Adult-FanFiction.org : Movies

Sun Kissed	By : Vee017 Category: Star Wars (All) > Slash - Male/Male Views: 14741 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Star Wars movie series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 9
- 10
- 11
It had been a week.

One entire week of bar brawls and drinking, a week of hunting and extortion; one full week of bribing information out of slave traders, and trying to follow a ship route that had ended seven days ago.

He should have had one entire week already of breaking in and crushing that boy.

The boy who had eluded his ownership for years thanks to his caution and then Kerr’s refusal to sell. Kerr never wanting his property damaged, especially property that brought in a large percentage of business.

Dejiak ground his teeth.

All of his planning, all of the details were always, always ruined by auctions. He couldn’t believe it. He should have this thing. There shouldn’t have even been an auction. He had been so prepared. Kerr, that idiot, was a greedy bastard and he liked to drink. Not only that but he loved to bet. That was how Dejiak won the brothel from him in the first place. A well-played sabacc match against a moron who thought he couldn’t lose and it was his. More importantly that damned slave was his to do as he finally pleased.

Only Kerr, that two-timing giwa chita, wouldn’t take his loss lying down and had turned around and sold every single slave he owned. Kerr told him he’d only won the brothel, not the slaves since they weren’t part of the deal and they weren’t tied to the building at all. All of them were bound to Kerr, and after the lost sabacc game, he decided to sell them all, since what use were they without his brothel. He decided to take the money and leave Tatooine since they had made the damn aygo enough money to retire.

So all Dejiak was left with was a near empty brothel. And as if that wasn’t enough to piss him off, the kriffing slave auction had sent him over the edge. The Skywalker boy was the most frustrating creature he had ever encountered. From his loud mouth and defiance, to a spirit that, with what was left of his pride, wouldn’t allow to break.

A slave with pride.

Would miracles never cease? The boy should have been in his hands for years now. That fucking Toydarian that had previously owned him had point blank refused to sell. A beautiful kid like that and he was working in a junk shop. Quite the pity. The “disappearance” that had left the boy without an owner had been easy enough to arrange, but Dejiak hadn’t expected ownership transferred to a cousin. By the time he had gotten back from disposing of the body, the boy was with Kerr.

The fact that he was then owned by a brothel helped to somewhat dispel Dejiak’s anger. Though the wait during the boy’s training period was maddening. But when he finally had him… So sweet, so tight, the boy had been worth waiting for. In the beginning it had been enough, but the rush to own started coming back stronger over the years, even though he was a regular. He didn’t like other people using his boy, but Kerr wouldn’t sell. Dejiak wasn’t stupid, he knew Kerr had Hutt ties and didn’t want to be on the receiving end of that backlash. He could only petition to buy the boy every now and then, but he wanted more. And for a few hours he’d thought he had accomplished just that.

But what good was a bordello deed without the pleasure slave ownership papers?

And that second damn auction. He couldn’t believe someone actually outbid him. He’d been enraged! Dejiak had only caught sight of Skywalker’s buyer momentarily before he was shoved out of place as the auction continued. He had seethed, robbed of his prize for the third time in almost a decade. Every single time, they boy just slipped right through his fingers and he was sick of it. The being who bought his property was going to die slowly.

From his quick glimpse, he assumed the buyer was human, short, maybe a bit stocky. The brown robe he wore didn’t give away much, and the hood had concealed much of his face. Tough luckily for Dejiak, the slave trader who dealt with him had been more than happy to talk for a fee. He had a name from the records and a ship.

But finding Ben Kenobi turned out to be much more difficult than he anticipated. Nobody knew who he was. Nobody had ever seen him before. Nobody knew anything about the man. This led Dejiak to the conclusion that he was an off-worlder. The ship name Guyrek supplied also helped. What didn’t help was that the transport Kenobi boarded had made stops to multiple planets, with its final destination set as Coruscant.

Just thinking about the Inner Rim gave him hives, not to mention the Deep Core. The boy was a slave, he was property. The traders shipped slaves in cages, which the Republic tended to frown upon so those planets were out. It had been a week and that was as far as he had gotten. But there had to be a trail somewhere; and he would find it. The boy was meant to be his, and he had waited this long, what were w few more weeks or months? He was following an obsession. And when he found said obsession, he was going to carve his name in the little brat’s back.

