[ Anakin goes perfectly still underneath his touch, almost dissociative. The Force goes silent in his periphery, in the hot place where Anakin's signature had glowed fiercely, shields building back up where he'd caught just a glimpse of something underneath. All red flags that he is unable to process as instinct swallows him in the drumbeat of Anakin's pulse.
He thinks I won't hurt you (or maybe he says it; or maybe he only pushes the intent into the Force between them with what sliver of his rational mind remains) before his hold on Anakin's nape splays wider, gripping the base of his skull to control the movement of his head. Then he opens his mouth, leaning in as much as he pulls Anakin into him, and slices the ultra sharp points of his canines into the other Jedi's neck.
Flavour bursts across his tongue, like that scent he had been following through the suite has been distilled down to it's most powerful essence. He grunts from low in his chest; a sound like relief. Obi-Wan feels like a man who has been thirsting in the desert for decades, finally faced with the only man who can bring him reprieve. He swallows, the warmth in his mouth flooding down his throat, and everything in him tightens, possessive. His free hand finds the back of Anakin's shirt and closes into the fabric, a fist between his shoulderblades that he uses to try and gather Anakin against his chest. ]
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He thinks I won't hurt you (or maybe he says it; or maybe he only pushes the intent into the Force between them with what sliver of his rational mind remains) before his hold on Anakin's nape splays wider, gripping the base of his skull to control the movement of his head. Then he opens his mouth, leaning in as much as he pulls Anakin into him, and slices the ultra sharp points of his canines into the other Jedi's neck.
Flavour bursts across his tongue, like that scent he had been following through the suite has been distilled down to it's most powerful essence. He grunts from low in his chest; a sound like relief. Obi-Wan feels like a man who has been thirsting in the desert for decades, finally faced with the only man who can bring him reprieve. He swallows, the warmth in his mouth flooding down his throat, and everything in him tightens, possessive. His free hand finds the back of Anakin's shirt and closes into the fabric, a fist between his shoulderblades that he uses to try and gather Anakin against his chest. ]