by Vermillion Flame (Vermillion_Flame@hotmail.com)
Archive: Yes to m_a, anyone else please just ask
Series: Sequel to Boots. This will make more sense if you read
it first. It's at Boots
Category: PWP, Fetish, First-time
Rating: NC 17
Warning: none
Summary: Qui-Gon notices a particular "something" about his
boots, and confronts Obi-Wan.
Feedback: All feedback is cherished. I am certainly open to
constructive criticism.
Disclaimer: The characters herein belong to Lucasfilm, no
copyright infringement intended.
Notes: This smutty first-time is for all you boot fetishists on
the list who wrote requesting a sequel to Boots. Hope you like
it.
Qui-Gon moved about his room, finishing the comforting routine
he observed while at home on Coruscant. He strapped on his belt
and adjusted his tunic so that it hung neatly. He brushed his
hair and tied it back in the style he had long preferred.
While busying himself with the familiar actions, his mind
wandered to thoughts of his padawan. Qui-Gon had left breakfast
on the table for Obi-Wan, but the young man was so late rising
that the master was beginning to think he should just put the
food away, and let his apprentice fend for himself when he
eventually decided to get up.
Finally Qui-Gon was ready for his day except for one item - his
boots. He looked about his room, not finding them in any of the
usual places. Maybe they were in the common room.
He took his boot quest into the larger living space, but was
distracted from his mission by the sight of an
apprentice-shaped lump slumped on a chair, crossed arms and
head resting on the dining table.
Obi-Wan must have dragged himself straight from his bed to the
table. He wore only his sleep leggings, and his appearance was
decidedly bedraggled.
"Who are you, and what have you done with my Padawan?" Qui-Gon
teased, leaning against the door frame.
Obi-Wan turned his head to face Qui-Gon and plopped it back
down onto his arms. "Master, if I *ever* express an intention
to judge the Initiates' Trials again, please remind me of this
moment. Better yet, send me to the Healers for a psychological
evaluation."
Qui-Gon laughed. "Come, now, Padawan, it couldn't have been
that bad."
"You have no idea," Obi-Wan groaned as he leaned back against
the chair and closed his eyes. "The unshielded stress levels,
the barely contained emotions, the tears and the frustration -
I don't know how their teachers manage it. And then the
celebration afterwards! I have been thoroughly pummeled."
"Why do you think so many knights wait until an initiate is
older before taking him on as a padawan? Better to let all that
youthful energy spend itself out than deal with it on a daily
basis."
Obi-Wan quirked an eyebrow at his master before returning to a
study of the insides of his eyelids. "So, the truth revealed,
at last. And I thought you all just got a perverse enjoyment
from keeping the young ones in suspense."
Qui-Gon smiled and shook his head, then refocused on his reason
for entering the room. Casting about, he asked his apprentice,
"Obi-Wan, have you seen my boots?"
Obi-Wan's eyes remained closed, but he knew the answer. "I
believe they are next to the couch, Master."
"So they are." Qui-Gon strode across the room and settled into
the corner of the couch, reaching down for his boots. He smiled
as he felt the familiar Force signature pervading the area.
"Well, I know where you were sitting last night, Padawan."
Obi-Wan gave a short laugh. "Exactly where you were before me,
Master." He sat forward, finally taking an interest in the
breakfast options before him.
"True enough." Qui-Gon glanced at his apprentice. "We certainly
can't keep secrets from each other, can we?"
His padawan offered an enigmatic smile in reply.
Qui-Gon pulled on his right boot, squirming his foot into the
proper position. He repeated the sequence with his left foot,
but stopped when his toes were impeded by a soft lump.
Furrowing his brow, he removed the boot and stuck his hand into
its depths.
His fingers met something soft, damp and slightly fuzzy. He
pulled it out, laying the boot across his lap.
It was a sock. He shook it, straightening the roll of fabric.
Not his sock.
He peeked at Obi-Wan. His apprentice was slouched in his seat,
munching a piece of fruit, paying him no attention.
Why would someone else's sock be in his boot? More precisely,
why would Obi-Wan's sock be in his boot? He looked down at the
footwear resting horizontally across his knees. Concentrating
now, he found a strong sense of Obi-Wan tied it. He sniffed.
Was there a bit of an odor? Something...pungent?
Qui-Gon rubbed the boot hide with his fingers, releasing more
of the smell. It was a bit like....
No! It couldn't be. Obi-Wan?
