Title: How to Relax
Pairing: Hayden/Ewan (Anakin/Obi-Wan)
Rating: hard R
Summary: Ta da! My version of bunny two. ::bows::
Disclaimer: You wish.

Thanks: to the ever-lovely and exceedingly talented cupiscent for her insightful and generous poking at this.



"Got that? Good, good. All right, lads, call it a day then."

Hayden lets his held breath out in a whoosh as Nick finally dismisses them from the day's lightsaber rehearsals. Ewan collapses into a heap, right there in the middle of the padded-and-taped gym floor. Hayden stumbles over to grab a towel and rubs it over his face, lightsaber forms and footwork and beat counts still ricocheting around his exhausted mind. He'll be doing today's lessons in his sleep for weeks.

"Eeyargh ..." Ewan groans, still prone on the floor. Hayden tosses him a towel and it lands neatly over Ewan's face. Using the bare minimum of required energy, Ewan wipes his whole face down then flings the towel off himself. As Ewan struggles to sit up again, Hayden comes over and offers him a hand.

Ewan groans again. "Why do I get the feeling you'll be the death of me?" he says in Obi-Wan's voice as Hayden pulls him to his feet.

"That's later, Master," Hayden answers as Anakin. "Today I merely get to rejoice that I kicked your butt."

"Kicked? No. Bruised, battered, violated, yes."

"Sorry, Master." Hayden knows—and loves—how insincere it sounds.

"You should be," Ewan says in his own lilting accent, playful indignation coloring the harsh words, and Hayden bows in mock-respect. He is about to segue nicely into a crack about Ewan's lightsaber, but Ewan speaks a breath before Hayden can. "Come over tonight, yeah?" he asks, catching Hayden with a sidelong glance. Hayden stops walking and blinks at him from under the hood he has made with his towel.

Ewan's face is all sincerity, his smile inviting.

Hayden swallows, uncertain as to Ewan's intent. He can feel the potential mortification of reading things wrong coloring his cheeks. "Yeah, tonight, OK," he says, keeping his voice carefully neutral and bowing again for effect.

Ewan's grin seals the deal, and Hayden wonders what he has gotten himself into.

::

Hayden shows up in front of Ewan's building fashionably late, full of nerves, and clutching a bottle of what he was told is a good Australian chardonnay. He's also been told that chardonnay is a girlie wine and he should really bring scotch or something similarly manly to such a date, but this isn't a date. It's a ... get together with his co-star. His friend. Hayden scrapped all of this unsolicited advice—what do make-up girls know about these things anyway?—and went with the wine. Worst case scenario has Hayden getting teased, and how would that be different from ordinary? He can handle Ewan's teasing, and Hayden's mother taught him never to show up empty handed. Wine, girlie or no, it is. The bottle is slick and cool in his hand.

A quick glance upward makes him more nervous; the third window from the left on the top floor is dark. Has Ewan forgotten he asked Hayden to come by? Is Hayden later than he thought he was? Is Ewan waiting for him in the dark? Hayden contemplates settling in on the nearest park bench and drinking the wine himself, but if Ewan really is waiting for him in the dark—or worse, watching from his window above—Hayden will never hear the end of it.

Hayden takes a calming breath—the kind Obi-Wan is always trying to get Anakin to take—and climbs the stairs into Ewan's building. He buzzes Ewan's flat, and a moment later the entryway lock snicks open. So Ewan is home. One worry down. Another calming breath as he climbs the stairs to the third floor, and then he is outside Ewan's apartment. His palms are damp—one from the wine bottle, the other from nerves. He forces himself to breathe.

Two seconds later, Ewan is pulling open the door and pulling Hayden into a hug and exclaiming about the wine—his favorite, he says, but Hayden knows teasing banter when he hears it—and then Hayden is standing alone in the entryway of Ewan's profoundly dark apartment.

"Breaker blew," Ewan says by way of apology, taking the wine into the kitchen. "Could fix it, but the box is all the way down in the basement, and, truth be told, I like a little candlelight every now and again." Hayden, having followed Ewan into the kitchen, watches him light two tapered candles with the flick of a Zippo. He arches an eyebrow, but Ewan meets his look calmly, his face the picture of innocence. Hayden isn't buying it.

"I could run down and reset it for you, if you want," Hayden offers, and Ewan quirks his own eyebrow back.

"Got something against candles?"

"Well, no, of course not, but I ..."

"Hayden," Ewan says, his voice low and gentle, the lilt of his accent a pleasing addition to the name, "relax."

Hayden takes another Jedi breath, letting it out as slowly as he dares. Relax, he repeats to himself. Relax.

