Master
Apprentice  Archive
Blank Verse & Other Atrocities
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To celebrayte ye 1300th annyversarye of ye Jedi Temple at
Corruscante
The Padawan Players Proudly Presente
Master Lyam Spearshaker's Tragedie
Romiio and Zu-
"Sithspit!!"
The hastily dropped pen made an angry ink blotch all over the nearly finished poster, and the hapless Padawan in charge of the pen (and now, he thought with a sigh, in charge of yet another attempt at a viable hand-written poster) glared at his commlink. Unperturbed, it rung.
"Jinn."
"Quigs, thank the Force! You wouldn't want to know how many people I've tried to... aaaah-tshoo! Pardon... tried to reach this afternoon and nobody was frickin' available..."
"I have a feeling you're about to tell me why, Berwed. Spit it out girl, what's cooking?"
"Ugh, Quigs. Coming straight to the point as always, are you? Or is that your Living Force connection speaking... well, Quigs, truth is I've... -- tshoo! sorry, I've caught a bad bad case of mer-flu, 'nthere's no way I'll make it to the performance... 'specially as literally everything that's cooking comes back up for an encore at the moment..."
Qui-Gon's pained expression was almost audible through the commlink. "Does Master Lü Cas know? I mean... Berwed, there's no way the play's going ahead without you. Remember we had to pull Bant out of understudying Zuliet? "And palm to fin is holy palmer's kiss." Force, I couldn't keep a straight face if I had to play Romiio alongside her... you sure you can't pull yourself together enough, Ber?"
A long and metallic fit of coughs. "Sorry." Quietly. "I'm a wreck, and I'm not going to start out the play if I know I'm gonna be dead from exhaustion by the second act, Quigs... and I've told Lü Cas, yes. Well, I've spoken to his voicemail, he never seems to be in these days - Force knows what sort of last-minute production values he's cooking up again! You'll do fine, Quigs, and you'll conjure up a replacement Zuliet. I've seen it in the Force, mate... break a leg, Quigs."
"Listen, get better soon, okay?" With a sigh, Padawan Jinn sanded down the blotched bit of paper and started again.
Of course there was a replacement Zuliet. Well, there was a replacement anyone really -- and why he'd been left in charge of the props and costumes was anyone's guess. Not that Padawan Kenobi was untalented with a needle and thread, quite on the contrary. He was, however, also the heart and soul of the haphazard Padawan troupe, as the only one who knew all the lines. And had a way of projecting his voice so that sometimes even Master Lü Cas wouldn't notice that the beautifully modulated voice saving the blushing actor's scene was in facet Obi-Wan Kenobi's, coming from the sidelines.
Make no mistake, he'd make a lovely Zuliet. Qui-Gon sighed. He'd make the best Zuliet of all times. Especially with Jinn as Romiio... it would come almost naturally. No, it would come completely naturally. The problem wasn't acting as lovers. The problem was pretending not to _be_ lovers. Master Lü Cas would throw a fit, Qui-Gon knew. His ideas about the nature of man, especially in close quarters with the immortal works of Master Lyam Spearshaker, bore no objection. It'd be a hard one...
"Bugger directors." Qui-Gon planted the final squiggle on an already squiggle-laden imitation of Old Coruscanti script, his mind wandering along the tangent created by that particular verb...
The Great Hall was a hubbub of arguing voices and scurrying bodies when he arrived, somewhat late and laden with a few hundred holocopies of the poster he'd just knocked up. The production seemed to be going ahead after all, judging from the busy to and fro of props, costumes and extras... Bant, balancing a replica tombstone on her head cheerily, bumped into Qui-Gon with aplomb and grinned at him in such a knowing fashion that he could not help but succumb and ask.
"What do you mean, you don't know? Hey, where's your famed Force sense, Quigs? More to the point..." she nudged him in the ribs with the foam gravestone, "where's your... bond? Your darling boyfriend has just been promoted to your girlfriend, at least for a night -- Romiio, meet Zuliet!"
