Title: Parenthesis
Author: Stodgey/Sophie
Rating: PG
Summary: A consideration of Obi-Wan. One of these days, Anakin would have control. [embarrassingly short]

There was something about Obi-Wan. Something infuriating. Something which twisted around Anakin’s stomach and wrenched, hard, as if trying to smear him inside out with a patient look and a slight amused curve of lips. Anakin wanted to place two hands either side of that calm face, dig his fingers harshly into the creases of that controlled mouth, and stretch it into something else; the sickly curved bow of a real smile, or the thin, taut line of heated anger.

Even when they sparred, the ferocious mesmerising humming of pulsating light sticks spelling out unreadable cursive in the air, there was no whispered quiver in the force to hint at an emotion shared. Anakin fell into the nuances and ripples of the life around him as if he were dancing in the hand of a storm, twisting and turning in a furious delight of being, allowing it to unthinkingly guide his hand and the deadly thrumming weapon he clasped. But it was a solo dance, lonely, never complimented by another warm hand in his embrace, no feet moving in step with his, green eyes never meeting his to be engulfed with his passion.

Obi-Wan was far too careful, far too restrained, far too removed. He was a block of stone, perfectly content to lie unmoving in the face of eternity, a gentle quirk of his lips the only sign of satisfaction, a slight creasing of his brow that of ambiguous displeasure. It wasn’t enough. As Anakin sped up, sweat dripping from his brow, lightsabre moving in dazzling arcs and thrusts which stayed imprinted on the back of his eyelids, he was focused entirely on the face of his master but he felt no dirty, forbidden pleasure as he forced the other back a step. His master stole his victory with a quiet word of encouragement and a suggestion of another move, and anger swelled deep within him, pressing him forward to try harder, to move faster, to have no mercy.

One of these days, he thought, he would have to try and kill his master. One of these days, he would read panic in those infuriatingly calm eyes. One of these days, he would have control.

END

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