically him of his seed, he thought he could begin to see a silver lining.

He thrust up and down again, spearing himself with Obi-Wan's member, and then Obi-Wan stilled him with a hand to his hip and begin jacking him off in full force, hand moving with quick precision, and Anakin came, hard, yowling, trying not to forget his place, wanting to scream Obi-Wan's name, wanting to tell him how much he was loved, how good this felt, even under such dire circumstances. He could not, however, and merely squirmed as his orgasmic body began to settle down again, Obi-Wan still inside of him. He twitched around it, trying to rouse his Master to begin allowing him to move again, but once more, Granta Omega cut in.

"Make him lick his own spunk off of your fingers."

Obi-Wan did not even respond this time, merely brought his hand up to Anakin's mouth, his fingers glistening dully with fluid. "Suck," he ordered softly, and Anakin made a show of it, lapping at each digit, clutching the palm in his fingers; his tongue traced a small lightsaber burn near Obi-Wan's thumb and he very nearly smiled. This close, he could see the familiar blue of his Master's eyes through the mask; Obi-Wan's gaze was wondrous, as if he couldn't believe this was his Padawan. Whether that was a good or bad thing, of course, remained to be seen.

Suddenly, his Master shoved at him. "Knees," Obi-Wan ordered, and Anakin quickly flipped over onto all fours. More brisk than he had been before, yet still gentle enough, Obi-Wan's fingers began scissoring in and out of his rectum, making sure he was still wet enough, and then he drove himself in again, hard, and Anakin let himself be taken, moved when his Master moved, clenched in all the right places the way he'd learned to do with all of the others, and then he heard his Master's breath hitch - a beautiful sound, as good as hearing Obi-Wan's rare, genuine laughter, he thought - and Obi-Wan came into him, gasping and grinding his hips against the boy. "Very ... good, Anakin," he managed, and that's when it happened.

"Thank you, Master." It was an innocuous word, but it also wasn't, and then Anakin made the cardinal mistake of glancing guiltily at Omega, who was well aware of the slip-up this time.

Everything after that was a blur. "You," he remembers hearing Omega snarl at Obi-Wan, and then there was a flash of something tugged swiftly from the dark-haired man's pockets, and Obi-Wan fell to the ground seizing with a sharp thud.

"No!" Anakin screamed, and hovered helplessly over his Master's prone form, but then he, too, made contact with the device; a current of energy shot through him, crackling, painful, and his last thought before he fell to the ground as well alongside Obi-Wan was a simple, plaintive 'I'm sorry.'

*

Obi-Wan came to with a groan. He sat up, too quickly, and rubbed his head, trying to collect his bearings as swiftly as possible. The plan had been going well, he ascertained; engaging Anakin as he had seemed like a necessity, but he had had several notions for getting the boy free, including but not limited to simply dropping another exorbitant sum of money at Omega's feet in exchange for his being able to purchase Anakin as a personal consort. Blearily, he began to regain his vision, and wondered where his apprentice was now.

He did not have to wonder long. "You Jedi and your turn-around time," Omega scoffed, and Obi-Wan would have come up with a suitably caustic retort, but the scene before him rendered him effectively speechless. In the vague center of the room, arms and legs and even his neck wrapped in strange filament-inlaid cables, was Anakin; still naked, though his arms and legs were now spread out and attached to poles. He was about to set into motion another back-up plan, one involving negotiation tactics, when: "AAAHH," Anakin shrieked suddenly, and the strange-looking cables suddenly pulsed with light. Then they stopped, and then Omega seemed to do something with yet another device half-hidden in the bulk of his cloak, and they lit up again, and Anakin's next scream tore a jagged gash across Obi-Wan's heart.

"Stop this." He tried to make it sound authoritative, but his voice shook with rage and fear for his Padawan's life. He tried again: "Stop this right now, Omega. Release him," he said, but Omega just smiled.

"Now why," he drawled, "would I want to do that?" He hit the device he was holding again, and this time, the electrocution went on for quite some time. When it was over, Anakin was panting, tears streaming down his cheeks, his breath coming in shallow gasps - he would not last for much longer, Obi-Wan knew, and the next time Omega began to shock him, he was ready.

