Summary: An exercise in concentration proves more difficult
than Obi Wan anticipated. Mildly humourous
"Concentrate, my Padawan." Qui Gon's voice was calm.
He was concentrating. And doing a pretty good job of it, Obi
Wan thought. He hovered, cross-legged, hands resting lightly on
his knees, precisely one fifth of a unit above the level of the
practice mat. His eyes were closed, but he didn't need them to
see the objects slowly tumbling above his head. A light sabre,
deactivated of course; a metal ball; and a very large, very
sharp, knife.
It was a standard exercise; one he'd done a thousand times
before. But he'd never done it quite like this. Not naked. Not
with his cock rock hard and wet-tipped with arousal. Most
certainly not while his master's hand stroked that aching
erection with steady persistence, all the while demanding that
he concentrate on keeping the objects dancing above his head
and his butt off the floor. But he was doing it now. And he'd
thought life would be easier, once they'd finally become
lovers...
"Now this..."
Still without opening his eyes, Obi Wan added a small box to
the collection. Just one more object to track, to fit into the
pattern. Easy enough. Lips brushed against his and without
missing a beat, Obi Wan opened his mouth to the probing tongue.
Kisses trailed from his lips to his earlobe and down his
throat, pausing to suck gently at the fluttering pulse beneath
his skin.
"Good." Qui Gon's hand stilled for a moment, and then his grip
shifted slightly.
The smooth glide of his foreskin back and forth across his
amply lubricated cockhead made Obi Wan falter. He recovered
immediately. The briefest of hesitations in the movement of the
four objects was the only evidence of his slip up. Obi Wan
allowed himself a moment of self-congratulation, then wondered
whether Qui Gon was going to bring him to orgasm, and what
would happen if he did. Surely his master didn't expect him
to...
"Now, Obi Wan, tell me what is in the box."
That was so easy it was ludicrous. Obi Wan stretched out his
senses but found them repulsed. He tried again, a frown
gathering on his brow, but could not reach inside the box. He
examined the outside of the box, but it seemed ordinary enough.
He probed again, this time seeking any kind of opening, any
weakness which would allow him access to its interior. Nothing.
"Master, I can't..." his voice faded into a soft gurgle as warm
lips pressed against his nipple.
His other nipple was gently tweaked, sending a jolt straight to
his groin. Fortunately, he was prepared for that, having
rapidly discovered Qui Gon's obsession with nipple play once
they'd become lovers.
"All things are possible, my Padawan."
Obi Wan pouted. "That's not what you said when I wanted to..."
"All things are possible. Not all of them are desirable." Qui
Gon's voice was firm. "Concentrate."
Every trick he knew failed. Obi Wan relegated control of his
body and of the objects to the back of his consciousness and
focussed on the mysterious box. He could have told his master
its exact dimensions and mass, the colour and texture of the
exterior surfaces, anything. Anything except its contents and
its composition. It was like nothing he'd ever encountered
before.
By now, Qui Gon's attentions had centred in just one area of
his body. His cock was firmly grasped while Qui Gon's tongue
slid the length of his shaft and then over the tip. Obi Wan
shivered a little, but didn't allow his concentration to slip.
It was, in fact, the only reason he wasn't ready to give up. He
didn't want the attempts at distraction to stop.
"It is possible to discover the contents, my Padawan." Qui
Gon's voice had taken on a distinctly husky tone.
Obi Wan sighed, at a loss as to what he should try next. Direct
observation had failed him... what else remained? Deduction?
Again, using the Force, he examined the box's exterior. None of
the many artefacts he'd examined in the course of his studies
resembled this. The decorative pattern gave no reference to any
culture he was aware of.
Gentle fingers eased back his foreskin and a soft, wet caress
on his cockhead forced him to throw all his resources into
maintaining the relative positions of himself and the four
objects above his head. A heartbeat later the caressing tongue
moved to his slit, making it pulse in eager response.
"Ohhhh..."
"Concentrate..." Qui Gon's voice was thickened with desire.
It surged between them like a living being, confounding them
both, and Obi Wan struggled to obey. He achieved it, just. The
four objects circled his head drunkenly, and his body began to
move in a swaying arc. He stilled himself with a desperate
effort and sent the objects back to their proper positions.
Qui Gon's mouth surrounded his cockhead with a distinct
slurping noise and then slid down the shaft, engulfing him.
Random thoughts not his own flashed into his head. His master
was becoming distracted. Obi Wan smiled as another course of
action presented itself to him. Indirect observation. Often the
most difficult and least reliable option, especially when
practised on fellow Jedi. But this was his last hope.
"A flame? No. Something... soft... smooth. Something orange? A
scarf?"
To Obi Wan's deep regret, his cock was released. "Well done,
Obi Wan."
He made the mistake of opening his eyes. Before he knew it he
was on his back on the mat, the light sabre on his chest, the
ball beside his head and the box on the floor a half unit away,
broken open, the orange scarf spilling from it. Only the knife
circled in the air above where his head had been, still in its
original position. Well, he'd suspected that Qui Gon had been
lending him a little covert assistance. He thought he'd
probably landed rather more gently than the laws of gravity
allowed as well.
The knife drifted down to land beside the ball, and the light
sabre shifted from his chest to join it. Obi Wan looked up at
his master kneeling beside him. "I think I need more practice
at this."
"That can be arranged, my Padawan." Qui Gon's hands were busy
with his belt. It dropped to the floor, followed in rapid
succession by the layers of clothing that concealed his upper
body. Next he pulled off his boots. Then his pants.
Obi Wan sighed in relief as his master's body covered his own.
His hands were seized and pressed to the mat on either side of
his head, their fingers tightly entwined, and with a minimum of
fuss the thick cock slid inside him. He flung a leg over Qui
Gon's hips in case the Jedi had any ideas about going anywhere.
Their bodies began to rock together and a long shuddering sigh
escaped them both at the same time. Qui Gon seized his mouth in
a hungry kiss.
A hint of movement on the very edge of his field of vision
distracted Obi Wan and he turned his head. The orange scarf was
slithering across the floor towards them. A startled moment
later he recognised that it was moving under Qui Gon's
direction and he relaxed again, arching his body up into the
deep thrusts of his lover. The soft brush of the scarf against
his arm diverted his attention once again, and he watched as it
wrapped itself around the wrists of their joined hands, binding
them together.
Qui Gon's eyes were studying him, inscrutable as always. He
wrenched his other hand free of his master's grasp and plunged
it into the thick mass of hair, drawing him down for another
endless kiss. They broke apart again, gasping for air as sobs
and groans were torn from their throats. Obi Wan felt his body
gathering itself for that last climactic plunge, his balls
drawn up tightly into his groin; and then the fierce
contractions of his cock sent him tumbling into overload.
He drifted back into the present, his head comfortably
cushioned on his master's broad chest. Their wrists, he noted,
were still bound by the orange scarf. It probably meant
something, but he was too exhausted to ask. And, besides, he
would trust Qui Gon with his life. And more.
It took a greater effort than he'd expected to lift his head.
"I love you, master." Strange how, even now, 'master' came more
naturally to his lips than 'Qui-Gon'. It was just the way of
things between them.
Neither of them had spoken the words before. The hint of a
smile came to Qui Gon's lips. "You are my heart's desire, my
Padawan. My other soul. I love you also."
He settled his head back onto his lover's chest with a quiet
sigh.
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