Master
Apprentice  Archive
Beyond Femee Chabrik
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"Stop that!" I swat his hands away for the twentieth time, increasingly unwilling to do so and increasingly bitter about having to do so. They are such a gift, these hands. Larger than any I have ever seen on a man, and always warm. Harsh calluses on the palms, and the gentlest soft blunt fingertips. A touch as light as the wingbeat of a dragonfly, and a strength that can crush bones. Not to mention other things I would rather like to have crushed right now...
I let myself fall into the cool water of the pond, half to escape the sight of my glorious victim-owner-lover, half to damp down on my body's eager reaction to that sight. The murky green water envelops me like cool silk, soothing the tingling nerve endings, wrapping my arousal in gentle cool pressure and dissipating it into the water of the pond. Obi's Eye, it is known as, and bathing in it is reserved for very special circumstances. Which is a good thing on second thoughts because the green algae-infested water would not be very conducive to cleanliness otherwise.
When I am quite sure my lungs will burst I resurface, facing away from where my temptation had stood, then slowly turn around. He's gone. Good. Not that I take particular pleasure in those minutes when I can't feast my eyes on him, but right now there are other things to be taken care of, the more to feast my eyes on him later...
A tiny outburst of bubbles against my calves makes me shudder in surprised delight, and before I know it a pair of strong arms is twining around my thighs and a face appears just above the waterline and nuzzles into my groin hotly, beard tickling me something unholy. So.... hard... no to give in and thrust! I yank him away by his hair, straggly and shining, thick dark strands interwoven with early silver and bits of the pond's underwater plant life. A water god. Obi's Consort, and I wonder dimly why she would let him go. With me. Still, that is why we are here, and I brace myself for a lecture, trying hard to avoid the barely banked lust in my Jedi's bright blue eyes.
"Qui-Gon, you _know_ I'm not allowed to have sex until after the ceremony. With all the years of training you claim to have I am frankly appalled at your lack of self-control... look, _I_ am just a savage by your standards and I manage to keep myself away from you for these few hours..." And then never again, my mind supplies. I won't ever take my hands, lips, tongue off that delicious man again... but right now purity is what Obi demands, one last time, hard though it may be. Rock hard, in fact. I dip under the cool water again, the shock hardly enough to cool my throbbing flesh, aching to be sunk in his welcoming heat, deep and hard and fast... no! Obi, why are you making it so hard for me? You granted me leave to go with him, spoke to me quite clearly... is this one last test? If so, I am up for it. I am not risking a lifetime's worth of bliss with my fantastic prey Jinn...
When I emerge from the water slightly cooled and spluttering, the sight that greets me is well enough to take my remaining breath away. There he stands, moist skin gleaming in the sunlight, rivulets of clear water running down his muscular chest and smooth stomach from his dripping tangled mane, face relaxed in an expression of absolute serenity, absolute beauty... longingly, I let my gaze travel down his arms from the broad shoulders over the well-muscled upper arms along the long sinewy lower arms, following the proud veins under the glistening tanned skin down to his mighty hands -- wrapping around his hard shaft, stroking the firm spear of flesh slowly but insistently, gripping that thick long cock and squeezing viscous liquid from the tip and breathy low moans from his throat... I can feel his gaze roaming over my naked wet body as one of these mesmerisingly strong hands wanders down to fondle his testes, squeezing the heavy hot balls rhythmically, in time with his panting breath, his whole body a rising wave of lust, male perfection...
He sends shockwaves through my body as he comes, shooting his seed into the calm green waters of Obi's Eye, and for a moment my entire skin is on fire as if he'd shot his essence into my eye, and my mind goes numb under the glorious tingling sensation, and I am close, so close, nooooo.... no. I am not coming. I am... wrapped in cool calm like the waters, only clearer. And invisible. To the eye that is. It is The Seeing that surrounds me like a chilly soothing embrace, calming my raging body until all that is left is a faint glow of pleasure and love that lingers as I watch Qui-Gon wash his hands and softened penis in the green water, eyes still glued to me. The... Seeing touch... is coming from him, it's got him written all over it, like a faint scent enveloping me. I remember dimly as I watch him dress and finish my own ritual ablutions. The Force, he calls it... and if I even begin to think about what else he could use it for I will stain myself after all, and Obi will frown upon me in my last hour as her Chosen One... with a deep hopeful sigh, I emerge from the waters, wrap myself in the charea mat and take my separate path to the village.
