by Cori Lannam, (CoriLannam@aol.com) and Lilith Sedai
(lilith_sedai@hotmail.com)
Rating: NC-17
Archive: m_a, SWAL, OKEB, QJEB okay.
Classification: PWP
Warnings: This may be the dirtiest story you read here this
year.
Spoilers: none
Summary: Inspired by a short slashy bit from "Michael Collins"
Feedback: Please!
Obi-Wan wrung muddy water from his soaked, clinging robe. He
was no longer sure how much was rainwater and how much was
sweat. The cloudburst that had dumped rain on him and his
master had been brief, but it had provided no cooling from the
relentless heat of this benighted world. In fact, it had made
things worse, raising the humidity to one-hundred percent.
"How much further?" Obi-Wan knew he was whining, but he didn't
care.
"Not far."
Qui-Gon was calm and dignified despite the way his hair
straggled in ragged, wet streamers across his face and neck. He
managed to look regal in spite of the bits of mud, leaf, and
sticks clinging to his face, hair, and robes.
"Not far to where?"
"Not far to our next campsite."
"I don't see why we couldn't have taken a transport."
"Mechanical conveyances are against the planetary religion. You
know that."
"Then why can't we ride an animal of some sort?"
"They're sacred too," Qui-Gon explained for the umpteenth time,
but managed to hold onto his shrinking patience. "Just across
this ridge, Obi-Wan."
Obi-Wan sighed theatrically and concentrated on putting one leg
in front of the other, as Qui-Gon painted a picture of the lush
grove that awaited them. His mind wandered as Qui-Gon rambled
on. He had heard about this paradisical campsite as many times
as Qui-Gon had heard his rant about the glories of modern
transportation systems. But they had slept in the mud last
night, and the night before, and Obi-Wan had a very strong
suspicion that they would be doing so again tonight. Not that
his master would ever lie to him, oh no. There was supposed to
be a pleasant grove somewhere in this Force-forsaken
wilderness, and he supposed it was possible Qui-Gon might
actually believe they would find it.
Obi-Wan, however, had no such delusions. And not even Qui-Gon's
smooth, rich storytelling voice could convince him otherwise.
The sloshing, gritty mud in his boots and down his shirt was a
much more compelling version of reality.
Sure enough, when they crested the ridge, they were gazing down
into another mud-filled valley, with the dead logs of trees in
a characteristic herringbone pattern, all near the muddy lake
at the bottom of the hill. The logs were in various states of
decay; one area was filled with the shattered ruins of recently
living trees.
"Another mudslide!" Obi-Wan glared at Qui-Gon accusingly.
"We've seen mudslides, avoided mudslides, walked OVER
mudslides! Next thing you know we'll be IN one of the damned
things!"
"Don't borrow trouble." Qui-Gon shouldered his pack off. "The
ridgetop will be the safest place, I suppose. Let's set up
camp."
Obi-Wan stood motionless, back perfectly straight and rigid, as
Qui-Gon began the long-familiar routine. Too familiar. Too damn
familiar. A trickle of muddy water slid down his forehead into
the corner of his eye, but he could not make himself move
enough to wipe it away. Instead, he merely stared at his
master, who seemed completely unaffected by either their
current circumstances or Obi-Wan's disgruntlement.
After a few moments, Qui-Gon looked over at him. "Were you
planning to help, or would you like me to serve you your dinner
on a golden platter?" Obi-Wan almost growled, shrugging out of
his pack and dropping it with a splat into the mud.
"I'd like a bath on a golden platter," he snarled,
turning his back to Qui-Gon and bending to untie the back of
his pack and take out their tent.
SPLAT. Something warm, wet, and liquid landed full in
the center of his back.
Slowly, very slowly, with every speck of hard-won Jedi control
he possessed, Obi-Wan straightened up and turned around. "What
was that?"
Qui-Gon continued his preparations with what Obi-Wan knew was a
carefully assumed air of nonchalance. "What was what, Obi-Wan?"
He avoided his Padawan's stare, proof enough to Obi-Wan's mind
that he was guilty of something. Just to be sure, Obi-Wan
twisted his arm behind his back, fingers scraping along the
soft, damp wool of his cloak until they encountered the same
oozing warmth he had felt hit him. He pulled his hand back and
examined his fingers. Yes. Just as he thought.
