“You’re… joking, right?” The Jedi’s voice was strained, his chest heaving as he leaned against the cracked hull of the Republic ship. Sweat dripped down his temples, mingling with the dirt and sand that coated his pale skin. His red hair clung to his forehead, damp and messy, and his hazel eyes flickered with a mix of disbelief and something else—something that made Anakin’s stomach tighten. “Do I look like I’m joking?” Anakin shot back, his tone sharp but laced with a smirk. He crouched beside the Jedi, his own tanned skin glistening under the twin suns of Tatooine. His blue eyes narrowed as he studied the man’s face, the way his lips parted slightly as he struggled to catch his breath. Cute, Anakin thought again, though he pushed the idea away almost as quickly as it came. The Jedi—Obi-Wan, he’d said his name was—glanced down at the lightsaber hilt in Anakin’s hand. “That’s mine,” he said, his voice firmer now, though it betrayed a hint of desperation. “You don’t even know how to use it.” Anakin’s smirk widened, and he flipped the hilt in his hand, feeling the weight of it. “Maybe not,” he admitted, leaning in closer, his voice dropping lower. “But I know how to use other things.” Obi-Wan’s breath hitched, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. The air between them felt charged, like the static before a sandstorm. Anakin could see the conflict in Obi-Wan’s eyes—the way they flicked down to his lips, then back up to meet his gaze. He’s thinking about it too, Anakin realized with a thrill. ---It had only been a few hours earlier when Anakin had stumbled upon the crashed ship. He’d been out scavenging, as he often was, when he saw the plume of smoke rising in the distance. Curiosity—and the promise of salvage—had drawn him in, and what he’d found had been far more interesting than scrap metal. The ship was a Republic gunship, its hull torn open like a wounded beast. Inside, amidst the wreckage, Anakin had found Obi-Wan—unconscious but alive, his robes torn and singed. Anakin had hesitated then, his hand hovering over the lightsaber hilt at Obi-Wan’s belt. A Jedi, he’d thought, excitement and suspicion warring within him. He’d debated leaving him there. After all, Jedi were trouble. But something about the man’s face—the softness of his features, the way he looked so peaceful in sleep—made Anakin pause. Against his better judgment, he’d hoisted Obi-Wan over his shoulders and carried him back to his speeder. Now, here they were, standing in the shadow of the wreckage, tension crackling between them like an electric current. ---“Give it back,” Obi-Wan said again, though his voice lacked conviction this time. He reached for the hilt, but Anakin stepped back, just out of reach. “Or what?” Anakin challenged, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “You gonna fight me for it?” Obi-Wan hesitated, his hand falling back to his side. “I don’t need my lightsaber to take you down,” he said, though the tremor in his voice suggested otherwise. Anakin laughed, low and deep. “Oh, I’d like to see you try,” he murmured, closing the distance between them until they were almost chest-to-chest. He could feel Obi-Wan’s breath on his skin, warm and rapid. For a moment, Obi-Wan just stared at him, his gaze searching for something—an explanation, maybe, or a way out. But then, slowly, almost imperceptibly, he leaned in. Their lips met in a rush of heat, rough and desperate. Anakin’s free hand came up to grip the back of Obi-Wan’s neck, pulling him closer as their mouths moved against each other. Obi-Wan’s hands fisted in the fabric of Anakin’s tunic, dragging him in as if he couldn’t get enough. It was messy, unfocused—everything either of them had been holding back spilling out in that moment. Anakin’s tongue slid against Obi-Wan’s, exploring tastes of salt and ash and something uniquely him. Obi-Wan moaned softly into the kiss, the sound sending a jolt of pleasure straight to Anakin’s core. When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathing hard, their faces flushed. Anakin