Work Text:
“Anakin!” It’s unmistakingly Rosenthal’s voice that calls after him and it’s odd to think that someone like him would bother speaking to him. At least outside of what really needs to be said. There’s a protocol to this and while the Airforce pretends not to care what the 100th does all that much, Anakin has found it only another way to keep them all docile and in line.
When he turns he sees Rosenthal jogging towards him, he’s looking handsome in his sheepskin jacket and his hair gelled back. His smile is bright and Anakin doesn’t fail to see why the newcomers on base look towards Rosenthal to guide them. Here’s the man who hasn’t gone down in 31 missions and he’s smiling and laughing like nothing can harm him. It doesn’t seem like anything terrible at all could happen to him.
“Major Rosenthal?” Anakin holds no grudge against his commanding officer. He just doesn’t trust any of them very much.
“Ahh, Rosie’s alright,” he assures him when he falls into step beside him. “How are you settling in? Not quite like Duxford, is it?” His tone is light, as Anakin has found it to be most days. He’s only been up in the air with the Major twice but each time the commander had held a steady course and optimism in his every action. They were not to go down over enemy territory and Anakin could see that the others believed him when he said it.
“It’s not, Sir,” Anakin concedes, “but it’s not that different either.” He’s found the USAAF to be largely the same everywhere. Arrogant and uncaring in equal parts. The never-ending bloodshed that they would only participate in too eagerly. He tries not to think about Rudolf and the stories he’s told him of never-ending peace.
“Sure,” Rosie shrugs. “The job’s the same everywhere. I maintain that our coffee is the best though. Could wake up someone from the dead.”
“Maybe we should take some on our next mission then, Sir,” Anakin responds without thinking, before remembering that he’s no longer with Obi-Wan who would have taken the joke in stride. Rosenthal on the other hand might not appreciate him making fun of something so incredibly dark.
Instead of reprimanding him though, Rosie laughs - a loud, bright sound - and slaps a hand onto Anakin’s shoulder. “You might be onto something there, Ani.”
Anakin’s stomach twists, hot and searing, the nickname too familiar and he has to swallow down the memory of leaving Duxton behind. He doesn’t want to ever revisit those memories. It would do no one any good. The only thing that would help was ending the war. One way or another.
~~~~
The plane shakes with the flak hitting it. Deep booming sounds of explosion all around, only cut through by the rattling machine guns and the roar of the engines. It’s hell up here, but it always is. Anakin pushes the lifeless corpse of the other gunner out of the way. There’s no saving him and it wouldn’t do any good for him to pretend otherwise. Perhaps it’s not the time to think about it but he can’t help the memory of Rudolf, telling him that things could be different. They needed to be different, Anakin thinks darkly as he discards another empty belt of ammunition.
“Anakin,” Rosie’s voice comes through the intercom crackly. “I need you up here in the cockpit,” His tone is perfectly even which tells Anakin that the situation is more dire than expected. There’s rarely anything that makes their commander lose the upbeat tone of his voice.
“On my way, Sir,” he assures him and abandons his station at the waist of the plane. He hadn’t even argued when they’d told him that he was to fly this mission as a waist gunner. What was there to do? Object to an order given? It’s not something that Anakin wants to waste his resources on. The other boys counted on him and his life is no more valuable than theirs. Not until he finally makes a decision to change something that is.
But for now, all he can do is go to the cockpit where Rosie is clutching the yoke desperately in one hand, the other holding up the lifeless body of Captain Lucas, slumped over on the co-pilot seat.
“I need you to move him. And then I need you to take his seat,” Rosie instructs, voice calm and authoritative. Does it even affect him, Anakin wonders as the plane shakes beneath them. To see another one of them die? He knows, it doesn’t really get to him anymore. The names and faces all blurring together, now more so than ever since he’s been reassigned to Thorpe Abbotts and left the men behind that he’d trained with.
Anakin steps forward and grabs the shoulders of the captain before wrapping his arms around his torso instead, yanking him out of the co-pilot seat with force.
“Careful,” Rosie instructs and more flak explodes right next to the cockpit. Neither of them even flinch anymore.
Anakin doesn’t respond, knows it’s not ideal to have to drag the dead body half across the throttle and the command panel situated between the two pilot seats. Unfortunately, leaving the body there is no option either. He drops the man on the floor before quickly stepping over him and taking his seat.
