Archive: M_A and my page (http://www.slashcity.com/robin)
Rating: NC-17
Categories/Content: D/s themes, some light bondage, nekkid
& horny Jedi (just seeing if you're still with me)
Summary: The power games continue. Qui-Gon fights his urge to
dominate Obi-Wan; Obi-Wan doesn't fight fair.
Notes/Thanks: Before I name names, let me ask that you not
blame these generous folks if you don't like the fic. They were
just trying to be nice <G>. First, thanks to Mac for
pointing out my addiction to adjectives (bless her heart, she's
so diplomatic). Thanks to Trinity for encouragement and overall
help with the psychological games the boys play. To Glass
Houses for the re-engineering advice <EG>. And to Tara T
for the kind words and helpful plot observations. If I forgot
anyone, I'm sorry! Send me an e-mail and flog me, please!
Disclaimer: Not mine; no harm no foul; no money being made; I'm
poor so you'll only get blood if you sue. I think I'm B-.
Feedback: I'd be truly grateful. It's what sparked the idea for
this sequel. (Nah, no blackmail <g>. Just an indicator of
how much I owe those who wrote about Duplicity's Gift).
The elusive truth. It danced on the edge of Qui-Gon's
conscious mind, taunting him with its occasional, fleeting
clarity, only to slip away into the cloudy shadows. Sometimes
he could almost hear it laugh, mocking him for his lethargy,
his inability to just snatch it with the fingers of his mind
and grasp what he needed to know.
The fugitive truth seemed to want to take up residence with him
at the Temple. Not to grace him with its comprehensibility, but
to tease him more effectively with its incomprehensibility. And
it did so in the form a golden-bodied, half naked Jedi
Apprentice.
For one week following their return from Frellia, Obi-Wan had
purposely been discreet and respectfully distanced-- merely to
give his Master time to think. Their experience on Frellia had
awakened desires in Qui-Gon that he could not have imagined;
physically dominating his willing Padawan had been deeply
gratifying on many levels. He wanted so much to indulge in it
again and again, and Obi-Wan insisted that he wanted that as
well. But something was stopping him. Something inside him made
him fear his ardent wish to grant them what they both longed
for.
They had agreed that the key was for Qui-Gon to discover this
truth of his reticence. Qui-Gon would not deepen their
relationship until he had rooted out that fear.
However, after that full week of soul-searching and meditation,
Qui-Gon still had not managed to hold down that slippery truth
long enough to reveal his fear. And so his brazen Apprentice
had taken another tactic. He began to flaunt the more obvious
truths...
That Obi-Wan was possessed of a sizzling sexuality that sang to
Qui-Gon's need. That Obi-Wan truly welcomed his desire to
devour his tantalizing flesh. And that something pulsed in
Obi-Wan's aura, something that magnetized Qui-Gon's urge to
take his Padawan up on the offer to conquer him, body and soul,
if he dared.
A gaze of want that held a fraction of a second too long; the
door to the refresher left open a crack to bait him with
glimpses of bare flesh; the deliberate wetting of lips with the
pink tip of a tongue as he spoke of his days' activities... The
sexy swagger that taunted 'if you want me, come and get me.'
All were undeniable truisms that conspired to distract him from
the more dangerous truth, and in their collective decadence,
they reminded him that his resolve needed only a little more
pressure before it would crumble and the flood of his
impassioned hunger for Obi-Wan would carry him away, fears
uncovered or not.
Although, Qui-Gon had to admit that Obi-Wan was the embodiment
of Jedi dedication once beyond the doors of their shared
quarters. He took his instruction, absorbed it and strengthened
himself with it. All without distraction and without the
purposeful gleam of seduction.
But Qui-Gon was very seduced by it nonetheless... he was as
drawn to Obi-Wan's mind and accomplishments as he was to his
elegant body. That Qui-Gon himself, Jedi Master and purveyor of
knowledge to his Apprentice, could be driven to such
distraction and confusion by said Apprentice... was
disconcerting, to say the least.
