Summary: Soon after Anakin is rescued from the Thrugii Asteroid Belts, he and Obi-Wan are sent under cover at a masquerade party hosted by Senator Amidala. Bereft of Obi-Wan for weeks, Anakin may not be able to resist demanding his Master's touch for long.

AU where Padmé is just a friend. Everything else is still the same and Anakin is utterly shameless. Set between Seasons 6 and 7. Explicit content.

Notes: For Obikin Week 2018. Day 5. Touch starved and Masquerade Party. Two in one. Also, can be Day 3: First-time.

i'll wait no longer

Anakin had not seen his Master in over four months.

Not since the day he had disobey orders – again, said an inner voice which sounded alarmingly like Ahsoka– and followed some strange ship deep into Wild Space, only to be shot down on a deserted world without the means to contact the Republic. Or Obi-Wan.

Thank the Force Artoo had been with him, or he would have gone crazy. And thank the Force they eventually ran into an enigmatic Chiss Commander named Mitth'raw'nuruodo. Or they would never have gotten off that rock alive.

The Chiss were a strange, blue-skinned, red-eyed, near-human species that lived somewhere out in the Unknown Regions. The Commander had carefully failed to say where. Mitth'raw'nuruodo, or Thrawn as he allowed Anakin to call him after several days and several escapes from death, was able to give Anakin a run for his money in tactics and was a scarily quick learner of basic and Republic protocol.

Anakin wondered if all of his people were like him and, if so, how he could ensure that the Chiss as a whole remained uncaring, or even friendly, towards the Republic.

They were busy enough without outside threats as well.

He was badly injured and malnourished by the end and he didn't remember being rescued, besides a faint, comforting sense of Obi-Wan's presence. Artoo told him later that Obi-Wan and Master Quinlan Vos eventually managed to tract his hyperspace vector and search neighboring systems until they located his ship's beacon.

Artoo also told him that Obi-Wan and Thrawn spent close to an hour conversing before they went their separate ways. Anakin had a feeling Obi-Wan's elegant sensibilities approved of Thrawn's appreciation of art.

Jedi Healer Vokara Che was in a dictatorial mood when he finally arrived back at the Temple in his sorry state. After a week of rest and his obviously increasing restlessness, she took his blood pressure, threatened him with bodily harm should he take one step out of bed, and then whispered to him that Obi-Wan had been frantic the entire time Anakin was missing.

"I don't think that man slept for weeks," she said, but she was smiling even as she shook her head at such foolishness.

Yet still Anakin hadn't been able to see him, for by the time he regained consciousness, Obi-Wan was on a mission form the Council to Mimban, a swamp-covered planet in the Expansion Region which had recently expressed Separatist leanings.

That had been two months ago, and Anakin was going quietly insane. He had never gone this long without hearing Obi-Wan's voice, feeling his presence – so familiar to Anakin that he could no longer tell where his own ended and Obi-Wan's began – and touching. Just casual touches; a brush of the hands, a companionable clap to the shoulder, Obi-Wan's palm resting softly against Anakin's cheek as he told him he was proud of him.

But Anakin lived for those touches, yearned for more of them and felt like a man dying of thirst without them.

The only other person to touch him regularly was Ahsoka, and she was…gone.

And then, thank the stars, Senator Amidala decided to host a masquerade ball for some charity she was funding, and she requested both Anakin and Obi-Wan for extra security. The Senator from Naboo was an old friend.

"I really just want you and Obi-Wan there to have a good time, Annie," she said, hands restlessly bunching in her ornate gown as she sat beside him in one of the Jedi Meditation Gardens.

Anakin listlessly tore up grass and put it in a pile. He was even worse at meditation without Obi-Wan, warm back pressed against his own, as they listened to the Force together.

"Goodness knows you both deserve it," Padmé continued and Anakin wondered for the hundredth time why she didn't end this war sooner if she was so concerned about him and Obi-Wan fighting it. Or at least make a motion to grant the Clones equal rights as Republic citizens.

But Padmé ignored his bad mood and threw grass at him, brown eyes sparkling with sudden mischief. "Now, what are you going to wear?"

