Warnings: see above, OK? There's consensual hurty stuff in
here. You have been warned and my ass has been covered. Qui's
ass on the other hand . . .
Archive: MA
Summary: A tired Qui-Gon Jinn's hoped for evening of romance
doesn't quite go as expected.
Disclaimer: Oh yeah, like George is going to be reading through
M_A looking for ideas (like he does every night), and he's
gonna say, "Why didn't I think of Q/O bdsm?" ::picks up cell
phone calls lawyers:: "Sue her now; she's a clerical worker; I
hear they make good money." My reply. Puh-leeeze. I spend too
much of that money (and it ain't anything near what George
thinks of as "good money") on George products anyway.
I wrote this in response to my own request for some smut
instead of people writing death threats and such. Hence the
title. :-) And I've wanted to try writing Top!Obi for a while
now.
For atara, Layna, and Mike, for helping me catch that train
when love came to town.
"Why am I doing this?" the unusually harsh voice asked, as the
hard strap came down again, another lick of flame to already
fiery skin.
The man bent over the bed, one hand carefully protecting his
genitals, and both booted feet spread wide, with the tatters of
his pants gathered at his knees, hissed in response to the
blow, a sob catching in his throat.
"Answer me!" Another ribbon of fire accompanied the demand.
"Because I . . . ohhhh . . . took you . . . for granted."
Earlier that Evening:
Qui-Gon Jinn stretched discreetly as he strode serenely down
the night-quiet halls of the Jedi Temple. He wanted to run, but
of course Senior Masters didn't run through corridors like
irresponsible Initiates. Besides, he probably didn't have the
energy to run. Another exhausting Council Meeting to discuss
yet another Republic threatening mission that might not even
occur. And was it his imagination or did Mace really get more
pompous every quarter?
He chuckled faintly as he reached his own hall. He'd have to
ask Mace next time he saw him out of the Council Chambers.
The thought vanished, but the faint smile remained as he
thought about what awaited him. Obi-Wan, his wonderful, loving
Padawan and lifemate, would know how tired he was and would
know what a foul mood he was in. There would be a bath,
probably with candles and some form of food that was easy to
eat while being bathed. And then more candles and a massage,
and Obi-Wan caressing him gently and lovingly before the
beautiful young man straddled him ("let me do all the work
tonight, Master") and took him into sweet pleasure. The
gorgeous young man would collapse into his arms and they'd
remain like that until morning, sleeping close and feeling each
other's presence through The Force.
"I am so lucky," Master Jinn thought as he keyed his code into
the door, "to have such an understanding Padawan, such a
thoughtful lover."
And, as he walked in the door his mind already reaching for
Obi-Wan's unique touch, he was roughly shoved up against the
now closed door. Tendrils of Force clamped down on his wrists
and dragged them to above his head, and a solid wall of Force
pressed against him, pinning him rather effectively against the
door. At the same time, hard hands tore at his clothing; Force
assisted strength ripping through the layered fabric of his
tunics as if they were made of tissue. His belt uncoiled itself
as did his sash, and then those hard hands, nails scoring
Qui-Gon's skin, tore the clothes away until the master stood in
nothing but his pants and boots.
"Obi-Wan?" he asked cautiously.
The Force pinning him to the door was replaced by the
surprising solid weight of his Padawan, whose hard stomach
ground against the erection Qui-Gon hadn't even known he had.
"Like it rough, do you?" a silky voice hissed in his ear.
"Obi-Wan, I . . ."
"Enough!" And the hands were back, grabbing and rubbing and
pinching and scratching. It could so easily have been nothing
but pain, but every once in a while, those hands would find a
place that responded to the pain they dealt out and Qui-Gon
would hear himself moan and feel his body thrusting desperately
against the form of his captor. Those touches, those flashes of
painful, ecstatic lightning, kept him from the easy words that
would turn both of them back into Master and Padawan or even a
pair of simple lovers.
Surprise, or so he told himself, kept him from stopping Obi-Wan
as the young man wrenched one of his Master's Force bound arms
and marched him into the bedroom.
No candles, Qui-Gon thought to himself. There were none
of the romantic, "take good care of my Master" trappings he'd
expected. Of course Obi-Wan was angry with him, he mused. The
young man had every right to punish his lover, and Qui-Gon
resolved to do whatever Obi-Wan wanted him to. After all, he
repeated firmly, Obi-Wan deserves it.
"Hands flat on the bed," Obi-Wan snapped.
Qui-Gon bent over the low bed, placing his hands flat on the
mattress. The hands were at him again; ripping through his
pants and undergarments until tatters of cloth hung around the
tops of his boots and the room's cool air raised chill bumps on
his skin.
"Spread! Wider! Wider! That's right." Qui-Gon shivered at the
thought of the picture he must make, a strange lump growing in
his throat.
"Now, no moving unless you can't take it without the Force
holding you in place."
Obi-Wan's deliberate taunt was almost more humiliating than the
awfulness of Qui-Gon's position.
"You better protect these," nimble fingers moved easily over
his balls and cock, and there was a faint chuckle when those
fingers discovered just how hard Qui-Gon was. The Master
blushed more, the pain in his chest increasing. Minding
Obi-Wan's words, he carefully shielded himself while balancing
on the bed on one hand.