Though there was one absolute that Qui-Gon could not and would
not deny. They were on the cusp of something that would change
them both forever. Something was going to happen, very soon,
and whether that Bitch Truth be known or not, Qui-Gon would be
helpless to change it. And the more he thought about it, the
more he realized that even jumping in blind, he didn't want to
change it.
Disconcerted was putting it very mildly.
Windbags. Qui-Gon hoped beyond hope that he wouldn't ever
evolve into one of those crusty, paradigm besieged old fools.
An evening of platitudes thinly disguised as wisdom, in the
company of Councilors and 'respected' Masters had worn at
Qui-Gon's already frayed nerves. He'd stayed as long as decency
required and then made his excuses.
Silly, though, he almost dreaded returning to his own quarters.
Blue-eyed temptation awaited him there. Unconsciously at first,
his paced quickened. And then all Qui-Gon could do was chuckle
to himself. Apparently he didn't dread it as much as should. He
filed that little revelation away for later meditation. Much
later.
The door to their quarters opened to a vision that was surely
borne of fantasy. Obi-Wan knelt, shirtless in meditation,
facing the open-doored balcony as moonlight bathed him with its
beams. He looked almost innocent, his skin splashed by pure
light, a soft smile playing on his lips and his eyes shut to
the world outside the Temple.
But then Obi-Wan's head slowly turned, eyes fluttered then
opened, and his smile shifted from sweetness to unqualified
passion. Oh yes, that gaze directed at him was the stuff of
dreams.
"There is tea, Master."
Qui-Gon shook himself from his devouring stare and fairly
staggered to his chair. "Yes, I see, thank you."
He indeed had a cup waiting for him, with the still-warm pot
next to it, waiting for pouring. The herbs wafted gently as he
filled his cup. As he brought it to his lips, Obi-Wan rose and
slipped quietly to the kitchen area.
"It's laden with Frellian Halla root," his Padawan remarked
casually as he approached with a tray of tea biscuits. Halla
root. A Frellian aphrodisiac used for marriage-bed ceremonies.
Qui-Gon froze. After his extensive Frellian research, Obi-Wan
would be well versed in the root's properties.
He had only had half the cup. Surely, though, that wouldn't be
enough to have an effect on him... would it? Qui-Gon fought
back panic and let his mind wrap around what Obi-Wan had done
and what he himself could do about it.
"I suppose you could rush to the Healers and see if they could
expedite it through your system. You could have me sent away to
be punished... but Master, would that not prove that you cannot
control your own Apprentice?" Obi-Wan sat casually at Qui-Gon's
feet, and nibbled on one of the biscuits as if they were
discussing what to do about a flawed kata.
"Perhaps it would show that I have an incorrigible Padawan with
whom no more can be done?" Qui-Gon replied in an icy tone even
while heat began to coalesce in his belly.
Obi-Wan chuckled, apparently unworried about his Master's ire.
"Oh, but Master... We both know that there is much more that
can be done. And we both know that you want to do it... that
you _can_ do it..."
The omnipresent need welling inside him made Qui-Gon just as
sure. Tingles of thrill began to course through his veins.
Force bless his devious Padawan.
"Obi-Wan, you are going to have to pay the price for this
latest infraction. You will learn not to manipulate your
Master." The words were clipped, but he held his Padawan's gaze
as he spoke them, and he delighted in the lust that radiated
from Obi-Wan's being.
"Of course, Master. I believe I have a most effective method of
discipline, if I may..." Obi-Wan's head bowed, but not before
he shot Qui-Gon one more smoldering glance.
"Show me, then," Qui-Gon ordered through his tight voice.
Obi-Wan rose fluidly and sauntered to Qui-Gon's bedroom. He
followed his Padawan, eyes drawn to the seat of the young man's
leggings and the way the material pulled tightly over his pert
bottom as he moved.
Once inside the doorway, Qui-Gon didn't know whether to laugh
or simply come in his pants.
His Padawan was certainly inventive, he had to give him that.