Mud.
"Mud," he said in a deceptively soft voice. "You threw mud at
me."
Qui-Gon finally looked at him, arching his brows as though he
had no idea what Obi-Wan meant, or even what mud was. The
bastard. "Padawan?"
"Mud," Obi-Wan said again, his voice starting to rise. "The
last three days we have walked through mud, slept in mud, eaten
mud, and now you're throwing it at me?"
"Padawan," Qui-Gon said again, a hint of reprimand in his tone.
He held up his hands; they were perfectly clean, and were, in
fact, the cleanest visible part of his master. Obi-Wan felt his
jaw start to drop the slightest bit. No mud on his hands. No
evidence. But he had been so sure....
"Perhaps it was an overflying bird," Qui-Gon suggested.
Obi-Wan glowered at his master suspiciously.
Qui-Gon simply shrugged and bent back to his pack.
SPLAT. Qui-Gon turned back to Obi-Wan slowly, his eyes
narrowing dangerously.
Obi-Wan held up his own clean hands to demonstrate his own
innocence, trying to hold back a smirk. "Bird," he stated, then
let the smirk escape in spite of himself, watching Qui-Gon's
jaw work as he let the smirk widen into an ear-to-ear grin.
Qui-Gon reached behind himself and scraped the generous wad of
mud from his bottom. "I am quite certain that this is not
acceptable behavior, my young apprentice," Qui-Gon stated
mildly, but his eyes were dark and threatening beneath lowered
brows as he shook the mud off his hand.
"What's good for the Master is good for the Padawan," Obi-Wan
returned smugly. Turning one of the more irritating Jedi
proverbs back on his master was proving to be a fine salve to
his foul mood.
Qui-Gon, still staring at him, did not seem nearly as amused.
Obi-Wan watched cautiously as Qui-Gon kicked his pack aside,
taking a prudent step back. Qui-Gon bent to the side, and
gathered up a large fistful of muck from the ground. "How about
me cooking dinner?" Obi-Wan suggested hastily.
"I'll make you think dinner." Qui-Gon advanced dangerously with
the grace of a stalking predator in spite of the sucking of the
mud around his boots. Obi-Wan back-pedaled, almost tripping
over his pack. "Don't be hasty about this, I'm sure we can..."
Qui-Gon's stride merely quickened. Obi-Wan caught his heel in a
bush and almost went down, and Qui-Gon gained several strides
on him.
"Actions have consequences, young Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said in a
low growl. "I thought you had learned that lesson already, but
perhaps you need a reminder?" Only a few strides separated them
now, and Obi-Wan hastily jumped back another few steps.
"But you started it!" he protested.
Qui-Gon smiled then, a small, slow, highly dangerous smile.
"Prove it," he said with silken menace. Then, with lightening
speed not even Obi-Wan's Jedi reflexes could escape, he struck.
Obi-Wan felt his boots fly out from under him under his
master's weight, and suddenly they were both sliding, tumbling
and rolling downhill.
The universe turned to mud.
Obi-Wan flailed to escape Qui-Gon's arms, but his Master held
on doggedly, preventing him from rising and halting their
slide. They struck a plateau suddenly and Obi-Wan squirted out
of Qui-Gon's grasp like an egg out of a bottle, laughing and
wiping mud out of his eyes as he began to scramble back up the
hill. A huge hand caught his ankle, dragging him to his face in
the slime.
He dug his hands into the muck trying to halt his descent, but
only managed enough leverage to pull his face up out of the
mud. "Ugh!" he choked, spitting out the foul-tasting glop. A
positively wicked chuckle sounded from below and behind him.
With an abrupt surge, Obi-Wan managed to flip onto his back,
although he failed to dislodge the hand still gripping his
ankle. "You're going to regret this, you know," Obi-Wan
informed the mud-covered creature he assumed was his master,
fighting down a giggle at the ever-composed Qui-Gon's
bedraggled and beslimed state.
"Not as much as you are!" Spitting mud, Qui-Gon relentlessly
hauled Obi-Wan toward him. Obi-Wan thought fast as Qui-Gon's
hands knotted in his robe, and then like lightning, shrugged
out of it, rolling away.