Controlling the energy was surprisingly easy; if Obi-Wan had to venture a guess, his own rage was a contributing factor, and while he was sure he would spend several hours of meditation working through such a reaction in the future, as he had after his and Qui-Gon's fateful battle with Darth Maul, now, at this very moment, he let it control him, harnessed the darkness to bring Anakin back with him to the Light. "What are you doing?" Omega bit out, noticing, as Obi-Wan did, that the Jedi Master was now drawing the electric energy away from the cables themselves and into his own body. It did not hurt; it felt massive, consuming, but he could handle it.

Omega, on the other hand, did not handle particularly well the huge jolt of displaced and reappropriated, for lack of a better term, 'Force lightning,' that slammed into him with the fire of a supernova. He crumpled to the ground and even seemed to sizzle a little, and Obi-Wan panted, still in attack-position. A beat later, however, and Omega confirmed to be probably just unconscious, he made his way across the room, removing his lightsaber from the folds of his own rented clothing. Quickly, he slashed at the cords binding his Padawan, and hauled Anakin's bare form into his arms. It was only then that Obi-Wan realized his mask had been removed, had probably fallen off when he had been attacked by Omega initially, and so as Anakin glanced up at him, adoringly, exhausted, he knew the boy could see his entire face.

Sure enough, Anakin recognized the significance. "Master ... your beard ..." he said, and then he lost consciousness. He was a dead weight, but Obi-Wan, still a little prickly from what had just transpired with the energy bindings, did not notice. He continued cradling Anakin like a small child, putting him down momentarily only to snoop through Omega's cloak. One particular object caught his eye; placing it in his own pocket, he picked up Anakin anew and began making his way out of the facility.

*

Once they had arrived at their ship - the Gamorrean guards, upon realizing what had happened to Omega, had been more than happy to let the two Jedi leave in peace, though Obi-Wan knew to be swift anyways, as people wore out their welcomes quickly on this planet - Obi-Wan wasted no time examining Anakin, dabbing his cuts and bruises with bacta as best he could (he had never been a Healer, a fact that had not filled him with nearly so much chagrin as when he realized the extent to which he was limited in helping to cure Anakin of this or that ailment), dressing him in the spare change of clothing he had made sure to bring along. The final touch was restoring Anakin's Padawan braid, rescued from Granta Omega's pocket, once again calling upon the Force in a rather remarkable way until the hair had fused itself back together with those on the boy's head. For his part, Anakin had slept through much of it, Obi-Wan having sunken him quickly into the deepest healing trance he could conjure; he now rested in moderate comfort atop the ship's single small cot.

Well, he had been, at least. "Master," Obi-Wan heard from the pilot's chair, and looked up to see his Padawan standing in the middle of the encasement. Reluctantly, he stood, as well. So acknowledged, Anakin began to move closer to him. "Master," he said again, his voice low and grateful, "I wanted to thank you for all that you did back there."

"That's not necessary, Anakin." Obi-Wan's voice was his own again, the modulator removed; he had pocketed it to return to the Jedi, though the removal of Anakin's Force-inhibiting collar had been slightly more violent, ending with Obi-Wan stomping it several times under the heel of his boot. Wearily, he sidestepped the boy. He sensed that Anakin was confused by this, and readied himself: "Anakin, I know what happened back there has irrevocably altered our relationship. I knew it would when I realized the lengths I would need to go to free you." Anakin nodded, and then Obi-Wan dropped the bombshell: "And as such, I recognize that I am no longer fit to serve as your Master." He tried to press on calmly, attempting to ignore Anakin's sudden shocked face, the furious rippling through the Force. "Now, as you may or may not recall, Master Ki-Adi Mundi was quite interested in possibly training you after Qui-Gon's passing. I am sure the Council will assist in placing you with him or another suitable Master as soon as we return to Corus-"

"No." Anakin's voice was soft, but it glittered with the promise of danger. "No," he said again. "No, Master, no. No! How can you even say that?" he cried, and Obi-Wan continued trying to keep his cool.