The lights were low, and hanging level with Qui-Gon's waist was
a body swing. It hung from four support ropes, one each
fastened to a corner of the strip of cloth that Obi-Wan would
lay upon. Each of the support ropes sported a padded ring
restraint for Obi-Wan's ankles and wrists. The young man's legs
would form a lovely V once he was strapped in, and his arms
would be spread above his head. Qui-Gon pulled experimentally
on the restraints and discovered they could slide up and down
the support ropes, allowing him to bend Obi-Wan's legs if he
lowered them. Nice design, he decided. His insistent erection
agreed.
"Show me how you can control me, Master." The command was
just shy of a Force suggestion.
Oh, what a delicious dare...
Obi-Wan's eyes bore into him, searing his ability to resist.
Qui-Gon cleared his throat and the shadowy doubts that plagued
him were banished to the back of his mind, chased away by the
desire building in him. The Halla root, he decided. _If you say
so_, the annoying Truth buzzed in his peripheral consciousness.
Eyes still locked to Obi-Wan's, he pretended to remain engaged
in the battle of wills that he'd long lost.
His gaze ran a possessive course over Obi-Wan's body while he
summoned a reserve of self-restraint. Then he hoarsely
commanded, "Strip."
A taunting grin lit Obi-Wan's face as his fingers toyed with
the waist of his thin leggings. Qui-Gon narrowed his eyes with
what he hoped was warning.
Abruptly, the leggings spilled to the floor, leaving Obi-Wan
naked. His cock was already bobbing enthusiastically, and his
balls hung so beautifully vulnerable beneath. Qui-Gon could
barely wait to get his mouth on them.
Obi-Wan shot a hopeful glance at the swing once Qui-Gon's eyes
tore away from the young man's groin. "I'll let you know when
I'm ready to have you splayed for me on this thing," Qui-Gon
replied, one eyebrow arched and his tone stern. Obi-Wan smirked
charmingly in response, feeding his Master's hunger for power
and compelling Qui-Gon to issue his next command.
"Stand at the end of the bed, grab the footboard, and bend
over. Now."
"As you wish." The reply was surprisingly saucy, so once his
Padawan had indeed bent over, he placed a deliberate,
well-aimed slap onto one creamy cheek, eliciting a satisfying
gasp from Obi-Wan.
"Very nice, Padawan."
"My yelp, or my--"
"Both."
Qui-Gon stood directly behind his Apprentice and just drank in
the sight of him for a moment. Such a vulnerable pose, and yet
Obi-Wan held it with unconscious audacity. His buttocks, firm
and full were raised by his posture and the dark crease was a
temptation to taste intimate, hidden treasures. Qui-Gon's mouth
watered as he knelt and grasped a thick cheek in each hand. His
heart thundered in his chest. The want and the compulsion...
Qui-Gon was helpless against them.
He slowly parted the fleshy buttocks with his thumbs, pursed
his lips, and lightly-- he blew, warm puffs of breath over the
dark, twitching little ring. Qui-Gon's cock leapt, and he
swallowed against another rush of need.
Then, barely containing his craving, his tongue tickled the
ridges of the little opening. It spasmed convulsively, and
Obi-Wan choked another gasp. Such a satisfying reaction.
Qui-Gon pressed harder, the tip of his tongue seeking entrance
to the sacred little hole. Musk and spice teased his taste
buds, the flavors becoming sharper as delved deeper... So
good... More... he wanted more...
Moaning, he reached and reached for more of the addictive
flavor of Obi-Wan, letting the bristles of his beard tease the
tender skin of his Padawan's crack. He plunged his tongue
inside him, over and over, faster and faster, his frenzy making
him keen as he delved into the zesty core of Obi-Wan's body as
if he'd find the secrets of his Padawan's soul there...
His tongue was suddenly clasped, held strong by a clamping and
spasming muscle, and through his daze, he heard Obi-Wan's
whimpers. Qui-Gon's arousal was smoothly banked as he reveled
in the sensory delight of Obi-Wan's quaking climax. A long
moment, and the muscle relaxed, releasing his weary tongue.