"Ha!" Obi-Wan scuttled upward on hands and knees.
Qui-Gon rose to his knees and flung his hand out, and Obi-Wan
felt himself begin to slide, hopelessly, back to his Master.
"No fair, foul!" Qui-Gon threw aside the filthy robe and
ignored his padawan.
"Very well then!" Qui-Gon growled, and the invisible pressure
dissipated. Obi-Wan regained his balance and resumed his
progress back up the hill, knowing it was futile. He glanced
over his shoulders, just in time to see Qui-Gon's fling himself
into a flying tackle.
"OOOF!"
Qui-Gon's weight bore him back into the mud, knocking the wind
from his lungs and sinking them both deeper into the muck.
Obi-Wan blinked up at his master, for a moment unsure whether
his difficulty in drawing breath was from the impact or the
piercing look in Qui-Gon's dark blue eyes. "You can concede any
time you like," Qui-Gon said. Tauntingly, Obi-Wan would have
said, if a Jedi Master of Qui-Gon's stature would admit to
taunting.
"You have got to be kidding," he retorted and, grabbing onto
Qui-Gon's tunic with both hands, wrenched them over until
Obi-Wan was at least partially free of the mud.
Qui-Gon let Obi-Wan roll him over. They'd struggled often
enough in the gym and he knew his padawan's tricks. Obi-Wan's
mud-coated plait trailed dirt across Qui-Gon's already filthy
cheek as Obi-Wan reached for a handful of mud to stuff down
Qui-Gon's trousers. Instead, Qui-Gon abruptly bucked his hips,
rolling to the side. Obi-Wan was pinned beneath him again, arms
flailing, and Qui-Gon reached for his wrists, catching them at
the expense of an accidental scratch on his arm.
He held Obi-Wan's wrists easily in one hand and pinned them
over the younger man's head. Obi-Wan tried to imitate Qui-Gon's
trick but the older man's weight was too much for him. He
struggled, lifting his hips and squirming hard, his heels
drumming in the mud with frustration. Qui-Gon reached with his
free hand and leisurely began stuffing mud down Obi-Wan's tunic
and onto his chest.
Obi-Wan continued to struggle in vain as Qui-Gon smeared the
slimy goop over his skin, pulling Obi-Wan's tunics open further
with each handful. Qui-Gon's touch, usually an intensely
pleasurable experience, made him squirm with disgust when
combined with the smelly ooze. He bucked in panic when Qui-Gon
managed to undo his belt and cast it away. "Hey!" he protested.
"You had to have cheated for that. There's no way you did that
one-handed."
"You might be surprised at what I can do one-handed." The
handful of mud down Obi-Wan's trousers came as the inevitable
punctuation to the statement.
Obi-Wan found himself remarkably calm as he gathered himself.
"That. Is. Enough!" He wrapped his legs firmly around Qui-Gon's
waist, arching firmly against his master in a gesture meant to
distract for the crucial moment.
It worked. Qui-Gon's eyes widened, imperceptible to anyone but
Obi-Wan, and his grasp loosened for an instant. An instant was
all Obi-Wan needed to free his hands and push Qui-Gon over.
With a shout of triumph, Obi-Wan yanked Qui-Gon's tunic up
enough to stuff a large glop of mud down the other man's
breeches just before he was flung off into the mud again.
Obi-Wan rolled head over heels for a few feet before scrambling
to his feet and heading downhill. He peeked back over his
shoulder long enough to see Qui-Gon stripping off his
mud-encrusted robe before giving chase yet again. The loud
squishing sounds warned of Qui-Gon's approach just as Obi-Wan's
foot sank into a tangle of thin branches, trapping him
momentarily. With a muttered curse, he yanked his leg free even
as Qui-Gon's hands closed on his shoulders. Obi-Wan leaped
forward before his opponent could get a good grip on anything
but Obi-Wan's tunic.
Qui-Gon would not loosen his hold on the filthy cloth, and
Obi-Wan was forced to chose between halting his forward
momentum and leaving his clothing behind. A moment later,
Qui-Gon was left with an armful of dirty fabric, but no
Obi-Wan.