What were a few more scars to add to the ones he had already left?

|||

Anakin stared at the bacta patch on his forearm. Mi’aka had told him it probably wouldn’t scar, that he wouldn’t be able to tell where she had made the incision to remove the slave chip. His arm still ached where the muscle had been cut into, but with the healing trance Obi-Wan had been teaching him, the Force had helped it heal faster than it normally would have.

Obi-Wan had kept his promise. The implant had been taken out, and he had seen it destroyed.

When they had been on their way to the Healer’s centre Anakin had been worried about how they were going to take it out. He didn’t want to be unconscious for it, not for any of it. It was Mi’aka that assured him that he didn’t have to be. She had numbed his entire arm, he couldn’t feel anything below his shoulder, it was like a disconnect. She told him if he didn’t want to watch he just had to turn his head, but he didn’t want to. He wanted to see that damn thing come out, he wanted to see the implant, he needed to see it. He had to be sure, and positive, and assured that it was out, the remnant of his slavery gone for good.

Afterwards, he smashed the thing himself.

It was out. And just thinking about that made him wonder. If he had been able to find his implant back on Tatooine, as well as his mother’s, would he have cut it out himself? An arm was one thing, but if it had been lodged next to his spinal cord or something else vital…with no access to medicine, proper equipment, or pain killers… An idea was one thing, implementing it was another.

He shivered. He could never hurt his mother like that. Watching Mi’aka and the robotic drones laser their way into his arm with some of the best technology he’d ever seen, he logically knew that trying to dig it out himself would not only hurt worse than anything else he’d been through, but in all likelihood, he would have bled to death before he’d even gotten to the chip. There were a lot of veins in his arms, and Mi’aka had been careful. Not only that but she was trained for these types of procedures.

Anakin touched his arm one last time before starting to pick at his bed sheets. They had gotten back a few hours ago, that was when Obi-Wan had suggested him trying the healing trance again. He would try again later, since his thoughts were just too clouded now. Memories of how things had been before the brothel, his mother’s smiling face replaced by her look of worry and pain as she had been ripped away from him at auction…

He missed her so much . She was always there in the back of his mind, always nestled close to his heart where they couldn’t take her away. It had been so long, even if he wanted to find her he had no idea where to look. Transaction records had probably long since been destroyed or misplaced, the traders didn’t care where the slaves ended up, and the datawork after the first few months was considered expendable. His mother could be anywhere. The transport ship, if she had left Tatooine, could have been raided. She could be somewhere else entirely then where she was supposed to end up.

Anakin wiped at his face furiously. Tears were a weakness he could never afford. He had been without her for the longest time, but every now and then the past came back unbidden, and he missed her more than ever.

I’m not a slave anymore, mom. I’m free.

There was no more slave implant. He was on a Republic controlled planet. The people here were farmers, force sensitive like he was. His Healer was a Twi’lek. Obi-Wan wasn’t going to hurt him. For the first time in nearly a decade, he finally recognized the feeling in his stomach, the echo in the Force surrounding him: safety.

If he opened himself up to the world around him, he felt no danger. No malice, no sadism, no impure thoughts, no love of causing pain. All he felt were the ocean waves crashing on the shore below the cliffs, the peace of well-cared for fields, the light rain that fell against his window.

He wished his mother could see it. He wished he knew where she was.

“Anakin?”

Glancing up sharply, Anakin noticed Obi-Wan standing in the doorway.

“Are you all right?”

He shrugged, “M’fine.”

Obi-Wan’s brows furrowed, and Anakin thought he could recognize the look on Obi-Wan’s face. Concern wasn’t something he was used to, and it made something jump inside of him. It didn’t look like pity, he knew that look too. He’d seen it enough during slave transports or when Kerr had him outside the brothel walls. Not everyone on Tatooine was a bastard.

Obi-Wan hesitated before moving further into his former study, now Anakin’s room. He set the tea cup he had been holding down on the night stand beside the bed.

“I-I brought you some tea.”

Anakin nodded. That was when he noticed a small wet splash fall on his hand. He didn’t even notice his face was wet. Blinking, he ran a sleeve over his face to get rid of the tears that his thoughts had brought on. Hadn’t he willed himself to stop?

“It’s about your mother, isn’t it?” asked Obi-Wan softly. “It’s just…I could feel…”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. You should drink some of that. It’ll help.” He turned to leave.

“You really…” Anakin stopped him. “You really don’t remember them? Your parents?”

“No. I don’t.” Obi-Wan hesitated again before he sat down on the mattress facing Anakin. “Attachment was forbidden.”