Qui-Gon swayed backward and savored the remaining taste of
Intimate Padawan in his mouth while he caressed Obi-Wan's
shaking legs. The boy was having a hard time standing, he
realized as his senses began to balance. Qui-Gon briefly
considered strapping him into that swing right away and fucking
him breathless before the younger man could even recover his
wits. He was under the influence of the Halla root, at his
Padawan's hands, after all...
The thought was chased away by something flitting around
his peripheral conscience... was that that thrice-damned
clarity that had been teasing him?? Too late. His mental reach
for it was again too slow.
Qui-Gon shook his head ruefully and pulled the boneless
Apprentice to the floor with him, and held the naked body
tightly to his own fully clothed chest. He stroked the sweat
from Obi-Wan's temples with the backs of his fingers. Moments
later, a lazy, blue-green gaze fixed upon him with satiation
just a shade smug.
"Made a mess of the footboard," Obi-wan murmured.
"You can clean it later." Qui-Gon smiled.
"Not now?"
"Not now."
"So, what now?" Obi-Wan seemed to make the question a demand
with little effort. Qui-Gon chuckled. "Now you strap yourself
in for the ride you've been begging for, my young Apprentice."
"Yes, Master."
Was that tone patronizing? Recovery from orgasm had apparently
brought with it renewed impudence. Qui-Gon's cock grew harder
for the realization that that was exactly what he had wanted--
and why he'd waited for Obi-Wan to regain his equilibrium. _Oh
yes, dear Padawan mine... make me command you..._
Qui-Gon stood abruptly and began to pull off his clothes,
leaving Obi-Wan in an indignant puddle on the floor. "I believe
we agreed now would be a good time, Padawan," Qui-Gon
replied to Obi-Wan's silent smirk. "Do not forget that despite
your latest ploy, I am still in charge, here."
Obi-Wan gracefully stood, brash demeanor fully in place, and
casually strolled to the swing. "Whatever you say, Qui-Gon...
it's your call."
"That's right, _Padawan_, it is mine, isn't it?" Thanks to your
machinations, he didn't add. And then that irritating Truth
tickled again at his awareness... _Believe what you must,
Qui-Gon Jinn. Believe in this deception if you must_... Truth
didn't run from him this time, he simply slammed a mental door
in its face. This was a deception that Obi-Wan was embracing
with seductive alacrity, and Qui-Gon was irresistibly as bound
as Obi-Wan nearly was.
Qui-Gon watched as the younger man readied himself for the
swing.
His Padawan reclined on the torso support, slipped his wrists
through the upper rings on the support ropes, then lifted his
legs and angled his ankles into the other two restraint rings;
all the time knowing his pretty little rear was opened up and
on display. Once his Apprentice was situated, resting on his
back and all four limbs stretched up and wide, he lifted his
head and glanced at Qui-Gon with bold eyes. "Well, Master?
Aren't you going to demonstrate your lauded control for me?"
The tightening in Qui-Gon's groin accompanied blissful
realization; At that very moment it was Obi-Wan's call.
Qui-Gon was but the willing puppet, and even captive, Obi-Wan
could deftly pull his strings. Glorious. Simply glorious. And
just what he needed.
His every move was orchestrated and executed by his cunning
Apprentice; the young man's every action tugged at Qui-Gon's
urgency and prompted him to respond with a much desired
reaction. Obi-Wan wet his lips in anticipation and Qui-Gon
caressed milky inner thighs. A ragged sigh and he cupped the
soft sac of Obi-Wan's scrotum, tickling the sparse hairs
sprinkled over it. A long moan and Qui-Gon was fluttering his
fingertips over his Padawan's sensitized opening.
Obi-Wan's eyes sweeping over his own naked body pulled the
invisible string directly attached to Qui-Gon's groin, making
him ache with the need to follow the trail home-- to Obi-Wan.
Qui-Gon squeezed his eyes shut and took deep breaths to calm
himself. They needed to make this last, he realized. They
needed to draw out this profound, if preordained battle for
dominance as long as they could.