Qui-Gon uttered a word that Obi-Wan was thoroughly shocked to
realize that his placid, gentle Master knew, slinging Obi-Wan's
tunic away with exasperation. "Come back here, you..."
The slap of boots in mud drowned the remainder of Qui-Gon's
sentence. Obi-Wan let the Force flood him, dodging missiles of
hand-flung mud with accuracy. It was only Qui-Gon's pauses to
scoop things to throw at Obi-Wan that kept him from catching
his padawan; his long legs definitely gave him the speed
advantage. Obi-Wan laughed triumphantly, but his glee was cut
short as he plunged into a thigh-deep thick puddle. It slowed
him badly, and Qui-Gon's arms wrapped around his waist, halting
his forward progress.
Obi-Wan shrieked and kicked as Qui-Gon lifted him easily.
"Ouch!" Obi-Wan's boot had connected with Qui-Gon's shin;
Obi-Wan felt the Force stir as Qui-Gon cheated again,
unbuckling the bootstraps without his hands, yanking them off,
and tossing them away. He responded in kind, but could not
remove Qui-Gon's boots. Instead, he went limp, waiting for
Qui-Gon to tire and let him down.
"I'll defeat you yet," he promised.
"Like hell you will." Qui-Gon pulled his feet from his loosened
boots and staggered forward, leaning toward the filthy water.
"I'll duck you for that," he promised.
Obi-Wan scrabbled at Qui-Gon's immovable hands. "No, no, don't,
I--"
The water closed over him. Scissoring his legs, Obi-Wan took
advantage of Qui-Gon's uneven weight distribution, and his
Master's heavy body tumbled into the water as well, pressing
Obi-Wan to the bottom mud. They came up separately, sputtering.
"This is disgusting!" Obi-Wan spat out as much of the foul
water as he could. He looked over at Qui-Gon. His master was
futilely pushing strands of dripping hair out of his eyes,
spitting out the large droplets of brownish water that rolled
onto his lips from his mustache. He looked up abruptly at
Obi-Wan's first snicker.
"Does something amuse you?"
"You look like a drowned womp rat."
The faceful of water he received should not have come as a
surprise.
It was time, Obi-Wan decided, to go on the offensive. He'd been
running ever since this bbattle started, but no longer. "This,"
he glared at Qui-Gon, "means war."
Qui-Gon blinked, surprised, as Obi-Wan slapped his palms on the
slushy surface of the mudpit and began to advance. Qui-Gon
backed away, trying to estimate Obi-Wan's anger and plan of
attack. Taking the offensive was not his padawan's style,
particularly not when they sparred together. Distracted, he
forgot about the hidden obstacle of his boots.
Qui-Gon teetered, struggling for balance, and fell backwards
with a huge splash. Obi-Wan's hands were fists in his tunic
before he even emerged from the water, turning him over.
Somehow, his padawan managed to grab one of Qui-Gon's flailing
arms, twisting it neatly up behind his Master's back.
Qui-Gon was the helpless one, now.
"What shall I do?" Obi-Wan's voice was light. "Perhaps I shall
plow a furrow in all this muck with your nose!"
"Are you sure you want to do that, Padawan?" Qui-Gon asked
mildly.
"It's seeming like a rather appealing option at the moment."
Obi-Wan tightened his grip on Qui-Gon's arm. His master would
try to intimidate him into making a mistake, but Obi-Wan knew
him too well for that. Qui-Gon could not move without doing
himself damage, and they both knew it.
"Very well. I am at your mercy, then." Qui-Gon's voice was
still mild and ever-so-slightly amused, and Obi-Wan realized
with a sinking feeling that he actually had no idea what to do
with his prisoner. Any movement would give Qui-Gon the chance
to escape. And his master, damn him, was fully aware of that
fact.
"Give me your other arm," Obi-Wan commanded.
Qui-Gon ignored him, and Obi-Wan cranked up the pressure a
notch.
Still no response.
Obi-Wan knelt, centering his knee at the base of Qui-Gon's
spine, still maintaining his pressure on his Master's arm as he
slid his free arm around Qui-Gon's throat, settling Qui-Gon's
esophagus against the crook of his elbow. "I'll choke you until
you pass out," Obi-Wan warned. "Then when you come to, you'll
be trussed in your own trousers."