“What’s the situation?” He asks, assessing the control panel in front of him.
The moment of silence makes him pause, surprised that Rosie wouldn’t pick up where they left off. Curious to see what had caught his attention, Anakin looks over and sees Rosie staring at him with a thoughtful look. Anakin doesn’t know him well enough to decipher the meaning behind it.
“Keeping the bird even, Sergeant, and then going home,” Rosie ends up saying. “Like we always do.”
“Not sure that that’s what I’d call home, Sir,” Anakin objects lightly, used to the banter once he gets seated in the cockpit and realizes yet again that it’s not Obi-Wan he’s joking with.
“It’s better than Germany,” Rosie points out but Anakin doesn’t respond. As far as he can tell, the Germans had a lot more figured out than the Americans did.
~~~~
It’s the very same night that Anakin toys with the idea of walking down to the village and finding the telephone booth. This is a secure line, Rudolf had said, no worries about getting caught. There’s more like us. More people that want to end the war and see peace restored by one powerful empire. An empire that would actually have the ability to protect its people.
“Anakin!” Rosenthal. Again. Anakin wonders what the man’s interest in him is. They fly missions together. There’s no reason for them to make nice outside of that. They’d sooner go down than share something meaningful with each other. And even if they didn’t - Anakin doesn’t think he could watch another pilot go down without anyone caring. Rosie has flown more missions than any of them and yet he knows that command wouldn’t even so much as pause if his plane went up into flames tomorrow.
None of that is Rosenthal’s fault though.
“What are you thinking about?” Rosie asks when he comes to a stop at Anakin’s side. The sun is setting over the runway and the thought of finding a way to end the war is thrumming louder than ever through Anakin’s veins. Obi-Wan is alive, he knows that much by now. He’s just not sure that the American command cares enough about the safety of the POWs to not push the Germans beyond the breaking point.
“War,” Anakin says, voice coming out as dark as his thoughts are.
“Sounds like a great way to unwind,” Rosie says hesitatingly, joining Anakin by leaning against the doorframe opposite of him.
When Anakin turns to look at him, Rosie is already looking back at him, empathetic expression on his face. “I heard about your commander, Obi-Wan. He went down, didn’t he?”
Anakin looks down, the grief punching through him like a lightning bolt. He hadn’t been flying that day, hadn’t even seen the plane turning in a tailspin. “Don’t we all?” He points out. Obi-Wan wasn’t the first and he wasn’t the last either. An endless line of highly skilled, phenomenal pilots, sacrificed like lambs at slaughter. And for what?
“Well, I’m still here,” Rosie points out, clearly trying to lighten Anakin’s mood. He doesn’t feel like the light has truly come into his life ever since the Millenium went down over Hannover.
“With all due respect, Sir. The rest of us aren’t you,” Anakin points out bitterly.
“Nothing special about me, Ani,” Rosie says, “Just doing my job. Flying planes.”
Anakin blinks, looks away from Rosie’s open and friendly expression. He’s not sure he can bear it, not sure he can believe it either. “Just feels like it shouldn’t be that way,” he admits quietly. “Shouldn’t be random luck deciding if we can live to see another day. And who gets to do it.”
Rosie sighs, looking out at the sunset himself then. “Maybe. It’s not pretty up there. I don’t need to lie to you about that - you’ve seen it. But what’s going to happen if we give up- that’s a lot uglier than that, Ani.”
“How do you know that?” Anakin asks, voice sharper than he intended. He knows he shouldn’t be saying these things. Especially to his commanding pilot. But he can’t help the weight on his chest being revealed at once. He’s been trying to hold it all in for so long that it feels impossible not to say something.
Especially when everything he does seems to matter so little.
“An empire,” Anakin explains, knowing his voice is growing more and more passionate, “wouldn’t have to deal with this. With a knowledgeable ruler at the top, we wouldn't be ground to bits and pieces. There needs to be peace.”
He can see the way Rosie’s jaw clenches for a mere moment, worry seeping into his gaze. Anakin is prepared to be reprimanded, reported even. Obi-Wan had done away with his complaints and ideas just the same, hadn’t he? But instead, Rosie lets out a breath and looks back into the empty mess hall. “Let me show you something.”