"Balance and versatility," Obi-Wan purred, repeating one of
Qui-Gon's favorite sparring phrases in a voice like liquid
velvet.
SNAP!!
"Oh Force!" Qui-Gon yelled. It felt as if he'd backed into a
flame, the heat still radiating from the one blow of whatever
Obi-Wan was beating him with. To his complete shame and
excitement, he felt his cock twitch against his hand.
"No," Obi-Wan replied coolly, "just my normal strength." He
chuckled. "It's supposed to be a punishment, but I bet
you like it."
More kisses of liquid fire, and the desperate questions began.
What had he done to deserve this? How could he make amends? And
the unspoken questions as well: Why does this excite me so? Why
am I so scared of this incredible pleasure?
"Wrong!" Obi-Wan snapped as he finished off his own round of
questions. More fire on skin that felt stretched and seared.
"Oh I knew you'd expect the solicitous Padawan routine tonight,
but that's not why I'm punishing you."
A major hiss of flame wrapped itself around incredibly
sensitized skin, and Qui-Gon finally broke down. Beginning to
sob, he begged through his tears, "why . . . please . . .
Obi-Wan . . . why?"
There was no answer except for his hand being shoved out of the
way. Something blunt pressed against the entrance to his body
and Qui-Gon struggled to relax, thinking of his Padawan's
formidable size. Obi-Wan didn't seem to be too interested in
any sort of their normal gentle preparation and this was going
to hurt like . . .
A tendril of Force eased into him, soothing and stretching and
preparing him so that when Obi-Wan's cock slid inside there was
fire and the burn, but no great pain. In fact there was a great
deal of pleasure, more than he could have imagined. The
beating, he realized. The beating had left him hungry and needy
and wanting so to be taken.
And Obi-Wan took. Beyond the Force preparation, there was no
concern for Qui-Gon in this hard pounding fucking Obi-Wan dealt
out. Anyone would have done, he thought miserably as hard hands
gripped his hips, pulling his burning ass back against his
lover's hard body. Anyone could have provided a tight hole for
his lover to fuck. To his own disgust, he cried out at the
thought, a cry of pleasure mixed with the sobs that still shook
his body.
Obi-Wan slammed into him twice more and then went still, his
own shout of triumph and pleasure drowning out Qui-Gon's tears.
There was a moment of relative stillness and it seemed to
Qui-Gon that they stood on some great cusp. If Obi-Wan did
nothing more, his own tears would fade and things would be the
way they always were; this could be forgotten, forgiven as a
youthful experiment, tucked away . . .
He was suddenly shoved to the mattress, and rolled over. The
crisp sheets that he loved in the summer felt cool and scratchy
against the swollen heat of his burning skin and he moaned,
trying to conquer the sobs that kept threatening him.
He looked up at his tormentor for the first time only to see
Obi-Wan neatly fastening his pants. The tears threatened even
more. What was the other man going to do next, throw some
credits down on his belly? His cock surged again at the
thought, and he bit his lip against the needs that battled
inside him.
"I punished you because," Obi-Wan began. "No wait, why should I
tell you?"
"Please," Qui-Gon moaned, "oh please."
"Show me a need, Qui-Gon. I can feel them, your needs, rolling
off you like the rays of a sun. Show one to me."
Without a thought, Qui-Gon slid a hand down to his aching cock
and began to stroke it roughly, his other hand reaching for his
balls, pulling them tightly up against himself. He was afraid
that Obi-Wan would try to prolong this new humiliation by
having him slow down, but to his surprise, the other man
smiled.
"That's it" he crooned, "work it hard for me. Show me you need
it!"
"Yes! Yes I need it!" Qui-Gon yelled, jerking hard on his cock.
"Need to show you what you do to me."
"Show me," Obi-Wan hissed, and Qui-Gon trembled on the edge of
orgasm. "Show me all of it."
One more stroke, one more grind of his burning buttocks against
the bed and Qui-Gon cried out and came, almost doubling over at
the sheer intensity of it. And, as the aftershocks began to
fade and his body stopped convulsing, he remembered what
Obi-Wan had demanded, and without a thought for himself, gave
his lover the other thing.
As the sobs of years poured out of him, he felt Obi-Wan
immediately sit on the bed reaching for him. His own Padawan
held him as he cried for all the times he hadn't been able to
cry, for all the dead he'd been too busy to mourn, for all the
minor hurts and scars a Jedi must rise above, for all the fear
that he would once more fail and raise a bright young mind only
to lose it to the Dark. It wasn't a mere scattering of tears;
Qui-Gon's body was wracked over and over again as Obi-Wan held
on, occasionally offering part of his robe, just as Qui-Gon had
to a scared young man.
Finally, slowly, Qui-Gon's sobbing faded until he only shook
now and then in his lover's arms.
"Why did I punish you?" Obi-Wan asked, his voice soft and
loving.
"Because I needed it," Qui-Gon replied. "Because only pain and
fear of your displeasure could do this for me." He looked up at
his lover. "I don't even have the words . . . "
"Then don't even try, Qui-Gon." Obi-Wan stood up and pulled at
him. "You know all those candles I bought when we were on
Dellubia? I just lit them in the bathroom and the water's still
hot."
Qui-Gon smiled. "Good. After working so hard on your Master's
behalf, you'll need me to help you bathe, Padawan."
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