It shouldn't be hitting so quickly, he thought. With the drugs out of his system it should have taken a few days for his body to adjust and enter proestrus. Signs of proestrus were obvious enough he would have had advanced warning of his impending heat. How out of sync with his natural biorhythms must he be that he had skipped that step? How long had it been since he'd taken a break from the hormone therapy to allow his body to reset?
Not since the war started. The realization made him curse again and more creatively, first in Correlian, then Mando'a, and ending in guttural Huttese.
Perhaps his heat wouldn't have been so bad if it weren't for Obi-Wan's particular combination of human and Hin'leth biology. Unable to completely reconcile the two sets of sex chromosomes, Obi-Wan had been born with a penis, a vagina, and internal ovotestes that produced both human testosterone and orenth estrogen.
Growing up he'd looked fairly androgynous, soft in all the wrong places except for his stubborn chin. Puberty had been a blessing and a curse. His voice had deepened to a tenor, hair had sprouted in a number of places, and he gained a foot in height, though Qui-Gon still towered over him. To his relief his cock grew to a respectable, just-below-average size. The growth of breast tissue, on the other hand, had not as been as welcome. Mercifully, Qui-Gon had decided the body dysphoria was more detrimental to his padawan's training than the recovery time of a double mastectomy.
As an adult Obi-Wan's hormones had settled into a balancing act between his dual natures, maintained by a strict regimen of hyposprays. Force-purging the toxin had upset that balance more than simply skipping the hyposprays. That, plus how long he'd gone without a break between treatments meant all bets were off on what exactly his body was doing right now besides being in The Worst Heat Ever.
It felt like every heat he'd skipped had combined into one. Open mouthed, he panted into Anakin's pillow and writhed on the bed like a dying thing. He wasn't hard yet, but it was only a matter of time before desire overcame discomfort. The human male sex drive was bad enough without adding instincts bordering compulsion telling him to reproduce, to be bred, to be fucked. Already he was uncomfortably wet and as he clenched his thighs together he felt another trickle of hot fluid drip from between his lips. He shivered.
Tossing restlessly on the bed, Obi-Wan felt more than heard Anakin's return.
“Oh eww,” said Anakin once the door closed behind him, wrinkling his nose. “Is that...?”
“It is not 'eww' as you so eloquently put it. It's a normal biological function,” Obi-Wan snapped, not so far in heat he couldn't still be embarrassed by the mating musk his body was pumping into the air. He hoped the ventilation system was filtering it out before recycling the air through the rest of the ship.
“I don't want to hear about your functions. It smells like a Mos Espa brothel in here. Don't you have drugs for this or something?” Anakin asked with the typical ignorance of most males on such issues. He began gathering up his few belongings, presumably to relocate to a room lacking in horny orenth.
“A yearly hypospray therapy, but I burned through it along with the poison.”
“Whoops. You don't have a back up in medical?”
“A backup of the custom hormone cocktail I received less than two months ago for which no on else on board would have any use? No.” He was whining. He knew he was whining, but it was hard to care when his body felt like it was turning itself inside out. Dammit, he hurt and all he wanted was to be left alone with his right hand to rub the ache out.
“Good thing this happened on a ship full of attractive, available men, because if it was just us you'd be out a luck.” And because Obi-Wan's former padawan had never learned to quit while he was ahead, he kept talking, raising his voice as he left the room to dump his bag in the small living area. “I mean, objectively I can recognize you weren't exactly hit with the ugly stick, and there was that one time when I was twelve—”
“Anakin!”
“—but you're like a brother to me. Let's just say if it was us alone in hyperspace? The only help you'd get would be me telling you were to shove your 'saber hilt!”
Obi-Wan groaned miserably. He was fast reaching the point where anything the right shape and size was starting to sound appealing, though logic said a lightsaber hilt was a horrifying trip to the medbay waiting to happen. Naked and panting like an animal, he was still a Jedi, dammit. He would comport himself with dignity. This was simply another trial of the body, the vessel for his spirit, and his spirit was greater than any demands of the flesh.
There is no emotion, there is peace. Though lust wasn't emotion precisely. It was more instinct, as natural and base as hunger or thirst. And Obi-Wan was starving. There is no passion, there is serenity. There damn well was passion, it was practically oozing out of his pores. Obi-Wan bet he'd be plenty serene after an orgasm or twelve.
The bed dipped. Fingers ran through his hair, petting him gently, and he leaned into the touch. “Poor old Master,” Anakin fussed, tucking the sheets around Obi-Wan's bare shoulders. “Don't worry, I've got a plan. I'm going to ask Commander Cody—”
Obi-Wan groaned in humiliation. “Please don't, I'm perfectly capable of handling this myself.” At Anakin's sudden grin he realized how that statement could be misconstrued. “That is not what I meant!”