Heated and breathless, panting, he leaves the circle of dancers around the fire and stumbles towards me, falling into my arms. He would have fallen at my feet if I hadn't caught him, and drinks the bowl of water I offer him with a greed that is altogether unholy... thirst sated, he slumps against me, regaining his breath slowly, panting deliciously. If I understood this correctly, the Goddess Obi has now left his body and is being contained in the ring of dancers while the new Chosen One is led to the fire to receive her. He is painted white from head to toe, with the exception of his hair, swirling around his head in a whirl of thin black braids as he shakes his head madly in the grip of his trance. With an almighty yell, the thin figure extricates himself from the restraining hands of his fellow dancers, leaps into the fire with both feet, and jumps out again lightning quick and silent. The sparks have left black streaks trailing up his legs, and the sweat running from his exhausted body paints matching dark lines on his chalked skin, an animal hide of Obi's own making.
One of the dancers steps forward, bearing a simple crown of green feathers. As she reaches the exhausted white figure, the dance stops as if frozen in time, and her clear voice rings out over the dim noises of the night forest.
"We welcome amongst us the Chosen One of our Goddess, Obi Sii-Ban Obi!"
Wild cheers erupt, and everyone rushes into the circle to hug the newly appointed Priest, touch him, feed him and give him cool fresh water to drink. They worship him gently and insistently, and I am torn between jealousy and lust at the thought of my Wan-Ken having been the subject of such adoration until recently. Until mere minutes ago in fact, when his Goddess generously left his body, and left it slumped against mine in delicious heavy exhaustion. He is sitting upright again now, breathing heavily still, a light film of sweat on his heated skin, reflecting the wild hot flicker of the fire. He is almost naked save for a ceremonial penis sheath, the tip of which is bound around his hips by a thin length of twine that awakens tortuously delicious memories in me.
Not that I am in any way decent. Well, I laid off the Jedi robes anyway, and agreed to having my reluctantly chaste lover choose clothes for me, which resulted in me being dressed in a scrap of soft leather around my hips and a collar of short dark red feathers fitting snugly around my throat. Wan-Ken wove it in place himself, making sure it fitted just tightly enough to tickle and caress my skin at every breath, marking me his and building up a delicious anticipation of what would happen in private, after the ceremony. After the general worshipping of Sii would dissolve into generic revelling and everyone would be free to indulge their pleasure for this one blessed night without fearing sanctions or consequences.
Right now it's just a few inches of heated, fire-scented air keeping me from him. And decency. We are still in public, only just, and I am almost shocked when I feel his hand creeping closer, approaching, promising, touching. Touching just my hand, but oh, the sweet electricity of this touch, finally permitted, is more than I anticipated altogether. I smile at him, and gasp in breathless amazement at the sheer joy and lust shining in these eyes, pupils dilated with the darkness of the night and his desire for me, lips moist and pink, parting slightly, tongue darting out to lick them as his fingertips trace gentle circles in my palm, sending shivers of pure sensation up my arm and straight to my heart.
I feel his fingers trailing over mine, dry at first, then moistened at his lips, and I give in to the undertow and imagine my fingers at his lips, reverently tracing the soft flesh and being sucked into the moist warmth and licked by that rough soft wet tongue. He would bite, never let go, and that is just what I would want, to be bitten and wrestled down and pinned to the ground and ravished, claimed, taken, filled with the hard heat of this flame of a man, pounded full of the heavenly desire pulsing in his heavy cock deep inside me and in his Force presence, deeper still inside me, inextricably bound to mine, mine forever to possess me and take me and love me...
I almost growl at him as he drags me out of my reverie, tugging insistently first at my hand, then at the throbbing flesh under the thin leather wrap, smiling mischievously. "Now would be the perfect time for another bath in Obi's Eye, don't you think...," he nips my ear and twists one nipple lightly with skilled fingertips, sending spikes of pleasure laced with pain through me, "beloved?"