Qui-Gon again looked up at his padawan, this time catching his
eye for a split second before the apprentice hurriedly looked
back at the table, focusing on his lazy breakfast as though
nothing had happened.
Yes, something was up.
Putting his training in logical deduction to good use, Qui-Gon
tied together the evidence and came to a tentative conclusion.
He was almost afraid to consider it, after all this time. Was
it possible that his padawan had feelings that matched his own?
Qui-Gon cleared his throat and asked light-heartedly, "Obi-Wan,
have you lost something?" He held the sock up, on display for
its owner to claim.
Flushed cheeks and an abashed expression met Qui-Gon's query.
"Yes, Master, I believe that must be mine."
The Jedi Master raised one eyebrow, and stared pointedly at his
apprentice.
The evidence before him, Obi-Wan had to own up to his behavior.
Qui-Gon was proud of the fact that his padawan never lied to
him.
The words came out in a rush. "Master, it was a whim. After
spending three days with the Initiates, I started to think
about my own youth. What it was like to be a new padawan. While
I was sitting on the couch last night, I slipped into your
boots. Do you remember when I used to plod around the room,
pretending to be you?"
Qui-Gon smiled at the memory. He did indeed remember. But for
him, it seemed a lifetime ago, for the child-Obi-Wan had
disappeared. In his place there was the strong, handsome man
sitting at their table. Qui-Gon knew he had witnessed the
change, but the transition was so gradual, it seemed that the
boy who had worn his shoes had become altogether a different
person.
Pulling the boot on, Qui-Gon nodded. "I do remember, Obi-Wan.
You have grown to fill out your own boots now."
Obi-Wan went back to eating, conveying a definite lack of
interest in pursuing any further discussion on the topic.
Qui-Gon lingered in his seat, considering his options. He could
confront his padawan, hoping that his deduction was correct and
that Obi-Wan reciprocated his feelings. Or, he could let it
pass. He could let it pass and wonder if he would ever be given
another opportunity like this one. Live in the moment, he
counseled himself.
He crossed the room and pulled out the chair next to Obi-Wan's.
He sat, propping his left ankle on his right knee. His hand
slid over the soft boot hide. The smell - that smell - drifted
into the air.
Qui-Gon sat silently, long enough that Obi-Wan finally looked
at him expectantly. "Is there something you wish to tell me?"
Qui-Gon asked. The words were simple, but the depth of their
meaning was conveyed by the tone of voice.
Obi-Wan looked warily at Qui-Gon's hand and the boot it rested
on before turning back to his breakfast, taking unusual care in
buttering a slice of bread. He affected a casual tone. "No,
Master. Nothing I wish to say."
Of course. Stupid of him to ask in that way. Qui-Gon wasn't
going to let him off the hook, though, now that he finally had
some evidence, albeit circumstantial, that Obi-Wan shared the
desire that had beset him over the past months.
He caught Obi-Wan's eye, and the young man's hand stopped
mid-way to his mouth. He had never been able to ignore the full
Master stare. No padawan could. Qui-Gon wrapped his large hand
around Obi-Wan's wrist, and pulled it down to the table.
"Do you want something, Master?" Obi-Wan asked nervously.
"That was going to be my next question to you, Obi-Wan. Is
there something that *you* want?"
Their eyes remained locked. Time strung out between them. There
was no doubt in Qui-Gon's mind that Obi-Wan knew exactly what
he meant. But would the young man take the rather unexpected
opportunity Qui-Gon offered? He could feel Obi-Wan's mind
racing, weighing the decision that could change their
relationship forever.
Reality sharpened and focused. The universe collapsed down to
two men, sitting inches away from one another. Each could hear
the other breathe. Between them the molecules of air vibrated
with tension.
Qui-Gon refused to look away.
Obi-Wan began to tremble, ever so slightly. Qui-Gon saw his jaw
move, as if his mouth were unwilling to speak the words it had
been commanded to convey. Finally, the young man's lips parted,
and his voice was barely audible over his harshly exhaled
breath.
"You. I want you."
The words were softly spoken, but they hit the master like a
power surge. He could scarcely believe his own ears. Still,
Qui-Gon's intense concentration did not waiver. He had to be
sure.
"Be careful what you ask for, Obi-Wan. You may get it."
"I know what I want," Obi-Wan replied, more confident now. A
long pause followed, and then almost defiantly, he asserted
himself. "I want you."
"Then you shall have me."
Obi-Wan's face registered disbelief as Qui-Gon pulled on the
wrist he still held wrapped in his fingers. Neither man noticed
the sharp clatter of the chair hitting the floor as Obi-Wan
rose and moved to stand before his master.
