Master Apprentice
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Qui-Gon wakes slowly, the quiet heavy in the darkness. Though there is no sound he knows that his apprentice is there, naked in the middle of his bed, head lowered, bottom high in supplication. Subjugation. Domination. Obi-Wan has chosen the time, the place the position. Obi-Wan lies there in unspoken demand.
Qui-Gon climbs to his knees, phallus high and hard, ready. He moves forward, knowing instinctively exactly where Obi-Wan is. His thighs meet the back of Obi-Wan's, his shaft rubbing over the waiting buttocks. He has only to slide his hands along smooth hips, fingers curling tight and then he's pushing forward, sliding into already slick heat with a single powerful thrust.
Obi-Wan makes no sound, but his hips cant, his body pressing back to meet each of Qui-Gon's thrusts. The only noise is the rhythmic slap of flesh on flesh and the barest creak of the bed as they rock together. Even the Force is quiet, its constant whisper muted beneath the weight of their silent love-making.
Their speed builds, skin becoming slick with sweat. In the darkness, in the silence, Qui-Gon knows only his own pleasure; Obi-Wan's continuing counter-thrusts are his only hint that the pleasure is shared. His focus narrows, flows inward and collects in the simple length of flesh that slides in and out of the heat of Obi-Wan's body. Such a small thing to hold a man as large as he and it cannot be contained for long. He explodes out into Obi-Wan's body, filling his lover with himself. Bright stars spark in the darkness and his blood roars through the quiet.
He slumps forward, Obi-Wan's body jerking now as he comes as silently as Qui-Gon has. He rolls off Obi-Wan, curling up around his apprentice's warmth, surrendering himself to the deeper darkness of sleep that beckons to him.
The silence is loud with their love.
End.