“I'm sure the commander would be happy to lend you a hand.” Anakin couldn't even finish the sentence without giggling.
“Aren't hand puns in poor taste considering...?”
Anakin waved away his concern with the hand in question. “I use them to torture Ahsoka. Don't distract me, we're still discussing how to fix you.”
Obi-Wan sighed and resigned himself to Anakin's mothering. The young knight had a stubborn streak a parsec wide; a small wonder given who trained him. “You make me sound like a malfunctioning droid. If you insist on making a nuisance of yourself then a trip to medical for supplies wouldn't go amiss.”
“I don't think medical stocks those kind of supplies, but I could hit up maintenance for parts and improvise. How's this for diameter?” Anakin made a wide circle with his thumb and forefinger.
In reply Obi-Wan kicked him off the bed and threw a pillow for good measure. “I have a vagina, not a Sarlaac pit!”
Laughing, Anakin picked himself up off the floor. “On that horrifying note, I'm making a strategic retreat. It's too late to stick you in a padded room, so I'm going next door to tell Ahsoka to pack. We can bunk down in the barracks.”
Through the thick veil of lust that was quickly clouding his senses Obi-Wan still had the presence of mind to feel guilty for essentially forcing the other Jedi from their rooms. “I'm sorry Anakin.”
“Not your fault. I'll be sending up food and emergency stuff soon, so you won't even have to leave the cabin until your heat is over. You just steal all the bedding and make a big cozy nest, okay? Comm me if you need anything.” Placing the thrown pillow back on the bed, he leaned over to press a quick kiss to Obi-Wan's flushed forehead. The gesture sent a pang of nostalgia through the older man as he recalled a different pair of lips on this brow soothing him many years ago.
Then the cabin door hissed shut and Obi-Wan was alone again. Anakin had been a temporary distraction, but now there was no ignoring the heat symptoms building in his body like a tidal wave. To uncomfortable to meditate, he focused on relaxing enough to fall back asleep, knowing that soon he wouldn't even be capable of that. At the peak of his heat he would be too wound up to sleep without first fucking himself into orgasmic oblivion. Unfortunately, he was more likely to exhaust his fingers before his lust. Hugging the pillow to his torso, he closed his eyes and willed his traitorous body to rest.
* * *
A/N: Holy exposition, Batman! Now that we got all the crazy fake science out of the way we can move on to getting people in the same room and naked.
Re: [FILL] Untitled Part 1b; Obi-Wan, Gangbang
Not since the war started. The realization made him curse again and more creatively, first in Correlian, then Mando'a, and ending in guttural Huttese.
Perhaps his heat wouldn't have been so bad if it weren't for Obi-Wan's particular combination of human and Hin'leth biology. Unable to completely reconcile the two sets of sex chromosomes, Obi-Wan had been born with a penis, a vagina, and internal ovotestes that produced both human testosterone and orenth estrogen.
Growing up he'd looked fairly androgynous, soft in all the wrong places except for his stubborn chin. Puberty had been a blessing and a curse. His voice had deepened to a tenor, hair had sprouted in a number of places, and he gained a foot in height, though Qui-Gon still towered over him. To his relief his cock grew to a respectable, just-below-average size. The growth of breast tissue, on the other hand, had not as been as welcome. Mercifully, Qui-Gon had decided the body dysphoria was more detrimental to his padawan's training than the recovery time of a double mastectomy.
As an adult Obi-Wan's hormones had settled into a balancing act between his dual natures, maintained by a strict regimen of hyposprays. Force-purging the toxin had upset that balance more than simply skipping the hyposprays. That, plus how long he'd gone without a break between treatments meant all bets were off on what exactly his body was doing right now besides being in The Worst Heat Ever.
It felt like every heat he'd skipped had combined into one. Open mouthed, he panted into Anakin's pillow and writhed on the bed like a dying thing. He wasn't hard yet, but it was only a matter of time before desire overcame discomfort. The human male sex drive was bad enough without adding instincts bordering compulsion telling him to reproduce, to be bred, to be fucked. Already he was uncomfortably wet and as he clenched his thighs together he felt another trickle of hot fluid drip from between his lips. He shivered.
Tossing restlessly on the bed, Obi-Wan felt more than heard Anakin's return.
“Oh eww,” said Anakin once the door closed behind him, wrinkling his nose. “Is that...?”
“It is not 'eww' as you so eloquently put it. It's a normal biological function,” Obi-Wan snapped, not so far in heat he couldn't still be embarrassed by the mating musk his body was pumping into the air. He hoped the ventilation system was filtering it out before recycling the air through the rest of the ship.