Silently, I agree. Silently because even a Jedi Master cannot speak when his mouth is being ravished by the one who owns him, heart and soul, and body too, and very soon please...
It is cold here. Temperate, they call it, controlled climate. Temple, they call it, controlled space. I have never seen the like, and am still reluctant to treat it as my home. Only the lingering presence of Qui-Gon lets me accept this place, and his traces are few and far between. He hasn't been here for years, preferring to be based at Regat and send all his reports and debriefings via communication links. Still, this place was his home once, and it's been kept pristine, like an empty sea-bleached shell, awaiting his return.
A shell it is, with pale grey walls of something so hard and smooth it feels like obsidian and water crossed with each other. A bastard material, warming quickly to the touch and retreating into the background at all other times. It is the few telltale signs of Jinn's presence here that make this place habitable -- the fresh we'nana shoot lovingly placed in a glass of water to take root, the untidy little pile of fruit on the counter of the kitchen room (a separate enclosed room for the preparation of food. And no fire to be seen anywhere. How do these Coruscanti survive the mental deprivation of not having fire around them?), the spare hair tie in the refresher room and the wet towel smelling of him. The bag he's dumped on the virginal bed, not even unpacked. He went straight to his Council, on important business, and I have been sitting here for what seems like an eternity, and can't make myself feel at home. Restless is what I am, and if I wasn't sure my orienteering skills would be absolutely useless in this labyrinth of bastard walls I would go in search of him, Council be damned.
As it is, I don't need to, and I feel him approaching even before the door opens, soundlessly, as if it had heard him coming too. He sheds his robe without a word, and I am horrified at the greyness of his face, an expression closer to the bastard walls than the man I know and love. This place is eating away at his strength, I sense that... he feels hard, tight, and not in the way I would like him to. Frustration rolls off him in cold grey waves, and even his voice is ashen and tight with restrained anger as he feels my hand on his shoulder and turns around at me.
"Wan-Ken, I'm afraid you're far from welcome to this fabulously enlightened Order. And the Force knows I've done my best to plead my case, picking the Code apart to best effects... nothing. They would only listen to me up to a point, and beyond that I might as well have been talking to a wall!"
Ah. The walls. The harshness seeps from his body as I massage his cramped shoulders, but the anger in his voice blossoms with every word he says.
"They just keep sticking to the same small impediments cast in the stone of some ancient appendix to the Jedi Code. Like, you're too old. Why does Master Gallia not remember she was eleven when she was taken into the Order? Why does it suddenly mean the world whether somebody is eleven or twenty-one or however old you really are in Standard years? Because Adi was a high-ranking diplomat's daughter and you are a nobody from some backwater planet Mace Windu can't even _spell_? Force knows I've tried to convince myself it's not prejudice, but it gets harder by the hour. I mean, they refuse to even go as far as allow you into the chamber to test your blatant Force sensitivity... and I fear they are to all intents and purposes trying to file you under 'Jinn's Pet Projects'. Another pathetic life form I've picked up somewhere, except this time it's got a braid..."
His hand trickles down my braid slowly as I work my fingers into the hardened muscles of his shoulders and neck, thinking hard. "Qui-Gon... is that the only way for you to be able to keep me as yours? Is there no way for a Jedi to have any relationship with someone who is not his... Padawan?" The word tastes strange on my lips, like forbidden fruit, slightly rotten already, and intoxicating.
He sighs deeply, and I feel leaden relaxation flooding him. "No, Wan-Ken, that is not the only way, and the Council have no say in what I feel towards you. I may have to bow to them when it comes to taking a Padawan, but they cannot make me bow to them when it comes to who I give my love to. It is not this that I am concerned about, it is... you."
"Jinn. I am not a child anymore. I can fend for myself--"
"Wan-Ken, you have no idea. This is Coruscant, and if I'm not very much mistaken you were making some very awed and intimidated noises at the sight of the 'fresher just this morning. Out there on the streets your instincts wouldn't last a day, my beautiful savage. Before I can even say 'same time tomorrow' your blood-encrusted body will be hitting the sewers in the sublevels. And making them marginally cleaner by the addition of your pure blood, lad. I speak not as an overprotective guardian but as a Jedi, Wan-Ken. You are not living out there on your own, not if you value your life."
