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    Summary

    With nowhere to clean his fingers, Obi-Wan considered wiping them against his thigh, but Anakin stopped his hand on its descent and stared darkly up at him from where he kneeled. Obi-Wan watched Anakin's eyes dance along the slope of his neck, and Obi-Wan could tell just from his look that a small line of blood must have been creeping down the length of it. Anakin stared at blood like nothing else in the world.

    Anakin brought Obi-Wan’s fingers to his mouth and wrapped his lips around the tips of them. Obi-Wan exhaled from the eroticism of the sensation and felt a pulse between his legs as he watched Anakin sup on his fingertips like they carried ambrosia rather than blood.

    “You have to be more careful, Obi-Wan,” Anakin said.

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