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Fairest of Them All

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He knows Cody said something, indeterminable seconds-minutes-hours ago, but Cody might as well have been communicating in Nautila for all he’s able to recall or understand.

And to be quite honest, Obi-Wan's not rightly sure which way is up right now, let alone able to piece together what Cody might have just said. It’s fair enough, when Cody’s fucking him open with as much dedication as he puts behind everything he does. But there's a finger tapping interrogative on the curve of his hip, so he must have missed a question.

"Hmmm?" he murmurs, a moan on the exhale. His head’s hanging low between his braced arms, eyes open but unseeing as Cody takes him apart.

Cody's stood behind him, the perfect height to fuck him bent over their shared desk. He's on elbows and knees across the tabletop and just in front of him is a mirror 'borrowed' from the infrequently used Bridge Briefing Room Fresher II. Variety is the spice of life, and Obi-Wan doesn't think he could ever get tired of looking at Cody. Except right now his brain is getting fucked out of him really rather quickly, and if he looks at what's going on as well as feeling their pleasure he might just die. 

He can sense Cody’s satisfaction grow sharp, entwining with his own need and making his neglected cock drip onto the floor between his legs.

"I said,” Cody tries again, “can you look at me, General?" Cody’s tone is dripping with sweetness.

He can’t. It's all Obi-Wan can do to close his eyes and moan, just an inarticulate noise, lost in the push and drag and stretch of Cody's cock inside him. 

Until sharp pain sends him whining as Cody's strong grip pulls his head up with a fist full of hair, yanking it up so they lock eyes in the mirror. He clenches around Cody’s cock, full full so very full, making Cody buck into him contratempo. And all the while he can't look away from Cody's heated gaze, the slight flush on his cheeks and the way his forehead is beginning to glisten with sweat. They say the clones are made for war, but if Obi-Wan had his way they’d never leave the bunk.

All soft honeyed edges are gone when Cody says "I asked you to look at me." There's steel and teeth in his voice now, albeit tempered with a soft stroke of fingers down his back. "You either look at me, or yourself. Watch us while I take you apart, mesh'la. Understood?"

He must not answer quickly enough, because the grip on his head tightens, wiggles slightly. "Do you understand?" Cody asks again.

Obi-Wan swallows around a tongue that seems too big for his mouth and nods, not breaking eye contact. "Understood, Commander," he finally gets out. 

The shiver when Cody rewards him with a particularly deep thrust, keeping his hand in Obi-Wan's hair as he fucks into him, is entirely non-performative in a way he forgets isn't usual for him. 

"Good. Good boy." 

At the words Obi-Wan breaks their eye contact and instead looks down to focus on himself in the mirror. He almost doesn't recognise the wrecked reflection, mouth hanging open and hair pulled back off his face. His lips are still red from sucking down Cody's cock earlier, and sliding his gaze further down he can see the darkening bruise Cody sucked onto his shoulder.

With every one of Cody's thrusts his cock bobs hard and leaks between his legs, on one of the particularly hard ones it quietly slaps the edge of the desk. He's fully on display, he doesn’t need to see it himself when he can feel Cody’s pleasure stand firm in his mind. It's hard to drag his eyes away from himself in the mirror, from the hypnotising ebb and flow as he’s rocked back and forth, difficult to tear away his gaze and go back to looking at Cody. 

Once he does, though, he's very glad he did. 

Cody's lips quirk up in a rare smile, pulling at the scar that frames his kind eyes. On his next fuck in he lets go of Obi-Wan's hair, leaving a slight tingling sensation in his wake, but Obi-Wan knows better than to let his head drop - even though it's harder now he has to do it on his own. 

For a few thrusts Cody lets both his hands wander, scratching down Obi-Wan's back and pinching at his nipples. Obi-Wan doesn't even know what noises he's making, too caught up in watching the way that Cody looks at him - like he's made of kyber or starlight. 

At one point his head must droop too far for Cody’s liking, because suddenly there’s a hand in his hair yanking his head up again, exposing his throat and sending a ripple of pleasure-pain from his scalp to his core before it’s gone again, like nothing happened. Warning received, Commander he thinks to himself. 

The hand on Obi-Wan's nipple trails up to wrap gently around his neck as Cody's pleasure turns a delightful shade of pointed, and he lets his muscles relax slightly as he sags into the hold. Cody gives a pleased hum, using his fingers and the heel of his hand to turn Obi-Wan's whole head this way and that. It’s not restrictive, but the dominance in the gesture is clear nonetheless.

The cock in his ass seems to get only impossibly bigger while he tries to swallow beneath Cody's grip on him. He's caught between Cody's cock and Cody's hand and in the mirror Cody is all he sees. 

Pooling heat rises, he's on fire and behind him Cody only fans the flames when he reaches for Obi-Wan's neglected cock and begins to stroke in time with his thrusts. 

Obi-Wan's fucking and being fucked and his head is full of Cody and Cody's pleasure at watching him watching himself get fucked. When his orgasm finally bowls through him it seems inconsequential to the continued inferno of Cody's lust and love. As he comes back from the rising roar in his ears he can hear his moans, all Cody Cody Codycodycody.

It's not all that much longer until he feels Cody push in deep and hold there, tiny rocking hitches of his hips as he comes with a moan and a small supernova in the Force, filling Obi-Wan up before slumping over him to lay a kiss to Obi-Wan's shoulder blade, muscles gone to jelly.

“We're keeping the mirror'' is what Obi-Wan translates the garbled groan muffled against his back as.

He quite agrees.