grinned, his heart pounding in his chest. “Thought so,” he said, his voice husky. Obi-Wan didn’t respond—not with words, anyway. Instead, he surged forward again, crashing their lips together once more, his hands roaming over Anakin’s body with a newfound urgency. Anakin dropped the lightsaber hilt, letting it clatter to the ground as he wrapped his arms around Obi-Wan’s waist. Their bodies pressed together, every movement igniting a fire that threatened to consume them both. ---Their clothes came off in a frenzy, tossed aside without care. Anakin’s hands traced the planes of Obi-Wan’s chest, feeling the firm muscles beneath his skin. Obi-Wan shuddered at the touch, his head falling back as Anakin’s lips found his neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin. “You’re… insufferable,” Obi-Wan gasped, though his voice was filled with warmth rather than irritation. “And you’re damn sexy,” Anakin shot back, his grin widening as he trailed kisses down Obi-Wan’s chest. He paused at the jut of his hipbone, biting lightly enough to make Obi-Wan groan. “Anakin—” Obi-Wan’s voice broke off into a moan as Anakin’s hand closed around his cock, stroking him with a firm grip. Anakin looked up at him through his lashes, his blue eyes dark with desire. “Say my name again,” he demanded, his voice low and rough. “Anakin,” Obi-Wan breathed, his hips bucking into Anakin’s touch. It wasn’t enough. Neither of them wanted it to be enough. Anakin leaned in, taking Obi-Wan into his mouth, sucking him down with practiced ease. Obi-Wan’s hands tangled in Anakin’s hair, pulling lightly as he thrust into the wet heat of his mouth. “Fuck,” Obi-Wan groaned, his head thrown back as pleasure coursed through him. “Anakin, I—oh, stars—” Anakin pulled back just enough to speak, his breath hot against Obi-Wan’s skin. “You want more?” he asked, his voice dripping with challenge. “Yes,” Obi-Wan hissed, his fingers tightening in Anakin’s hair. Anakin smirked, reaching for the small vial of oil he always carried with him. He slicked his fingers quickly, pressing one against Obi-Wan’s entrance before slowly pushing inside. Obi-Wan let out a strangled gasp, his body tensing for a moment before relaxing into the sensation. “More,” he demanded, his voice rough with need. Anakin added a second finger, scissoring them carefully as he leaned in to capture Obi-Wan’s lips in another searing kiss. By the time he added a third finger, Obi-Wan was writhing beneath him, his cock leaking against his stomach. “Please,” Obi-Wan begged, his voice barely above a whisper. Anakin didn’t need to be told twice. He withdrew his fingers, positioning himself at Obi-Wan’s entrance. He pressed in slowly, savoring the tight heat that enveloped him. “Shit,” Anakin groaned, his hands gripping Obi-Wan’s hips as he bottomed out. Obi-Wan’s legs wrapped around Anakin’s waist, pulling him closer as they began to move together. Their rhythm was frantic, fueled by pent-up desire and the raw need to feel more. Anakin’s thrusts grew harder, faster, each one driving Obi-Wan closer to the edge. Obi-Wan’s nails dug into Anakin’s back, leaving faint red marks that only spurred him on. “Come on, Obi-Wan,” Anakin growled, his voice rough with exertion. “Let go.” Obi-Wan cried out as he came, his release painting streaks across his stomach. The sight was enough to push Anakin over the edge, his own climax tearing through him with wrenching intensity. ---Their bodies slumped together, both of them panting heavily as they came down from their highs. Anakin rolled onto his back, pulling Obi-Wan with him so that the Jedi lay half atop his chest. For a long moment, neither of them spoke, the silence broken only by the sound of their breathing. Finally, Obi-Wan shifted, propping himself up on one elbow to look down at Anakin. “You’re going to regret this,” he said, though there was no anger in his voice—only amusement. Anakin grinned up at him, his hand coming up to brush a strand of red hair from Obi-Wan’s face. “Doubt it,” he said softly. But before Obi-Wan could respond