Qui-Gon cast his glance around the bedroom, knowing Obi-Wan's
_device_ selection would not have been limited to the swing;
when his Padawan devised a plan, he did it to the extent of his
abilities and vivid imagination. Ah, there they were... Just on
the bedside table, his eyes lit upon the other items his
Apprentice had thought to procure. Any of them... He could use
any of them on his enthusiastic Padawan till his heart and his
body throbbed with joy, and it would be alright. More than
that, it would be Obi-Wan's decision.
He selected a firm, phallus-shaped instrument, about the
diameter of two of his fingers. He dipped it into the bowl of
oil on the table, swirling it luxuriantly. As he lifted it, he
marveled at the thick, pearly streams that clung and then
dripped from the flesh-toned shaft. Qui-Gon watched as Obi-Wan
eyed the plaything avidly. Finally, Qui-Gon's eagerness grew
too, and he teased his Padawan's opening with the saturated tip
of it. "Are you going to put it in me, or not?" Obi-Wan
growled.
Qui-Gon chuckled. "I'll let you know."
But slowly, the crown of the phallus pushed through the
clenched resistance, excess oil trickling along the
Apprentice's vulnerable crease. Obi-Wan sighed as it slid
inside him. Qui-Gon swallowed, his throat constricting as he
watched the faux phallus sink into the depths of his Padawan.
There was so much oil; it was so easy to work the toy in and
out. To watch it slide deeply inside, only to glide back out
again was mesmerizing, but... The embers of lust in Qui-Gon's
belly flared to life as an idea took shape.
He pulled the phallus out till just the tip remained inside.
"This... contraption you're so enchantingly splayed in, it
actually swings, does it not?"
"Ye-Yes."
"Then do it. Swing until you have _this_ inside you again. I
want to see you fuck yourself with it. Use your own body
strength. No Force."
Obi-Wan's eyes opened blearily and met Qui-Gon's. The younger
man's naughty grin spoke his acceptance of the challenge.
Grasping the support ropes he could barely reach from the wrist
rings, Obi-Wan tugged and swayed his torso. The swing began to
sway a little, and the phallus dipped further inside. Obi-Wan
gasped. But the momentum then carried him away again and the
phallus slid out. More movement in the swing and it glided in
him again... A steady rhythm grew. Leveraging his wrists and
ankles on the hanging ropes, Obi-Wan began to sink on and off
the hard shaft that Qui-Gon held still in his hand.
Face flushed, limbs spread and bound, the younger man took his
pleasure with no inhibitions. So brazen, so free... Obi-Wan's
erotic exhibition drove Qui-Gon wild... Oh Force, he was going
to come...
At last he had to pull the phallus away from the wanton
Padawan. Obi-Wan's eyes flew to his, accusing at first. And
then his lips turned up in a smile while he steadied his
breathing. "Something wrong, Master?" They both knew, though.
Qui-Gon had lost his semblance of control. He had to get it
back. They both needed for him to get it back.
"You've forgotten why we are here, my shameless Padawan. I need
to remind you... Or rather I need to remind us both. Now, be
still."
The words felt right, and as he spoke them he gained confidence
in them. Oh yes, it was time he reclaim command. Qui-Gon coated
his impatient erection, feeling more and more driven to claim
Obi-Wan's body, to complete the compelling deception.
A moment later he was there, ready to sink into his Padawan's
pliant body. His eyes met Obi-Wan's in a gaze wrought from
devastating need; a gaze that pleaded _command me_, though
Qui-Gon was not sure who spoke the words to whom.
_Perhaps you both speak them_, the teasing voice of Truth
whispered to him as Qui-Gon pressed just a little into tight,
slippery heat.
"Oh..." Obi-Wan's sighs tempted him to plunge further into him,
but Qui-Gon held still and reveled in the feel of the moist
grip on the sensitive head of his cock. It was his only
physical contact with Obi-Wan's sweat-slicked body. After a
moment, he was ready for more.
"Obi-Wan... come to me..."
And oh, great Force, he did. His Padawan's eyes narrowed in
concentration, his tongue lapped at the beads of sweat over his
upper lip. Obi-Wan gathered his strength and tugged at his
ropes, pulling Qui-Gon deeper into him.
