For This Moment

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Chapter 2

Anakin was dreaming. It was a good dream, not of death or sorrow.

He was seventeen again, and short of credits once more. His need had taken him to one of the gambling establishments in the lower levels. A rough tunic had helped to disguise his identity as a Jedi, but the Padawan braid had proved more troublesome to hide. He had settled for tucking it behind one ear, securing it there and then pulling up his cloak hood.

The evening had been going well, until he hit the sabaac tables. There had been a man there, not much older than Anakin really, who had soon wiped out all the other players, leaving him with an impressive pile of credits. Shaking his head, Anakin had left the table, knowing he would do better to try his luck elsewhere that night.

To his surprise, there was a touch on his arm and he turned to see the man from the sabaac game. “Wait,” the man said with a hesitant half-smile.

“Excuse me?” Anakin asked curiously.

Shuffling his feet, the man shrugged. “I was wondering if I could buy you a drink?”

Anakin studied him, taking in the deep blue eyes and dark hair. He was as tall as Anakin, a bit more muscular and without the lankiness of a teenager. His features were intriguing, with just a bit of a slant to those clear blue eyes, high cheekbones, and full lips. Without even knowing why, he had agreed. “Sure, I guess so.”

“Good,” the man had said, pointing to a table concealed behind some greenery in a corner. “That’s my table. What would you like?”

After placing their order, the man had led Anakin to the table. Once they were seated, he held out his hand and introduced himself. “I’m Quinn,” he said softly.

“Anakin,” the young Jedi said as they shook hands.

“Anakin…” Quinn seemed to roll the name around on his tongue, as if tasting it.

Knowing he should get up, that there was something unusual going on here and he was in way over his head, Anakin still remained seated. He was not even sure what drew him to Quinn, why he was not even now running for the exit. Then their drinks came and Quinn proposed a toast. “To new friends,” he murmured.

Taking a sip of the fiery brew, Anakin felt the heat of it wend its way through his body. He relaxed a bit, his hands loose around his glass. They talked.

They talked of the sabaac game, betting on pod races, the attractions of a Twi’Lek staring at them from across the room, of everything except who they were exactly and why they were still sitting at this table, eyes darting to study each other when they thought the other was not looking.

After several hours, Quinn had reached across the table and brushed his fingertips over Anakin’s hand. Somewhat drunk, Anakin had allowed the touch, marveling at the spark that traveled up his arm and down his spine to coil low in his belly.

“Anakin?” Quinn asked softly.

“Yes?” He seemed to have trouble focusing for a moment but then Quinn’s handsome face became clear.

“I’ve got an apartment close by,” he said. “Would you like to come over?”

Although he knew he would catch hell from Obi-Wan if he showed up at dawn again, he found himself nodding in agreement. “All right,” he answered.

He got to his feet and let Quinn lead him through the doors to the cool darkness that waited outside. Quinn grasped Anakin’s hand as they walked and it seemed only a moment before he stopped before a door. “We’re here,” he announced. “Told you it was close.”

The door opened and they walked in, Quinn raising the lights to a dim level as they did so. Anakin found the couch and flopped down on it, giving a sigh of relief. Quinn sat beside him and took one of Anakin’s hands in his own. He turned it and studied the calluses carefully. “A tough day?”

“Sort of,” Anakin replied. Obi-Wan had made him go through a new kata more than a dozen times and his muscles were beginning to remind him of that fact. Even the alcohol had begun to wear off a bit, though he still had a pleasant buzz.

Then Quinn’s lips were on the skin of his throat and Anakin jerked. Quinn pulled back and smiled apologetically. “I’m sorry, I thought…”

Anakin stared at him for a moment, his heart hammering. He had no sexual experience, other than stroking himself to a quick orgasm. The life of a Jedi Padawan did not allow for much sexual exploration. Shocking even himself, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to Quinn’s. The other man responded by opening his mouth and letting his tongue touch Anakin’s, causing the younger man to moan in surprised pleasure.

They kissed leisurely for what seemed hours, Quinn teaching Anakin how to open his mouth and move his tongue. Anakin had never known that just kissing could be so…intimate. Then Quinn rained soft kisses all along Anakin’s face and the younger man fell back on the couch, his head whirling. Quinn brought his nimble fingers to Anakin’s tunic, having pushed aside the cloak long ago. His hand waited there, his eyes asking permission.

Anakin nodded and Quinn made quick work of the tunic. Soon it was sliding off Anakin’s shoulders and his bare chest was revealed in the soft light. Quinn inhaled sharply and reached out to touch that expanse of golden skin. His fingers plucked at a dark nipple and Anakin found his hips arching up at the touch.

Quinn leaned down and kissed Anakin again, his hand sliding up and down Anakin’s muscled chest and lean belly. Finally, his hand slipped down just inside Anakin’s pants, once more hesitating, waiting for Anakin to give permission for the more intimate touch. With a groan, Anakin thrust up his hips and put his hand over Quinn’s, pressing it down on his erection.

