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Torture And Tranquility	By : Concrete-Diamond Category: Star Wars (All) > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 8733 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars, George Lucas does, as well as Disney. I'm not making any money by writing this.

Chapter List
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A.N. – Welcome to part 2 of my smut trilogy!
This is a sequel to the ten chapter story Slave Boy, which can also be found on AFF.net. I would recommend reading part one first, for a better understanding of the plot (yes, there is plot, but very little, so don’t worry! :p) and the characters, some of which are slightly OC.
Warnings – Too early to tell, but probably everything. This story is completely no holds barred – anything can and does go!
Pairings – At this point... Anakin/Everyone. Have fun.
Please review! It’s my fuel and lifeblood!
All that being said, read and enjoy!

“Ani...”
His eyelids flickered, ecstasy burning him like Mustafar flame... Her slender hands fluttered across his chest, her pearly skin glowing in the moonlight..
“Ani... Chippa... Chippa...”
He groaned and cupped her buttocks gently, rolling them over so that he could ride her... Her soft, hairless thighs hugging his hips, his flanks... Force, he loved smooth skin.... Their nipples brushed, wringing choked gasps from both of them, and his hips bucked forward violently –
“ANI -!”
Her fingers grasped his hair, as though she meant to pull it out from the roots, and a wail of ecstatic agony transformed to an animal roar he had heard only once, and prayed never to be conscious of again... Mud clung to their bodies, her white plumes were slickened with blood, and when she lifted her hands from his skin he found them smeared in crimson....
“Kyoona!...”
*

The world shattered back into place like falling glass, and he shot upright, panting.
Sweat bathed his body, and a thick stickiness coated his belly and thighs.
Force, it had been six months... He’d prayed to forget her... He’d tried...
Why did she have to die?! Just another miserable slave like him, meant to dance and offer herself at the hutt’s whim – and because he’d needed her, he’d wanted her, she had been killed. Fed to a monster. Sometimes, when he closed his eyes, he could still hear the shrill screams from the rancor pit....
Anakin choked back tears, and slipped a hand under the coverlet.
Since childhood, he’d been told to meditate, to release fear, anger, sadness, and find a peaceful, relaxed state of tranquility. It could take hours, they said, but the time was well spent, when at the end one could swim in a vast sea of bliss and radiance...
But why take so long, when it was so much easier to simply touch himself?
His fingers were cold, and a soft whimper escaped his throat as they trailed down his chest, pausing in their descent to urge pink-brown nipples awake, rubbing, tweaking, rolling, pinching, hard, gently, now harder, harder, harder....
His groin began to throb enviously, and the cadence only increased when a light touch ghosted over the tip. Moaning now, he lifted his hips and stretched one hand as far down as he could reach, the other maintaining a heavy friction...
He jumped as his knuckles brushed the sac, reaching between hairless thighs and sending his fingers on a hunt through the warm cleft.... Ye-Oh yes... there!
His back arched, every muscle trembling as two dry fingers slipped inside the tight hole... A choked wail left his throat.
Faster now, harder, harder, faster.... Anakin was undulating now, riding his own hand as he stroked himself mercilessly.... A fingertip grazed over the slit, sending him into spasms as he moaned desperately, working himself closer, closer...
“Ooooohhh....”
It was like tumbling off a cliff, straight into the arms of such blinding rapture his mind went white – his hips plunged, his fingers were deep to the third knuckle, scraping the nub of nerves again and again and again....
Hot fluids splattered against his belly, and, boneless, he drew his hands back up his body and merely held himself, imitating the arms of a bed-partner....
It was easy... it felt good... but still, poor, pale replacement for another’s touch, unknown and unexpected, sending thrills of anticipation through his flesh...
His head spun a while, shocks of residual pleasure skittering along trembling bones, until his eyelids fluttered shut, the sweat still wet on his neck and thighs....
*

Obi-Wan slumped against the door to the bedroom, the moans from beyond finally fading as his apprentice was lost to sleep.
At last.
Not that this was unusual – the boy spent near to every day and night in some form of sexual agitation... and it was common for him to turn to his master for relief. Kenobi supposed it had been for the best – at least he had chosen to throw himself at someone who truly cared for him...
The jedi understood. How he could have expected the nineteen year old to transition from the life of a Tattoine pleasure slave back to the virginal existence of a jedi trainee... And yet... Force, he’d been a fool – thinking his own emotions might endure it as well.
Well, no more. Whatever they... might have had... It had ended mere hours before.
Anakin had pleaded – begged him – but Obi-Wan had been firm.
No more. He’d abused his authority over the boy more than enough – not that he’d forced him, the knight swiftly reminded himself. If anything, his padawan had done all the coercing. And – although Anakin had begged on more then one occasion – Obi-Wan had never penetrated him. Only shallowly, and only with his fingers...
Kenobi groaned and beat his head against the door.
No matter. If Anakin required satisfaction, he was left with his own fist...
That thought alone was torture enough.
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Torture And Tranquility