*chapter fifty four*

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A.N. this is pure filth because they deserve it.

TW: drunk (consensual) sex

You might have had a little too much to drink.

The night had carried on with cards, a drinking game, a movie, another drinking game, and a steady stream of wine throughout it all. Obi-Wan, unsurprisingly, was the first to tap out, falling cold asleep on the couch with a pillow over his face and his hand still clasped onto his half-full glass.

Ahsoka, cut off after four drinks, stole it right out of his unconscious hands and knocked it back herself, announced that she loved us all very dearly, and then passed out on top of Obi-Wan.

You and Anakin guffawed at the jumbled mess of limbs on the couch, both of you too far gone to be able to help them into more comfortable positions. Anakin had tried, but Ahsoka clung to Obi-Wan like a spider-monkey, even knocked out cold.

"Let 'em sleep," you tugged on Anakin's arm, swaying on your feet yourself. You kept nodding to the bedroom, urging him away with your eyes because you couldn't voice out loud what you really wanted in front of them.

You've been wanting it for hours now– even before they showed up. The whole night, you could still feel his tongue between your legs. It was like a phantom presence, teasing you as you shifted uncomfortably in place, trying to ease that raging ache still down below.

You should have just canceled the plans. You should have just let him take you there, right there on the counter...

"That was torture," you breathed as Anakin shut your bedroom door behind you two, immediately burying your head in his chest. You felt, more than heard, him chuckle beneath you.

"I had a pretty good time."

"Me too," you lifted your glazed eyes to look at him. So beautiful. More beautiful than you think you've ever seen him before, with that easy smile and wild hair, all tousled in the dark. He had run though it one too many times in frustration at Go-Fish. "I meant, it was torture having to watch you all night."

"No one was making you–"

"You're just really pretty," you ignored his laughter at your expense. "And I couldn't do anything about it."

"Yeah?" he mumbled, eyes gleaming in the dark. "And what would you have done about it?"

"A lot." you blinked, and he couldn't help the laughter from tumbling past his lips again. That was not the answer he was expecting.

"Like what?" he tried again, urging you to keep going. His lips were getting closer and closer, and it was making it harder to think.

"Like... a lot," you closed your eyes and waited for his lips to make contact with yours. They didn't.

"Show me."

You growled frustratedly. Always so damn teasing. Mocking. Smug.

Your mind swam, movements sloppy as you surged forward and found his lips yourself. Impatient, demanding, possessive. He tasted like your wine.

He caught you with his hands around your back, unable to keep his own balance as he stumbled toward the bed.

"You're insufferable," you rushed past your lips before kissing him, hard, as he fell back onto the mattress. He laughed into your mouth, the sound a deep rumble that had you pressing closer into him, kissing him deeper, faster, wanting to taste every inch of him–

"That's not what you were saying a few hours ago," he caught your head in his hands, tilting your jaw up so he could lick and suck all down the delicate skin of your neck. You hissed out a breath, long and deep, savoring the slide of his teeth over your skin, the goosebumps it left in its wake.

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