Ewan busies himself about the kitchen, and Hayden paces a bit just outside it, concentrating on breathing as shadows spread and play in the candlelight. Ewan uncorks the wine and pours two glasses. Hayden does his best to hide the tremble in his fingers as they brush Ewan's in the exchange.

But Ewan notices; Hayden feels the energy between them change. Ewan sets his glass back down on the counter before taking Hayden's away from him and catching both of Hayden's hands in his own, effectively stilling them. Hayden's breath catches in his throat in a distinctly un-Jedi-like fashion.

"You're not relaxing," Ewan admonishes softly. Hayden waits for the teasing he is sure will come next, but Ewan remains quiet, standing there, looking at Hayden. Studying him.

Hayden ducks his head.

Ewan lets go of Hayden's hands and brings one of his own up to Hayden's face, runs two fingertips along Hayden's jaw, lifts Hayden's chin so they are facing each other once again. "Relax," Ewan repeats, quieter this time. Then, "Come here." Hayden feels Ewan's fingers slide over his jaw again then back to the nape of his neck, where they tangle in Hayden's shaggy curls. Hayden's heartbeat is erratic and stuttering and his breath has all but ceased.

Then, Hayden is being kissed. His lips part via instinct, and Ewan is there, pressing against him with lips and tongue and teeth in an intricate and thrilling combination. Shaky little breaths sneak in around the edges of the kiss, and Hayden thinks, So it is like this.

Ewan has him pinned against the counter, and Hayden shifts his hips, scoots himself around just a bit to give Ewan easier access. Ewan tugs a bit with the hand in Hayden's hair, and Hayden moves his head as directed, and the kiss deepens. Hayden's hands, still shaky, find Ewan's waist, then one slips lower, cupping around the curve that defines Ewan's ass. Hayden, shocked by his own boldness, uses this leverage to draw Ewan closer, and he grins a little as Ewan gasps, then gasps himself as their growing erections make contact through their trousers.

Hayden wants to lose himself there, in the sweet restricted friction of his cock hardening against Ewan's through two pairs of pants, but Ewan bites at Hayden's lower lip just enough to make Hayden draw back, and the spell is momentarily broken.

There is fire in Ewan's eyes when they meet Hayden's this time. "Come on," Ewan breathes, and, grabbing the nearest candle, he leads the way. Hayden trails behind, once more mesmerized by the play of the candlelit shadows as he follows. His breath comes in little wheezes; he is beyond Jedi-techniques at this point.

In the bedroom, after placing the candle on top of a bureau, Ewan turns toward Hayden once more. "Come here," he says again, and again Hayden obeys. "Kiss me," Ewan says, and Hayden nods his assent to the direction, then moves in somewhat tentatively, placing a hand again lightly at Ewan's waist before capturing Ewan's lips with his own. He licks at Ewan's tongue, lightly, demurely, then backs away, seeking approval. His eyes search Ewan's, and this time Hayden isn't sure what to make of what he sees there.

Isn't sure until Ewan says in Obi-Wan's formal, proper accent, "Anakin."

All the remaining air in Hayden's lungs leaves him in a rush. Ewan's voice, the lift of his chin, the gentleness of his eyes, these have all become Obi-Wan's, and they all speak heavily of desire. "Anakin," Ewan says again, "Anakin, kiss me."

Suddenly, Hayden understands. Desire, desire and power well up in him, unchained, unfettered, unrestricted. "Master," Hayden says in Anakin's voice, stepping sideways from Ewan, their bodies both nearer and farther at once. Hayden circles Ewan, prowling, powerful, and Ewan closes his eyes, gathering calm to himself, the picture of Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Hayden waits as Ewan draws another deep breath, then he wraps Anakin's confidence around himself like a cloak and moves in quickly, gripping Ewan by both shoulders and kissing him hard. When Ewan momentarily pulls back to breathe, Hayden scowls, letting Anakin's impatience flow through himself. He feels it most keenly low in his belly, the ebb and flow of Anakin's power. Hayden can feel it whispering to him to do more, move faster, capture Ewan and take him, possess him, all in a moment. More. Now. He paces, Anakin's unbounded energy surging through him, tingling everywhere. He wants.

"Anakin—" Ewan's voice is Obi-Wan's, admonishing gently, teaching, coaxing, all at once. "Patience," he finishes, but Hayden responds with another bruising kiss. He is Anakin, is his passion, is his confidence. It is frightening and exhilarating, and Hayden gives himself over to it. His hands move in a blur over Ewan's clothes, tugging to get under, to find and claim more.