Rosie leads the way to one of the jeeps then, revealing the key triumphantly but Anakin doesn’t much feel like caring about it. His gut is churning, worry growing in him that Rosie would dismiss him as carelessly as Obi-Wan had. He’s certain there would be nothing left stopping him from finding his way into the village then and offering his skills to the intelligence of the Third Reich. Something had to be done and if no one else could see that, Anakin would take it into his own hands.
Rosie takes him to his plane and they climb on the wing together, seeing the last rays of the sun stretching across the forest at the edge of the runway. Rosie takes a moment to enjoy the view and Anakin feels rotten inside. He doesn’t want to enjoy the view. He wouldn’t even have noticed it even Rosie hadn’t stopped, hand shielding his eyes and chest rising to take a deep breath.
“Sit with me, Ani,” Rosie orders and settles on the edge of the wing, legs swinging in the empty air and despite his apprehension, Anakin does as he’s told.
Once seated, Rosie reaches up and undoes the top two buttons of his uniform shirt. It’s a strange action and Anakin watches doubtfully as Rosie pulls out a necklace. It’s a golden chain with a golden Star of David dangling on it.
“I don’t talk about it a lot with the others,” Rosie says. “And I suppose it’s not hard to guess, given my name. But when I say it’s gonna get a lot worse if we give up, I guess you could say I’m being selfish.”
Anakin stares at the jewelry. The star falls back against the exposed pale skin of Rosie’s chest when he lets go of it. He doesn’t know what to say, really. It’s not like he hasn’t heard that the Nazis don’t like the Jewish people much.
“Have you heard about the camps?” Rosie asks then, drawing his eyes back up to his face.
Anakin swallows, feelings suddenly on thin ice. “The ones they’re keeping the Jews in?”
“They aren’t just keeping them there, Ani. I’ve seen it. Just bodies piled up - there really aren’t any words for it. Men and women and-“ his voice cracks then. “Children. Caged like animals and slaughtered like they’re lesser than even that. Just for being what I am.” Rosie falls quiet then, choked up with emotions, the grief suddenly palpable on the wing and Anakin doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t want that. Of course he doesn’t think that Rosie deserves to die for being Jewish. None of them do if what Rosie says is true.
He hesitantly reaches out then until his fingers find the Star of David. The metal is warm when he takes it into his hand, runs his thumb over the two triangles that make up the shape. “I don’t think they care about you though, Rosie. If you were to go down and be captured by the Germans… the Airforce wouldn’t care what happened to you.”
Rosie pulls one knee up onto the wing, shifts to face Anakin more fully. “Maybe not. I don’t get to live in a daydream where the motivation behind the Americans’ involvement in this war is about Jewish people. If it had been, we would've been there in 1936. Earlier than that even.” Anakin looks up at him in wonder. Rosie is so knowledgeable and yet he’s here, letting command treat him like this, letting the war play out like this. He’s pretty certain he would’ve been blinded by rage if he was in his position. “But the Americans want to destroy the Third Reich. And I want to see it destroyed. So I’m helping them.”
Anakin closes his hand around the star, seeing the reasoning in Rosie’s words but feeling the hot anger churn in his gut all the same. This can’t be the only answer. “But the men. They’re all dying. We’re all dying, Major.”
Rosie reaches up then, a soft sigh on his lips as he closes his hand around Anakin’s. “I’m afraid that’s just war. We are killing just as many of them as they’re killing of us. It’s not going to stop if the Nazis come into power. And they certainly don’t care about my life more than the Americans. Or your life for that matter.”
Anakin looks down, watches Rosie’s thumb swipe over the back of his palm where he’s still holding onto his necklace and feels hot tears gather in his eyes. “Isn’t there anything we can do?” He asks, desperate.
He’s already forgotten to mistrust Rosie.
“Hold the yoke steady, Ani. Guide your men through it. Don’t forget what you’re fighting for,” Rosie advises softly.
You, Anakin thinks, fiercely. He wouldn’t ever allow the Germans to get their hands on Rosie. He wouldn’t allow them to lure him and then ask for a price he isn’t willing to pay. He nods, even as he feels a tear falling from his eye, running hot down his cheeks.
“Hey,” Rosie says softly, scooting closer to bridge the last distance between them and Anakin lets go of his necklace at last to let him wrap his arms around him. “You’re doing great,” Rosie reminds him once he has his face pressed into his shoulder. “And for what it’s worth, I’m proud of you.”