'The dark sublevels' is quite close to how my mind feels right now, the oppression of Jinn's fears and possessive love stifling my thoughts... so if I can't survive out there and they won't let me in here where I feel I belong more than anything else, where is there for us to go? My fingers have dug deep into his flesh by the time he has finished reading the unspoken question in my eyes, and with a deep sigh, he extricates himself from my hands and rises up, turning to face me.
"There is one last hope yet, Wan-Ken. Master Saesee Tiin of the Council has agreed to meet us together at the next hour, to see what he can do before the decision is finally passed this afternoon. So," he ruffles my short hair with a sad affectionate little smile, "get your braid neat and try to make a good impression..."
Barely half an hour alter, we are facing the door to Master Tiin's rooms, Jinn in his formal robes, a resplendent specimen of masculine beauty that would have made me want to devour him under any normal circumstances. I have donned some of his older Jedi gear, tucked and belted to fit my smaller size, and find myself quite suitable really. Except there is no scrutinising gaze.
Master Tiin is out.
Just like that. He is not answering his commlink either, and when we return to Jinn's quarters, crestfallen, the message that awaits us on his terminal informs us that sadly, due to this circumstance and that rule, Master Jinn's proposal has been refused by the Council, and would the foreign visitor please leave the Temple after his recreational stay here is over. Recreational. As if I was using one of their Jedi for my spare time exploits. Foreign. Why then does this place feel so right to me? Granted, I still lose my way seven times out of ten, and I will take some time getting used to the presence of kitchens and stairs and other such technological knickknacks, but the space itself speaks to me in the clear translucent tones of The Seeing. It speaks to me like Obi used to.
"Qui-Gon?"
"Hm?" A noncommittal grunt, more resigned than enraged at the message from the Council.
"This... Force, does it sometimes give you premonitions or visions? Does it... I mean, does it sometimes tell you things your mind hasn't even caught up with yet?"
"Yes, Wan-Ken. That is the nature of the Force. Unfortunately, it is not the nature of that venerable collective that considers themselves the guardians of the Force." The venom in his words is almost tangible, a green tang hanging in the air touching his lips.
"Have you ever followed its advice against all odds then?"
"More than I should have, beloved. It's what has gained me this unseemly reputation as a maverick Jedi. And saved me my life several time, I might want to add. In my experience, the premonitions the Force gives unprompted are more reliable than anything the human, or humanoid, mind can come up with."
"How... how can I tell such a premonition from simple thought then?"
"You will know, you will simply feel it with all your senses at once, and some beyond that. This Seeing that you spoke of... the voice of your Goddess. That's what it feels like. You will know."
I nod and turn away, staring out of the window in Jinn's common room. All my senses. I dip into the Seeing, let it swallow me. Warm green hands, rays of wet yellow light, the smell of earth and the taste of rotting fruit, the impossible sound of a bud opening in real time, and an overwhelming sense of hereness, of being in the right space. Blinking, I scan the place I have been staring at. That is it. By Obi, that is it.
Unable to even waste a minute in explaining to my Qui-Gon, I dash out of the room and race along the labyrinthine corridors, following the tug of the Force.
Musing. I catch myself leaning out of the window far enough for my hair to cover my face completely. What a gargoyle I must look. And even more incredible for this sprite, this ray of light cast into the shape of a male body, to love me with such careless abandon. It feels so good it's almost painful, a blurring of categories Wan-Ken has spent the best part of these past days teaching me about. Yes, him teaching me. Me, the old and venerable Jedi Master. Leaning out of a window mooning like a teenage boy.
I close my mouth again, hardly realising that I had opened it to call him in. I had done nothing of the kind, and the porate I'd made for my mate has almost certainly gone stone cold by now, and I can't for the life of me bring myself to care about the stupid porate. Not with the sight... feast before my eyes, two stories below, and closer to my heart than ever.
