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The Faithful and Ferocious	By : HatefulWitch Category: Star Wars (All) > Slash - Male/Male Views: 3332 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own the plot, characters, or creation of Star Wars, nor do I make any money off of it.

Chapter List
- 16
- 17
Warnings: (Mildly detailed) Mentions of cannibalism.
He felt the presence tarrying behind him for some time before flesh and metal fingers snared his. Any light-minded task he'd been attending on the bedroom desk was momentarily forgotten. A stunted smile swept across his mouth and his head crooked around, though he still could not see the other man's face. Warm lips imprinted against the base of the back of his neck before cutting jaw bones burrowed into his shoulder. Comicality baked betwixt his teeth, "Are you suffering for attention, dear?"
"Not particularly. Ask me again in about three minutes."
Inflexibly anchored, he patiently waited for Anakin to exhaust of their present position. Over the last few weeks since the Confessional Catastrophe, their interactions were largely normal, except for a clear upsurge in physical affection. His instincts deafeningly bayed that Anakin was testing him to see if their gut-spilling war of words had dented their relationship. If he was right, and this was a test, then there was no doubt fear of abandonment was the mainspring for the change in conduct. If he was wrong, he might as well be zooming through hyperspace without a nav computer.
He couldn't deny how distressing all the heinous admittances hurled at him three and a half weeks prior were, but he was ungrudgingly serious when he declared they didn't have to have the same view as one another to express themselves. To be with Anakin was to accept pretty and unpretty truths. It was to accept light, darkness, kindness, wrath, joy, pain. It was to accept giving life and taking it. He didn't always want to, but he accepted these truths.
Even when he was blinded to the enormity of his love for the younger Forceful, there was an innate chemistry between their souls and energies which inspired nearly everything he thought or did. After approximately a decade of friendship, by the genesis of the Clone Wars, Anakin and he were so in sync, he'd often thought they somehow unintentionally soul bonded on his former padawan's nineteenth birthday.
However, according to all Force-driven lore, soul bonds did not occur organically. They were, as of fact, incredibly difficult to achieve, purposely or otherwise. If a bond was not actively sought, it was hard to allege a bond could have been made. So, while it was improbable their souls were, or had ever been, actually bonded, they certainly harbored a profound nexus which was not normal in Jedi domain. Though Obi-Wan never tried, dared, or wanted to notice any kind of affinity until his old padawan was an adult, Anakin obviously began feeling it at a young age. If they had been insentiently fostering some cosmic connection since they first met, the intensity it reached by the time they relocated each other on Naboo was not surprising.
Would their nexus, affinity, and connection become more concentrated if they actually soul bonded? He envisaged it would. Just as it has grown in potency with age, I'm sure taking a drastic step like soul bonding would make it intensify. Would he ever be able to ask for something so invasive and immutable? Anakin was already a high-strung person without having his feelings to ceaselessly brood over, too.
Not to mention, legend went that if two people soul bonded, their lifelines would be tied together. He was fifteen years older than Anakin. On an uninterrupted, systemic timeline, he would presumably be the first of them to die. Even though bonding souls was something he would like to do, he didn't want it at the price of Anakin's future, especially when there was a pair of precious twins who needed their father. Although no other excuses were needed to abstain from a soul bond, he was also forced to admit there was an unchartered, ruthless world inside of Anakin he may be unready to weather.
While he'd never considered its contagion could have been contracted at conception until it was alleged during the Confessional Catastrophe, he knew insatiable, wolfing darkness diseased every element of Anakin's life. If he was permitted inside his beloved's vital force, it was very possible he could be bitten by rapacious blackness. If they were both mislaid, who would help them find their way back to the light?
Beyond this terror prowled an even greater one: what if Anakin weaponized a soul bond?
Whenever Anakin got fit to be tied, the whole kitchen sink was thrown at you, and if you continued to aggravate him, the uranium/polonium-236 tactical demolition charge would soon follow. He not only browbeat and exploited weaknesses to coerce other people to behave the way he wanted, he also tried to manipulate events, even ones as uncontrollable as death. It was unlikely a soul bond would abolish these dictatorial proclivities.
Obi-Wan could cope with Anakin's less-than-stellar tendencies while his emotions, energy, and soul were autonomous, but if he forfeited his sovereignty, along with virtually any safeguards, he wasn't sure how he could withstand the weaponization of a soul bond. It's not that I don't love and trust you; it's that I love and trust you so much, any kind of harm you do to me feels fatal.
::::
Anakin held his sides from laughter, "I can't believe you were sentenced to AgriCorps!"
Obi-Wan's arms crossed in affront, "I wasn't sentenced. Nobody went to AgriCorps involuntarily." The dubious smirk lobbed in his direction spawned his own snickers, "They didn't! You very well know any position in any of the branches of the Service Corps was voluntary."
"I'm only saying I can't imagine you agreeing to any of the Service Corps, especially the agricultural branch."
He reproachfully pinched the sides of a cybernetic knee, "Master Qui-Gon saw my match against Bruck Chun in the Temple and thought I was too dangerous to train. I was thirteen and without a master, so my only choice was the Jedi Service Corps."
Anakin tried to suck in his smile, "Why did you choose AgriCorps? Of all-"
"I said you voluntarily went or declined, not that you had a choice in branch."
His hands folded over his shoulders to grip the back of the couch as his feet extended across the coffee table, "How did you gain apprenticeship with Master Qui-Gon?"
The blonde spoke with thinly-veiled smugness, "To shortly recount, his ex-padawan had a vendetta and a crime syndicate. I was the one who helped him return to Coruscant with his head."
There were few things Anakin enjoyed more than when his soulmate opened up to him about the past, as he knew such an extraordinary gift had rarely been granted to anyone else. Obi-Wan, when they resided within the Order, was generally an exceptionally genial person, open to conversation most anytime and about most anything. The only taboos in the Stewjonian's lexicon were family and past relationships. A part of Anakin believed it was just too heartbreaking. Obi-Wan was ripped away from his family as a toddler and every person he developed some strain of attachment for was slain. Or tried to kill him and vanquish the galaxy.
Anakin didn't have much to tell regarding his past. Before Qui-Gon found him, his life was mind-anesthetizingly bleak. As far as his life post age nine, Obi-Wan was there; his former master dominantly knew everything that ever happened to him. Obi-Wan, on the other hand, had had twenty-four years of existing before they ever met. Even though they'd known each other for almost two decades there were still volumes about his partner's past he didn't know- unsurprising since denailing Obi-Wan would be less gruesome than mining into the Jedi Master's history. He knew it didn't help when he participated in Jealous Hysterics.
Although Obi-Wan attested there was nothing between them, it felt like his reactionary disposition may be a sinister ocean between them. And for that, he craved self-discipline. Maybe additional solitary meditation coupled with joint meditation would help him better harmonize with the Force, resulting in exacter control. One problem. Obi-Wan guided their meditations. What if, without the guidance he was accustomed to, he was devoured by deviltry?
All his concerns were provisionally washed away by the purifying touch of the hand gliding across the iliotibial band of his leg. A microscopic smile surfaced as his head rested against his housemate's shoulder. He didn't know what he would have to do to fully regulate his emotions, but Obi-Wan was now and forever worth the undertaking. He gazed at the hand hugging his thigh with starriness, "You're wonderful. You know that, don't you?"
"Am I? Why is that?"
"You just are."
It was the fourth time in an eight-hour span Anakin courted the need to make a cloying remark.
Obi-Wan unenthusiastically acknowledged how demonstrative they became somewhere between Anakin's nineteenth and twentieth birthday. It wasn't even something he noticed until his longtime friend Bant Eerin pointed it out. Do you realize the whole time you were talking, you kept touching Anakin's hand? And forearm. And shoulder. And upper back. And lower back. When she asked if something was bubbling between them, he acted genuinely appalled. He dealt the indignant how-dare-you-that's-my-best-friend card and it worked magnificently. A'ight, a'ight! Holy hypernova, Obi-Wan, it was just a question! Even though their affectionateness gradually increased throughout the years following the incident with Bant, he was still effortlessly able to detect how hyper-amorous Anakin was behaving as of late.
In the last few weeks, the brunette acted like it was necessary to touch him at all times. Anakin held onto him while he was cooking, while he was reading, while he was sitting, when they were in the landspeeder. The clingy Forceful even became faintly affectionate in front of Luke, usually by holding onto some part of his tunic. Even though they'd been lovey-dovey, for lack of a better term, for many moons, it was never like this. He knew when Anakin acted abnormally and the last four weeks definitely fell into the category of abnormal amounts of compliments and touching.
All this overaffection was a prolix test, a lineal product of the Confessional Catastrophe. Of that, he was becoming more and more certain. However, he didn't want to tackle the dilemma head on until he certified its origin and end-goal. If he made even the smallest misstep, Anakin would take his stumble as Stop touching me so much. He wisely bided his time until he was able to compose a definitive dossier to work from.
::::
Obi-Wan unclipped a nearly-dry undertunic from the clothesline only to find a cheerful face floating on the other side of the fabric, "Ah!"
His outburst incited cackles, "I haven't heard you shriek like that since you slipped on ice when we were fighting the gorgodons!"
He bundled the bistre undertunic in his fist and agitatedly grasped his hip, "Yes, and the age of thirteen is when you should have stopped trying to lurk about, startling people! Are you this bored?"
Laughter still resonated off the sand dunes when simpering lips collided with his. An arm wired around his neck and cybernetic digits cradled his cheek. He reimbursed the kiss even though his mind resided elsewhere. They just spent the last ten minutes before he came out to the clothesline swallowing each other's saliva. As it remained, he didn't mind the extra affection, he just wanted to know why Anakin felt so inclined to give it to him.