Anakin sniffles, his fingers clenches tightly into the fabric of Rosie’s uniform shirt. He doesn’t feel particularly proud of himself. He’d almost gone down to the village and called that number today.
“It takes a lot of courage to recognize that what you’ve been taught is right might be flawed and imperfect.” Rosie’s fingers card into his hair then and Anakin’s eyes fall shut at the calming sensation of his fingernails dragging across his scalp. “It doesn’t make the opposite right though.”
Anakin hums. He can see that now. For once, Anakin feels a little less helpless. Or perhaps it’s the fact that he feels a little less alone with the weight of death hanging over the airbase. No, over the whole country and the world at large. Rosie’s body is warm and solid where he’s leaning against him and he realizes that he can’t recall the last time he was hugged like this.
Rosie’s hand slips from his hair to his cheek, carefully pulling him back and examining his face. Anakin doesn’t need a mirror to know that his eyes are red-rimmed from the tears. “You’re a sweet boy, Ani,” Rosie says softly and the words reach right into Anakin’s chest. They don’t sound like an empty platitude. Rosie actually means them. He’s looking at him and he’s seeing all of it. “Don’t let them take that away from you,” he urges.
Anakin’s eyes flutter shut as he turns into Rosie’s palm, feels his calloused skin against his cheek. “I don’t know how,” he admits. “Whenever I close my eyes… they’re dying.”
“You have to find the silver linings in things,” Rosie explains softly, his thumb sweeping over Anakin’s cheek. “You came back today. Unharmed even. That’s something.”
Anakin tries to find it in himself to be glad about that but there’s only indifference meeting him. No, rather he finds a silver lining in- “So did you.” He blinks his eyes open slowly, his vision taking a moment to stop being blurry from the tears still pooling in his eyes. A breeze tugs at Rosie’s hair and Anakin realizes that he’s the hero he was always told about. He doesn’t want to imagine what would have happened if it had been Rosie instead of Captain Lucas slumped over, a piece of flak lodged into his skull.
“Right.” Rosie indulges him with a friendly smile. “And you get to watch the sunset now and hear the birds sing.” It is something that Rosie would take note of, Anakin supposes. Something he would see beauty in. Despite the endless horrors Rosie has seen, he’d never lost the appreciation for these things. Unlike Anakin who can’t recall the last time he’d stopped at the side of the road for a beautiful flower.
Perhaps with Rosie’s help, he could learn to see it again.
He’s not there yet though but that doesn’t mean he can’t feel what Rosie is describing to him. Hope and a reason to keep going, to keep fighting. Beauty in the moment. “And I get to be with you.”
Rosie’s eyebrows pinch together in a moment of surprise but Anakin doesn’t shy away from it, lets him see how much this truly means to him. It’s been almost a year since he’d been sent to England and discovered that the fantasy of a glorious war had been nothing but a trick to let him and the other men give up their lives. They were no masters of the air. They were sitting ducks, they were hens in a coop and someone opens the door every night to let the fox in.
The worst part was how no one had seen it. No one had understood why Anakin had felt so hopeless about it or would listen when he talked about the obvious strategic fouls that command committed. No one ever wanted to talk about the fact that what they might be doing might be pointless. That all of their friends had died for nothing. But how could they not? How could they let this injustice persist?
Only Rosie had given him an answer and Anakin is starting to think that it’s no accident the man had flown so many missions without harm. If there was such a thing as a chosen one, Rosie Rosenthal would be it. The way he looks with the golden light of the sunset caressing his face only confirms as much to Anakin. He feels like the moon, eagerly soaking up the sunlight because without it there’s only darkness in his life.
“You like that, Ani?” Rosie asks eventually. It’s not a cocky, confident question but rather something hesitant. Something that invites Anakin to lessen the weight of the confession.
He would do no such thing. “Yes. Yes, I do.”
“Okay,” Rosie amends and Anakin is glad that he isn’t trying to fight him on this. He knows other people would. But Rosie trusts him. He hears him out and he takes his words seriously, instead of disregarding them as the ramblings of a child.
“Do you like being with me, too?” Anakin asks, in a bout of boldness and a desperation to know.
Rosie’s smile is sweet and Anakin can’t help the way his heart soars in his chest at the sight of it, how easily it had crept onto Rosie’s face at the question. “Yes, Ani, I like spending time with you.”