There was only a moment's hesitation, and then Obi-Wan was
astride his lap, kissing him, taking what had been offered. It
was sudden enough that it took Qui-Gon several seconds to
realize that he could return the kiss. This was real. This was
no longer fantasy.
Their lips met harshly, each man reveling in the sensual
connection of their mouths. Qui-Gon wrapped his arms around his
padawan, stroking his bare back. Obi-Wan readjusted his
position, breaking the kiss to lean back into the caress of the
large hands, but scooting his hips forward so that their groins
met. It was electric, and both men groaned.
Another kiss then, this time with tongues and teeth and an
urgency to explore. Qui-Gon broke away to continue the erotic
investigation, his mouth licking its way down Obi-Wan's neck
and gliding over his chest. The passion rolling off the man in
his lap was intoxicating. He was giddy with pleasure long
denied. He needed to slow down, or he would come from just the
preliminaries.
Qui-Gon pulled back to take a deep breath, and found himself
under an intense gaze. For a dreadful second, he thought his
padawan might put an end to this, might stand up and walk away.
There was a question in his eyes.
Obi-Wan grasped the fabric of his master's tunic, and tugged
slightly, as if to remove it. "Is this what you want?" he asked
softly.
Qui-Gon responded without a second thought. "Yes, my Obi-Wan.
It is what I have wanted for a very long time."
That was all the reassurance Obi-Wan needed. He threw his
energy into removing his master's clothes. Qui-Gon assisted,
and he was soon bare-chested.
Obi-Wan's hands wandered back and forth across the broad chest,
seemingly captivated by the expanse of skin. Qui-Gon
understood. How many thousands of times had they touched each
other, but never in this way. It was familiar. It was totally
new.
Qui-Gon pushed gently against Obi-Wan, needing more maneuvering
room to free himself of the remaining clothing. The younger man
stood, and Qui-Gon leaned over to undo the fastenings of his
boots.
Obi-Wan stopped him with a gentle hand. "Let me," he asserted.
The apprentice knelt at his master's feet. Instead of the
clasps being undone, Qui-Gon sensed fingers moving over the
tall boots. Strong hands kneaded the leather, and he heard a
soft moan. Obi-Wan looked up questioningly, then, his cheeks
flushed and his lips slightly parted. When Qui-Gon gave no sign
of disapproval, he seemed to make a decision. He rose abruptly
and slipped out of his leggings.
Qui-Gon inhaled sharply as his eyes took in the glorious body
before him. His felt a further tightening in his groin, and was
surprised by his own deep groan.
Obi-Wan knelt again before his master, close enough to rest
thighs against shins. Qui-Gon responded willingly when the
young man leaned forward, asking mutely for a kiss. Then
Obi-Wan began to move, hips undulating, his erection rubbing
against the soft leather. Qui-Gon felt strong fingers grasp his
thighs, holding on tightly as Obi-Wan's head fell back and he
took his pleasure from the friction of the boots.
Qui-Gon gaped in stunned fascination at the handsome face of
his padawan caught up in this erotic act. He watched as the
muscles progressed from slack to tight, as the flush on his
cheeks became darker, as his teeth dug into his lower lip, as
though he could control the deep moans emanating from his
throat.
Qui-Gon felt the pressure of his movements, the thrusts
steadily speeding as Obi-Wan rapidly approached his climax.
Finally the eyes clenched and facial muscles contracted in
ecstasy as Obi-Wan cried out, his back arching as he came
against the dark brown leather.
Only years of practiced self-control kept Qui-Gon from
spiraling into his own climax as he watched his padawan's
wanton display. He brushed his hand over Obi-Wan's head where
it rested on his knee, listening as the younger man gasped for
breath.
But the master's control was almost spent. He could wait no
longer. He gently pushed Obi-Wan back onto his heels, and
scooted the chair back. He stood, hurriedly stripping off his
boots and clothing, keenly aware that his every move was
watched.
Obi-Wan was in his arms in an instant, their naked bodies at
last in full contact. The sensation of skin against skin was
astonishing, every nerve ending between them firing with
intense sensuality. Qui-Gon leaned down to find Obi-Wan's lips
again, reconnecting, making sure this was really happening. He
found his padawan eager to continue.
Qui-Gon glanced across the room to his bedroom door. He really
did not want to let go of the man in his arms long enough to
walk all the way across the common room and to his bed. He
didn't want to break the spell cast by this amazing moment.