By bedtime some hours later, he was at his wits' end.
Anakin followed him to bed, which wasn't all that unusual.
Anakin cuddled against him, which also was not all that unusual.
Anakin began petting him, which was highly unusual.
In no way whatsoever did he feel aggrieved by the affections he was being asphyxiating with, but he knew there must be a reason behind it! He sat up, causing a wide-awake Tatooinian to slide off his chest onto the bed. The back of his hand grated over his lips, "Why have you been so affectionate lately?"
Anakin gently ghosted the back of his mechno-fingers up his bedmate's ribcage, "What are you talking about?"
Obi-Wan blindly seized the fondling fingers against his side, "You're doing it right now. You've been more affectionate than usual in the last four weeks and I want you to tell me what is bothering you."
"Why does something have to be bothering me?"
He wrenched around, pinning the prosthetic hand in his to the bed, and sternly stared into cobalt eyes, "When someone…strike that. When you do anything unusually often- crying, cleaning- then something is most assuredly wrong."
Anakin's mechno-hand wrenched free, securing a position against his waist, "If it irritates you, just say so."
"Now, how did I know you were going to reply with something like that?" Obi-Wan carefully clinched a mechanical wrist, "You very well know that's not what I meant. I just want to know what's upsetting you so I can help you tackle the problem."
"I love you. What other vindication is required of me?"
"So, this has nothing to do with you thinking you drove a wedge between us four weeks ago?" As soon as lashes frenziedly flapped, he knew he'd cut to the root of the matter, "I wasn't sure until you just spent the last fifteen minutes petting me like a neglected puppy, but now I am certain your escalating slushiness is a test to see if I rebuff your affections. And if I do, you'll take it as some labyrinthine evidence that your last test, which was our disagreement a month ago, caused me to want to leave or end our relationship, or something like that."
Mismatched arms moodily crossed and ruby lips pouted, "This is the problem with you overly-observant Jedi."
"I hardly think you can use that as a put-down. Just because you're a self-loathing Jedi doesn't mean you are not one of us."
Anakin rolled away with arms still crossed, "I guess I can admit you know me relatively well."
His embarrassment evanesced under the balmy hand that molded over one of the dimples on his lower back. He wanted to be cross his motives were called into question, but all he was able to feel was respite. Respite in how his other half knew when something was amiss. Respite in how his other half cared enough to challenge and demand answers. He reached back to apprehend the sturdy hand on his back, tugging it around to his stomach. As long as your arms are around me, I am shielded. He wanted to surrender his clandestinity and illustrate how much Obi-Wan's protection and care meant to him, "I stole your shirt."
"I just bought you shirts last week at the Market. Why did you take one of mine?"
"No." He clasped the hand over his stomach with both of his, "When I moved out of the billet. I stole your camel elastex shirt."
After a heartbeat of hush, Obi-Wan incredulously queried, "The one I usually trained in?"
He looked down at the battle-worn hand held against his abdomen, "When they first ordered me to move in, they were so haughty. They thought they enacted some kind of coup de grâce on my ego by relegating me to my master's chambers, always to be supervised, but I couldn't have been happier. I got away from the other padawans and I got to live with you. Every day, I got to see your face, drink tea with you, we got to make fun of the way Master Luminara snorted when she laughed."
Obi-Wan's musical mirth swirled around their bed, inspiring his smile, "I got to live with you for five years and then they took everything away from me. The closest I got to having you in my living quarters every rotation after that was your camel elastex shirt. It smelled like you and that shirt, your scent, was the only memento I was allowed. It's only been a little over twelve months since we've been living in this house, nowhere close to five years, but if I was separated from you again, one of your shirts would never be enough."
The older Forceful's hand impelled against his bare stomach to gather him closer, "I'm not leaving because you yelled at me. Not even because you unthinkingly insulted me."
His shoulder slid down Obi-Wan's chest, twisting until his back was level on the bed. One of his hands raised to stroke a bristly cheek, "I…I…"
"Yes?"
Who or whatever stirred up the ravenous romance between Obi-Wan and him clearly did not know just how appetent and intractable it would become. Every dopamine-saturated neurotransmitter diffusing throughout his nerve fibers was prodding him to take the plunge. Ask him! Ask him! He wanted to be with this seraphic man until a supermassive black hole swigged the universe. The proposal shyly quivered from his lips, "Bond with me."
The plenary meaning of the proposition was noticeably lost on Obi-Wan, as he merely teased with a resplendent grin, "Anything else?"
The hysteria spuming in Anakin's chest rose into his throat. He didn't understand. Should I shine a light? What if Obi-Wan didn't want to soul bond and found the proposal too arrogantly aggressive? Would he be able to grin and bear a slap in the face like that? The faster paranoia bombarded his mind, the sicker he felt. He doesn't even trust you to suck his cock, sweetness. Do you really think he would trust you anywhere near his soul? He tried to disregard the sibilating voice, but it was right. His mouth clamped shut.
::::
With a yawn, he slowly and soundlessly sat up. Resonant respirations attracted his attention and he warped around to prop a forearm onto the bed, next to Obi-Wan's bicep. Enough light seeped through the blue curtains hung over the windows to allow him to visually trace light eyebrows, the soft curves of alabaster cheeks, the shallow lines near pink lips. Was he wrong to back out the night before? As Ahsoka once recommended, shouldn't Obi-Wan be allowed to make his own decisions instead of Anakin making them for him?
Anakin supposed he was distrustful. He couldn't even trust Obi-Wan to be sincere.
No matter what answer was given, he would end up with incertitude about sincerity. If the answer was yes, would it be due to obligation? If the answer was no, would it be due to the need to control without resorting to liaison? The tirade after the Fire Liquor Letdown echoed in his ears. Do you think I do what I do to control you? I'd never try to control you for any reason. After everything, he still clung to this preposterous fear. He knew better than to revert to his old ways of thinking and to forget the epiphanies he had in the Haryazina, but it was sadly an inevitability when a noxious voice yammered at him, repeating and embellishing his doubts hour after hour after hour.
While he got entangled in his own meshwork of madness, his partner was praying for him to display cognitive progress. Had he made any progress of any kind? Had he done anything at all to prove he trusted Obi-Wan more than delirium and despair? More than the voice? Had he done anything at all to prove he was worthy of Obi-Wan's soul, body, and love? He hadn't proven anything.
Obi-Wan's eyelids unexpectedly pried open, only to blink at the cat eyes riveted on him, "Why are you staring at me?"
The beleaguered Force-wielder tried to smile, "Am I not allowed to stare?"
"While I'm asleep and you're sitting over me like you're about to smother me with a pillow? Frankly, no."
His head spiritlessly shook, "I need to ask you something."
Obi-Wan tiredly swabbed his eyes, "Alright."
"Do you consider Luke and me your family?"
His drawled with gravitas, "I know we talked about not making assumptions, but there are certain things you should know in your heart. I told you after I found you on Naboo that you and Luke are my family. I consider any Skywalker my family and I hope you think of me as your family."
"I do. I always have."
"Good."
::::
He was in the middle of reading a political article when his holopad was confiscated from his hands. He barely fit in a disapproving glare before the holopad hijacker tossed the device onto the other end of the couch and perched on his lap. His fists crushed against his hips despite having a fully-grown male sitting on top of him, "Can I help you?"
"I want to ask you something."
"You seem to want to ask me something every ten minutes anymore. You should try asking what you really mean to ask and it might save you some time."
Anakin marginally nodded, "Right, so here's what I want to ask… If you're afraid to ask something, you're afraid of what the reaction will be, what would you do?"
Obi-Wan didn't pretend to pander to the implied hypotheticality of the inquiry, "Why are you afraid of what my response will be?"
"I'm just afraid you…will try to protect me and won't tell me how you really feel."
His fingers found their way under the taller man's jaw, "I'm not going to lie to you, especially about something you so blatantly find important. Nor am I going to intentionally sabotage the therapeutic growth we've achieved through our honesty policy. If I did either, I would not be all-inclusively protecting you."
Anakin hunched between Obi-Wan's arms to nuzzle his forehead against the older man's clavicle. An arm collared his neck. Without having to peer straight into his soulmate's eyes, he summoned the courage to murmur, "Have I caused too much retrogression in our relationship?"
"Retrogression?"
"Yeah."
You can't be serious. Obi-Wan's head kinked to the side to survey as much of Anakin's face as he could, "Let's see if I understand this. You've been trying to ask me something important but keep talking yourself out of it because you're afraid our row last month caused retrogression, which might cause me to lie to you to avert any similar catastrophes."
"Yeah."
"Oh, Anakin," he dejectedly sighed. "There's no retrogression. Ask me."
"I think I need-"
"No, don't think about it anymore than you already have. Look what presentiments have burdened your mind. Ask me, even if it causes us to clash."
"Will you give me the truth? Even if you think it will hurt me?"
A mounting trepidation massed in his stomach, but he still gave the support so direly needed, "Yes."
It was the perfect opportunity to inject antidote into the misdoubt the voice was poisoning him with. Anakin couldn't work out why he was so loath to take it. Because it's either going to trigger one of the most fulfilling milestones of my life or one of the most cataclysmic milestones of my life, and I really don't know which. Perceiving his hesitation, Obi-Wan advised, "Anakin, just spit it out."
The sinews of his soul could not solve the problem of being a petrified, unreliable, foolish human.
"I can't."