For the first time, Anakin finds himself smiling back, bright and honest, even as he pushes his cheek further into Rosie’s palm and tries to hide the rosy color he knows is there. He feels alive right then, his heart fluttering in his chest and his fingers itching to reach out to pull Rosie closer again, to soak up more of this exact feeling until it permeates everything.
Rosie must see it on his face because he lifts his other hand to Anakin’s face, frames it between his palms as he looks down at it. “I’m glad you’re here.” Anakin blinks up at him and he knows that Rosie can’t know where else he would have been tonight but he wouldn’t put it past this impossible man to be able to tell. Anakin, for his part, is also very glad he’s here, even as shame crawls up his throat.
“Rosie-” He starts. “I almost- I mean I was going to-”
“Shhh,” Rosie shushes him, thumbs sweeping over his cheekbones. “It doesn’t matter. You’re here now.”
Anakin nods slightly. “I’m not going anywhere,” he says, steely resolve in his voice. “I’ll follow you, Sir.”
“Okay,” Rosie murmurs and then leans in, pressing his lips against Anakin’s forehead. “I got you,” he promises, pressing the words into his skin.
Anakin reaches up, desperate for something to hold onto as his world tilts on its axis and finally, finally slots into place. His fingers wrap around Rosie’s wrists, thankful for the strength he can feel in his forearms, the sure grip Rosie keeps on him when he pulls back and Anakin, mindlessly, strains up.
Hot breath hits his face and his eyes have fluttered shut at some point. He can feel how close Rosie is and yet it is not close enough. He wants a chance to prove his devotion and for Rosie to know that Anakin isn’t taking any of this lightly. That he would never toy with his life.
“Ani,” Rosie whispers softly. “We shouldn’t-” He argues.
Anakin surges up before Rosie can stop him and presses his lips to Rosie’s in an eager display of affection. He’s clinging to Rosie’s wrists as he kisses him, a desperate breath going by without Rosie moving at all under his lips but then he softens into the kiss, hands guiding Anakin’s head for a better angle.
Life unravels faster and faster as Anakin moves his lips against Rosie, as he lets himself fall into the feeling of being kissed by him. This is right, he thinks desperately. At last, this is right. It’s desperate relief when he opens his mouth and invites Rosie to lick into it and pulls him ever closer. Soon, holding onto his wrists isn’t enough anymore and he reaches for Rosie’s shoulders instead.
The fact that Rosie isn’t pushing him away is reason enough for Anakin to be confident when he pushes himself closer, awkwardly scrambling over into Rosie’s lap. It’s only thanks to Rosie’s foresight to take his hands off of Anakin’s face and hold onto his hips instead that he doesn’t tumble off the wing of the plane.
“Easy there,” Rosie mumbles but Anakin barely registers it, drawn in by his dark eyes looking up at him now. Rosie wants him. Rosie wants him. It makes heat pool like molten lava in Anakin’s gut and he knows Rosie can feel it when he presses closer, arms now loosely looped around his neck.
“‘M not worried,” Anakin brags and leans back despite the 19 feet drop behind him. It makes Rosie grip him a little tighter and he’s not mad about that either. For a breathless moment, he can feel the wind carding through his hair, his head tipped back over the open ground and Rosie wraps his arms properly around his waist. Anakin can’t help the laugh crawling out of his throat, feeling free and light for the first time in ages. He pulls himself back up then, meeting Rosie’s incredulous gaze with his own excited one. “I know you got me.”
He swoops down then, capturing Rosie’s lips in a desperate kiss before he can give him a lecture on safety. It seems like Rosie quickly forgets himself what Anakin had just done, pulling him closer and kissing him back just as desperately. It’s exhilarating and Anakin is on top of the world with Rosie’s hands roaming down his sides and squeezing his thighs.
He rocks his hips down, feeling Rosie’s hardness through his pants.
They both moan into the kiss, need punching through Anakin’s body as he clings to Rosie. The proof that they are in this together creates a heady feeling that has him rocking down again, searching for a rhythm. Their hard cocks drag together through the fabric and it isn’t much but it feels like everything. Anakin can still feel the breeze at his back, feeling suspended over a cliff in more ways than one. He keeps kissing Rosie, feeling a little like he might die if he doesn’t.
