Disclaimer: The boys and the rest of the SW universe belong to
Mr. Lucas. I'm just borrowing them, because even fictional
characters need a vacation now and then... I'm not making any
money off this. If I were, I wouldn't be so desperate for
cash...
Archive: Yes to Master&Apprentice, OKEB, WWOMB, and my
homepage. All others, ask and ye shall receive.
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Q/O. Totally PWP. So PWP that there are only exactly
34 words of dialogue. And four of those are "Yes, master"s.
<g>
Spoilers: None.
Summary: Obi-Wan makes use of battle energy.
Categories: PWP, First Time (in my head, you can't really tell
by the fic. <g>)
Acknowledgements: I wrote this especially for Destina, but also
for all those others who I know are dying for smut and haven't
found it on list lately. (smile)
Author's Note: I don't use betas, so all mistakes are mine.
Plus, I wrote this in just over an hour. Please be forgiving.
(smile)
Feedback: Of course! Feedback is my drug of choice, and when I
go into withdrawal I stop writing.
Obi-Wan moved faster than conscious thought would allow,
letting the Force flow through him and guide his movements.
Blaster bolts bounced off the narrow blade of his lightsaber,
often returning to their sources with deadly results. He was
not thinking about winning, though. His only object was to
protect their retreat as Qui-Gon ran with the ambassador to the
ship.
A blaster bolt sizzled by Obi-Wan's shoulder and a cry of pain
rang out. The Padawan could spare neither a moment to feel fear
it had struck Qui-Gon, nor a glance to check. He forced all his
concentration to protecting the two men behind him, the Force
and adrenaline the only things touching him.
Finally, with sweat pouring down his neck and back, his arms
aching, Obi-Wan felt the boarding ramp beneath his heel. A
surge of relief was pushed aside as reinforcements of the enemy
came running around a corner. Then a hand grabbed the back of
Obi-Wan's tunic and, with help from the Force, he was yanked
into the ship just as it took off.
Obi-Wan, thrown off balance, thought he would fall, but strong
arms caught him and held him upright. He leaned into that
strength, his nerves still singing with energy though he'd
released the Force. "Obi-Wan," he heard Qui-Gon say, "are you
unhurt?"
"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan managed, reaching out along their bond
to assure himself that Qui-Gon, too, was well. He was briefly
overwhelmed with a vision of himself, hair spiky with sweat,
skin flushed, eyes bright and body taut with energy. The desire
that colored the image startled him before it was shut away.
In an instant, all the aggressive energy flowing through his
veins turned into sexual energy. Without even stopping to think
about it, Obi-Wan reached up and claimed Qui-Gon's lips in a
kiss he'd been aching for for ages. It wasn't gentle or chaste.
It was a deep, hungry kiss that lasted only long enough for
Obi-Wan to push aside the other man's tunics.
Then his lips moved to taste elsewhere. He nibbled along the
collarbone and licked his way down to taste a tight, peaked
nipple. Qui-Gon gasped under the touch, overwhelmed and
unbelievably aroused by the hunger of the young man who was
even now tossing aside his tunics and going to work on his
pants.
Obi-Wan slid appreciative hands down long, strong legs as they
were revealed. He frowned at the fabric caught on the boots,
but grinned as Qui-Gon quickly kicked them off. The younger man
straightened up and claimed another kiss, his hands pulling his
Master firmly against him. Only then did he seem to realize
that he was still fully dressed. Quickly, Obi-Wan shed his own
clothing.
Qui-Gon had only a moment to appreciate his Padawan's beauty
before Obi-Wan molded their bodies together, eager for the
sensation of skin against skin. Qui-Gon slid his hands along
Obi- Wan's hips and flanks and butt, hardly knowing what to
touch first. Warm skin and lean muscle beckoned everywhere.
Pleasure spiked through both men as Obi-Wan ground his hips
against Qui-Gon's, and the older man couldn't help but moan
aloud. Then Obi-Wan was drawing them both down, the cold metal
a shock against heated skin. Obi-Wan disappeared for a moment,
but before Qui-Gon could form a question he was back, a small
crystal bottle of oil in one hand. The Padawan stopped any
questions with a kiss and a teasing caress that began at Qui-
Gon's throat and ended with an all-too-brief stroke along his
cock.
Obi-Wan's intent was clear, and Qui-Gon bent his knees and
splayed his legs to open himself to his apprentice's touch. A
single, oil slicked finger pushed into him, but it wasn't
enough, not nearly enough. Qui-Gon pushed against it, silently
pleading for more. Obi-Wan gave it to him, inserting a second
finger and gently stroking his prostate.
Qui-Gon cried out and arched into the touch, his body tense
with want. The fingers disappeared, leaving the older man
gasping with need. Then Obi-Wan was entering him, slowly
sheathing his cock in Qui-Gon's tight heat. For a moment the
two men froze there, sweat slicked bodies pressed tightly
together. The need to move quickly overwhelmed any remaining
restraint, sending Obi-Wan pounding into Qui-Gon.
The Master gripped his Padawan's hips tightly, encouraging
every thrust with little tugs of his hands. The tension built
to a fever pitch, the relief coming when Obi-Wan reached
between them to take Qui-Gon's cock in a firm grip. That was
all it took to send Qui-Gon into orgasm, his release slicking
their bodies with more than sweat. A few more deep thrusts and
Obi-Wan was spending himself deep inside his Master.
His energy spent, the younger man collapsed to lie, panting, on
Qui-Gon's chest. After a moment taken to recover themselves,
Qui-Gon said, "Obi-Wan?"
"Yes, Master?" Obi-Wan asked, wondering for a moment if he was
going to be reprimanded.
"Where did you get that oil?"
Obi-Wan grinned. "This ship is carrying supplies for the
fertility rites that will soon be occurring on Terek 3."
"How appropriate," Qui-Gon murmured, a smile touching his lips.
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