::::
The booming squawk of a comlink awoke both of them. The darkness of the room allowed Anakin to effortlessly name his little decagon-shaped device as the disturber. He climbed out of the coverlets and to the bottom of the bed to mash the blinding, blinking green light. He wasn't the least bit surprised when an image of Ahsoka projected forth. He sleepily grumbled Hold on and flipped the device the opposite way from the bed as he clumsily crawled across Obi-Wan's feet. By the time he exited the bedroom, he could already hear deep, even inhalation. His bedmate almost certainly guessed the identity of the mid-night caller and had carelessly drifted back to dreamland.
Anakin moseyed into the sitting room and collapsed onto the couch, reclining against its arm. He overturned the comlink, "Can you really not keep a chronometer with Tatooine time on you or something?"
The little Forceful crossed her arms recalcitrantly, "Even if I kept track of Tatooine time, I would have no idea when you're awake or asleep, Insomniac General. Now stop moaning about our tried-and-true communication habits so I can boast about what I ferreted out in the Oricho sector."
Anakin sprung upright, "You went to the Oricho sector?"
"Yes, and you'll never-"
"As in the sector smack-dab beside the Quelli sector?"
"Glad you remember your galactical geography."
The back of his hand wagged scoldingly towards her, "You went alone?"
She glossily beamed, "Sure did."
"Why the fuck would you do something like that?"
"You told me to mouse around, so mouse I did."
His impending roar shrunk to a whisper once he recalled Obi-Wan passed out in the next room, "I didn't mean I wanted you to go to a squatting ground for the rejects from the Quelli sector."
The Togrutan coolly countered, "Look, we were riding for more gen about Noxion and I lassoed some. And don't keep rolling with this sanctimonious Oh, it was too dangerous kick because you know you would have done the same, given the chance."
It took less than a millisecond to register he didn't have a countercharge, so he resignedly flopped against the arm of the couch once again, "I might as well be talking to myself. Just go ahead and clue me in."
Her legs crossed onto the edge of her chair, "Well, I had to swing 'round and 'round the sector. I went to Pas'sic, to Pleida, I talked to berry wine makers in the Veronia system, I talked to Zabrak scouts in the Braxant Run. The only thing any of them knew about the Nightsisters reads as follows: They're a horde of witches! I eventually got a bite while talking to a small group of old Pyn'gani on Polus in the Avindia system. They told me to go to a spaceport called Borgo Prime-"
"Oh, no," Anakin rolled his eyes, "please tell me you did not go to that garbage rat of an asteroid."
"First of all, I didn't know it was a garbage rat asteroid until I got there."
"Well, I could have told you."
"Before or after you yip at me for comm-ing you?"
"I don't get very much sleep, okay? So, when I do go to sleep, I like to stay asleep."
The irreverent titters were hardly audible, "Well, I certainly couldn't wait on you to comm me."
"What does that mean, Miss Priss?"
"You know."
It took very little time for Anakin to infer that Ahsoka thought he was busy most of the time. It took even less time for him to infer whom she thought he was busy with and what they were busy doing. His eyes narrowed in pointed challenge, "What do you think Obi-Wan and I do all day?"
The space-dweller, unaware of her friend's conundrum, continued to rib, "We all know what you two do all day."
He anxiously bit the inside of his lip, "Well, you're wrong."
"Right."
"You are."
She was only shooting for a little entertainment at Anakin's expense, as that was usually hard to do without setting off some kind of Clone Wars flashback. She didn't expect or desire any boasting or gross disclosures, she just thought there would be a few laughs about a pleasant aspect of his life and then they'd move on, no harm, no foul. However, she could tell by his inflection she had hit a busted nerve. She paused to consider all the potential problems she was about to meddle into. Then she considered whether or not she should meddle at all.
A picture of Anakin sobbing painted across the canvass of her mind and she decided he needed someone to talk to about his problems or he might try to handle them with a bedsheet. Her head tilted forward, "Is something wrong?"
"Yes."
After making a mental note to finish giving her report after they intellectualized whatever was happening, she invited, "Want to tip the tea?"
There was a tick of irresolution, quickly followed by deflection, "I stained the fabric of our relationship."
"You couldn't have made a vaguer statement just now."
"That's because I don't know if I should tell you. I want to, but…I don't know if I should. He might get- he would definitely get upset if I told you."
"I don't want you to have bad thoughts bashing around your head with no way to let them out. If you can't talk to him about it and want to tell me, I swear I won't utter a word. You know you can trust me."
Anakin felt like his chest was swelling. He tried being candid with Obi-Wan about their nonexistent sex life and all he got was accusations and dismissals. Now that he wanted to pitch a soul bond, he was afraid he would again simply be accused and dismissed. He needed to gush to somebody, an objective psychoanalyst who would tell him the facts no matter how swinish they might be. He noiselessly confided, "He has shown no interest in that."
Ahsoka flinched like a punch-drunk shockboxer, "Are you serious? But he's always been so-so-so handsy with you."
"Yeah, well…"
"Has he told you why?"
Azure eyes pivoted towards the ceiling, "He says I don't trust him enough."
"That's because you don't."
"Excuse me?"
She uncrossed one of her legs with a jeer, "Skyguy, how someone as smart as you can be so clueless is truly baffling. He thinks you don't trust him enough? What do you think that means? He's saying he's afraid you will have dubieties like you do about literally everything else, which would allow darkness to hop into your intimacy."
"Forget it," Anakin irately tossed the comlink onto the coffee table, temporarily forgetting about his sleeping partner.
The image of her piqued comrade pixelated as the comlink spun in place, but she was not deterred, "Uh huh, so that's precisely what he told you. If he fully explained his reasons, what's the riddle? Is it so hard to accept he may not be ready for-for that? To accept he's-"
He vaulted to reclaim the comlink, "I said, forget it."
There were no waterworks, so she figured she hadn't pushed too far yet, "Everything has its time and place."
The possibility of Obi-Wan trying to control him through a platonic relationship under the guise of a romantic one could never be divulged. Ahsoka would rake him over the coals, whether it was true or not. The same went for his theory of Obi-Wan only loving his familiarity. The one phobia she would find plausible was naturally detrimental to his dignity. It was carcinoma while it was able to pollute his thoughts, but the prospect of exposing his pain, humiliation, and rejection was mortifying. He would really be more comfortable setting himself on fire. But maybe it's time I bite the kyber. If it's with Snips, at least the man I love and deify won't hear how pathetic I am. So, which was it? Pride or reprieve? After a little internal back and forth, his hand spanked over his eyes and he shamefacedly muttered, "He thinks I'm unattractive."
One of Ahsoka's eyes nearly squinched closed as the other one widened. The left side of her top lip hiked up and her voice scaled in pitch, "Um, uhm, what?"
"My scars, my cybernetic attachments, m-"
"Give me one, single, solitary example of when he has told you anything like that," she vehemently petitioned.
So much for her finding it plausible. "Well, I mean, he hasn't outri-"
"Let me square this. You think Obi-Wan is snubbing you because he thinks you're unattractive, even though he is directly telling you it's because he is afraid darkness will invade something he almost certainly considers, when with you, sacramental. And you wonder why he thinks you have trust issues? You can't just apply arbitrary explanations to his actions, especially when he has directly told you otherwise."
Although she felt like grade-A bantha shit to berate a close friend who was basically crumpled up on a couch with his hand masking his face, she knew he needed to hear what she had to say, "Do you not conceive that when you do stuff like this, and you do it all the time, it definitely makes it seem like you don't trust him? This self-worth issue you developed after the War is making you think he is lying about something, thereby definitely breeding distrust."
Anakin's hand fell from his face, unveiling bucketing tears, as his trembling, low-timbred voice chiseled into the conversation, "He told me about his past relationships. I told him I wouldn't get jealous, but I did. I got jealous because… Force-dammit, because Satine Kryze and Master Tachi were…gorgeous. They were gorgeous and I'm scarred and practically limbless and… He found them attractive and that's why he slept with them. He doesn't find me attractive, so he won't sleep with me. After I added it all up, I basically accused him of being willing to sleep with anyone that wasn't me."
When he finally peeked up, he was met with a hung mouth and satellite-sized teal eyes, "Quit chucking actinium bombs like that at me! Are you trying to snap me into an ischemic stroke? I mean, Master Tachi? I mean, I know they had a close friendship, but at the same time: what? What? When did this happen?"
Registering the dolor on Anakin's face, she tossed her head back to acutely inhale then dropped her chin wearing a serene countenance, "No, it doesn't matter. Getting back to task here, do you not see when you make assumptions of that magnitude, it makes him think you don't trust him? That you think he would lie to you? About something very significant."
As the brunette tried to wipe away his accelerating tears, the renounced Jedi wistfully sighed, "Anakin, the dark side took a lot from you. One of the most injurious steals it made was of your confidence and the only way you're going to get it back is by conscientious effort. When you have thoughts like these, you have to sit yourself down and say Self, you're being irrational. You need to ask What evidence do I have for these thoughts?"
"I know. It's really hard to do, but I know." Sniffles perforated the avowal, "There's something else that I...I want to ask you something because I know you won't candy-coat. I…I want to ask Obi-Wan to…soul bond with me. Do you think that would be too premature?"
"Well," she squeakily whirred, "maybe not premature, but it would be unlikely to happen, because, well, you know, soul bonds aren't exactly achievable."
"You think the legend is apocryphal."
"I don't know," she sailed over the allegation, even though she unquestionably did not buy into the concepts of souls and soul bonds. However, she'd battered Anakin enough for one night, as affirmed by his tears, so she opted to spare his feelings from further despondency, "I don't think the notion of it would be bad."