Anakin, a scavenger on Tatooine, finds and rescues Obi-Wan, a Jedi, from a crashed Republic ship. After a tense exchange, Anakin and Obi-Wan kiss and quickly escalate to a passionate encounter. They share a heated moment of intimacy, leaving them both satisfied and breathless.

“You’re… joking, right?” The Jedi’s voice was strained, his chest heaving as he leaned against the cracked hull of the Republic ship. Sweat dripped down his temples, mingling with the dirt and sand that coated his pale skin. His red hair clung to his forehead, damp and messy, and his hazel eyes flickered with a mix of disbelief and something else—something that made Anakin’s stomach tighten. 

“Do I *look* like I’m joking?” Anakin shot back, his tone sharp but laced with a smirk. He crouched beside the Jedi, his own tanned skin glistening under the twin suns of Tatooine. His blue eyes narrowed as he studied the man’s face, the way his lips parted slightly as he struggled to catch his breath. *Cute*, Anakin thought again, though he pushed the idea away almost as quickly as it came. 

The Jedi—Obi-Wan, he’d said his name was—glanced down at the lightsaber hilt in Anakin’s hand. “That’s mine,” he said, his voice firmer now, though it betrayed a hint of desperation. “You don’t even know how to use it.”  

Anakin’s smirk widened, and he flipped the hilt in his hand, feeling the weight of it. “Maybe not,” he admitted, leaning in closer, his voice dropping lower. “But I know how to use other things.”  

Obi-Wan’s breath hitched, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. The air between them felt charged, like the static before a sandstorm. Anakin could see the conflict in Obi-Wan’s eyes—the way they flicked down to his lips, then back up to meet his gaze. *He’s thinking about it too,* Anakin realized with a thrill.  

---

It had only been a few hours earlier when Anakin had stumbled upon the crashed ship. He’d been out scavenging, as he often was, when he saw the plume of smoke rising in the distance. Curiosity—and the promise of salvage—had drawn him in, and what he’d found had been far more interesting than scrap metal.  

The ship was a Republic gunship, its hull torn open like a wounded beast. Inside, amidst the wreckage, Anakin had found Obi-Wan—unconscious but alive, his robes torn and singed. Anakin had hesitated then, his hand hovering over the lightsaber hilt at Obi-Wan’s belt. *A Jedi,* he’d thought, excitement and suspicion warring within him.  

He’d debated leaving him there. After all, Jedi were trouble. But something about the man’s face—the softness of his features, the way he looked so peaceful in sleep—made Anakin pause. Against his better judgment, he’d hoisted Obi-Wan over his shoulders and carried him back to his speeder.  

Now, here they were, standing in the shadow of the wreckage, tension crackling between them like an electric current.  

---

“Give it back,” Obi-Wan said again, though his voice lacked conviction this time. He reached for the hilt, but Anakin stepped back, just out of reach.  

“Or what?” Anakin challenged, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “You gonna fight me for it?”  

Obi-Wan hesitated, his hand falling back to his side. “I don’t need my lightsaber to take you down,” he said, though the tremor in his voice suggested otherwise.  

Anakin laughed, low and deep. “Oh, I’d like to see you try,” he murmured, closing the distance between them until they were almost chest-to-chest. He could feel Obi-Wan’s breath on his skin, warm and rapid.  

For a moment, Obi-Wan just stared at him, his gaze searching for something—an explanation, maybe, or a way out. But then, slowly, almost imperceptibly, he leaned in.  

Their lips met in a rush of heat, rough and desperate. Anakin’s free hand came up to grip the back of Obi-Wan’s neck, pulling him closer as their mouths moved against each other. Obi-Wan’s hands fisted in the fabric of Anakin’s tunic, dragging him in as if he couldn’t get enough.  

It was messy, unfocused—everything either of them had been holding back spilling out in that moment. Anakin’s tongue slid against Obi-Wan’s, exploring tastes of salt and ash and something uniquely *him.* Obi-Wan moaned softly into the kiss, the sound sending a jolt of pleasure straight to Anakin’s core.  

When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathing hard, their faces flushed. Anakin grinned, his heart pounding in his chest. “Thought so,” he said, his voice husky.  

Obi-Wan didn’t respond—not with words, anyway. Instead, he surged forward again, crashing their lips together once more, his hands roaming over Anakin’s body with a newfound urgency.  

Anakin dropped the lightsaber hilt, letting it clatter to the ground as he wrapped his arms around Obi-Wan’s waist. Their bodies pressed together, every movement igniting a fire that threatened to consume them both.  

