Anakin pressed the turbolift button, closed his eyes, and did his best to meditate. The battle had been rough and they'd only barely made it out before droids overran them. The echoes of the soldiers' dying screams still rang in his ears, haunting his waking moments and keeping him from the embrace of sleep.
Breathe. Anakin tried to let the past weeks fall off his shoulders with each exhalation and fall into the Force.
He did not reach the Force properly before the turbolift doors dinged open. With a heavy heart he drew himself up into a proper General-y stance and strode down the corridor to Master Windu's quarters.
The door opened before he knocked. “Come in.”
“Master Windu.” Anakin bowed. “How is the 91st holding up?”
“As well as can be expected,” Mace said. “I've read your and Captain Rex's reports on the 501st-”
“I know we took heavy losses and couldn't bury our dead, so morale is down, but Rex is on it and we will prevail,” Anakin interrupted him. He knew it was bad, and that it was all his fault. Best get it over with fast. “I guess we could do with some downtime to replace lost equipment and mourn. How's the situation elsewhere? Will we be needed immediately?”
“You'll have at least a tenday on Coruscant just from logistical necessities and I'll try to get another week for integrating new recruits from Kamino.”
Anakin sighed. Two to three weeks was – more than he'd hoped for. “Thank you.”
Mace leaned forward. “One final thing. Anakin, how are you holding up?”
“I'm fine,” he replied on reflex. He tried not to fidget. “I can manage.”
“It doesn't seem that way. Is there anything that could help?”
“Spank me,” Anakin blurted out.
Mace froze. “Excuse me?”
Anakin ducked his head and closed his eyes. He could feel his cheeks heat up with embarrassment at having to explain. “I kriffed up and now scores of men are dead, and if I had avoided that one shot of Seppie fire I'd have been able to get those squads out before the droids shot them up.”
“So you think you deserve punishment.”
Anakin nodded. He'd failed. He deserved the humiliation.
Mace rose and walked around his small desk to Anakin. He tipped Anakin's chin up until Anakin was forced to make eye contact. “And would being spanked make you feel better?”
“Actions should have consequences,” Anakin said in a small voice, trying to look anywhere but Mace's eyes.
Mace's hand dropped from his chin. “Anakin,” he began. “You're a spectacular pilot and a good man. While you may think only of the one transport you couldn't escort, what the rest of us see is the five transports for which you cleared a path through the droid fighters.”
Anakin drew a shuddering breath. “Oh.”
“Trust me when I say you don't need punishment, but rather praise.”
Anakin swallowed. “I ... It keeps running in my mind, over and over, how I could've – should've – done something differently.”
Mace's hand settled on Anakin's shoulder. A glance at the man showed a thoughtful expression on his face. “So what you need is a distraction.”
Anakin shrugged limply. “I guess.”
“And you suggested spanking.”
“I did.” Anakin felt his cheeks heat up as he shuffled in place.
“Was that just as punishment, or would it also serve as a sufficient distraction?”
Anakin snapped his head up. Mace looked – sincere. Like taking Anakin over his knee would be something he found fun.
“Would you like to try?” Anakin asked with an attempt at a smile.
“Certainly,” Mace murmured. “To the bedroom?”
Anakin nodded and followed Mace through the small door to the small bedroom. There was a narrow bed, a bedside table, a sturdy-ish stool, and a small closet – economical and standard for Generals' quarters. Mace had added a stack of datapads and a purple pillowcase.
“Pull down your trousers.”
“Yes, Master.”
“Hm.” Mace sat down on the chair and patted his lap. “Here.”
Anakin shuffled over with his trousers at his knees and laid himself over Mace's legs. He felt awkward, head hanging down while his backside was exposed to the air. One of Mace's hands rested between his shoulderblades like a comforting weight.
The first strike came as a surprise. Anakin yelped as the sting tingled over his skin. His dick had rubbed against Mace's trousers as he'd twitched, sending sparks through his veins and heat to his cheeks.
“Is this working for you?” Mace asked.
“Yeah.” Anakin squirmed a bit, angling his butt better for Mace, and immediately yielding when Mace pressed down on his upper back.
Mace hit him thrice in quick succession, each impact reverberating through Anakin's thighs as the sound echoed in the room. Anakin groaned at the sting and shuddered as Mace finished up by running his fingers over Anakin's butt.
“You look so good like this,” Mace said. “You're getting red already.” He delivered another swat before groping Anakin harshly. “Kriff, if only you could see yourself.”
Anakin dropped his head down and rocked his hips back into Mace's grip. He was rewarded with a sharp hit that turned into another. Anakin huffed out an exhalation and melted into the sensation. Nothing mattered save the moment.
Another hit – harder, this time – had Anakin's dick rub against Mace's trousers. He groaned as the zing of pleasure joined the tingling throb of his skin.