The back of his flesh wrist laid over his nose, "Let's have a speculative conversation, then."
"That, I can do."
"Speculatively, if soul bonding was achievable, do you think it would be an extremely, insanely premature thing to propose, given all our complications?"
"Speculatively, no. There might be some complications you guys need to uncomplicate, but the two of you have been obsessed with each other basically since the Force split dark from light. Speaking as a third-party, I think it would show him that even if you don't like or agree with all of his boundaries, you respect them and you love him just the same. No joke, he'd be rendered speechless, in a good way."
"You don't think it would be absurd since he doesn't want to take other major steps in our relationship?"
"I think Obi-Wan is much more interested in your mind and heart than anything else. Don't you think so?"
"Yeah."
Perturbed by this passionless sanction, Ahsoka investigated, "How far back does this all go? Did these insecurities about your physicality start when he spoke of his past relationships? Or did it start before that?"
His thumb squished into one eye as his index finger squished into the other, "Even when my jaundiced eye and auto-comparison weren't in the mix, I still thought he found me unattractive. Before and during the War, he never gave me any indication he was interested in me. Then, for five years, I was devoid of human interaction, of human touch. I guess I started catastrophizing and convinced myself I was going to die alone. Next thing I knew, Obi-Wan strolled back into my life, telling me he loves me. I guess I got terribly fixated on making him prove to me I was undeserving of all my insecurities and loneliness."
"All hearsay of course, but from what I understand, sex and love are not synonymous."
Anakin unveiled a hooded, unimpressed glower, "Thanks for that elucidation, Obi-Wan. Look, when you're in isolation for half a decade, you start to notice physical and psychological attributes about yourself you don't particularly like. I just- I wanted him to love all the things I felt were awful about myself, including my decrepit, disfigured body. But he keeps refusing and I…I'm not…"
Ahsoka waited, but when he never finished the sentence, she tromped on the silence, "This is where the problem sleeps. Obi-Wan does not see you the way you see yourself. It probably has never crossed his mind that you may think he sees defects in you, which is probably why he hasn't consoled you about any of this." Her holographic forefinger stretched towards him, "But even if he's missed the rescue boat on this one thing, he's still proven he loves you in more ways than either of us can count. Don't you think he deserves the benefit of the doubt about this one thing? Is it so unreasonable to give him a little time to make sure you're both prepared for a gigantic evolvement in your relationship?"
His hand went limp, falling against the couch, "Have I always been this kesting helpless, Snips?"
"Honestly, if you must ask, no, nay, and never. A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, you never needed reassurance from anybody, not even Obi-Wan. Well, at least not to the point where it was visible to anyone who looked."
"It's draining. To perpetually be in cosmic and emotional jeopardy. I'm sure it's a pain for anyone else to deal with."
"If there is anyone you can rely on to withstand your tribulations, it's Obi-Wan."
What if Ahsoka was right? What if he was impeaching Obi-Wan's love and loyalty without reason? Should he sit back and let things advance spontaneously? Was he capable of that? There were no immediate, laser-cut resolutions. He groaned, "You're right. I know how virtuous he is and I need to remember that and get the freg over myself. Now, enough about me. Let's get back to the Nightbitch."
Enthralled by the subject swap, Ahsoka clapped her hands together, "Right! Where was I?"
"Borgo Prime."
"Right, well, as you taught me long ago, don't ever try to skin some skinny from a gastropod sleezoid, so I didn't even try dealing with a Hutt. I spoke with Randoni traders who pointed me to a merchant named Marsnome Lozmii. Of course he had to be a perversion of nature glossed in viscous slime with no concept of personal space. As soon as I mentioned the Nightsisters, he got this look on his face like he thought I was about to gore him.
"Originally, I told him a colleague of mine had been jinxed by a Nightsister named Noxtalia and asked if he knew anything about her. He stared at me for a while before he slunk up in my area and sniffed me. He told me he could smell I was lying. So, I tried to fish-story slightly closer to the truth and said I was a cloak-and-dagger Jedi, trying to snoop on the Dark Lord's strong-arm, who was a Nightsister."
The Tatooinian's palms fretfully slid over his eyes and forehead, "That was dangerous."
"I know, but it served. He sniffed me, backed up and told me to go to the planet Lysatra."
"In Wild Space?"
"That's the one. There was a small population of humanoids living in the eastern hemisphere apparently, but according to this merchant, there was a lone inhabitant of the western hemisphere, in a jungle called Zo'bani. He told me they would have plenty of edifying morsels for me to nosh on, but he didn't tell me the person's name or anything. All he disclosed was they lived in the dead center of the jungle, inside of a permanently-docked standard scout ship." An ever-expanding smile spanned her face, "I went there and you'll never guess who my dark space-horse was."
He whined, "Don't make me guess, Ahsoka. I'm tired."
"It was Asajj Ventress."
Shock and fury dressed his stare before he gracelessly squirmed into a sitting position. His mouth formed silent words before he finally demanded, "How? We watched her drop off during the Battle of Boz Pity. Obi-Wan called for her corpse to be put on a med runner. How can she be alive?"
"Is We watched her drop off code for I killed her? If so, then the correct rebuttal is You didn't kill her enough. She healed herself with the dark side of the Force and directed the pilots of the med runner to take her as far away from the War as they could. She accessed another ship and flew around Wild Space until she found a place to hermit."
"Good," Anakin dangerously whispered, "she should stay there so I don't have to scorch her sensory nerves out for trying to kill Obi-Wan."
"Yes, you may imagine you are not her favorite person either. Neither of us is. At first, she told me to piss off. She didn't try to fight me, she just told me to leave. Which is fair; I did bring her trouble when she wasn't asking for it in the Coruscant Underworld. So, I made it glassy I was just questing for knowledge. Of course, I didn't tell her the info was for you. I just told her I'm trying to obliterate the Big Nasty."
"You couldn't resist telling everyone your primary directive, could you?"
She shrugged, "Why not? Anyway, you would have been downside-up. She's back on the path of lighthood and wants the Sith to be incinerated! I can tell by the look on your face you don't buy it, but I do."
"How can we be sure anything she told you is the truth?"
"How could Obi-Wan and I trust you weren't a dark side double agent when we found you in Theed? There was no way to be put-your-life-on-it-sure, but we trusted our judgement and it led us to the right conclusion. I trust my gut about Ventress. Do you trust my gut?"
Suspecting her sixth sense was for suckers, "Yes."
"Well, from the calmness I felt in her energy to the tears in her eyes, I trust her." After receiving a hesitant nod, she digressed, "In case you've forgotten, she did not grow up on Dathomir, though she was born there. She only went back after the Battle of Sullust. That's when she met Noxion, or Noxtalia should I say, since that was her name at the time."
"And what did she say about Noxtalia?"
"It's not a good-looking story, let me tell you. Let's rewind. We all know the interdiction imposed by the Jedi Order during the Clone Wars kept the Nightsisters confined to Dathomir. We further know that amidst the interdiction, one of the clan mothers tried to blow up Coruscant. Plot foiled, clan mother killed, the shaman Talzin came into power and united all the competing clans of Dathomir into a singularity. Now, this is the part you'll want to pay attention to in case you've forgotten: Talzin made the clan into a pack of mercenaries to auction off members as assassins and bodyguards to off-world bidders."
"Let me guess," Anakin tilted his face sideways in calculation, "Noxtalia was one of the Nightsisters sold."
"Ding, ding, ding! And instead of resenting Talzin for selling her and her people off for tender-"
Ahsoka and Anakin sung together, "She blames the Jedi's interdiction."
Both Force-wielders laughed under their breath before the she jested, "How did you know?"
"Because it's such a deluded subterfuge. Speaking as a reformed villain, I can confirm that villains are almost always ranting and raving at the wrong people."
"As long as you know you were misdirecting blame. At any rate, it would seem the Jedi are also on her hate list for the mass extinction on Dathomir years later. But before we get into that, I have to tell you what Ventress told me about Noxion's stripes. They aren't genetic or tinctures. Apparently, all Nightsisters and Brothers would choose one or multiple tattoos to announce their permanent allegiance to the clan. Noxtalia came of age to participate in this ritual right as she was put up for auction. She chose stripes...all over her body. And these tattoos they got, it wasn't with a pansy radiation tattoo gun. It was metal tube technique tattoos. In other words, a hollowed-out, brass tube houses a smaller, thinner metal rod with an extremely sharp tip, which slides down the brass tube repeatedly through pressure, like a jack hammer." Ahsoka scooted to the edge of her chair and waved a hand in front of her torso, "All over her body."
"I wonder what stripes signify to her."
"Ventress mentioned stripes are a common Dathomiri symbol for outcasts." Ahsoka's closed fist pressed underneath her chin, "I would feel bad for Noxion if she wasn't such a cutthroat fiend."
"For resenting the Jedi?"
"You resent the Jedi and I don't think you're a fiend." She stood from her chair to pace around the cabin of her corvette, "It's pretty blinking grisly when you get down to it. Dathomir had an arena called the Crucible, where the Selection for the Nightbrothers took place. Now, the Selection was technically for the Nightbrothers, but the same three trials from it were used to determine if a Nightsister had reached warrior status. There were three types of warrior: shadow killer, hunter, or just plain-old warrior. Want to guess which one our striped sis was?"
A deep exhale emitted from his lips, "I'll raise a thousand on warrior."
"You're a thousand credits richer. Ventress said Noxion is a Dathomirian hybrid. Half human, half Zabrak Nightbrother. A good comparison, even though he was a transformed warrior and she isn't, is Savage Opress. Vortex pools of fun, right?"