---

Their clothes came off in a frenzy, tossed aside without care. Anakin’s hands traced the planes of Obi-Wan’s chest, feeling the firm muscles beneath his skin. Obi-Wan shuddered at the touch, his head falling back as Anakin’s lips found his neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin.  

“You’re… insufferable,” Obi-Wan gasped, though his voice was filled with warmth rather than irritation.  

“And you’re damn sexy,” Anakin shot back, his grin widening as he trailed kisses down Obi-Wan’s chest. He paused at the jut of his hipbone, biting lightly enough to make Obi-Wan groan.  

“Anakin—” Obi-Wan’s voice broke off into a moan as Anakin’s hand closed around his cock, stroking him with a firm grip.  

Anakin looked up at him through his lashes, his blue eyes dark with desire. “Say my name again,” he demanded, his voice low and rough.  

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan breathed, his hips bucking into Anakin’s touch.  

It wasn’t enough. Neither of them wanted it to be enough. Anakin leaned in, taking Obi-Wan into his mouth, sucking him down with practiced ease. Obi-Wan’s hands tangled in Anakin’s hair, pulling lightly as he thrust into the wet heat of his mouth.  

“Fuck,” Obi-Wan groaned, his head thrown back as pleasure coursed through him. “Anakin, I—oh, stars—”  

Anakin pulled back just enough to speak, his breath hot against Obi-Wan’s skin. “You want more?” he asked, his voice dripping with challenge.  

“Yes,” Obi-Wan hissed, his fingers tightening in Anakin’s hair.  

Anakin smirked, reaching for the small vial of oil he always carried with him. He slicked his fingers quickly, pressing one against Obi-Wan’s entrance before slowly pushing inside.  

Obi-Wan let out a strangled gasp, his body tensing for a moment before relaxing into the sensation. “More,” he demanded, his voice rough with need.  

Anakin added a second finger, scissoring them carefully as he leaned in to capture Obi-Wan’s lips in another searing kiss. By the time he added a third finger, Obi-Wan was writhing beneath him, his cock leaking against his stomach.  

“Please,” Obi-Wan begged, his voice barely above a whisper.  

Anakin didn’t need to be told twice. He withdrew his fingers, positioning himself at Obi-Wan’s entrance. He pressed in slowly, savoring the tight heat that enveloped him.  

“Shit,” Anakin groaned, his hands gripping Obi-Wan’s hips as he bottomed out.  

Obi-Wan’s legs wrapped around Anakin’s waist, pulling him closer as they began to move together. Their rhythm was frantic, fueled by pent-up desire and the raw need to feel *more.*  

Anakin’s thrusts grew harder, faster, each one driving Obi-Wan closer to the edge. Obi-Wan’s nails dug into Anakin’s back, leaving faint red marks that only spurred him on.  

“Come on, Obi-Wan,” Anakin growled, his voice rough with exertion. “Let go.”  

Obi-Wan cried out as he came, his release painting streaks across his stomach. The sight was enough to push Anakin over the edge, his own climax tearing through him with wrenching intensity.  

---

Their bodies slumped together, both of them panting heavily as they came down from their highs. Anakin rolled onto his back, pulling Obi-Wan with him so that the Jedi lay half atop his chest.  

For a long moment, neither of them spoke, the silence broken only by the sound of their breathing.  

Finally, Obi-Wan shifted, propping himself up on one elbow to look down at Anakin. “You’re going to regret this,” he said, though there was no anger in his voice—only amusement.  

Anakin grinned up at him, his hand coming up to brush a strand of red hair from Obi-Wan’s face. “Doubt it,” he said softly.  

But before Obi-Wan could respond

A young Anakin Skywalker, living in exile on Tatooine, discovers a crashed Republic ship and rescues a Jedi Knight, Obi-Wan Kenobi.  The two men clash initially, but the tension between them quickly turns into a heated, passionate encounter.

Anakin and Obi-Wan engage in a fiery, unplanned sexual encounter in the shadow of the wreckage, fuelled by their mutual attraction and the intense, charged atmosphere of the desert.

Forbidden Flames in the Tatooine Dunes

0 words