Qui-Gon's head fell back and he finally grasped Obi-Wan's
straining thighs, needing to touch and feel so much more of the
younger man. So tight and slick around him, so smooth and firm
under his hands, Obi-Wan felt incredible. Qui-Gon's synapses
snapped and sizzled as he absorbed the sensations into his
veins and let his Padawan consume him.
Oh yes, so deep, so far into Obi-Wan. He caressed the younger
man everywhere he could reach; his sweaty chest, the curve of
his shoulders, and the spikes of his hair. He pumped in time to
Obi-Wan's sways, a steady rhythm that harmonized the beauty of
their lie with the recklessness of their truth until all that
mattered was the dizzying pleasure that hungered for _more_.
"Harder, Qui-Gon," Obi-Wan groaned. Qui-Gon was so pleased to
comply. Anything, Padawan, he silently swore, adding the power
of his hips and thighs to his thrusts. Ever harder, ever
deeper, Qui-Gon buried his soul as much as his body.
He grasped Obi-Wan's neglected erection with a still-slick
hand. He wanted to feel it pulse in his palm when Obi-Wan came,
wanted to feel as much of his Padawan as he could. He wanted to
_know_ Obi-Wan's pleasure as intimately as he knew his own.
When his Padawan finally cried out, Qui-Gon felt the thick cock
in his hand swell and spurt. He felt Obi-Wan's affection for
him wash over him steadily, until he had never felt so
completely and unconditionally loved. Qui-Gon was undone.
His legs seized and his groin tightened almost painfully. He
let go of Obi-Wan's shaft and grabbed both support ropes near
Obi-Wan's ankles, and simply held on tight. Spasm after spasm
gripped and released him as he poured forth his essence,
celebrating the spectacular pinnacle while at the same time
lamenting its completion and imminent farewell.
Finally, the last drop was spilt, and Qui-Gon was left dazed,
depleted, and completely shattered.
Awareness tickled at his senses, but all he could comprehend
was Obi-Wan's use of the Force to work free of his bonds.
Then, through his haze, he realized he was heaving with
suppressed sobs. Obi-Wan pried his fingers loose from the
swing's support ropes, and Qui-Gon suddenly found that his legs
would no longer support him.
But it was okay, Obi-Wan had him. His Padawan held him tight
and eased him onto the bed, allowing Qui-Gon to collapse right
on top of him. He nuzzled his nose into the salty softness of
Obi-Wan's neck, kissing and licking as his ragged breaths would
allow.
Obi-Wan, too, was kissing him; soft skimming of his lips over
Qui-Gon's damp brow and forehead. And Obi-Wan was crooning to
him, too. "Shshsh. I'm here... It's almost over."
It warmed Qui-Gon that Obi-Wan would so gently put him back
together again.
But in the dangerous recesses of his mind, where that impetuous
Truth hid, Qui-Gon wondered if he should be put back
together... Tonight was after all, the closest he'd come to
unmasking that wily Truth, the one that would lead him to his
fear.
_Catch me if you dare_, it mocked and laughed as Qui-Gon
settled into Obi-Wan's caring embrace. The soothing caress of
Obi-Wan's sure hands on his back sealed Qui-Gon's
half-conscious decision... For now, Qui-Gon was more
comfortable basking in the safety of the beautiful lie that his
Padawan created for him.
He sighed as his senses returned; his trembling eased and
breathing slowed. He felt such peace. He felt so warm. But
Obi-Wan would rise soon, his scheme come to a close, and
Qui-Gon would be alone again. But he'd luxuriate in it while he
could. He'd make the final seconds of this sacred deception
last as long as he could. And perhaps for the time being he
could be content with the duplicity and let the truth of his
fear come to him when he was ready.
But Truth did pay him one last visit, laying soft kisses of her
own on Qui-Gon's temple before whispering gently in his ear:
_Halla Root, renowned galaxy wide for its symbolic uses
as an aphrodisiac... I'll be back, Qui-Gon Jinn._
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