"Fucking Dathomir," his fingers rubbed tiny circles into the end of his left eyebrow. "It always has to be fucking Dathomir."
Her unoccupied hand leapt with the movements of her strides, "I suspect a shortage in dissemination of intelligence is the culprit. I don't think Noxion knows the essential extinction of her people was thanks to Sidious ordering Dooku to order General Grievous to attack the Nightsister Fortress. Or, maybe she does know and actively tried to be Sidious' apprentice so it would be easier to kill him."
"The glaring problem with that scheme is Sidious doesn't trust Nightsisters, Nightbrothers, or Dathomiri witches. It's why, as you told me not too long ago, he's reinstated the interdiction the Jedi once imposed against them. I'm sure he has an incessant surveillance on her emotions and intentions. I'm even surer he will cross her out once her role has been played, whatever that is. He would see her as a liability after a certain amount of time."
"But why would he recruit her if he reviled her?"
"Probably for the same reason he recruited me: so he wouldn't have to fight her himself. If he saw some great potential in her he probably knew he could use her to some ends, but he will ensure the security of his power no matter what it takes, which means he'll kill her at the first sign of dissidence, which might be sooner than we think considering Nightsisters find malelings inferior. She probably resents serving under him." He crookedly grinned, "I figure misandry isn't the reason you called her a fiend though."
Ahsoka returned to her seat, feet bouncing against the floor, "The first trial of Selection was called the Test of Fury. Noxtalia's performance during her test earned her a ghastly reputation. She not only killed her Nightbrother opponents, she, without anybody thinking to intervene, dissected them with a ballistic knife, ate most of their major organs, and used her bare hands to drink their blood. She claimed their blood and organs contained their Living Forces. I eat males and live on gods is what she opined to Ventress. Isn't that crazy?"
"I've heard stranger."
"What's stranger is she refused to eat anything ever again after her Test of Fury. She didn't want to taint the puissant energy she'd consumed."
"If she never ate anything at all," he rationally refuted, "she'd snuff it."
"Not quite," stressed the Shilian. "Ventress said there's a magick invocation Noxtalia could have used to eliminate hunger. It went something like Winged Goddess about, Winged Goddess without, eradicate my appetite, to my weakness cast out, let the blood of my enemies strengthen my constancy, as I mightily will it, so mote it be. Apparently the spell required a sacrifice and the Nightbrothers were, well, sacrifice material."
"Well, isn't she subversive and mythmaking?"
"You know a little about that, right?"
"Maybe." He drowsily stretched his arms above his head, "I have to hand it to you, Snips, you're one hell of a sleuth."
"Learned from the best."
Anakin tried not to let the satisfaction the compliment gave him show, "I'm going to get back to bed. Thanks for mousing about."
"Easier to obtain than a stabilizing ring." Her farewell was interposed by a last recommendation, "Oh, and Anakin? Don't be afraid to show Obi-Wan how much you love him just because he is reticent about one facet of your relationship. That man would build paradise for you."
"I know. I'll talk to you later."
"Catch you in the chaos."
::::
"Are you not coming to bed?"
Anakin glanced towards the bedroom door, scarcely able to distinguish Obi-Wan's figure in the lightlessness of the house, "I'll be there in a little while."
Obi-Wan traversed the sitting room to double over the backrest of the couch and wrap both arms around his neck. The side of the man's face sloped against the side of his head, "I don't like you doing this."
"Sitting on the couch?"
Lips tickled the helix of his ear, "Sitting in a darkened room, getting wound up in your thoughts."
His face leaned against his partner's mouth, "Well, I can't power down my central nervous system, so you may as well go to bed."
Obi-Wan buzzed against his temple, "I bet I know what you're thinking."
"Oh, do you?"
The contact on his neck and temple evaporated. A silhouette at the far end of the couch entered his line of sight. Soon enough, Obi-Wan was kneeling at his feet, clinging to his bended knees, "You can't hide from our bonds, Anakin. If the disquiet I felt from you tonight has anything to do with your behavior over the past few weeks, then I would presume you are trying to anatomize how I feel after our battle royal."
What could he say? The bull's eye, as per usual. While he struggled to find a way to minimize the assertion, Obi-Wan proclaimed, "In your everyday life, you aren't particularly skilled at acting like you're somebody else. It's not like you hoodwinked me into this. I pursued you for a relationship, you may recall. I battled with you in the kitchen that rotation because in spite of everything, I love you. I've loved you for a long time. I loved you before you fell into darkness and I loved you even when I thought you had ceased to exist. I loved you when you moved into this house and I still love you even when you get out of hand and shout things you really shouldn't. And no matter what you think, I volunteer for everything loving you entails, even if it hurts."
The hands on his knees streamed up the outsides of his thighs, "I need you to know it doesn't always hurt. Not even close. When I see your smile or feel your lips on mine, when I touch your energy, and when I catch you talking to sand, it doesn't hurt. I know we collide so much we create synestias, but I don't ever want you to think I wish we were different. The relationship-building we've committed to here is not because I wish we or you were different. It's because you sit in dim rooms late into the night mulling over horrible contingencies that drag you down into darkness."
Obi-Wan tentatively clutched his hips, "It's because I want you to be and feel safe, healthy, and happy."
Maybe there was the possibility of deception. Maybe the protection of their relationship was at stake. Maybe they still sustained critical trust issues. Maybe Obi-Wan was too good for him. Maybe, maybe, maybe. There were limitless maybe's, but one abiding, cast-iron certainty was the love he felt for Obi-Wan. And you deserve to know how much you and your soul mean to me. A burning desperation enkindled in his stomach. There was no time for timidity as it pedaled through the cavity of his chest then rose up his esophagus and past his teeth, "Bond with me."
"Again? We bonded before I went to bed."
It was now or never. He either stuck his neck out and trusted Obi-Wan with his soul or he shriveled into his shell, forever afraid and distrustful.
"You and I…we were originally made as one being. Then we were torn asunder, sentenced to roam the world separately. It was cold and lonesome and there was fraudulent hope that only led to worse heartache, but we found each other again; twice we found each other again. Now we have to put ourselves back together. I need you to bond with me so we can be one, whole, as we once were and were always meant to be."
Obi-Wan's perplexed expression instigated a gravelly illumination, "Not our Living Forces. Our- our souls. Will you bond your soul to mine?"
The clock went haywire.
Ataxia commandeered their bodies.
Their past, their squabbles, their afflictions- Obi-Wan couldn't remember any of it. He couldn't remember having just told himself rotations before he couldn't risk a soul bond. Tears accumulated in his eyes; breaths became labored; thundering fireworks detonated in his stomach. He couldn't remember what planet they were on or what his own name was. His heart was about to capsize and his veins were on the verge of rupture.
…bond with me so we can be one, whole, as we once were and were always meant to be. How many years had he pined for completion?
…so we can be one, whole… How was he supposed to deny the other half of his soul completion?
The silent, weepy eyes boring into his made Anakin anticipate the worst. For a short-lived moment, he teetered towards recanting and playing the proposal off as a prank, but Ahsoka's wisdom whizzed through his head and he rationally talked himself down. No. You asked, now stand by it. If he shoots me down, it's his choice. I just need to hear him say it. I don't need to speculate; I need to hear him say it. Despite his jitters, he humorously, sanguinely prompted, "Is that a yes?"
Obi-Wan's nearly imperceptible voice shivered, "Yes." His hands frantically framed the sides of his housemate's neck. The next affirmation was scarcely louder than the last, "Yes."
Anakin breathlessly caught the other man's forearms and clarified with astonishment, "Yes?"
Once he was awarded a nod, he grabbed the neckline of Obi-Wan's nightshirt, dragging his intended between his knees. His hand snarled in caramel hair as he dove in to lace their lips. I can't believe you said yes. Famished for as much contact as possible, he licked the lips interlocked with his. Their tongues began a sultry, enchanted waltz, lasting until he pushed the tongue against his back and lightly sucked on the older Forceful's bottom lip. The tip of his tongue grazed the slippery flesh he held hostage. When he tried to retreat shortly after, the hands on his face refused, holding their mouths close. They joyously breathed each other's air.
He could live like this for the rest of his life. He knew he could.
:-:-:
"No," Anakin feebly denied, his forehead pressing against the side of Obi-Wan's angled head. "I did it because you're the one that deserves a better soulmate."
:-:-:
Obi-Wan sprung upright in bed, urgently heaving.
Before he was fifteen years old, he never experienced visions from the Force. Starting from the night of his fifteenth birthday, however, he began seeing both notable and trivial things about an unidentified blue-eyed boy. The foretokens were never extravagantly detailed. It was usually only a bursting flash of a scene, a few spoken words, an onset of emotion. A wailing newborn, a scraped knee, bronze skin, a blue-green lake, disappointment, pain, longing. When Qui-Gon brought Anakin to the Royal Starship that momentous rotation on Tatooine, he instantaneously recognized the boy as the one from his visions. He didn't say anything. It would have sounded too disturbingly daft.
Eventually, after he became Anakin's master, he surmised the visions to be some sort of cosmic groundwork. The Force knew whom his padawan was going to be and for whatever reason- perhaps to prepare him- he'd been given access to the youngling's past, present, and future.
He admittedly was rather bitter that through all the visions he played witness to, he hadn't been given any warning whatsoever as to the bane which would in the end befall Anakin. There'd only been a single vision, looking back, that could have served as a harbinger of what was to come. About a year after the War began, he dreamt of untamed fire encompassing toffee hair and golden eyes. The malice in the furious ordinance I don't want to hear any more about Obi-Wan struck a crippling chill into his hypothalamus. He couldn't see the person the command was aimed at, but he could taste the hatred. The vision lodged a dread into his breast and he carried the feeling around for months.