"You wouldn't," Qui-Gon said, his words muffled by Obi-Wan's
grip on his throat, but still ringing with confidence.
"You sure?" Obi-Wan growled into Qui-Gon's ear, his lips
brushing his master's temple even as his arm tightened just
enough to cut off the veins running along the side of Qui-Gon's
neck. He counted silently to himself as Qui-Gon tried to shake
his head free. After ten seconds, Qui-Gon's free hand came up
to pull desperately at Obi-Wan's arm, but he kept his hold
firm.
Three seconds later, Qui-Gon wheezed something that sounded
like a surrender and held his arm up for Obi-Wan to take.
"Thank you," Obi-Wan said pleasantly, releasing his grip on
Qui-Gon's throat with relief. Another few seconds and he would
have released Qui-Gon anyway, but he felt smugly satisfied that
Qui-Gon had not called his bluff. Grinning, he twisted the
second arm up behind Qui-Gon's back, then gave him a nudge to
march him back toward dry land.
It took a few moments for them to sort out exactly how to get
on their feet. Qui-Gon's height was a bit of a problem; Obi-Wan
was at a bad angle for forcing his arm into its pinioned
position, so he decided to walk Qui-Gon bent.
He let a little pressure nudge Qui-Gon towards the hill, and
had taken perhaps six steps when he realized his trousers were
falling down. "Wait a moment."
Obi-Wan hitched at his trousers with his elbow, catching them
well enough for another few steps, but they slipped, falling
about halfway down his hips, and he swore.
Qui-Gon's muted snickers weren't helping.
Obi-Wan reluctantly released one of his Master's arm, and
reached for the waistband of his treacherous pants, but before
he could grasp them, Qui-Gon's arm had darted down and his
Master's hand was clamped around his cock and balls, starting
to squeeze. "I believe we have arrived at an impasse," Qui-Gon
informed him, chuckling.
Obi-Wan glared at him yet again, but Qui-Gon merely returned
the look with one of great amusement. "You bastard," Obi-Wan
spoke, unable to stifle a grin in spite of his harsh word.
"Sticks and stones, Obi-Wan." The hand around his most
sensitive area gave him a little squeeze.
"Damn you."
"That's fine." Qui-Gon's thumb stroked lightly at the base of
his cock, teasing.
"I mean it," Obi-Wan protested, but knew any threat he could
make would be completely empty.
"Yes, but are you going to do something about it?" Another soft
caress accompanied the question. Obi-Wan's breath hitched a
little at the sensation, the first pleasant thing he had felt
in three days. Another squeeze, teetering on the border of
pleasure and pain. "Master...," he murmured, his thoughts
scattering like leaves as he began to swell.
"What are you going to do about it, Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon repeated,
his own voice roughening the slightest bit as he continued, his
motions half-threat and half-caress.
Obi-Wan bit his lip, tasting mud. Qui-Gon pressed his balls up
about the base of his cock, the pain threatening to build, and
Obi-Wan eased the pressure on his Master's arm slightly, buying
time.
"I think I'll make you lick the mud off me," Obi-Wan
speculated.
"And how do you plan to go about doing that?"
Obi-Wan began to shift his Master, moving Qui-Gon around. "Oh,
I'll think of a way--" It was a ploy. The moment his arm was in
reach of Qui-Gon's meaty hand, that hand wrapped around him,
easing the pressure on the pinioned arm, and Qui-Gon used
Obi-Wan's wrist as a pivot, never releasing his padawan's
genitals. He wound up in a half-crouch before Obi-Wan, holding
his padawan's penis like a leash.
Obi-Wan froze as Qui-Gon slowly straightened up as much as he
could while still keeping his hold on Obi-Wan's cock. "Well,
Padawan, this puts an interesting twist on things, wouldn't you
say?"
"Perhaps, although I must object to your phrasing." He winced
at the little twist Qui-Gon gave him at that, then stumbled
slightly as Qui-Gon stepped forward, pulling Obi-Wan along with
him. Obi-Wan hopped for a few steps, then managed to free his
feet from the trousers puddled around his ankles.
"Come, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said, leading him back up the hill.