"Anakin, I ... what I did back there to you - when I ... raped you - was unforgiveable. I will never forgive myself; and I understand fully why you could not possibly feel safe alongside me in the future after all that you have endured." He inclined his head a little, a courteous gesture, one meant to end the conversation. But of course, this was Anakin, and as such, things were destined to turn out far differently with him than Obi-Wan anticipated or wished.

"You, I ... it was for a mission, Master!" Anakin's breathing was jagged now, his eyes beginning to look wet. "Is it ... me?" he asked miserably, which startled Obi-Wan. Sobbing between words, the boy wrapped his arms around himself. "Are you g-giving me up because I'm too d-dirty for you now, Master?"

"Oh, Anakin." Obi-Wan regarded him with horror. "No, Anakin, that's not it at all! It's just-"

"It's that I'm a WHORE!" Anakin screamed suddenly, his voice cutting sharply through the air in the confined space. "You look at me and all you see is all of the people who have f-fucked me." He sniffled angrily, wiping at his face. "You want to give me up so you don't have to see that ever again!"

"Anakin, no. Anakin ..." This was not going according to plan; and yet, because this was once again Anakin, perhaps it was. He tried again: "I do not want you to feel as though I expect any of the things from you that happened in Omega's facility, Anakin." His voice was kind, but his body language was yet standoffish. "You are not a whore. You were simply made to do a great many things you did not wish to do. And I made you do them, which makes me complicit in your-"

"But Master, I love you!" Anakin cried, and Obi-Wan blinked. He dry-heaved a little and worked to get the words out. "I've been w-wanting you to t-touch me for a long time now. N-not like that," he amended a bit, "but you were so kind, you didn't hurt me. I love you, Obi-Wan," he mewled.

"Oh, Anakin." It was almost endearing, and Obi-Wan tsked a little. "Lots of Padawans have these sorts of feelings about their Masters. It doesn't mean -"

"It doesn't mean you won't abandon me?" Anakin shivered. He broke down then completely, shaking and holding himself, crying loudly and hard enough that he was on his way to making himself sick. "Please," he gasped when he could, "please don't leave me, Master! I need you, I l-love you. I thought I might n-never see you again when Omega first got me, and now if you plan to leave me after going through all of that together, then I w-wish you'd never b-bothered!"

He was still muttering "please, please" when Obi-Wan finally acquiesced, moving closer to the trembling boy and, still tentatively, reaching for him. Realizing this, Anakin wasted no time, launching himself into his Master's embrace, curling his arms so tightly around Obi-Wan's torso that the older man very nearly lost his breath. Anakin continued to sob, harsh, choking noises; his face was sopping wet and splotchy, and his nails were digging into Obi-Wan's back through his tunic now. Obi-Wan did not make him stop, however, merely let Anakin cry, rubbing soothing circles into his back through the fabric of his own tunic, making soft, soothing noises near his ear. "Hush. Ssshh, Anakin. It's all right. I ... I will not step down as your Master, Anakin." He petted him a little, rubbing at the back of his neck. Anakin's Padawan braid hung between them; inspired, Obi-Wan picked it up between a couple of fingers near the end and showed it to the boy. "You are mine still, Anakin. For as long as you need to be. Is that all right?"

Anakin seemed at a loss for words, his eyes wandering over the braid, his tired mind nonetheless working through a fitting explanation as to its return. "Master, thank you," he gasped, and tightened his hold anew. Obi-Wan allowed this, as well, and continued rubbing at Anakin's back. "D'you ... p-promise?" the boy asked a moment later, and Obi-Wan kissed the crown of his head, and then the center of his forehead, leaving his mouth pressed there for a couple of beats.

Obi-Wan nodded, the barest hint of a smile crossing his (beardless; but hopefully, not for long, he thought wryly) face. "Yes," he told Anakin, and the boy - his Padawan, here again with him at last, safe, imbued with a strength that Obi-Wan would never stop being in awe of - smiled, as well. "Oh, yes."

*