With a soft chuckle, Quinn had unfastened Anakin’s pants and then wrapped his fingers around Anakin’s length, stroking it tenderly. The younger man was soon trembling and crying out with every stroke. Quinn leaned down and whispered in his ear. “That’s it, baby,” he said. “Come for me.”

And Anakin did.

He awoke. Anakin blinked at the sunlight streaming in and for just a moment, he wondered why he was overcome by a wave of terrible sadness, and yet touched by euphoria at the same time. Then it all hit him and he held his breath. Padme…Obi-Wan…

Obi-Wan was curled up against him, one arm thrown casually over Anakin’s belly, serenely possessive. Anakin turned slightly and brushed back Obi-Wan’s hair. The older man snuggled closer and gave a quiet sigh of contentment, as if he were where he most wanted to be in the galaxy. Love – he had both lost and gained it, Anakin mused. It seemed right somehow that he would find solace in Obi-Wan’s arms. The arms that were always ready to catch him when he fell.

Padme? He had lost her months ago. He mourned her, he ached for what they had once shared, but he knew that even had she lived they would not be together. The last time he had been on Coruscant, called back to the Temple because Obi-Wan had been injured, she had told him that she could no longer live the lie.

They had just made love, almost hurting each other in the ferocity of their reunion, when she had told him. Anakin had still been trembling from the aftermath of his climax, and Padme had been warm and quiet at his side, her thighs still sticky with the evidence of their passion. Then she had calmly informed him that their marriage was over.

He had begged and pleaded, threatened and screamed, but his tears and his rage had left her unmoved. In the end, when he had told her would rather die than live without her, a sad but resolute expression had come over her. “It’s for the best, Anakin,” she had whispered. “You’ll see – one day you’ll know I was right.” She had kissed him tenderly. “I’ll always be here if you need me.”

“I need you now,” he had hissed.

She shook her head. “No, and that’s the problem. You have what you need, but you just don’t see it yet.”

At the time, he had thought she meant the Jedi, the Force, being a Knight. Now, as Anakin stared at his Master- his lover – he wondered if she had sensed his long-buried feelings for Obi-Wan. Perhaps she had even suspected how Obi-Wan felt. If so, she might have foreseen a day when their feelings for each other would be revealed, even acted upon. Suddenly, he thought perhaps she had set him free so that one day…

A sob escaped him.

Instantly, Obi-Wan’s eyes opened and he moved away. “I’m so sorry,” he muttered as he slid from beneath the blanket. “I’ll leave. I shouldn’t have-”

Anakin’s hand on his arm stopped him. “Stay…”

The older man turned, his eyes wide and wary, but hopeful. “Stay?” he queried in disbelief.

Anakin nodded, tugging Obi-Wan back down to the bed. “Stay,” he whispered in Obi-Wan’s ear. Obi-Wan shivered in delight as Anakin drew the covers over both of them, creating a cocoon of warmth.

Obi-Wan trembled as Anakin softly kissed his throat and licked at the pulse point he found along the way. “Stay,” Anakin repeated in a raspy voice against his lover’s lips just before his tongue stroked sweetly inside.

Giving a groan of agreement, Obi-Wan wrapped his arms around Anakin and pulled him closer. Their hips arched against each other, dragging a startled hiss from both of them at the contact. “More,” Obi-Wan ordered. “I need more.”

Without a word, Anakin gave him what he longed for so desperately. His long, cool fingers wrapped around Obi-Wan’s erection and stroked firmly. The older man’s hips snapped up at the caress and his legs hooked around Anakin’s firmly. Then Anakin’s length was sliding along the firm flesh of the other man’s belly, the movement getting easier, aided by their own slickness. Suddenly, Anakin clutched at Obi-Wan’s hips and shuddered hard.

Obi-Wan groaned at the heat that pumped out onto his belly and then was lost to his own climax when Anakin’s hand gently closed around him and squeezed. “Anakin!” he cried out as his seed spilled over the callused hand.

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Later, when the sun was at its zenith, they woke again, wrapped around each other in a perfect fit. “Is this real?” Obi-Wan asked softly as he stared into Anakin’s eyes.

Solemnly, the young man answered, “It’s real.”

With a tremulous smile, Obi-Wan ran his thumb across Anakin’s lush lower lip. “If it IS a dream, then I want to sleep forever,” he whispered.

Anakin gave a soft chuckle as he nuzzled his face into Obi-Wan’s palm. “I never took you for a poet,” he said.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes for a moment and then kissed Anakin’s temple. “For you, I would be anything.

The younger man swallowed hard at the sincerity in those words. “What if all I want is…” A tender kiss to Obi-Wan’s lips interrupted his words. “You?”

“I have been yours for a long time,” the Master answered.

Anakin pulled away with a slight sigh, and then gathered the other man into his embrace. “I-”

Long fingers pressed gently to his lips, stopping the flow of Anakin’s words. “You don’t need to decide anything now,” he assured him. “For now,” he whispered as he pressed his mouth to Anakin’s chest. “For now, this is more than enough.”

Trembling under the heat of that simple caress, Anakin moaned. “Please don’t leave me,” he pleaded. “I couldn’t stand it if-”

“I’ll never leave you, Anakin,” Obi-Wan vowed. “Never.”

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