"If that's your goal, your technique needs work," Obi-Wan
muttered, then winced again as the hand tightened warningly on
his cock.
Qui-Gon laughed. "Just for that, I should make you fetch my
boots."
Obi-Wan shook his head, grinning, and a thought struck him. He
trotted after Qui-Gon obediently for several paces, estimating
the slack in the other man's grasp, and then pretended to
stumble, yelling in mock pain simultaneously. Of course,
Qui-Gon immediately released him.
"Padawan! Are you--" Qui Gon bent over his prone student and
Obi-Wan's hands tangled in his Master's tunic and his feet
caught Qui-Gon's thighs, and Obi-Wan yanked and kicked, sending
Qui-Gon rolling over his head and into the mud again.
By this time, the two men were walking mountains of mud, mud
streaming from their clothing, bodies, and hair. Mud caked on
their feet, hands, and faces. Obi-Wan suspected that if he were
to flop down in the mud, he would be so well camouflaged that
Qui-Gon wouldn't even be able to locate him!
Then Qui-Gon raised himself, brown from crown to foot. Obi-Wan
began to laugh, helplessly, and could not stop, even when two
burning blue eyes opened and narrowed on him.
"You find my appearance amusing?"
"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan gasped, blinking past the tears
springing up in his eyes. He flopped back into the mud, holding
his stomach as he continued to howl with laughter.
"You do realize that you look much, much worse than I do."
Obi-Wan propped himself up on one elbow, still snickering. "Oh,
I doubt that very much, Master. With all due respect."
Qui-Gon simply watched him for a few moments, face unreadable,
as the last of Obi-Wan's giggles faded. Then, slowly, he
stripped off his sodden, encrusted tunics and tossed them
aside. Clad only in his breeches he strode forward until he
stood over the supine Obi-Wan, one foot on either side of
Obi-Wan's thighs. Still shaking a little from his laughing fit,
Obi-Wan stared up at his master.
Qui-Gon extended his hand, inviting Obi-Wan to take it, and
after a moment's hesitation, he did so. His Master pulled him
to his feet. "We should gather our things," Qui-Gon spoke
earnestly. "Before we forget where they are. These clothes are
all we brought."
Obi-Wan almost wilted with disappointment to see his stern,
businesslike manner. "And then," Qui-Gon forestalled him,
putting a large, mudstained finger to Obi-Wan's mouth, "We'll
go down to the lake and bathe together."
A shiver of pleasure shuddered through Obi-Wan, and he hurried
to retrieve his dropped clothing.
Within half an hour, they were in the lake, rinsing their
things. Obi-Wan didn't know how they'd ever get them dry.
Sighing, he draped his clothes over a convenient, and
miraculously clean, log. Qui-Gon was still bent over, sloshing
water out of his half-ruined leather boots, and Obi-Wan
chuckled softly to himself. Moving quietly through the water,
he suddenly graped Qui-Gon's hips and pressed himself against
the Jedi Master suggestively. "Finished?"
"Patience, Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon shot him a look of affectionate
amusement over his shoulder.
Obi-Wan bounced a little on his heels, knowing what effect the
sight would have on the other man. "But Master, you've so often
told me to take advantage of the moment, to press forward while
the blood is hot and the Force willing." And the Force knew his
blood was still hot, singing through his veins despite the
weariness of his muscles and the inhospitability of their
surroundings.
"You're taking advantage of something, all right," Qui-Gon
grumbled, but with a gleam in his eye as he turned to face
Obi-Wan. "And I suspect it might be me."
He snorted softly in response, resting his hands on Qui-Gon's
shoulders. "Tell it to someone who'll believe it, Master Jedi,"
he said just before his lips pressed gently to his master's.
Qui-Gon's eager response belied his seeming reluctance. Obi-Wan
initiated the kiss, but it was clearly Qui-Gon who would finish
it.
Qui-Gon's broad palm slid between Obi-Wan's thighs, moving
gently upward, and his other arm locked around Obi-Wan's neck,
dragging him deeper into the kiss. Obi-Wan felt dwarfed by his
master, engulfed and overwhelmed... and he loved it.