And with that, she indelicately shoved an astonished Qui-Gon in the direction of the tight knot of milling Padawans around Master Lü Cas, who was at this point sternly addressing thin air, as Obi-Wan Kenobi had taken this opportunity to escape the Master's lecturing at Force-speed. Pretending to relieve Qui-Gon of his load, he slipped an arm round the elder Padawan's waist and tickled him surreptitiously, just above the sash. Qui-Gon gasped and grinned sheepishly.
"There's good news and there's bad news, Quigs. Bad news is you won't have tomorrow night off -- good news is the prop boy has been appointed female lead... ta-daa!" With a theatrical flourish, Obi-Wan _did_ Zuliet. It was the only way it could possibly have been described. The spirit of a 14-year-old humanoid female emanating from the robust body of a 19-year-old Jedi Padawan. Qui-Gon had to admit the boy had talent. Even as an actor.
"I guess it's because I was the only one short enough," Obi-Wan grinned, "or else I just knew Zuliet's lines better than Master Lü Cas!" Qui-Gon winced at the idea of having to face the greying Master as his youthful betrothed. "C'mon, get into gear, Quigs! You'll love what I stitched together for you..."
"All right, but do you... ummmmmh... do you have to use... mmph! ...use edera syrup for poison, Ke... nnnnnnobi?" Qui-Gon was fast running out of breath under the insistent kisses of his lover. Obi-Wan just laughed, loud, and Qui-Gon winced instinctively and had to remind himself they were alone, that they had stayed behind to clear up the stage after the dress rehearsal and set everything up for tomorrow's grand premiere...
"C'mon, Jinney, I need to give them _some_ innocent reason why Zuliet kisses her Romiio oh so fervently even after he's dead.... not that I need the pretence of the role of course..." With that, he launched himself at a still stunned Qui-Gon and plastered himself against the elder Padawan's body, sensuous and sticky in sheer light green silk. He had shed the underskirts already, and Qui-Gon moaned at the feel of those taut round buttocks so warm and firm under the thin material, and at the hot hard erection he faintly felt rubbing against his thigh through his own costume. Clinging. Obi-Wan clung to him like the sheer green satin clung to Obi-Wan's lush ass... and lean hard thighs... and strong smooth hips... and that agile tongue was fast scooping out the last of his composure from an already open and willing mouth, and he surrendered, hopelessly aroused, and ground his own throbbing hardness against Obi-Wan's supple body... only to receive a ringing slap on his own leather-clad ass, and another one of these to-die-for grins as the younger man danced away from him, silk gown flowing around him sinuously.
"I'm still not quite happy with your interpretation of the youthful lover, Quigs... care for another run-through of that balcony scene?" And before Qui-Gon could even catch his breath for a reply, Obi-Wan had vanished. To the stage, then.
But soft! what light through yonder window breaks?
It is the east, and Zuliet is the sun! --
Arise, fair sun, and-
//Care to see how fairly I've arisen, Quigs?//
Qui-Gon stared, as the centuries-old dialogue unfolded around him in a voice that was clearly Kenobi's. And a voice that was clearly his. His mind, however, was elsewhere entirely. His mind was melting into a warm viscous mass that oozed down his spine glisteningly and pooled in his groin. Oh, these long tight leather pants were certainly a gorgeous invention of Obi-Wan's... but... just that little bit too tight at the sight of Obi-Wan slowly stroking himself through the thin fabric of his dress. The filmy satin left nothing to the imagination, and Qui-Gon was certain he could see the individual veins standing out on his lover's flesh as he caressed his hardness languidly, up there on the balcony, lust radiating off him like the rays of an overheated sun.
What man art thou that thus bescreen'd in night
So stumblest on my counsel?
//Counsel you call that, Kenobi? I'll show you counsel!// With a well-aimed standing leap, Jinn fastened his hands on the railing of the balcony, an iron grip. Well aware of the effect the soft leather clothing was having on the way his muscles appeared, he pulled himself up with a delicious slowness, biceps straining against the tightly-bunched sleeves of glove-soft split leather...
