Obi-Wan knows when Quinlan falls asleep. The slow, metered breaths he’d been taking break into deep, open-mouthed sighs and his arms relax fractionally against Obi-Wan’s chest.
Obi-Wan can’t see his face at this angle, but he can imagine it: eyebrows drawn together and tattoos scrunched across his cheeks. Quinlan shifts, sighs, nuzzles into his chest and something in Obi-Wan warms to the point of pain. He doesn’t dare move, not even to change the rhythm of his breathing.
He doesn’t want to wake him.
Obi-Wan knows the layout of this room like the back of his hand, has slept here nearly every night since he was thirteen. Even so, every time he closes his eyes, the dark and the walls draw in around him, collapsing the universe until all that exists is Quinlan’s head under his chin and the shift of his hips under Obi-Wan’s thigh and the way his breath smells like energy drinks and mint toothpaste. It’s kind of nasty. He expects nothing less at three a.m.
He lays like that for what seems like eternity and mere moments, surprised that he can’t yet see the sun rising through the window. It should be getting lighter soon, unless he’s completely lost track of time.
He thinks of Quinlan earlier in the night, bent over his ‘pad and chewing the end of a stylus, muttering about theories of Force connection and the origins of ‘weak spots.’ He’d rambled on until Obi-Wan lost the thread of his thesis entirely, pausing to scribble things down before explaining them to Obi-Wan and bringing him back up to speed. His hair fell over one shoulder. He’d touched up his undercut recently and Obi-Wan had ached to run his hands across the soft stubble.
Now, he moves his hand up mere centimeters and does just that, smiling when Quinlan mumbles some soft nonsense and presses closer. Obi-Wan aches again, more fiercely than before.
He wants to kiss him. He wants to kiss him and run his hands down Quinlan’s back and mouth along his collarbone and touch him until Quinlan makes one of those sweet noises that drives Obi-Wan insane and presses up into his hands and let him keep touching, keep worshipping him until he knows every millimeter of Quinlan’s skin.
He’s scared.
Quinlan slips his leg between Obi-Wan’s thighs and draws him closer.
Sleep swirls around the edges of his mind.