He groaned into Qui-Gon's kiss, pushing his hips forward and
opening his lips to accept the eager tongue that sought
entrance to his mouth. His hands rose to twine in Qui-Gon's
hair, though it was still matted and slightly muddy. Obi-Wan
didn't care. He just wanted more of his Master, immediately.
His passion was rewarded as Qui-Gon's penis began to swell
against his belly, the tip nudging into his navel. His own
penis, half-hard ever since their wrestling match in the mud,
gave a surge of its own, rising up to slide gently against
Qui-Gon's thigh with the almost involuntary movements of
Obi-Wan's hips. Qui-Gon's lips pulled hungrily at his, even as
the strong hands worked with tender thoroughness to arouse
every inch of his flesh.
Gasping as the latest kiss broke off, Obi-Wan pressed his lips
repeatedly against Qui-Gon's cheek, from the edge of his beard
to the corner of his eye.
"My legs," he murmured into Qui-Gon's ear.
"They're very nice," Qui-Gon replied hoarsely, running a hand
down Obi-Wan's thigh, squeezing the firm muscle.
"No, I mean, I don't think they're going to hold me much
longer."
Qui-Gon laughed a little, low and breathy, then gripped
Obi-Wan's buttocks tightly, lifting him upward. Obi-Wan wrapped
his legs around his master's waist and thighs, arms moving
swiftly to circle his neck and back. He groaned deeply as their
cocks pressed together, rubbing against each other with the
slight movement as Qui-Gon staggered a little with Obi-Wan's
weight.
"That better?" Qui-Gon asked, burying his face in the crook of
Obi-Wan's neck and pressing fevered kisses from jaw to
shoulder.
"You'll fall over," Obi-Wan said, although he wasn't sure he
cared, as long as Qui-Gon didn't stop what he was doing, didn't
let go.
"No, I won't."
Obi-Wan trusted in his master's strength, luxuriating in the
feel of Qui-Gon's straining muscles against him. Qui-Gon rocked
Obi-Wan's body up and down, staggering briefly, then walking
out into deeper water, letting it take part of Obi-Wan's weight
for him. Obi-Wan just moaned and dug his fingers into Qui-Gon's
muscular shoulders, savoring his master's hardness, nipping
desperately at Qui-Gon's short beard with his white, straight
teeth. "Faster, oh, please..." Obi-Wan breathed, diving for
Qui-Gon's lip and biting at it.
Qui-Gon drew a deep breath, and with a small nod, shifted
Obi-Wan's weight, picking up the pace, grinding their bodies
together nearly hard enough to bruise.
Obi-Wan clung to Qui-Gon with all the strength of the arousal
that gripped him. His legs tightened spasmodically, forcing his
hips in to meet each of Qui-Gon's thrusts, which came faster
and faster. A kiss to Obi-Wan's mouth and face accompanied each
jerk of Qui-Gon's hips, and Obi-Wan raced to anticipate where
his master's lips would touch next, so as to meet them with his
own.
Tension filled his body until it was unbearable. Desperate for
release, he let one leg slide down to Qui-Gon's thigh, allowing
him to change the angle of their contact enough to spark a
surge of heat deep inside him. Qui-Gon's chest heaved against
his, then Obi-Wan knew nothing except that the warm water
around them was suddenly much warmer as the intensity of his
orgasm washed over him.
When awareness returned, it was because he was once again
sputtering in the water, shaking his head vigorously to clear
his eyes. Qui-Gon was coughing and muttering somewhere close to
him, and Obi-Wan realized he could still feel at least one of
his master's hands on his waist.
"I thought you said you wouldn't fall," Obi-Wan teased gently
when he could speak again.
Qui-Gon's smile was warm in his eyes as he drew Obi-Wan close
once more. "It's all right. I had you," he murmured against
Obi-Wan's lips.
"You certainly did, Master," Obi-Wan's voice was sly with
double-entendre. Obi-Wan reached forward and gently moved the
wet strings of Qui-Gon's hair out of his eyes, ignoring the
half-fond, half-amused look on his face. "Now let's go set up
camp and I'll fix dinner.
And so they did, wet clothing and all. After the meal Obi-Wan
sighed happily, his final remaining tensions relieved, and
lifted his cup to his master in salute.
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