Happy May the 4th!
Hello there, and May the 4th be with you!
In honor of our favorite fandom (and our favorite goobers, aka obikin), @temple-mistress and I are thrilled to bring you a “flight” of some of our obikin WIPs, along with one indulgent extra! Please see the menu and snippets below. Let us know which completed work you want to see us post first! ✨
May the 4th WIP Flight
Clone Wars Verse | gffa obikin
Papa Verse | gffa obikin
Omegaverse | gffa obikin, alpha Anakin & omega Obi-Wan
Quindu | bonus pour - gffa Quinlan Vos/Mace Windu, on a ski trip, in the hot tub
~~~~~
Clone Wars Verse | gffa obikin
Anakin smirks a little. “Really, old man?”
Obi-Wan can’t help but roll his eyes, sighing like the utterly oppressed. “You're in my lap, darling. It's hard not to be… affected.”
“Hard, huh?” Anakin outright grins. He blinks up at Obi-Wan, his gaze growing suddenly heated. “Need me to help with that?”
Obi-Wan's fingers tighten, just a little, in those curls. Damn him and his insufferable conceit. Eyes darkening, he nods sharply, just once. “As it is entirely your doing, it does seem like the correct course of action.”
Anakin licks his lips. “So it’s my fault that I make you horny?” he teases, turning his head to nuzzle the now fully-hard outline of Obi-Wan’s cock.
~~~~~
Papa Verse | gffa obikin
“Hurry up, old man, need your hands on me, kriff, come on.”
“Why don’t you help me, then,” Obi-Wan replies, his voice low with amusement and arousal. “Use the Force if you want, I won’t object.”
Anakin shakes his head, mildly exasperated. “You never do, when you want to fuck me.” His brow furrows, and his hands push at tunics while the Force obeys his almost unconscious command and tugs down Obi-Wan's trousers. “You...you do want that, right? You want to fuck me?” He pulls his tunic sleeves down, off, and wraps his arms around Obi-Wan's waist, hiding his flushed cheeks against Obi-Wan's neck, inhaling deeply. “Tell me. Tell me you want me. Tell me how you wanna fuck me, how much you want to be inside me, stang, I need to hear it.”
“Of course I want that, want you,” Obi-Wan rasps, his hands winding their way into Anakin’s hair. “I can hardly breathe with how badly I need you.” He tilts his head to press heated kisses against Anakin’s hairline, his temple, his jawbone. “I want to kiss you hard, and fuck you harder—I want to hold you too tight, and mark you up without any care for who might see the bruises.”
“Master,” Anakin groans, hands skimming up the expanse of Obi-Wan's back and down over the curve of his ass, pulling their hips together.
~~~~~
Omegaverse | gffa obikin, alpha Anakin & omega Obi-Wan
"I have wanted you for far longer than a day off of suppressants would suggest,” Obi-Wan admits in a low, confiding voice. “I had assumed you were a beta, uninterested in the needs of any omega, let alone your old master. You are brilliant, beautiful, strong, and passionate in all that you do, and of course I wanted—I want—you.” He cups Anakin's cheek, then leans forward to press their foreheads together, ghosting a thumb over Anakin's bottom lip. “Are you sure you want me, and not just the one omega you've been around for most of your life?"
Anakin nuzzles into Obi-Wan’s hand, nosing and scenting at his wrist. “I… I can’t imagine wanting anyone but you,” he murmurs. “And believe me, I’ve tried,” he adds with light, rueful humor. “Ever since I presented—maybe even before—you were the one I wanted. Can I…” He pauses, mouthing over Obi-Wan’s skin. “Kriff, I’m sorry, I don’t know why it’s so hard for me to ask this. I just never thought…” He moves closer to breathe the words into Obi-Wan’s ear, a soft, still-vulnerable confession. “I want to fuck you. I want to touch all of you. Can I?”
Obi-Wan sucks in a sharp breath. The scent of aroused alpha invades his senses. He feels the utter sincerity of Anakin in their bond, and he's caught up for a moment by the rush of fondness he feels, his heart stuttering with the sudden, overwhelming realization that it's Anakin who wants Obi-Wan.
His inner omega prods at him, reminding him that there's an alpha nosing at his ear, soliciting his attention with placating kisses and heated words. He feels his stomach tighten, and he nods, tilting his head enough to expose his mating gland. “If—if you're certain. Kriff, yes. Touch me, please. Let me see you, alpha. All of you.”
~~~~~
Quindu | bonus pour - gffa Quinlan Vos/Mace Windu, on a ski trip, in the hot tub
“Mmm, you're a fucking tease, you know that?” Quin admits with a gasp. “Not that it doesn't, kriff, do anything for me.”
“I’m just helping you relax,” Mace replies, his finger brushing and pressing at Quin’s hole. He leans up and forward, letting his lips linger over Quin’s for a moment, not kissing, just barely touching, then finally wraps his free hand around Quin’s cock. He keeps his grip loose, squeezing just a little with each stroke when he gets to the head. “Think I can make you come before I do?” Mace murmurs.
With a lazy grin against Mace's mouth, Quin releases an affirmative noise. It's not often he gets there before Mace, but he's so relaxed and still a little Force-depleted that it's not going to take much. Especially not when he's got Windu teasing and working him over, not fast and intense, but slow, soft, indulgent.
Quin never imagined he'd go for something like this, or that he'd ever have it, even, and the fact that it's Mace does something to him, something that feels warm and safe, so when Mace presses against his rim, slipping a little inside, Quin jolts. “Y-yeah, yeah. Know you can.”
With a hum that’s half amusement, half approval, Mace presses a kiss to the corner of Quin’s mouth and lets his finger slip further inside. He massages Quin’s prostate slowly, with just enough pressure that it’s no longer a tease, and the rhythm of his other hand speeds up as he focuses on the sensitive head of Quin’s cock.
“Love the way you looked out there,” Mace says, his voice thick with arousal and something else, something familiar, something they both know but never name. “Wanted to ask you to suck me off once we both got to the bottom.”
Quin begins to pant softly, the corners of his eyes crinkling and releasing with each press of Mace's finger. Gods, Mace knows him so well, a better partner, a better lover, than Quin can remember having. He knows deep down he should be wary of the growing attachment, because that's what this—whatever this means—is; and below even that is a warmth and contentment, a feeling of acceptance that he's afraid to look at too closely for fear of spooking it away.
“Y-you know I would,” Quin says. “Any t-time, any place. Always r-ready to have your cock in my mouth.” His pants turn to grunts as he arches up into Mace's hand and down onto his finger. “D-don't stop, baby. So good, yeah, yeah. Fuck, close, yeah, so close.”
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