When Ewan breaks the kiss off the next time, Hayden is breathing hard; he is deliciously out of control. He dips his head in close, licking behind Ewan's ear, nipping at the lobe and whispering things about possession and power. He feels Ewan's breathing stutter-stop, and a thrill of power courses through him again.

Ewan pulls away momentarily to tug his t-shirt over his head. Hayden helps by unbuttoning Ewan's jeans and pulling them down off of his hips. Ewan kicks the remainder of his clothing away as his hands smoothe calmly over Hayden's chest, catching the hem of his shirt and lifting gently upward. Hayden pulls it off over his own head and steps out of his unbelted trousers, trying to kiss Ewan and lick his neck the whole time, his hands fluttering over Ewan's newly naked body when not busy with removing the last bits of his own clothing.

After Hayden nips at Ewan's lower lip the second time, Ewan grabs Hayden's wrists to calm him again. "Easy," he says, "not everything can be done all in a moment. Some things"—he presses his lips to Hayden's exposed collarbone, then captures a nipple with his teeth—"take time. Should be savored."

"Yes, Master," Hayden answers, "only—" He kisses Ewan again, and while doing so, walks him backward to the bed. When they reach it, Ewan crumples elegantly underneath Hayden. Victory. "I don't like to wait."

Hayden is on his hands and knees on the bed, leering down at Ewan with Anakin's power, Anakin's passion. He licks a trail down Ewan's chest, dips his tongue into Ewan's navel, leaves damp trails along the insides of Ewan's thighs. "Anakin," Ewan breathes as Hayden nuzzles Ewan's balls, lets his tongue trail along the sweet soft skin hidden where leg and crotch meet. "Anakin!" Ewan shouts as Hayden's mouth closes over Ewan's erect cock, and Hayden channels all of Anakin's intensity into the task at hand. He puts his fingers to work where his mouth cannot reach, and, deftly, with Anakin's all-consuming dedication and uncanny ability to know exactly what needs to be done, Hayden brings Ewan to climax, swallowing what Ewan gives him, shuddering against the fresh rush of power he feels within himself.

As Ewan lays there, panting, Obi-Wan's stoic and excessive calm nowhere to be seen, Hayden revels in the sweet intensity of it all. "Anakin," Ewan says, eyes closed, his breath audibly hitching, "Anakin, yes."

Hayden stretches himself out next to Ewan; he can feel his desire—Anakin's desire—radiating off of himself in all directions. Propping himself up on an elbow, he watches a slow smile spread across Ewan's face. When Ewan rolls over to face him, that grin widens, and then Obi-Wan's pervasive calm makes itself present once more.

Ewan slowly slides his hand up Hayden's thigh, knee to crotch. Hayden's eyelids flutter closed as he arches into the touch, needy noises escaping his lips. "Quiet, now," Ewan coaxes, and Hayden listens, quiets himself, becomes the Anakin who loves and—occasionally—obeys Obi-Wan. His vision, darkened by lust as he dominated Obi-Wan—Ewan—clears, and love creeps into the vacated space; there is tenderness in Ewan's touch, and Hayden responds to it.

Ewan kisses him as he strokes Hayden's cock, the angle of his wrist switching, alternating the rhythm, the grip and slide becoming Hayden's whole world. Hayden swallows back all manner of sounds which threaten to pour forth as Ewan brings him closer to the edge. "Obi-Wan, Master, please!" With a shuddering gasp Hayden's climax washes over him, coaxed by Ewan repeating, quietly, "Anakin," over and over. As he spills himself onto Ewan's hand and his own stomach, Hayden feels Anakin leave him, quietly, as quickly as he came. The power drains out of him, and he is left there, his breathing ragged, Hayden once more. He feels the flush of embarrassment creeping back to his cheeks; Anakin's powerful confidence is now only a memory.

Ewan kisses Hayden's forehead and climbs off the bed, padding into the bathroom and returning with a towel. Hayden cleans himself up, cheeks hot, unable to meet Ewan's eyes. Without Anakin's power to shore himself up, all this is more than a little embarrassing.

Hayden is trying to plot the quickest way into his clothes and out of Ewan's flat when Ewan whispers, "Anakin," once more, and Hayden's breath stops short, just as it had the first time. The power is there, coiled deep in his belly; Hayden can feel it. All he needs is for Ewan to call on it. Hayden lifts his chin, looks Ewan in the eye.

"Ah, that is what it takes to get you to relax," Ewan chuckles, and Hayden finds himself smiling shyly, his own embarrassment mingling with Anakin's passionate resolve. The mixture is intoxicating, if a bit unsettling.

"Yes, Master."