For stony limits cannot hold love out:
And what love can do, that dares love attempt!
Stealthily planting his booted feet on the bottom edge of the balcony railing, Qui-Gon awaited a dramatic pause in his declamation before launching himself at Obi-Wan and fastening his greedy mouth on the younger man's silk-clad hardness. Obi-Wan's moans coloured his vowels to a maddening degree, and when he arrived at
Thou know'st the mask of night is on my face;
Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek...,
Qui-Gon pushed himself the rest of the way onto the balcony and slammed a squirming Obi-Wan against the rear wall with the physical equivalent of a //yeah right, mate!//. Taking a step back to admire the admittedly cute maiden blush on Obi-Wan's warm face, he nevertheless held the younger man's arms firmly pinned to the scaffolding that played at being a wall. Oh, he was beautiful... a writhing miracle of human flesh under a liquid sheath of green silk, and Qui-Gon couldn't for the life of him decide whether to rip the dress off his captive or leave it on and just...
O! Wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?
Right. That wicked glittering grin was just too much. Roaring, Qui-Gon grabbed his young lover by the waist and flung him against the balcony railing so that Obi-Wan's upper body dangled six feet above the stage boards, bent over the edge at just the right angle... Qui-Gon's mind descended into a haze of hot slick lust as he grabbed those perfect cheeks through the clinging fabric, then threw the long skirt over Obi-Wan's back and head, blinding him gently while he fought to hold the squirming body down with one hand and hastily unlaced the front of his by now painfully tight leather pants with the other. His cock sprang free, red-hot and leaking and glistening with sweat, and the scent of his own arousal, mingled with the aroma of the leather, invaded his senses as he hastily prepared Obi-Wan's eager body with his free hand, then when that wasn't enough he fastened his mouth on the younger man's tight opening and wet it thoroughly with his tongue, drawing increasingly incoherent blank verse and shrieks from Obi-Wan who was by now desperately rubbing himself against the balcony railing.
The sight of his lover's tight hot flesh opening to receive his quivering hardness drove Qui-Gon to the limits of his sanity... oh this gorgeous sprite of a man, and all his... he had to still himself consciously for a moment there, just to keep himself from coming instantly, and stood quietly, buried to the root in Obi-Wan's willing heat, until he felt he was merely brain-meltingly aroused and no longer totally insane with desire. Obi-Wan wriggled his hips slightly, drawing his own satisfaction from the friction of his cock against the railing, and of Qui-Gon's cock inside him. With all the control of a senior Jedi Padawan, Qui-Gon Jinn slowly canted his hips backwards, sliding almost all the way out...
Wouldst thou withdraw it? For what purpose, love?
That did it. With an animal roar, Qui-Gon slammed himself into the core of his lover's body, nudging the younger man's heart with the tip of his swollen cock, driving himself deeper and deeper into the maddening heat and tightness that was Obi-Wan. The stage vibrated under the onslaught of the older Padawan's strong body, and in a last-ditch effort at saving both their lives, Qui-Gon pulled his wildly spasming lover upright and clasped his arms around the younger man's silk-covered chest, fiercely rubbing the tiny hard nipples standing so proudly under the sheer material. With a hoarse yell, Obi-Wan released an arc of shiny white pleasure into the air, a perfect curve to match the curve of his Padawan braid as Qui-Gon pulled him upright for one last thrust. As Obi-Wan's seed hit the stage below with a soft 'splat', and his red Padawan braid hit his shoulder to twine with Qui-Gon's dark brown one, Qui-Gon exploded in a shower of stinging bright little lights and crushed his lover in a hot steel-and-leather embrace, roaring his completion to the ceiling.
Breathless, lips caught in a magnetic sticky kiss, Obi-Wan's mental voice completed the scene...
//And yet I wish but for the thing I have.