Obi-Wan got back to Coruscant an hour before Padmé's ball began. Anakin had arrived at Padmé's venue, the Lyceum Amphitheater, several hours before to triple-check security. The place was magnificent, all soaring, painted roofs and high, carved arches. Padmé and her handmaidens had had the ballroom festooned with trailing vines and gauzy curtains. Then they lowered the chandeliers until their glittering lights shone directly overhead, clusters of lights turning slowly to send silver lights into the shadowy, mysterious alcoves scattered around the room.

A huge, banquet covered one end of the room and the place was filled with the rich and powerful from all over the Inner Rim before Obi-Wan's cruiser even entered Coruscant's space lanes.

Anakin thrummed with tension, heart pounding even though he knew he looked well. Padmé had dressed him all in black velvet and silk, with a tunic accented by silver thread. Tiny silver bells hung in his curls and the top half of his face was covered by a simple, elegant mask of deep burgundy and silver swirls.

Padmé said he looked very handsome and a bit dangerous but he was still nervous.

Obi-Wan appeared at the top of the stairs five minutes before the ball officially began. As soon as the Jedi Master entered the room Anakin could feel him, warm and golden and powerful in the Force. Their bond snapped back into place with a speed that left Anakin dizzy, and as Obi-Wan's relief and quiet joy washed over him, Anakin felt that warm ball of desire which had been growing all day pool low in his gut.

Obi-Wan walked down the steps, nodding politely to those he passed, but his blue-grey eyes – the only part of his face visible beneath his mask save for his auburn beard – never left Anakin's face. The Jedi Knight's mouth went dry and another flash of desire short through him, his cock twitching with interest as Obi-Wan came towards him.

Obi-Wan's smile was as radiant as the sun, his presence wrapping Anakin in glorious warmth, when he hadn't even realized he'd been cold. He reached out and grasped the younger man's shoulders lightly. "It's good to see you back on your feet, Anakin," he said in that beloved, refined voice and Anakin's knees wobbled at Obi-Wan's touch, burning through the thin fabric of his tunic, and desire rolled through him again.

He was dizzy with sudden want, his cock already half hard as he fisted hands into Obi-Wan's tunic to keep himself upright.

Obi-Wan looked…Obi-Wan looked good.

The Jedi Master's tunic was silk and as soft as water, a blue-grey which perfectly matched his stormy eyes. Soft, golden thread etched designs into the fabric. His leggings were midnight blue and rich as velvet, capped by supple faux-leather boots. His domino mask was sky-blue and gold, shining off his copper hair in the glittering lights of the chandelier. He felt exhausted and almost punch-drunk with tiredness through their bond, but he looked stunning.

Anakin's head was swimming with arousal and warmth and need. Unable to help himself, he tugged on Obi-Wan's tunic without saying a word and when the older Jedi stepped forward, now so close that Anakin could smell the cheap caf Obi-Wan was using to remain awake, he gave a sigh of relief and leaned forward until his forehead rested on the other man's shoulder.

He hooked his arms tight around Obi-Wan's waist and just barely restrained himself from pulling his Master flush against him, yearning to feel every part of him now that he was here again.

Obi-Wan's hands came up to stroke soothingly through his hair. "Are you alright Anakin?" he asked, his voice a delicious rumble in Anakin's ear.

Anakin shivered and shifted closer. Underneath the cheap caf Obi-Wan smelled like he always did, of cinnamon and something even richer and spicier. He smelled like home. "Dance with me, Master," he whispered. A command.

Obi-Wan chuckled. "Not until I've had something to drink. The Corellian hells can't be worse than the fortnight I've just had." He sounded wry and self-deprecating and Anakin just knew there was a story that went along with it, but his body hummed with arousal, so he just raised his head and nodded, trailing after Obi-Wan as he wove around dancing couples, refusing to let go of his hand.

When Obi-Wan stopped to pick up two glasses of some fruity, alcoholic beverage Anakin didn't even care anymore. He draped himself among Obi-Wan's back, chin resting on his shoulder and his hardening prick resting along the curve of Obi-Wan's arse.

The Jedi Master froze and then instinctively began to pull away, but Anakin tugged him back, hauling Obi-Wan hard against him, his cock nestling even deeper, curving under Obi-Wan's buttocks until Anakin was flush against him. He was fully hard now, aching with suppressed want, needing just one touch from his Master. His swollen cock pulsed once and Anakin bit back a moan, trembling as he held himself back from thrusting shamelessly against his Master in public, like some randy, exhibitionist teenager.