Another hit. Another.
Anakin floated on sensation, surrendering to the physical sensation. The Force curled around him, buoying him, turning his outlines fuzzy so he felt Mace's arousal as his own, felt an echo of what he looked like, pliant and perfect, and shuddered at the sensation.
A blow landed where he was already raw, jolting him into himself for a moment. He drew a breath through his teeth and let the throb ache through him.
“Force, you look good,” Mace said, and paused to ghost his fingers over Anakin's stinging skin. It stung oddly, as if his fingers were magnets drawing metal shavings of pain to them.
Then he gave Anakin another good hit and something short-circuited in Anakin. His dick twitched; he was suddenly aware of every blood vessel in his entire body. “Fuck me,” he said. “Please. I- I need it.”
Mace paused. He ran his hand along the back of Anakin's thighs in thought.
Anakin felt the edge of Mace's thoughts brush against his mind and opened the floodgates. He needed this, and he needed Mace to see it.
“Remove your clothes and get on the bed,” Mace said, like Anakin knew he would.
Taking off his clothes was surprisingly hard – it was as if Anakin's limbs had been disconnected from his mind – but he shed his boots and trousers, belt and tunics in a haphazard heap on the ground and stumbled to the bed, still high on sensation. The sheets were rough and burned against the tender skin of his backside. He shivered in anticipation.
“On your back,” Mace – now naked – ordered.
He climbed between Anakin's open legs and poured lube onto his fingers from the small tube he'd grabbed. Anakin exhaled and consciously relaxed himself as Mace's fingers pushed into him.
A few moments and the lubricant had warmed to body temperature. Mace pulled his fingers out and replaced them with his dick.
Opening up to intrusion was always something that made Anakin's mind pleasantly blank. Now, with his tender skin rubbing against rough sheets, he was gasping at the outset. His skin tingled and sparked, intensifying everything.
“Force, you feel good,” Mace breathlessly said against his ear.
Anakin tried to reply but all that came out was an inhuman groan. He squirmed under Mace, relishing in the press of Mace's body against his and how the sheets dragged at his raw skin.
Then Mace began thrusting, and Anakin dissolved. He felt the pleasant stretch and glide over his nerve endings, the rough excitement of the sheets on his skin, an echo of how he himself was clenched around Mace transmitted through the Force – the boundaries of his being were hazy and irrelevant. Pleasure was pleasure; sensation was sensation.
Anakin felt himself get caught in a groundswell of pleasure-pain and let himself float up. He reached out through the Force, entwining himself with Mace on the metaphysical level as well as physical, and let the pleasure echo between them, amplifying on each round, until he was pushed over a threshold and came, dragging Mace with him.
His mind was quiet and pleasantly free of worries. He sighed and let himself be.
Eventually, though, he shifted. The raw flesh of his butt caught on the rough sheets and he hissed.
The world came tumbling in, then: the hiss of the ventilation, the weight of Mace's arm across his torso, the prickling sensation of sweat beading on his skin. He very carefully rolled to his stomach to keep from irritating his no doubt angrily red skin further.
“Would you like some bacta for that?” Mace asked, soft and gentle.
“Please,” Anakin said.
Anakin settled himself better against the pillow and adjusted the position of his dick. He was leaving a stain, but he didn't really care, and it wasn't like one could ruin military-issue sheets anyway.
The bacta was cool against his skin and tingled in a few places where he'd been rubbed raw. He sighed and let Mace spread it with sure hands. Anakin melted against the bed – it was too soon for him to get hard again, but getting bacta massaged into his skin was extremely appealing. Maybe next time they could start with a groping session.
“I think I've gotten everything,” Mace said.
“Mmh.” Anakin stretched out, content and intending to stay so for a moment longer. “My schedule is free for the next few hours.”
“I see.” Mace lay back down, though, which was all Anakin had wanted to achieve. Anakin pulled him closer and squirmed on top of him until he was comfortable in Mace's embrace.
The moment Anakin started feeling cold, a flicker of the Force brought a blanket atop them. “You know just how to make me feel better,” he mumbled into the crook of Mace's neck.
“I'm glad to hear that.” Mace began rubbing circles into Anakin's back with his thumb.
“Could we repeat this after the next battle?” Anakin asked, hoping he sounded sufficiently casual while bracing for inevitable rejection.
Mace paused. “Gladly,” he said after a moment. “Though perhaps we could skip the part where you beg for punishment and go straight into the fun part.”
Anakin relaxed. Mace started rubbing circles again and brought his other hand to cup the back of Anakin's neck. A small application of the Force dimmed the lights to twenty percent. Anakin nuzzled Mace's neck and let himself drift in a haze of mutual contentment.