Rosie’s hands urge him on, his hips rolling up to meet Anakin’s thrusts. Every sound of Rosie’s mouth, every heavy breath lights Anakin more on fire, wanting to be good, wanting to please Rosie. His fingers curl into the back of Rosie’s shirt, desperate for more as he pushes into him but Rosie is starting to push back, taking more and more control of the kiss, of the rhythm of Anakin’s hips against his own.
He arches his back, feeling like he’s flying as Rosie pulls his uniform shirt out of his pants, cold fingers digging into the skin of his back. He can feel the breeze gusting beneath the wing of the plane, lifting him up and making him feel like he’s floating.
“Anakin,” Rosie gasps, lips straying to Anakin’s jaw and leaving a trail of fire in their way. He wants those lips everywhere, wants to be claimed by them.
“Yes, Major,” he whispers in answer, one hand reaching into Rosie’s curls, encouraging the teeth grazing along his neck as his head falls back and his eyes flutter shut.
Rosie groans against his skin, feeling the weight of Anakin leaning into his arms, trusting him to hold him up. Anakin doesn’t want to live if Rosie doesn’t see it fit, would happily take the fall from the wing to his death instead. It’s suddenly so simple, so clear. Here, in Rosie’s arms. He pulls Rosie’s head back then to seal their lips in another searing kiss.
They kiss for breathless moments and time blurs around them, fingernails digging into Anakin’s back, Rosie’s hard cock pushing into his hip as he continues to rock down against him. “Rosie,” he gasps when he pulls back, voice stricken with need. “Please, let me.” He pushes his forehead against Rosie, eager to be as close as he can, to crawl inside of him.
Rosie nudges his nose against his softly and the moments in which he doesn’t answer choke Anakin with their uncertainty. But then there are Rosie’s hands on his belt, the clink of the belt buckle and his fingers undoing the button of his pants. Even the brush of his fingers as he pulls down the zipper has Anakin ready to jump out of his skin. “No,” Rosie tells him then, patiently. “Like you said. I got you.”
Anakin can’t help but stare at Rosie in wonder. Where has this man been his whole life? Why did he have to go through all of this to meet him? The thought disappears into a blissful abyss when Rosie’s hand pushes into his underwear and wraps around his cock.
Anakin’s mouth drops open in pleasure, a lewd sound dropping from his lips and his head falling back at the sensation shooting through his body, making his toes curl and his fingers tingle. He doesn’t care about baring his throat in front of Rosie, doesn’t care to lay bare exactly how good this feels.
“That’s it, Ani,” Rosie mumbles and starts stroking him slowly. It’s overwhelming to be the uncontested center of his attention, to feel Rosie’s eyes on him. He knows without a doubt that Rosie is doing this for him, to take care of him and for once he doesn’t have to worry about a thing. For once, he’s only asked to enjoy the attention bestowed upon him. His hips twitch up into Rosie’s grip, seeking more friction.
Rosie has other plans though, letting go of Anakin’s cock to push his underwear out of the way more. The loss of his touch has Anakin whining, eyes blinking open to look at him. He sees Rosie bring his hand up to spit into it, once, then twice. It’s a perfunctory, functional gesture but when Anakin observes it, it turns into something deeply sensual. He’s doing it to touch me, Anakin thinks hazily.
He’s just present enough to stop Rosie before he can continue stroking him, catching his hand on the way down. “Wait,” he says, cupping his palm on his own and then leaning forward to add his own spit to the mix.
Rosie doesn’t say anything but it’s just as well. Anakin can read the desire in his dark eyes, in the way his grip tightens on his hips. It’s out of Anakin’s hands then as he lets him go to return his hand to his cock, his own fingers curling into Rosie’s shoulder. Even now Rosie looks handsomely rugged, his hair coming loose from where Anakin has run his hands through it, his lips red and bitten and the Star of David glinting in the setting sun against his pale chest.
Anakin can’t believe that someone like that would touch him, would ask to take care of him.
As much as he longs to watch, he can’t help the way his emotions overwhelm him, his eyes falling shut again when Rosie resumes stroking him, grip a little tighter, strokes a little faster this time. Anakin feels like he’s falling apart on top of him already, trembling when Rosie swipes his thumb over the head of his cock. Wet pre-cum mixes with their spit. The thought makes Anakin gasp, bucking up into Rosie’s grip.