But Obi-Wan was finally here and Anakin wasn't sure how much longer he could control himself.

"Please Obi-Wan." His voice was wrecked by want, hoarse and unrecognizable.

Obi-Wan's entire body was as tight as a bowstring, like he would bolt at any second by Anakin just held on, trying to project all his need and love for the other man through their bond. He had loved Obi-Wan for what felt like his entire life. He had tried to ignore it, to suppress it, to will it into something tame and platonic, but he just couldn't pretend any longer.

After several heart-pounding seconds, during which Anakin was sure he had ruined everything by his precipitous actions, Obi-Wan relaxed infinitesimally. He must have been both flustered and beyond tired for, without eating anything, he tilted his head back and drank down both glasses for fruity alcohol without pause.

Then he had a third.

"Master?"

Obi-Wan turned around in the circle of Anakin's arms so that their eyes met. His eyes were slightly glassy and spots of red colored each cheekbone, but his voice was clear. "If I'm going to betray my vows dear one, then I need a bit of liquid courage first," he murmured huskily.

Anakin's heart leaped at the endearment and arousal rolled through him once more, his stomach clenching and his balls tightening, eyes fluttering shut, as he tried to prevent himself from finishing right then and there.

In front of the elite of the entire Republic.

"Obi-Wan, I – " he choked out and Obi-Wan must have realized how close he was for he pulled Anakin into his arms and then stepped them both backwards, propelling them into the sea of dancers swirling around the ballroom.

No one paid them any mind.

Anakin wasn't a dancer but Obi-Wan led and he followed, arms around each other as each step brought their groins together, sending pleasurable tingles up Anakin's spine as he felt Obi-Wan growing hard against him.

Step, together. Step, together. Anakin existed in a haze of touch and Obi-Wan, the outside world an indistinguishable haze.

Obi-Wan maneuvered them towards a darkened corner of the room, positioning them half behind a giant pillar before slowing their movements until they were merely swaying in a slow circle. Anakin pressed his throbbing cock firmly against Obi-Wan's thigh and he let himself fully relax against his Master. At every movement of their bodies, Anakin's cock rubbed slowly, deliciously against Obi-Wan's hip and inner thigh, sending ever-expanding swells of arousal spreading through his entire body until he hovered right on the edge of ecstasy once more.

And then Obi-Wan's calloused fingers skated under Anakin's tunic, brushing over taut muscle and the smooth, quivering planes of Anakin's stomach.

"Oh, Force," Anakin gasped, as those clever fingers swept beneath the waistband of his leggings, teasingly dipping lower but avoiding the area where Anakin needed him most.

Obi-Wan bent towards him, the bristles of his beard scratching over Anakin's skin and tingles crawling up his spine as Obi-Wan's lips brushed tantalizing over the shell of his ear, wet and warm.

"I can feel how close you are, dear one," Obi-Wan whispered roughly, "how long you've wanted this. Come for me."

Anakin moaned tightly, knees buckling as a spurt of cum ejected from his cock. Obi-Wan caught him, held him upright and Anakin tried to press himself even closer to his Master but was stopped by a light touch to his arm.

"Keep your eyes closed, Anakin," Obi-Wan ordered.

The Jedi Knight shivered and obeyed.

"Keep moving with me. Slowly."

Obi-Wan's hands were all over him, one on the swell of his back as he brought the younger man firmly against his answering hardness and the other hands stroking softly through Anakin's hair, sending the little silver bells tinkling.

Anakin buried his face in the hollow of Obi-Wan's throat, feeling his pulse hammering with each throb of his erection.

"Now," Obi-Wan directed, voice vibrating through Anakin's entire body, "reach down and grab hold of yourself." The Jedi Master's voice wavered, as though on the edge of losing control.

"Fuck," Anakin moaned, unaware of his hand even moving until his prick was encased in his flesh hand, hot and hard and huge, and somehow better than any wank he'd ever had before.

"Stroke yourself once, from base to tip."

Anakin did and oh stars did that feel good.

"Now," and Obi-Wan's voice was breahtless. "Come for me."

And Anakin did.

End Notes: Not sure about this one. I liked it a lot at first, but on a read through…Anyway, I might edit it eventually. Maybe make them stumble out into a quiet corridor instead of behind a pillar, lol. There's a Part II coming from Obi-Wan's POV, on what comes next, if anyone is interested.