After the sapping terror dwindled, he confessed what he saw and felt to the same person that had interpreted his visions since Qui-Gon passed. Master Yoda would always remind him the future was in perpetual motion and the content of Force visions was only possible, not absolute. The future is not fixed but fluid… Despite Master Yoda's erudition with this Unifying Force trait, the tiny green Jedi was unable to determine why his visions invariably orbited around Anakin.
"Obi-Wan?"
He tried to speak evenly through pants, "I didn't mean to wake you. Go back to sleep."
Cybernetic fingers lazily pirouetted up his backbone, "Everything alright?"
He laid back down with a counterfeit smile, "Yes."
The end of Anakin's index mechno-finger brushed along the bridge of his nose, "What's worrying you, amanica?"
A slight dip of the head allowed him to kiss a cybernetic thumb, "Rotten night terror, that's all."
"What about?"
He considered eschewing the question but quickly reconsidered. He would want Anakin to be plain-spoken if the shoe was on the other foot. His cheek slanted into a mechanical hand, "About you. You were upset."
Oblivious his former master had ever even once received a Force vision, Anakin hearteningly comforted, "It was just a nightmare."
Obi-Wan grabbed the brunette's wrist and drew it across his torso. Anakin's face settled on his chest and his arm slinked around a petite waist. They reposed in their moonlit sanctuary, relishing their closeness, but it didn't alleviate his grief. He sighed and vised a hand over his eyes. The next thing he knew, the mattress quaked and the white coverlets draped over his body were removed. His hand snapped back in order to gape at his mischievous companion, "What are you doing?"
The younger man sat crossed-legged below his feet, "Helping you relax so you can get back to sleep."
Anakin's mechno-hand slithered under the older man's heel. His flesh hand tenderly rotated the captive foot in a circular motion, causing a pop of cartilage.
Obi-Wan thought that was going to be the extent of Anakin's ministrations and was about to express his gratitude when two thumbs forcefully drilled into the center of his foot's arch. Tidal Force. Mismatched digits rubbed in small circles, one going clockwise, the other going counterclockwise. His molars gritted in an effort to imprison the moan begging to break loose. Contain yourself. Anakin was trying to be considerate and soothing, not seductive. Little loops were impressed just beneath each of his toes and into the ball of his foot. His masseuse then gradually massaged all the way down his sole, adding stouter pressure near the heel.
Anakin glanced up to find crammed-shut eyes and suctioned-in lips. He decided not to make mention of it, "Curl your toes."
As soon as Obi-Wan followed the instruction, a miniature depression just below the ball of his foot became visible. The pad of Anakin's thumb kneaded the pressure point, with his mechno-thumb flattening over the back of the flesh one to add harsher compression. He heard a gagged groan but didn't gamble on his sanity by observing his significant other's face. His thumbs eventually trailed about a third of the way down the plantar aspect, jamming into the base of the big toe. This galvanized a carnal, unrestrained moan, "Uha."
The concupiscence in the sound made his hormones go berserk. He rapidly, recurrently reminded himself he was doing this to relax Obi-Wan, not to turn himself on. With strained restraint, he attentively repeated the process just performed on his friend's other foot.
Somewhere between his left and right foot, Obi-Wan seemed to lose whatever reserve was preventing him from being vocal.
As his task neared its end, Anakin, after listening to all the wanton moans and groans his hands spurred, was harder than lonsdaleite. He resettled Obi-Wan's foot against the bed and scuttled towards the headboard. He fleetingly kissed a bearded jaw then flopped onto the mattress, facing away from his bedmate.
Never, in almost twenty years, had he heard Obi-Wan produce even a semblance of the enraptured, melodious noises just made. It was lunacy-letting. All he could think about was flinging himself into Obi-Wan's arms, clawing their clothes off, puzzling their hands together, and riding the Jedi until all the hydrogen burned out of the suns' cores. Simultaneously, he knew such scandalous behavior was beyond the pale. I have to sit tight until he makes a move. It's the only way I can be sure I'm not cornering him. It's the only way I can be sure he wants it, too. He attempted to forget the pounding throbs in his groin as he softly bid, "Goodnight."
Obi-Wan's eyes longingly outlined Anakin's bare-skinned spine. Upon reaching the waistband of black sleep pants, he couldn't remember why he ever opposed a physical relationship between them. There was no prudent, practical argument to be made amid his lust-rich state. All he could think was Why shouldn't we? They loved each other and wanted to give each other pleasure. What was the controversy? All he would have to do is state he wanted to screw. That's all it would take. They wouldn't even get all their clothes off before he'd roll Anakin face-first into the bed and make love to his soon-to-be bondmate from behind, their bodies enmeshed with his face buried between protruding shoulder blades.
Overpowering. Anakin needed this. Unignorable. He needed this. Clamorous. They needed this.
Impulsively, stupidly, selfishly, he jerked the Tatooinian's face towards him and sloppily soldered their lips.
Anakin nearly convulsed when a hand ambled down his hip and locked onto his thigh, wheeling him onto his back.
Their lips broke apart and their eyes voraciously linked.
Obi-Wan hoisted one of his long legs up by the knee to make room to shift on top of him. Emerald and sapphire eyes dilated when the two Forcefuls felt one another's arousal. Their mouths ardently reattached in an open-mouthed kiss.
His flesh fingers tightly coiled in sandy tresses as lips branded his cheek.
Obi-Wan planted a few kisses on and below his earlobe before descending. As fast as he felt the lightest touch of tongue on his neck, he lost it. Force fuck it! As far as I'm concerned, you made the first move, Kenobi. His hands frenetically fought with the bottom of Obi-Wan's nightshirt until they found a way underneath. Seconds after his fingertips sunk into the lats of Obi-Wan's bare back, the blonde's profile ironed against his neck. Cavernous breaths bumped his skin and a pale hand rested against his shoulder, as if pushing him away. It took him a moment to comprehend Obi-Wan was trying to end the encounter. He squeezed the hair gnarled around his fingers, "Please don't stop."
Obi-Wan mentally castrated himself. How could he have initiated this when he knew they wouldn't be able to finish it? The aroma of oil and sea salt flooded his nose and he knew why. Because you are a phoenix and I desire you more than self-actualization. It wasn't a decent enough excuse. He knew how much Anakin wanted to take this step in their relationship and he was, in essence, taunting. His head lifted to find oceanic orbs twinkling with tears. Wasn't this what he promised? That they would make love when they could no longer stand to be apart? It seemed like they were to that point just instants before, but even in a mode of sensual euphoria, he still couldn't get past his apprehensions.
There was a small part of him that couldn't shake off gilded eyes on magma-sodden shores, that couldn't disremember the imploration Please love me as fingers wrung his forearms. He would even go so far as to say he feared Anakin's susceptibility to darkness. He knew it wasn't entirely the fallen Jedi's choice to be influenced, but that didn't detract from the dark side's ability to contaminate. To physically become one with the love of his life would be a consecrated, ensorcelled, spiritual event, but chancing contamination was not worth the reward.
He knew he was speaking out of both sides of his mouth by agreeing to a soul bond while still refusing a physical one. However, when the soul bond was proposed, his emotional self, not his logical self, responded. Emotionally, he swooned at the thought of bonding souls with Anakin; logically, he knew a soul bond would be just as prone to corruption and exploitation as a physical bond. Within hours after the proposal, after he simmered down and his logic reemerged, he couldn't deny having second thoughts. Soberly speaking though, he already made the commitment, and whenever he imagined what the reaction would be if he tried to rescind… There was no way in burning Stalbringion hell he would be able to live with himself if he tortured Anakin like that. It had been bad enough to see the agony on Anakin's face moments before when he teased a sexual relationship. For him to tease a soul bond? Why don't you just carve out his beating heart?
Ultimately, he was buckled into this course of action. No matter how adverse and petrified he was, there was no way to bail without mangling the man he loved. So, he might as well make the most of the predicament.
Throughout the years, he tried numerous times to reach into Anakin's feelings, but the many erratic, conflicting emotions constantly feuding inside his old apprentice made dismantlement and interpretation impossible. How Sidious shifted through all of it and got anything from it other than a headache, he'd never know. While the full effects of a soul bond were unknown, it was within reason to assume they would become more connected than they were currently. It might allow him to obtain a tangible substantiation of trust and better monitor their prospective bonds. He arrested slender biceps, "We have to."
The rejection felt like kick in the incisors, but Anakin knew if he made an uproar it would only make things more insurmountable. Even though it hurt to feel undesirable and unwanted, it hurt more for Obi-Wan to find him untrustworthy, "Okay."
Assuming he was unwelcomed to stay in their suggestive position, Obi-Wan climbed onto all fours to separate their bodies, "I'm sorry."
Quavering hands encased his shoulders, "Will you at least stay close to me?"
He thankfully sighed, "Of course, love."
::::
Anakin's head poked around the doorframe, making him appear bodiless, "Are you ready?"
Obi-Wan spoke over his shoulder as he deposited the last clean dish to its cabinet, "Yes."
It was a blustery evening. A number of gust fronts swept in over the Jundland Wastes, periodically whipping up rolling sandstorms throughout the day. As night approached and temperatures nose-dived, the fifteen-meter-high sandstorms slackened, though the wind was still at play. Every once in a while, they'd hear creaks and groans from the walls and roof as gales whisked by.