“I don't want to hear about your functions. It smells like a Mos Espa brothel in here. Don't you have drugs for this or something?” Anakin asked with the typical ignorance of most males on such issues. He began gathering up his few belongings, presumably to relocate to a room lacking in horny orenth.
“A yearly hypospray therapy, but I burned through it along with the poison.”
“Whoops. You don't have a back up in medical?”
“A backup of the custom hormone cocktail I received less than two months ago for which no on else on board would have any use? No.” He was whining. He knew he was whining, but it was hard to care when his body felt like it was turning itself inside out. Dammit, he hurt and all he wanted was to be left alone with his right hand to rub the ache out.
“Good thing this happened on a ship full of attractive, available men, because if it was just us you'd be out a luck.” And because Obi-Wan's former padawan had never learned to quit while he was ahead, he kept talking, raising his voice as he left the room to dump his bag in the small living area. “I mean, objectively I can recognize you weren't exactly hit with the ugly stick, and there was that one time when I was twelve—”
“Anakin!”
“—but you're like a brother to me. Let's just say if it was us alone in hyperspace? The only help you'd get would be me telling you were to shove your 'saber hilt!”
Obi-Wan groaned miserably. He was fast reaching the point where anything the right shape and size was starting to sound appealing, though logic said a lightsaber hilt was a horrifying trip to the medbay waiting to happen. Naked and panting like an animal, he was still a Jedi, dammit. He would comport himself with dignity. This was simply another trial of the body, the vessel for his spirit, and his spirit was greater than any demands of the flesh.
There is no emotion, there is peace. Though lust wasn't emotion precisely. It was more instinct, as natural and base as hunger or thirst. And Obi-Wan was starving. There is no passion, there is serenity. There damn well was passion, it was practically oozing out of his pores. Obi-Wan bet he'd be plenty serene after an orgasm or twelve.
The bed dipped. Fingers ran through his hair, petting him gently, and he leaned into the touch. “Poor old Master,” Anakin fussed, tucking the sheets around Obi-Wan's bare shoulders. “Don't worry, I've got a plan. I'm going to ask Commander Cody—”
Obi-Wan groaned in humiliation. “Please don't, I'm perfectly capable of handling this myself.” At Anakin's sudden grin he realized how that statement could be misconstrued. “That is not what I meant!”
“I'm sure the commander would be happy to lend you a hand.” Anakin couldn't even finish the sentence without giggling.
“Aren't hand puns in poor taste considering...?”
Anakin waved away his concern with the hand in question. “I use them to torture Ahsoka. Don't distract me, we're still discussing how to fix you.”
Obi-Wan sighed and resigned himself to Anakin's mothering. The young knight had a stubborn streak a parsec wide; a small wonder given who trained him. “You make me sound like a malfunctioning droid. If you insist on making a nuisance of yourself then a trip to medical for supplies wouldn't go amiss.”
“I don't think medical stocks those kind of supplies, but I could hit up maintenance for parts and improvise. How's this for diameter?” Anakin made a wide circle with his thumb and forefinger.
In reply Obi-Wan kicked him off the bed and threw a pillow for good measure. “I have a vagina, not a Sarlaac pit!”
Laughing, Anakin picked himself up off the floor. “On that horrifying note, I'm making a strategic retreat. It's too late to stick you in a padded room, so I'm going next door to tell Ahsoka to pack. We can bunk down in the barracks.”
Through the thick veil of lust that was quickly clouding his senses Obi-Wan still had the presence of mind to feel guilty for essentially forcing the other Jedi from their rooms. “I'm sorry Anakin.”
“Not your fault. I'll be sending up food and emergency stuff soon, so you won't even have to leave the cabin until your heat is over. You just steal all the bedding and make a big cozy nest, okay? Comm me if you need anything.” Placing the thrown pillow back on the bed, he leaned over to press a quick kiss to Obi-Wan's flushed forehead. The gesture sent a pang of nostalgia through the older man as he recalled a different pair of lips on this brow soothing him many years ago.
Then the cabin door hissed shut and Obi-Wan was alone again. Anakin had been a temporary distraction, but now there was no ignoring the heat symptoms building in his body like a tidal wave. To uncomfortable to meditate, he focused on relaxing enough to fall back asleep, knowing that soon he wouldn't even be capable of that. At the peak of his heat he would be too wound up to sleep without first fucking himself into orgasmic oblivion. Unfortunately, he was more likely to exhaust his fingers before his lust. Hugging the pillow to his torso, he closed his eyes and willed his traitorous body to rest.
* * *
A/N: Holy exposition, Batman! Now that we got all the crazy fake science out of the way we can move on to getting people in the same room and naked.