“But then…if you ever fell down and got hurt, who would hug you?”

“No one.”

Anakin looked at Obi-Wan, really looked at him. No one. It was so cold. How Obi-Wan even said it, like it was so matter-of-fact for him, like anything beyond that would confuse him. But how could someone be confused over a hug? Over comfort? He could imagine in his mind, a Jedi youngling falling down and scraping their knee, a Jedi Master putting them back on their feet, and telling them to stop crying.

“Why?” he choked.

“Jedi are taught to release their pain into the Force.”

“But, but a youngling-“

“It starts in the crèche.”

“It’s not fair.”

“It’s the way of the Jedi.”

Anakin had been right. It was cold. The detachment, the loneliness…Anakin was glad he was never found. He couldn’t have left his mother for that life, it would have driven him crazy. He missed her, he missed her so much right now. He was free, he wasn’t a slave, he was far, far away from Tatooine, and she wasn’t here to see it. She wasn’t free with him, she was lost, and he couldn’t find her.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t remember leaning into Obi-Wan and burying his face in his shoulder. Tears wet the tunic beneath his face, as they were shed for his mother, for himself, and the Force for bringing this strange man to the auction that day.

It had been a long time, such a long time since someone held him. He could numbly feel Obi-Wan’s arms around his back, Anakin’s own hands were gripped tightly in the back of Obi-Wan’s shirts.

Just a hug. Such a long time. No pain, no sex, no ulterior motives, just innocent contact, just comfort. Just being held, the first time in a long time. And it was holding onto Obi-Wan, the smell of spice and grass in his nose, that Anakin fell asleep.

|||

He had been concerned. Of course he had been. Anakin’s shields were better than they were but he still bled through. Obi-Wan worried he might always bleed through. He could sense Anakin’s wonder and happiness at the slave implant being removed. But hours afterwards, once they were home, he had started to feel wave after wave of sadness and pain radiating from Anakin’s room.

He knew he had to do something. Should to something to comfort the boy only…

Only he had never been any good at comfort. He didn’t know what to do. Tea had always calmed him down, had been Obi-Wan’s comfort for years. It was soothing, like a balm to old wounds. But Anakin was different. He had learned different ways of pushing back his emotions, but he still clung on to a mother’s love that he had once had.

When Obi-Wan came into his room, he hadn’t been prepared for what he saw. He wasn’t expecting the tears that ran unnoticed down Anakin’s lowered face. It made him look…so lost. Vulnerable. Obi-Wan could only assume that having the slave implant removed was what finally hit home. At least Obi-Wan hoped so. He’d been trying to tell Anakin he was no longer a slave, and without the implant, he hoped that he would finally believe him.

Obi-Wan had set the tea on Anakin’s bedside. He thought he should leave to give Anakin some privacy, but Anakin had asked him about his own parents again. Obi-Wan had hesitantly sat down next to him and tried to explain as best he could. He couldn’t understand Anakin’s loss over a parent, but he could compare it to his loss of the Temple.

It had been twenty-four years since he had left the Order, but the ache was still present every day. He had grown attached. Attached to the Temple, the Jedi, their way of life…Force, even the ratty stuffed bantha he had hidden away in his closet. The only thing his parents ever gave him, their one gift before they gave him away. He had never been able to let it go. Was it ever any wonder why no Master had wanted him? How could he ever have believed he was fit to be a Jedi when he had attachments? He knew his failure.

The hurt was ever present when he had to recall it for Anakin, but it seemed to help him earlier before he knew about the separation of infants and their parents. And to help him, Obi-Wan had opened his own wounds so he could take on some of Anakin’s pain, it was the least he could do.

When Anakin hugged him, it was…awkward, to say the least. Obi-Wan didn’t know what to do, so he had inelegantly settled his arms on the boy’s back. It was foreign to him. He wasn’t used to being touched, and to suddenly have Anakin leaning against him, hands entwined with his tunic, needing some form of comfort Obi-Wan doubted the boy ever got from anyone other than his mother, he was stuck. Obi-Wan remembered Mi’aka hugging him a handful of times, but other than that he was always alone. Until the Force had dropped Anakin into his life.

When Anakin fell asleep, Obi-Wan pulled back the covers and gently laid him down onto his pillows. Pulling up the blankets, Obi-Wan watched him sleep and wondered what the future would bring.
- 9
- 10
- 11
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Sun Kissed