He was hair-splittingly nervous. For two rotations, he worried about the dark side annexing their soul bond, about a weaponization of their soul bond, about causing his partner emotive tension. But as the ritual loomed closer, all he could think about was Luke and Leia and how he was possibly about to rob years from their father. Five had already been stolen from his beloved; how was he any better than the dark side if he did this? Was there any way to back out without tearing Anakin apart? With neurasthenia, he made his way towards their bedroom. Despite his conflict, he smiled when he found his intended sitting on the edge of their bed, bouncing, "I'm so excited!"
"I can tell."
Even though he spoke with merriment, something in his face, voice, or movements must have given away his uneasiness.
Anakin's feet firmly stamped onto the floor. He took a good, hard, grim glance at the Stewjonian and the plasma in his blood putrefied, "What's wrong?"
Obi-Wan cautiously selected his words, "Are you sure this is what you want?"
"I asked you!"
"I know, I know. I just want to make positive this is what you want."
Anakin stood up and marched across the bedroom. He grabbed a battle-worn hand and lugged it to the left side of his chest, "Do you feel that? My heart has been racing since this morning because I knew I got to soul bond with you tonight. This is positively what I want." It didn't take an air traffic controller to notice Obi-Wan's antsy, face-rubbing, foot-shifting mannerisms. A tightness girded his throat, "Are you sure this is what you want?"
Though he truly did desire this kind of connection between them, Obi-Wan was still bogged down by fear of darkness, of destruction, of depriving his soulmate, of hiding ulterior motives. He was afraid to suggest he wanted to postpone, to suggest they'd most likely be ready to soul bond at the same time they'd become ready for a physical bond. None of that mattered against the torment on Anakin's face while waiting for his response. I cannot and will not hurt you like this. A quasi truth slipped out, "I'm just…I'm fifteen years older than you."
"What does that have to do with anything?"
"If the legend of the soul bond turns out to be accurate, our lifelines will be bound."
"I know," the younger Force-user nasally bellowed, "that's what I want."
"You could lose years of your life."
His hands corkscrewed into the tunic over Obi-Wan's stomach, "Or you could lose years of yours. Either one of us could go at any given moment, bonded or not. So, if we're both going to die anyway, we might as well live the life we want as long as we are able."
"What about the twins?"
Anakin flexed an ice-thawing smile, "The twins would want their father and guardian angel to be happy."
"If I take you from them-"
He tugged their bodies together, "I could drop dead from a ruptured aneurysm in ten seconds from now and if I did, it would be much easier for my children to digest if they knew I found some measure of contentment inside a life of misery. Even if my death comes sooner than it should because I am bonded to you, I know they would find comfort in that."
Obi-Wan tipped their foreheads together, "You vowed you would never leave them again."
"I don't want to as long as I'm alive, but one day death will come without consent and take me away from them."
"Yes, but if we don't bond, you could stay with your children even after I pass."
Anakin stepped away with a face full of woebegone devastation, "Are you trying to grub-weasel out of bonding with me?"
Acetone amassed in Obi-Wan's atria. I knew how much pain it would cause you. He corralled the taller man closer by the shoulders, "No, I am onl-"
The Tatooinian knocked his hands away and shoved his chest, "Why didn't you say no if you didn't want to bond souls with me?"
"Anakin," he braced bony elbows. When another flailing retreat was attempted, he yanked the brunette into a skintight hug, "Anakin, darling, I'm not trying to get out of anything. I want to bond with you; I'm not trying to back out. I'm just worried. I just want to take care of you and the twins, that's all."
"Why haven't you mentioned how worried you are?"
He smiled in spite of the situation, "I thought you may take it the wrong way."
After little deliberation, Anakin ducked back to find beryl eyes, "I'm sorry. It's- I couldn't believe you said yes when I proposed and I thought, just now, I thought you realized you made a mistake."
Obi-Wan's arms constricted in their embrace. It would be ideal to put this whole thing off until Anakin was more stable, but it was obvious if he tried to delay, it would butcher a vascular organ or two. Cosmic Force, I beg of you to keep the darkness far remote. Do not let it invade our bond. His nose buried into honey hair, "My soul could never be complete without yours."
A soft, reassured sigh wafted over his shoulder and thin arms enfolded his waist, "Fuck, I can't participate in the ritual like this. I'm too worked up."
The appropriate cure was administered swiftly. His eyes closed as he embarked upon a meditative state. Fronds of his energy nudged Anakin's, whose in turn unfurled and hysterically grappled for his. As soon as their energies tethered, the mass in his arms melted. He propped Anakin's boneless body against his and swanned them to the bed, helping the younger Forceful sit on its edge. He stooped at cybernetic feet, "Any better?"
"Much." Anakin's fingers combed through the grey hair along the older man's temple, "Thank you."
A kiss touched down on a prosthetic palm, "Are you ready then?"
"Yes."
"If you start to feel weak or anything in the middle of it, you'll let me know, won't you?"
"Yes, I will," he solemnly guaranteed.
"Let's get to work then."
He lent a hand to help Obi-Wan stand then boosted his legs onto the mattress and crawled to its middle. Obi-Wan stretched out beside him and his head plunked down onto his bedmate's pectoral. An arm swathed around his back and he consequently bandaged an arm over his housemate's abdomen. He sensed the solicitude in the suggestion, "If anything goes wrong, you need to-"
"How many hours in the past three rotations have we spent exploring our energies? Each other's energies? Our thoughts, feelings, our spirits? We've got this, amanica."
"We don't even know what we're doing. Our ritual is concocted on a legend."
"We've verbally walked through the ritual a million times. It will be fine."
Strong fingers puzzled with his before their eyes closed and they pursued a meditative state.
:-:-:
There were two walls of light, one turquoise and one candy red. The contrasting Living Forces faced each other with intentness. Slender scions shot out from the turquoise and candy red walls, caressing and knotting. The turquoise scion pulled the candy red one towards its mother Force and through its barrier. Deep within the turquoise was a small, warm tangerine light. The candy red scion swam into the small orb of light before receding, extracting a piece of tangerine. The candy red scion dragged the piece through turquoise, back to its mother Force, and into a small, warm chartreuse light.
The piece of tangerine was engulfed and instantly began to fuse with the chartreuse light.
The turquoise scion hesitated, causing the candy red scion to find, latch onto, and pull the turquoise one past the barrier of its mother Force. The turquoise scion was enticed to the orb of chartreuse light buried deep within the candy red wall. The turquoise scion gently extracted a piece of chartreuse and towed it through candy red and turquoise to bury it in tangerine.
The piece of chartreuse was engulfed and instantly began to fuse with the tangerine light.
Tranquility met passion. Wisdom met danger. Love met sex. Patience met determination. Spiritual grounding met raw power.
The tangerine in the chartreuse reached out for the turquoise and the chartreuse in the tangerine reached out for the candy red, trying to recover what had been lost. However, tangerine and chartreuse were already bonded behind both walls of energy. Despite these bonds, the pieces of extracted tangerine and chartreuse still fought greatly to reunite with their mother souls. Turquoise crashed into candy red, knitting together, as the tangerine in the chartreuse extended an arm to its original tangerine master and the chartreuse in the tangerine extended an arm to its original chartreuse master.
Living Force bonded to Living Force.
Soul bonded to soul.
:-:-:
For two sunrises and two sunsets, Anakin and Obi-Wan laid unconscious in their bed.
Sometime before the third sunrise, Obi-Wan awoke. His eyes were weighty with exhaustion and his mouth felt like it was full of plasti-foil. Something was on his torso and his left arm was numb. It took a couple minutes for his eyes to adjust to the tenebrous room, but once his vision was no longer obscured, he discerned Anakin and he were still in the same position they had been in before the ritual commenced. His hand smeared around his waxy face before he groomed sheeny butterscotch brown locks back to inspect the other man's face. One of his fingertips skimmed over a sharp cheekbone.
He felt a punch to his stomach, then throat, then forehead. Energy, both native and foreign, gormandized his bones, his lungs, his muscles, his eyeballs. Breathing became ragged; thinking became inexecutable. Even though their meditative bonds conjoined portions of their Living Forces, he never felt like this: ready to run a marathon and capture light in a box and spit in Palpatine's face. If this was only a portion of how Anakin felt on a daily basis, how did the man ever stay cooped up in this house?
As quickly as the feelings assaulted him, they fled. He expected another onslaught, but it never came. The suns were burning bright in the morning sky by the time he decided the throe had been temporary. He then decided to try to trundle Anakin onto the other side of the bed since he couldn't feel his arm. As soon as he tried to, his bondmate awoke. Bleary eyes thrashed against the after-effects of sleep and tan arms stretched towards the ceiling. His arm snaked free under a bowed back and he began patting it to try to stimulate his axons again, "How are you feeling?"
Anakin looked at Obi-Wan, the far wall, his hands, and then back to Obi-Wan, "The same. I feel the same. Do you feel any different?"
"For a while after I awoke, yes. I don't feel so differently now though."
"I don't feel different," he restlessly insisted.
Obi-Wan consolingly resolved, "Perhaps it is not supposed to feel disruptive."
"Maybe," he mumbled, "or maybe it didn't work."
A light eyebrow arched, "You know the legend."
Anakin's hands spooned around the sides of his neck while he manically chattered, "I just think you would feel something. Significant. I don't think it worked. I think we would feel at least somewhat different."