“My pretty boy,” Rosie mumbles like he can’t help it and the rasp of his voice makes Anakin shudder. Yes, he thinks desperately, yours, yours, yours, but he can’t bring his mouth to actually form the words.
A sure grip on his back pulls him impossibly closer like Rosie is just as desperate to fuse the two of them together. The hand on his cock speeds up and Anakin feels dizzy with the sensation, feels like his seams are coming undone, pleasure shooting down his back and curling in his gut. There’s nothing he can do but hold on for dear life, desperate sounds and whines falling from his lips as Rosie takes him apart.
He knows in his bones that Rosie would put him back together right again. Maybe then Anakin would stop feeling like he woke up in the wrong world.
“C’mon,” Rosie growls before fitting his mouth back onto Anakin’s exposed throat. His tongue licks over his pulse point before sucking at the tender skin there. Sweet pain mixes with the pleasure of Rosie’s hand still stroking his cock, turning into a heady cocktail that pushes Anakin over the edge.
White hot pleasure shoots through him as his hips twitch in Rosie's grip, cock spurting cum over his hand. Anakin is only distantly aware of the loud moan that falls from his lips, the choked sound that rings through the evening air. He thrusts into Rosie’s grip once, twice more before falling still, feeling like every emotion had been wrung from his body just now.
Rosie hums, seemingly pleased and his lips skate over the tender skin of Anakin’s throat, his mustache tickling him on his journey up. A hand at the back of his head guides his face down, lets Rosie press a tender kiss to his lips. Anakin leans into it easily, mouth falling open against Rosie’s and welcoming the sweep of his tongue. He lets himself be kissed, his head still spinning from his orgasm and his entire body aching to collapse on top of Rosie for the foreseeable future.
When Rosie does pull back, he examines his face carefully before his lips stretch into a sweet smile. He pulls Anakin into another sweet kiss. Anakin feels the reassurance in his bones but still wants more.
“Was that good?” He asks quietly, unsure if this is all that Rosie wanted.
“Yes, Ani. Very good,” Rosie reassures him, no hint of annoyance in his voice, only wonder in his eyes.
It makes Anakin smile, butterflies taking flight in his stomach. He feels young for once, more like a 22 year-old than he’s felt in a long time and it makes him shy, forehead dropping to press against Rosie’s again.
His gaze falls onto his own crotch then, his soft cock that rests against the mess of his underwear and Rosie’s cum-stained hand which he’d carefully maneuvered out of the way. Anakin takes in the white liquid dappling his fingers now, the bumps of his knuckles, the blue of Rosie’s veins, the length of his fingers where they are loosely curled. A man’s hand, Anakin thinks dizzily, a fighter’s hand. Rosie might not shoot a gun or press the button to release the bombs but he has no illusion of their lethal nature.
Now here’s his hand, painted by Anakin’s cum.
It makes his heart throb in his chest, his blood rushing in his ears and he reaches out to wrap his fingers around Rosie’s wrist, just below his watch. He guides it up to his mouth.
The taste of his cum is salty and tangy on his tongue when he swipes it over the skin between Rosie’s thumb and forefinger. It’s intoxicating though, to think about the fact that he’s licking himself off of Rosie’s skin. His version of thanking him, of cleaning up the mess he’s made and keeping a little bit of the memory of what had just transpired inside of him. His tongue curls around Rosie’s forefinger then, drawing it between his lips and sucking at it. There’s the taste of cum here, too and the feeling of Rosie’s knuckles against his tongue. He runs the tip of his tongue along them curiously, cataloging the feeling before sucking at it again. He doesn’t quite understand why, now that the skin is clean but it feels good.
Rosie exhales shakily. With their foreheads still pressed together and their faces so close, it’s impossible to miss. Anakin is thrilled at the thought of Rosie enjoying this just as much as he is, a low sound escaping his throat when Rosie curls his finger and presses down against his tongue. His mouth waters.
Rosie pulls his finger back a little then and Anakin whines, thinks he’s about to end this display but then there’s another fingertip tapping against his lips. Anakin immediately opens his mouth to take it in as well. The taste of his own cum burst across his tongue again and he sucks eagerly, enjoying the feeling of each knuckle gliding between his lips. This time when Rosie tries to pull his fingers back, Anakin follows him, neck straining to keep the digits between his lips.