As though he sensed Qui-Gon's distraction, Obi-Wan leaned into
him, his urgent kisses conveying his impatience. Qui-Gon had to
shift his weight to support the increased pressure, and his hip
contacted the dining table.
He considered the option. Why not?
Qui-Gon stepped away, keeping one hand on Obi-Wan's arm, as
though he might yet bolt. With his long arm he swept away the
breakfast dishes, pushing some to the further end of the table,
sending others smashing onto the floor. It didn't matter.
He pulled Obi-Wan against him at the end of the table. His
purpose was clear. "What do you want, Obi-Wan?" he demanded
hoarsely.
There was no reply. Qui-Gon couldn't tell if Obi-Wan was unsure
of the answer, or was afraid to ask. He stroked his cheek with
a rough hand.
"Tell me," he encouraged, sending reassurance over their bond.
Suddenly reticent at having to assert his desires aloud,
Obi-Wan reverted to a more submissive mode. He bent his head.
"I want to be inside you, Master. I want to feel your body
surround me."
Qui-Gon shivered at the request, and pulled Obi-Wan's chin up
for an impassioned kiss, giving his consent. He turned to sit
on the table, but noticed his padawan looking at the floor. At
his boots. Obi-Wan may have been too timid to ask, but Qui-Gon
knew what that look meant.
He took two steps away from the table, and carefully picked up
a messy boot. Glancing at his wide-eyed padawan, he pulled it
on. He slid into its mate, and then stood, facing Obi-Wan. The
scalding look he was subjected to suddenly made him feel very,
very naked. It was very, very erotic.
He was on the table in a moment, laying back, presenting
himself to his new lover. Obi-Wan's grip pulled him forward so
that his rear rested just at the edge of the table. Qui-Gon
wrapped his legs around Obi-Wan's hips, hearing the squeak of
leather when his ankles locked behind his back.
Obi-Wan's face looked glazed as he rubbed his hands over the
boots, smearing his own semen into the leather. His breath came
out in harsh gasps. Qui-Gon imagined him sitting on the couch
the previous night, doing much the same thing.
Enough. He pulled forward with his booted legs. "Now, Obi-Wan,"
he commanded.
Qui-Gon shivered in anticipation as Obi-Wan reached for the
butter left on the table from breakfast. He melted it in his
hands, and then locked eyes with Qui-Gon. With long, sensuous
strokes he spread it over his own phallus, groaning, bringing
it once again to full arousal. Qui-Gon thrust his hips in time
to the motions.
And then Obi-Wan was inside him, moving with an unsteady
rhythm. It was awkward, but Qui-Gon let his padawan control the
situation. After a few seconds, he felt his legs being pushed
back and up. He complied with the unspoken directions as his
ankles were guided to Obi-Wan's shoulders.
His padawan took up the rhythm again, and this time spikes of
pleasure tore through Qui-Gon with each thrust. He looked up to
see Obi-Wan's face framed by the brown leather boots. Qui-Gon
saw him turn his head, and watched as his tongue flicked out to
lick the soft hide, tasting the essence imbued there. Qui-Gon
found it incredibly lecherous. He was very close.
"Obi-Wan," he cried out, needing to see the eyes of his lover.
When he turned, those eyes conveyed a world of emotion, from
passion to trust to love. That look surpassed any fantasy
Qui-Gon had ever imagined. His hips thrust upwards, and he
came, again calling out Obi-Wan's name. He heard an answering
cry as the final deep thrusts pounded into his body.
Obi-Wan's weight collapsed on top of him. He wrapped his arms
around the younger man as they both enjoyed the lingering
sensations of their lovemaking. It was not exactly a
comfortable position, though, and they soon found themselves
moving back to where they had started, with Qui-Gon seated in a
chair, and Obi-Wan astride his lap.
Qui-Gon stroked Obi-Wan's back firmly, and claimed several
gentle kisses. He reveled in the new sensation of holding his
naked padawan. There were a thousand things he wanted to say.
There were a thousand questions he wanted to ask. But there was
one question he just had to know the answer to now.
"Obi-Wan?"
"Yes, Master," came the reply, in between kisses.
"How long have you had a boot fetish?"
Obi-Wan laughed. "Actually, Master, only since last night."
Qui-Gon put on a serious face. "Do you intend to cultivate it?"
Obi-Wan bit his lip, considering. "Yes, I rather think I will."
"Good," Qui-Gon replied, and dove in for another kiss.
The End
Would you like to read this from Obi's POV, or have you had
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