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It's a cold day in hell and Obi-Wan Kenobi is living it. R2-D2 beeps at him, dome flashing arrogantly, and Obi-Wan's knees go weak.
He falls to them, the dirt rising in a cloud around him as he breaks down into the strong hydraulics of the only droid he's ever loved. "R2," Obi-Wan cries out, the wind tearing at their entwined forms. "I love you, I have always loved you!"
Beep.
Obi-Wan cups the back of R2's polished dome, his forehead pressed tight to the droid's technological features. "I would die for you," Obi-Wan swears, the force blazing through his every pore. "There's no other droid for me."
R2-D2 rocks on his stablizers, and then speaks. Beep-be-beep-bo-beeply-beepa-deepa-doopa-beep-beedle-beedle-beep. He hesitates, and extends his probe to gently caress Obi-Wan's fevered brow. The Jedi was in heat. As a rare alpha droid, R2-D2 knew his duty.
His duty and his pleasure. Obi-Wan, last of the Jedi, was a cypher to be savored, a code unbroken, an enigma in tan robes. What lay beneath his shrouds of fabric? What needy hole did R2-D2 need to probe, fill, and impregnate to sooth the ravenous hunger of Obi-Wan's desperately lonely existence?
Beep-Beep-beepy-ban, R2-D2 says, vocalizer gone gritty and deep with the sand clogging it.
"Thank you," Obi-Wan breaths, pressing frantic kisses to the rim of R2-D2's gleaming dome. "I need you, please, take me--"
***
R2-D2 rolls through the door of their happy home, and finds his still fucked-out mate draped across the charging pad they share, his belly swollen and occasionally sparking as their soon-to-be-born cyborg pups frolic inside Obi-Wan's womb.
In all his many years, R2-D2 had never considered a human as his adaptor, the inlet to his prong, the oil to his--R2-D2 abandons the thought as Obi-Wan stirs, rubbing his bare belly as he stares hungrily at R2-D2. "Love, won't you join me? I fear our children's batteries may need charging. We must think of their health."
R2-D2 beeps in amusement, but rolls toward their docking station. He can hardly say no to that.