My bounty is as boundless as the sea,
My love as deep; the more I give to thee,
the more I have, for both are infinite.//
"You will help me lace into that thing Jinn. Now."
Obi-Wan's voice brooked no argument. Not that Qui-Gon was in any way averse to strapping Obi-Wan into his corset at all, especially seeing as the young man was currently clad in precisely nothing at all... it was just... well, it was about twenty minutes to showtime, and Qui-Gon simply wasn't sure he would withstand the temptation. Not to mention the fact that Master Lü Cas could walk in any minute...
"Ji-inn. Look, His stipulation was I had to look an absolute female. No, and I mean absolutely no evidence of the fact hat I am Obi-Wan Kenobi in real life, right? Now help me with that waist, please!"
As if Qui-Gon was in any way capable of resisting that cute crooked smile. His own leather pants tightened dangerously with every tug on the laces, with every inch off Obi-Wan's already slender waist. When he was sure he could not pull any tighter without hurting his lover, a satisfied gasp from Obi-Wan told him to stop. "Okay, that's great. Tie it up neatly and then go get me the ring and thongs, okay darling?"
Qui-Gon stiffened at the term of endearment, then hastily reminded himself they were actors for the night, and legally allowed to call each other darling even in public. He couldn't prise his eyes away from Obi-Wan though, as the younger man straightened himself and stretched to accommodate the gorgeous tightness around his midriff. Touching the hem of the corset was the silky tip of an impressive hard-on. Qui-Gon sighed and cast around for the 'ring and thongs'. Ah.
"Right," Obi-Wan instructed, still wriggling a little to get accustomed to the corset, "the ring goes over the whole package... aaaah-" It was only Qui-Gon's questioning look that dragged him back from the brink of an orgasm. "C'mon Quigs, I want my bit of fun too if I've got to wear this ludicrous outfit. If I've got to hide the thing I might as well keep it from changing size... now, the thong loops into the ring, like so... then wind it around the shaft, round and round and round, loop around the head... a little tighter... yyyaaah, stop! Right...," he was breathing heavily by now, "between the legs, up through the crack and around my newly-created waist. Perfect!" Obi-Wan gave an experimental wiggle to test the firmness of his improvised feminisation device and had to will himself to calm. Mmmmmh, tight. " 'kay." He gave Qui-Gon an appraising look. The older Padawan was resplendent in the costume he had designed especially for him, from the soft shiny black boots to the tight leather pants and the open-necked brown shirt with the wide bunched sleeves, made from the finest velvet-like split leather on all of Coruscant. Perfectly matching the unruly short hair sticking out in all directions above Jinn's majestic forehead. With a professional sigh, Obi-Wan smoothed his lover's messy hair and clipped the Padawan braid up and away into the undergrowth. "_Now_ you're a youthful Corellian lover, not a Padawan on his grand day out! Now, if I could have my gown and wig, please?"
Minutes later, Bant poked her head in to call showtime and found Qui-Gon Jinn dressed as Romiio, engaged in a passionate kiss with a slender brunette she'd never seen before...
The audience was lightening up visibly, turning from a calm ocean of dark brown Jedi robes to a choppy sea as the play progressed and one by one the spectators found it necessary to divest themselves of the warm robes, and in some cases even the outer tunics. Temperature-sensitive beings had begun fanning themselves delicately by the second act, and pheromones of all species of the galaxy silently percolated into the air of the Great Hall as the assembled members of the Order witnessed the unfolding tragedy of Romiio and Zuliet, and absorbed the sheer radiant love and desire that pulsed between them. An uneasy heat rippled through the rows at the sight of the adorable female lead, and many a Knight racked his brains for a reason he had never noticed this maddeningly beautiful woman before. And many a Knight's subconscious roiled with hot jealousy for the sincere kisses she bestowed on that lucky bastard Jinn whenever the script allowed.