He is crouching on the ground in nothing but a pair of worn leggings that used to be white once but are now stained and spattered with the rich thick loam carted here by the builders of the Temple. Not carted. Probably flown in. This quiet spot almost makes one forget that Coruscant, in all probability, has nothing resembling a surface. Here, heavy calm pulls you down to the centre of the planet, down into the thick wet soil. Wan-Ken's skin is painted with it, accentuating the pale gold of his body to stunning effect. His hands are brown and glistening from digging in the warm soil, eschewing tools in favour of direct communion with the earth, the Living Force. I can feel it radiating off him in all directions, especially mine. He adores the plants, and they sense it.
He is kneeling on the ground now, face close to the arcaba shrub he's just embedded in the soil of the South Wind Garden. I can see him rubbing his smooth cheeks against the large dark green leaves, and if I listened closely I am sure I could hear his voice, murmuring softly to his newest charge, assuring it of his presence and the well-meaning of all the strange life-forms inhabiting this Temple.
It was that same voice that homed in on the right bunch of strange life forms to talk to, and that same voice that, hours after he'd dashed off without a word, and after I'd searched high and low for him, presented me with the solution I had been too preoccupied, or too proud, to think of. I wanted him to be a Jedi at any cost. All he wanted was closeness to the Force, and to me. I am still humbled to think of it actually, and he makes ample use of this awkwardness in our nightly revelries, where I am still the captive, delirious with lust, and he is still the Master.
During the daytime, under the bright warming sun of Coruscant, I am a Master, and he is an apprentice gardener at the Temple.
"You couldn't catch me if you wanted now, Jinn," I say.
And I am holding on to my composure by my fingernails... oh Obi, or Force, he is _so_ gorgeous like this, and I thank all the powers that be that he didn't catch up with me that day. And that other day. And that he won't ever try to do anything I don't want... and no, he couldn't catch me if he wanted.
That's because his legs are encased in a sheath of my own devious making, a tapered skirt-like wrap I'd fashioned out of what I assume must have been a tablecloth once. I won't pretend I know what it's made of, but the material screamed at me in its shining black glory, strong and thin and just elastic enough to cling to Qui-Gon's powerful thighs without giving him room enough to move much. He is wrapped in this painted-on material from waist to ankles, his own belt strapped tightly around his slim hips, accentuating the unsettling pert curve of his delicious ass, and my own belt slung twice around his knees, allowing him tiny dainty steps and not much else. And the way his hips sway as he parades towards me as I ordered him to... the most expensive whore in all of Corellia couldn't be sexier even if she tried really hard. Really hard. Oh Obi, I am, and that Jinn-shaped wonder inching towards me in that seductive restrained walk, thighs straining against the sleek black material, bare chest proud and nipples hard, hands tied behind his back, hair loose and streaming over his shoulders, and oh that look in his eyes, darkened to new moons with lust, makes me even harder if that is at all imaginable...
I tear my eyes away from my wondrous willing slave and cast around for something that will put off my inevitable climax at the sight of him like this. And prolong his pleasure in submission.
"On your knees, Jinn. Forehead to the floor."
I can't hold back a moan at seeing him comply, slinking to the floor in a graceful fluid movement despite his bound state and the unmistakable erection straining the front of the tight sheath. He gets down on the floor for me, touching his head to the cool stone, letting his hair fan out seductively, a frozen stream of brown and silver, now exposing his broad shoulders. All that banked strength and energy in that body, all leashed for my sake, and because he loves submitting to me. The thought is intoxicating, almost too much to bear, and the testing crack of the whip serves as much to get me back to the reality at hand as to alert him to what is coming.
A delighted shudder courses through his taut body, followed by another one, and a long soft moan as I let my hand roam over his firm ass, two perfect globes encased in shiny black. My nails trace patterns of growing urgency on his covered skin, and his quickening breath tells me he is perfectly aware of how I'm sensitising him for the punishment that he's about to receive.
