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Title: Stupid Haircut
Author: heartofslash
Fandom: Star Wars
Pairing: Shhhhhh.
Rating: R, and a bit kinky
Summary: A frustrated padawan. A seemingly uninterested master. It’s an old story.
Dedication: for salixbabylon
Stupid Haircut
Stinging hot water pounds down on tense shoulders and a padawan braid is plastered across a ripped deltoid. He flattens his palm against the rough stone wall of the shower stall and gasps as the water hits the back of his neck. It’s not enough of a tension release, but it’s a good start. He pushes himself to standing, lets the water assault his chest. Takes a step back.
Too hot, too hard. But he’s so hard he barely notices the punishing effect of the water. The stone scrapes his fingertips as he trails them down the harsh surface.
This is so unfair. He’s an almost fully-grown, perfectly competent Jedi padawan, proficient in all his studies, if a little weak in a few of his meditation practices. Offers from both humanoid genders and a few non-humanoid varieties are common. He’s in peak physical condition. The only flaw is the stupid haircut.
Fucking stupid haircut.
It’s not that it looks bad on him. It’s not the most flattering cut in the galaxy – they planned it that way, you know – but he looks okay with it. It’s not the way the haircut looks.
It’s that it marks him.
Padawan.
Learner.
Not fully grown.
Insufficient.
He knows this is not the real problem. He knows this constant rejection goes deeper than that, and is not solely the result of his padawan status. But it makes him feel better to think that if he were a knight, he might be accepted.
If he were a knight, he would not be untouchable.
If he were a knight, he would not be standing alone in a shower stall with a massive erection and an itchy palm.
Alone.
Erect.
Rejected.
He grasps himself firmly at the base. It’s not good enough. It’s not HIS hand. But it’s a start.
It’s so unfair. Why should he have to suffer for his master’s past? For his master’s sins? Just because Qui-Gon Jin refused to fuck his padawan, why should Anakin have to suffer?
It’s sheer torture to have the sexiest, most beautiful master in the entire temple, to be padawan to a man who perpetually appears to be seducing every person he meets with those sinfully fucking tempting eyes, a man who can swish a Jedi robe or twirl a light saber with such flair it makes the teenaged padawans, all genders, weak in the knees – that such a man would be Anakin’s master, and would be outrageously, unbelievably, sith-spawned fucking CELIBATE – it is so fucking unfair.
Anakin finishes himself off with one, final rough jerk and watches his come swirl and flow down the drain. His breath comes in ragged gasps.
It didn’t take much. It never does. Just thinking about Obi-Wan is enough.
He looks up to see his master leaning against the doorjamb, smirking at him.
“Do you really think I haven’t fucked you because Qui-Gon didn’t fuck me?” Obi-Wan asks in his mild, slightly amused negotiator voice.
Busted.
Anakin knows he talks in his sleep. He knows because Obi-Wan made him train himself to whisper so it wouldn’t disturb the sleep of others. He’s not sure if he talks during sex, or at least he wasn’t until just now.
Fuck.
“You have much to learn, my young padawan.”
“Teach me,” Anakin demands.
Obi-Wan shakes his head.
“Please,” Anakin begs.
“Get dressed. We’ll… talk.”
Anakin does not bother to dry his skin. The clothes will soak up any water that hasn’t steamed off his skin from the mere thought of Obi-Wan watching him jerk off.
His master is sitting calmly on the couch drinking tea when Anakin enters the common room and kneels at his feet.
Fingers touch his hair lightly.
“Anakin,” Obi-Wan begins, “I understand that you have feelings of attraction toward me.”
That’s the understatement of the millennium.
“I fear you have somehow… you have somehow gained the wrong impression about me,” Obi-Wan continues.
“You’re not celibate?” Anakin says with hope.
“No, you got that part right. I am celibate.”
“You mean, then, that you do desire me?”
“No. I mean, yes. I mean… I had not thought of you in that way before this evening, to be honest. But you are very attractive. And desirable. Surely you know that.”
This is getting painful. “Then what did I get wrong?”
Obi-Wan hesitates, which is not like him. “My master,” he says finally.
“Qui-Gon Jinn.”
“Yes.”
“What about him?”
Obi-Wan’s fingers tingle in Anakin’s hair.
Anakin knows enough to be patient for once.
“Qui-Gon Jinn was my master.”
“I know, Master.”
“In ALL things.”
Anakin must wait for this to sink in.
“Oh,” Anakin says.
He lets it sink in a little more.
“OH.”
Obi-Wan lets go of Anakin’s hair. He gets up. “I’m going to bed.”
Anakin gets up as well. “Me too,” he says.
“Anakin, did you not understand what I said?”
“I think I did, Master.” His cock sure did.
“Then you should realize all that it entails.”
“I think I do, Master.” He gestures toward Obi-Wan’s bedroom.
“I may find you attractive, Anakin, but that does not give you the right to make assumptions.”
Anakin tries to look as seductive as possible. “I like to think I’m not assuming, Obi-Wan.”
“Padawan, it would be highly inappropriate for you to take his place.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it, Master. But you must miss it. I mean, you’ve been celibate for a long time. Don’t you want to? Just a little?”
Obi-Wan crosses his arms over his chest. Anakin always loves it when he does that. “Anakin, you may be taller than I am, but I am the master here.”
“Yes, and you find me attractive and I sure as sith find you attractive, so what are we waiting for?”
Obi-Wan sighs. “Do you understand me at all? I do NOT desire any master other than Qui-Gon Jinn.”
Excellent, Anakin thinks. This is a mere communication error.
He slides to his knees. “Then I’ll just have to keep being the padawan, Master.”
He smiles when he feels Obi-Wan fingers tighten in his hair again.
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