The only one seething not with pleasure and arousal, but with rage, was Master Lü Cas. Quietly. Awkwardly, he squirmed in his chair, unintentionally rubbing thighs with Councillor Windu, who gave a quiet purr that horrified Lü Cas further. Oh, he would kill Kenobi! He would... he would shame him in public, if that was possible any more after this pinnacle of shamelessness! This was no mere method acting, this was blatant sexual foreplay clad in the lines of the immortal Lyam Spearshaker, and the Force sang volumes about what it was that these two _men_ really felt for each other. It was an outrage! He would definitely murder Kenobi with his own hands once this was over.
Of course that was just what Kenobi was doing anyway. Murdering himself with his own hands, not without taking a long and languid draught from Jinn's sticky dead lips and collapsing heavily and gracefully onto his bier, shroud covering him like a bride's veil, fine white gauze burned through by a smile that could have woken the dead. Outrageous!! He would... just you wait, Kenobi. I'll murder you for disgracing the Order in such a blatant way. And for ruining my play!! They're simmering with outrage, Kenobi, can't you sense it in your bird-brained infatuation? Just you wait until the curtain falls. They'll kill you, Kenobi. And you, Jinn. Foolish misguided boy that you are. They'll hiss you to death, sneer you into the ground, you... fairies. Ruining my production! Just you wait!!
Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things;
Some shall be pardon'd and some punished:
For never was a story of more woe
Than this of Zuliet and her Romiio.
The curtain fell, silently, soft velvet nearly getting caught on a crystalline patch of something white centre stage. Silence. Master Lü Cas ached and triumphed in equal measures and tensed in anticipation of the outcry.
It never came.
Oh yes, there were cries, and whoops, and yells, but they were drowned out in the roaring wave of applause that rose from the assembled audience. As one, they got up and leapt from their seats to shower their praise on the cast, on all the plucky Padawans who had helped make this play the outstanding production it ha been... waves of warm applause greeted Merkhuto and his broken lightsabre, a beaming Priest L'warence and his portable altar, squeaking along behind him on a wheelbarrow, and a portly Lady Capaulat whose Padawan braid was unravelling from her elaborate 10th century hairdo.
But the cheers rose to a deafening volume, assisted by Force-touches and nudges when the last two members of the cast reappeared on the stage. Stage left, a sweat-drenched Qui-Gon Jinn strode onstage, running his hands through his damp hair and wiping them on his leather pants, much to the enjoyment of the male-loving half of the audience. Stage right, the radiant brunette Zuliet danced in, long satin dress clinging to her fine body, hair streaming behind her as she leapt towards Jinn and... took his hand chastely and bowed to the audience.
The crowd went wild. Then, with impeccable timing, the mystery actress disengaged herself from her partner, ran her hands over her softly painted face and through her hair, yanked forward... and from behind a thick brown wig appeared the grinning face of --
"Obi-Wan Kenobi!!!!"
It was no use -- Master Lü Cas' booming voice was completely drowned out by the cheers from the audience, cheers that slowly mutated into whoops of surprise and appreciation, and ever more insistent sighs and moans... what the... Lü Cas spun round to stare at the stage again.
The green silk gown hung in shreds, and Kenobi's hands had disappeared entirely under Jinn's costume, much to the latter's enjoyment. Clawing at each other like wild animals, the two Padawans were greedily devouring each other, and it was only a well-aimed Force nudge from a giggling Master Yoda that brought the curtain down before the entire Jedi Temple would have been treated to an alternative ending to the revered play. Enraged, gasping, wide-eyed and his ears ringing with the moans of the two lovers behind the curtain, Master Lü Cas rushed to where Yoda was standing, a three-foot standing ovation, tapping his stick against the seat loudly and beaming.
"Master Yoda! This is..."
"Fun, this is. Liked it, Master Lyam Spearshaker would have. Congratulate you, I must, on your excellent casting. Sequel there will be, hmmm?"
Fun, this is. Master Lü Cas felt his world collapse, and gladly went under while the rebuilding was going on above.
"Think you can get Master Lü Cas a glass of water, Depa? If keep your hands off Mace for a minute you can, hmmm?"
--- The End ---