When his contented growl is almost continuous and I am far too close to giving in and plastering myself against his strong bound body, I tear my hand away and replace it, a split second later, with a well-aimed lash of the whip. I see the groove it cuts into the shiny taut material, just for a second before the resilient flesh takes its old shape again, this perfect shape that will be my undoing one of these days. He moans in pain and pleasure, and I sense through our bond that the tight sheath is cushioning the lashes, taking the pain down to a pleasurable level and allowing me to lay in with abandon without fearing permanent damage. I swing the whip in a maddening rhythm, getting high on the satisfying loud cracks of the leather cord on Qui-Gon's shiny ass and the increasingly urgent moans of pleasure from my beautiful slave. I feel myself leaking, a thick warm drop of pleasure running down my shaft, and I am so close, Obi, so close just from the sight of that amazing man folded up in willing wanton submission, grinding his hips ever so slightly to get maximum satisfaction out of his position and welcoming each new lash of the whip with a sigh of rapture. Oh if only I could see his face I surely couldn't hold out any longer... I am too close as it is...
With a slight flick of the wrist, I aim one lash at his unprotected back, placing it firmly between the shoulderblades, in the triangle left unprotected by his bound arms. He yells and rears up, staring at me wild-eyed, open-mouthed, vulnerable and proud, and all I can do is stand there and die and shoot my love and adoration for him out in a thin white arc of lust, the last drops falling on the hot pink welt that last lash left on his back, connecting heat to heat before I cover his back with my body, wrapping my arms around his waist and pulling him upright, biting the side of his neck affectionately.
He purrs like the giant predatory cat I know he is when I loosen his belt and dip my hands into the tight sheath, caressing his creamy hardness with firm rough strokes, rubbing the first drops of moisture into his silky skin and squeezing him until he is inarticulate with need and sheer pleasure, gasping and moaning more than breathing, writhing in my tight embrace trying to get more of me on his hot skin, grinding his firm shiny ass into my groin teasing me to renewed hardness, and just as I am ready to give in and tear the tight black stuff off him and just pump into him madly he gives a mighty roar and comes all over my hands and into the moist tight warmth of the sheath.
I use all my strength and a touch of the Force to hold him up, letting him slump against me in his breathless blissed-out state, a gorgeous warm weight on me, soft and heavy everywhere but in that one place where he's not softening at all, growing harder again and by the time I've eased him to the floor on to his back and finished eating my share of his lips he's leaking again, wanton hot hardness calling me...
I take a step back, not to distance myself but to get a better view of the feast laid out for me: my Qui-Gon, legs still bound together by the belt and the shiny black sheath outlining his long strong thighs and making him look like an obsidian statue, exposed, half-naked, hands bound, lips moist and swollen and that unbearable desire in his eyes that I can't help but answer to the fullest. Yes, Qui-Gon, you are mine, as much as I am yours... but damn it I will give you what you want, and that is gentle torture.
Planting my feet astride his supine body, I wiggle my hips ever so slightly, eliciting a groan from him. Mmmmh. Now for phase two. I run my hands down my naked flanks, ever so slowly, caressing myself, sliding them over my hips and back, over my bare buttocks, stroking slowly, then parting the cheeks slightly at first, then widely, allowing him a good view of my tight little hole.
"Want that, don't you, slave?" I purr, and am almost disappointed when the growling moan from him comes mingled with what sounds like a chuckle. Irritated and unbelievably aroused at the same time, I glance round at him, just in time to catch the evil grin on his handsome face before... the Force takes over, and I am inexorably pulled down despite my struggles to remain upright. As if the air had turned to treacle, my body slides down towards his until I squat over him and... oh... his mighty cock has freed itself from its tight confines and nudges deliciously against my little hole, and the... Force swirls inside me and pulls and pulls and I find myself sinking down and down into the abyss of pleasure, filled to bursting with the thick hard length of my Qui-Gon and I cry out at the red hot fullness in me and he hisses in lust and bucks up his hips, straining against his bound hands and knees, making me ride him and hitting that hot spot up inside me hard, hard, harder, harder pleeeease...
I brush some stray stardust out of my eyes and rub my face against the man I have collapsed on top of, filled with his seed and a love that is too much for one soul to hold. He is... slippery. I open my eyes reluctantly and have to grin at how I've just rubbed my hot cheek against Qui-Gon's shins in their stretched taut bondage. He seems happy with that, if his sleepy purr is anything to go by. Sighing happily, I settle my face back on his legs and follow him under. With him around me, how can I ever be wrong? With him around me, how can there be room for anything else? Oh, Obi, giver of gifts, he is so much, so much.
I asked for so little, and got so much...
--- The End ---