Rosie hums and leans back. The loss of their close contact makes Anakin whine. “Wanna see,” Rosie explains, his voice gruff and making Anakin’s heart beat out of his chest. He can’t believe that this is actually happening to him. It’s like he can feel Rosie’s gaze on him, burning on his face but he holds still, only the tips of his fingers still resting on Anakin’s mouth.
Rosie’s other hand settles on his jaw then, making him exhale shakily. He’s not sure what is happening but he’s happy to be led, for Rosie to do to him what he wants to do. His mouth slackens a little at the tight grip on his jawbone and Rosie takes the opportunity to fuck his fingers back into Anakin’s mouth.
Anakin can’t control the sound that slips from his lips at the feeling, spit dripping from his lips. The glide of Rosie’s fingers into his mouth is filthy and he’s not naive enough to not know what they’re imitating, to know what would feel even better than Rosie’s fingers. The thought of pulling pleasure out of Rosie that way makes him dizzy, the thought of looking up at him as he rocks into Anakin’s mouth… He moans around the fingers, pushing them deeper, eager to feel them reach inside of him.
“Fuck, Ani,” Rosie gasps, voice rough. He fucks his fingers into Anakin’s mouth again, deeper this time and Anakin sucks around them. His head is still spinning from the image and he’s eager to prove himself worthy of the honor.
It’s only because Rosie ends up pulling his fingers back, his other hand keeping him in place that they stop. Fingertips catch on Anakin’s bottom lip, pushing it out. When he blinks his eyes open slowly, he can see Rosie watching it with lust-filled eyes. The sight of him, so debauched because of Anakin, makes him whine, squirming in Rosie’s lap. He’s only too aware that Rosie is still hard in his pants and the thought doesn’t sit right with him.
Rosie seems to sense where his thoughts have taken him. “It’s okay, sweet boy,” he assures him. “Don’t need to be about me.”
Anakin whines again, deeply disagreeing with the sentiment. Everything should be about Rosie. The world should revolve around him but at least Anakin’s does. It would have to do. “Please,” he begs, looking up at Rosie through his eyelashes.
Rosie huffs, his hand dropping from Anakin’s mouth to his thigh which he squeezes tightly. “Another time, perhaps.” It’s not the answer Anakin wanted to hear and Rosie knows that, too, chuckling at his whine and releasing the grip on his face. Anakin falls forward, buries his face in Rosie’s neck and breathes in the scent of Rosie’s cologne and sweat there.
“Shouldn’t be out here in the open, anyway,” Rosie explains softly. One of his hands lands on Anakin’s back, strokes idle circles there and Anakin can feel the exhaustion settling into his bones. “And I’d rather take my time if we’re gonna do that,” Rosie adds quietly.
The promise shoots through Anakin like electricity. The promise of another time, of getting to take care of Rosie in return when the time comes. He doesn’t even know if Rosie means his cock between Anakin’s lips or whether he wants to fuck him for real but it doesn’t matter. He’d take whatever he can get. He’d take whatever Rosie wants.
They sit there for awhile, night falling around them as Rosie strokes his back. He makes sure to zip Anakin up again at one point and while the drying wetness in his underwear is unpleasant, it’s not nearly as bad as it could’ve been without Rosie’s hand taking the brunt of it. Besides, Anakin cannot bring himself to move. His muscles feel like jelly and Rosie is far too comfortable and far too safe to leave behind. So he stays there, curled up in his lap with his face hidden in Rosie’s neck.
He can hear the birds sing in the distance, can feel Rosie’s fingers drawing idle designs on his back as he sits patiently. Eventually, Rosie starts humming a song that Anakin doesn’t know but enjoys all the same.
When night has properly fallen over Thorpe Abbotts and Anakin can feel himself drifting off every so often, Rosie nudges him. “Let’s go back, mmh?” He suggests. “Another long day tomorrow.”
Anakin hums sleepily but lets Rosie push him off. His legs still feel wobbly when he pushes to his feet so it takes him a moment to follow Rosie who starts to lead the way to the other, lower edge of the wing. He hurries to catch up to him and when he reaches him, Anakin’s hand slides into Rosie’s. Rosie looks over at him, tender smile on his face before squeezing his fingers around his palm, a quiet promise.