Obi-Wan didn't need a consensus to know their energies and souls were bonded. When their Living Forces met during meditation, his partner's rampant emotions usually overpowered his. That was exactly what was happening: as Anakin ranted, he felt panicked. Since they weren't in the middle of meditation, he deduced it was possible- probable- their Living Forces permanently bonded as a result of the ritual. Their soul bond was detectable by the hot, silky blossom seeded in the center of his chest. It was new, distinctive. He wasn't sure why Anakin either didn't feel or didn't notice feeling different, but just as they learned how to forge Force bonds, he was sure he could figure out how to reach Anakin's soul with his. When he did, he could prove the ritual was a success.
::::
Obi-Wan strutted across the bluff with his hands secured behind his back.
Although Anakin didn't believe their ritual had been successful, all he felt from his bondmate for the past two rotations was abiding love and cheerfulness. Like he's satisfied I tried to bond with him at all. It made him feel like a real jackass. The contrition plaguing him for distorting his motives in pursuance of a soul bond was chomping at him like a Tarsarian devourer. He wanted to do something to show he entrusted Anakin with his life, even if he was daunted by certain components of their relationship. His tribute would be a pathetic compensation, but he couldn't think of any better way to make reparation unless he just put everything in the open, which he of course couldn't.
Anakin was hanging their freshly-washed clothes out to dry but suspended the task to skeptically smile at Obi-Wan, "Why are you holding your arms like that? Do you have a canister of oil or sand behind your back?"
With hands still hidden, he sauntered straight up to Anakin, "No, I'm not a disrespectful teenager."
A laugh accompanied the jaunty warning, "I'd be careful with those insults if I were you."
"Oh?"
"Yeah. It sounds like you enjoy kissing disrespectful teenagers."
His head sportively shook, "You're a hellion. I'm not playing a practical joke. I have something I want to give you. I'm sick of holding it above your head like you're incapable of having it."
The muddle on Anakin's face multiplied when the hilt of a lightsaber was presented. With little examination, he recognized the metallic helve as his own. He glimpsed at Obi-Wan then back down to his long-lost saber. Had he earned the right to repossess this bringer of carnage? It doesn't feel like I have. His hand rose then recoiled, "I know I've asked for it, to use it, in the past year, but after the past few months, I figure I'm not capable of having it. I still fall under its influence-"
"You know the way of the Jedi, Anakin. You may have strayed, but that doesn't mean you can't return to it." Obi-Wan scooped up the disgraced general's flesh hand and guided it to the lightsaber. He manually fastened mechno-fingers around silver metal, "Take it."
Anakin withdrew his hand and stepped back, "I strayed a little too far, I think. I'm not sure I can ever be trusted with it again."
Ignominy washed over Obi-Wan and he knew the emotion was extrinsic. Again, he nabbed Anakin's hand, placing it on the lightsaber hilt, "I trust you with it."
The dishonored Jedi's head contritely bowed, "You didn't see all the atrocities I committed with it. If you did, you wouldn't trust me with it."
The pads of his middle, index, and ring fingers slid under a dimpled chin, raising the taller man's face, "I went with Master Yoda to the central security station to change the recall signal, to warn the surviving Jedi to stay away from Coruscant. I saw the security recordings. I saw what you did."
Horrification saturated Anakin's soul. He feebly drew the lightsaber to his chest, "Y-you saw what I did in the Temple?"
Obi-Wan braced a mechanical wrist, "I couldn't watch all of it; I had to shut it off. Then Master Yoda declared we must destroy the Sith and I told him to send me to Sidious. I told him I wouldn't, couldn't, kill you. He claimed I wasn't strong enough to engage Palpatine and that I must go after you. Rather, what the dark side contorted you into."
"You were strong enough to beat Sidious."
"I wasn't. Our power in the Force was very close, but just like Master Yoda, he had a slight advantage."
"You were strong enough," the dishonored Jedi confidently asserted.
"Then why did Master Yoda insist I wasn't?"
"Maybe somewhere deep down, he hoped you could get through to me."
Obi-Wan never entertained the possibility, but Master Yoda did pick up on the romance between Anakin and Senator Amidala. Maybe the Grand Master Jedi sensed the not-so-brotherly love Anakin and he had for each other as well. But if that was the case, why hadn't termination of both relationships been ordered? Was it because they never acted on it? Or did Master Yoda know something they didn't? He conceded, "If that was his plan, it wasn't a particularly good one. Any part of you I could have appealed to had already succumbed to the grave.
"When I found you, you were unrecognizable. Physically the same, except for the eyes, but you didn't act like yourself. You…acted like you despised me. Your anger was something I was used to, but not your hatred, at least, not directed at me. Then you pointed your lightsaber at me and the air turned to smoke. I knew what I had to do. I didn't want to, but I knew I had to." An alien feeling of abject anguish strangulated him. After he resumed regular respiration, he pointed to the lethal weapon against his bondmate's chest, "You slashed this lightsaber at my throat and I am still saying to you that I trust you with it."
Faster than the speed of sound, anguish was replaced by humbleness which was followed by desolation.
Anakin lowered the lightsaber to his hip and gloomily gazed into green orbs. He claimed…that I must go after you. Characteristically, he capered over the core part of what Obi-Wan said, "Did Padmé invite you onto that ship?"
Obi-Wan seemed surprised by the query but riposted nonetheless, "No."
"How'd you know she would lead you to me? You didn't know about our marriage…"
"When I told Master Yoda I didn't know where you would be, he told me to search my feelings. Once I did, I knew Senator Amidala was how I'd find you."
Anakin nearly dropped his lightsaber, "So, you put together we were in a relationship before I fell?"
"Yes."
"You didn't say anything."
"Yes, I did."
"Your Small Degree Speech made it sound like you only thought I had a crush on her."
"No, you're the one that tried to make it sound like you only had a crush on her."
"Then you knew I was the father of the twins," Anakin underscored. When silence pervaded the room, he repeated, "And you didn't say anything."
Obi-Wan stage-whispered, "To you."
"You said something to her?"
"I asked her if you were the father. She didn't answer, as expected."
The brunette lightly jostled the blonde's shoulder, "You are so nosey!"
"To be fair," Obi-Wan detained his partner's assailing hand, "I didn't ask to gab. I asked because… well, never mind. It's immaterial."
Anakin entwined their fingers, "You asked her because the father of her children fell to the dark side and you wanted to give your condolences." He swiveled their hands until his was underneath Obi-Wan's and brought the back of the older man's hand to his lips, "It's fine. At least by you prying into my private life and stalking my wife you ended up with her during delivery. At least she wasn't alone."
He admiringly smiled, "Maybe that's why Luke loves you so much. You're one of the first faces he ever saw. Which means you have another Skywalker on Alderaan that loves you as much as Luke and I do."
"I don't know how much more Skywalker I can take."
Their lips met in a short-lived, loving kiss. The younger Forceful stole one more peck before holding his lightsaber aloft, "Let's start practicing with them again."
"I swear, if your next sentence includes the words rebellion or Sith-"
"I'm not trying to run away or fight anybody. I want you to help me harmonize with the Force other than through meditation. If we meditate and practice with our lightsabers again, I'd have you there to guide me and it would be double the contact with the Force."
Obi-Wan prolongedly assessed oceanic eyes. When he only found sincerity, he assented, "Slowly. We'll start slowly. Just turn it on and see how it feels. I'll finish hanging the laundry."
Anakin's thumb painstakingly hovered over the activation stud of the lightsaber. He kept reminding himself Obi-Wan was less than a few steps away from him. He's here if you need him. You can do this. He swallowed heavily and slammed his thumb against the button. With a hiss, a beam of neon blue sprouted forth. Frightful eyes inspected every inch of the glowing stick with a trancelike awe. Well, it doesn't look like the galaxy's ending so far. He mindlessly strolled around while still holding the blue blade at arm's length, closely inspecting it.
When he got the courage to cartwheel the saber, he noted there was still a lack of fire and brimstone raining down on his head. He twirled the lightsaber another time as he turned towards the clothesline.
Even though he was a couple of meters from Obi-Wan, his vantage point made it look like his soulmate was against the cusp of his lightsaber.
This is the end for you, my master. His mechno-hand clenched Obi-Wan's throat. Anakin, Chancellor Palpatine is evil! Their lightsabers hit. Your anger and lust for power has already done that. The lightsaber got closer and closer to Obi-Wan's face. Their Force-flushed hands got closer and closer to one another. A fountain of magma erupted. I see through the lies of the Jedi. Their lightsabers hit. Obi-Wan's face dripped with sweat. Well, then you are lost!
The lightsaber disengaged as it plummeted into sweltering sand. His eyes shut, he hyperventilated, his hands thrust into the center of his stomach. He felt hands rattling his shoulders and heard terror-stricken beseechingness, "Anakin! What happened? What happened?"
His screams cracked under gasping sobs, "Don't let me touch it! Don't let me touch it!"
Hands enclosed the sides of his head, "Anakin, what happened?"
"Don't let me touch it!"
"Did it speak to you? Did you hurt yourself?"
"I'm going to hurt you!"
Arms giftwrapped around him, pulling him against a solid torso, "No, you're not. It's a flashback, Anakin."
"I don't want to hurt you!"
Out of nowhere, a coolness grew in his chest and metastasized to his head and limbs. His tears dried up and his body felt like it was floating on lukewarm water. He wilted into the arms around him.
"That's it, faneta, breathe. You'll be alright. Let's leave it alone today, okay? We'll gradually acclimate to it. Just forget about it for today."
A lacerated, guttural whisper staggered past his sun-dried lips, "I'm sorry I'm such a tragedy."
"You're not a tragedy. You're the other half of my soul." He felt the ground disappear then heard sand-crunching footsteps, "Rest, my love, I've got you."
- 16
- 17
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The Faithful and Ferocious