Series/Sequel: Cravings part 2 - even more PWP!! Short but
sweet. <smirk>
Archive: Yes to Master/Apprentice, Nesting Place and SWAL; all
others please ask
Warnings: Serious smut once again (Better get that towel, Mona)
Summary: Qui-Gon's turn.
Feedback: Yes, pretty please!! PWP makes me self-conscious.
Disclaimer: Lucas owns 'em. I use 'em. Lots.
Author's notes: Thanks for the suggestions Chris, part II is
really all your fault...<g>
Obi-Wan reached out sleepily across the bed to snuggle closer
to his Master, but found only an empty sheet. Disappointed, he
curled up close to Qui-Gon's pillow and sighed his way back
toward dreams. A pleasant, fruity scent drifted through his
drowsy haze, pulling the corners of his mouth up into an
unconscious smile.
"Obi-Wan." Seductive, and very close by. "Wake up, Padawan."
Obeying without thinking, the result of following years of
commands by that voice, Obi-Wan stretched languorously and
pushed himself to a sitting position, looking toward the sound.
His smile widened into an appreciative grin as he observed his
Master, naked, draped across the foot of the bed, eating some
sort of yellow peeled fruit which smelled intoxicating. Small
rivulets of juice were running down his hands, between his
fingers, dripping onto the broad chest, sliding down across the
nipples. Obi-Wan watched as though hypnotized as Qui-Gon took
another bite of the fruit, putting it slowly between his lips
and sucking on it before pulling it whole into his mouth.
Qui-Gon fought a half-delirious urge to grin with delight as he
watched Obi-Wan's transfixed stare. "My turn," he reminded his
apprentice in a low tone, picking up another piece of fruit,
touching it to his tongue, then pulling it back, nibbling at
it.
Obi-Wan was moving across the bed on his hands and knees,
something entirely predatory in his eyes, those radiant eyes
which held his Master's unbroken gaze. He settled on the sheet
in front of Qui-Gon, turning on his side, and lowered his head
over his Master's chest. His tongue found a sticky stream of
juice and caught the droplet as it sped toward the sheet,
lapping it up as a cat craves cream with small, quick strokes,
moving higher across shifting muscles. He paused to circle a
wet nipple with his tongue, biting gently with his teeth, a
consciously slow torture. He tilted his head back and to the
side, looking up at Qui-Gon, whose face openly showed his
pleasure.
Obi-Wan took Qui-Gon's hand and turned it, guiding those long,
pliable fingers into his mouth, cleaning them, experiencing the
tangy taste. He watched with stirrings of deep fulfillment as
Qui-Gon's eyes closed, his breath becoming shallow as Obi-Wan
swirled his tongue around the palm of his Master's hand,
pressing his lips there in a kiss. With Jedi speed, Obi-Wan
raised himself on strong arms and felt his teacher's mouth open
over his, welcoming him like an answered prayer, the magical
sensations running through both of them like bottled lightning.
Obi-Wan broke away, lips tingling. "Tortorian tangerines," he
said with certainty, the delicious taste still lingering.
"Correct, my Padawan." Qui-Gon shoved the plate of fruit aside.
"Now what shall we do about a reward?" Erotic tension vibrated
between them, and suddenly Qui-Gon was wrapping himself around
his Padawan, surrounding him with arms and legs, silencing all
requests with lips that scalded a trail across Obi-Wan's throat
and collarbone, evoking soft, inarticulate, strangled cries.
Obi-Wan demanded his lover's full attention to his aching
erection, which pressed hard into Qui-Gon's belly, and Qui-Gon
met the need in a flurry of hands and movement and deft skill,
his fingertips soothing the fire but refusing to extinguish it.
He slowed the fever pitch, cradling Obi-Wan in his arms, loving
every part of him with every inch of his own body, never
holding back, giving as completely as he dared.
His Master's weight left him for a moment, then settled to the
side. Through a fog of passion, Obi-Wan picked up the scent of
something sweetly exotic, as Qui-Gon's fingers finally closed
on the inferno between his hips, smoothing across the aching,
straining flesh with something wet and warm. The excruciating,
indescribable depth of his love for his Master strained to get
free. Qui-Gon's mouth was suddenly on his again, and Obi-Wan
could taste the source of the subtle perfume in the room,
before that mouth descended, gorging on him, feasting, and as
Obi-Wan came, Qui-Gon swallowed his Padawan's joy, the taste of
his love echoing in the back of his throat, feeling a bit of
his own soul slip away with Obi-Wan's.
Moments of silence passed, filled with the sounds of ragged
breathing, as the two men lay spent, tangled together.
"Corellian cherry sauce," Obi-Wan said suddenly. With some
effort, he raised himself on an elbow and looked over at
Qui-Gon, eyes sparkling. "Your turn," he said innocently, as
his Master slapped a hand over his eyes and groaned.
End.
6/10/99
The author is now very hungry and craves feedback at
destinaf@hotmail.com
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