Category: Smut, Smut, and more Smut. Oh, and PWP of course.
Archive: Yes to Master/Apprentice, Nesting Place and SWAL; all
others please ask Warnings: No spoilers. Did I mention Smut?
Disclaimer: Characters belong to Lucas and gang.
Summary: Trapped in a cell together, Qui-Gon tries to teach his
apprentice the art of passing time.
Author's notes: I did it! I wrote something short! You wouldn't
believe the struggle I have in simply jotting down a quick
story. No matter how small, it always ends up turning into a
150+K story. It wasn't easy, but I resisted plot this time.
Voila! An actual PWP.
His moans sounded hollow and tin to his own ears. The sheets
were rough and nappy under his greedy fingers... clasping,
clutching, grasping for purchase against the bed. His hips
arched up, the soft skin of his buttocks rasping against the
pallet where the thin fabric had been pushed aside. Heated,
humid suction engulfed his aching cock, hard fingers pressed
red marks into the pale skin of his ass...alternately holding
him still and pulling him up to meet the devouring mouth that
kissed, sucked and licked.
Dark shadows spilled across the bed, uneasy partners with the
pale lemon light of hyperspace that washed in the single
porthole...painting the two entwined figures in a chiaroscuro
of charcoal movement. One hand released its death-grip on the
sheets, flailing for the soft silk of long silvered brown hair.
Once tangled there, his fingers twined roughly in the strands,
desperately pulling his tormentor closer, thrusting his hips
up...fucking the willing mouth, sinking himself more completely
in the hot wetness.
He was close, achingly close. But he ruthlessly quashed his
release, cruelly biting the inside of his cheek, the pain
bringing startling clarity through the passion haze. His head
tipped back, his own mouth opening in a wordless cry as sharp
teeth deliberately grazed the sensitive underside of his penis,
payback for his rough hand. It only brought the blood-red lust
down more firmly on his brain, coloring his remaining thoughts
crimson.
An animal moan sounded again from somewhere deep in his gut,
his crystal eyes fluttering shut momentarily. The swelling
sensation was consuming him, eating him alive just as the
hungry mouth sucking at his cock was. The hands were cruelly
tight on his hips now, keeping him under control, forcing him
to give up restraint, trying to make him lose it.
He caught the tip of his tongue between his teeth and used
every ounce of self-possession to force himself up into a
seated position, looking down at the top of the head that still
suckled purposefully at his cock. Swallowing convulsively,
tasting the metallic tang of blood in his mouth, he set his
hands to the broad shoulders and wrenched the older man over
onto his back, trying to dislodge him. The big hands would not
let go of his hips and he found himself pulled over on top,
unable to wrest control back into his own grip nor his cock
from its wet, heated sheath.
Stars were starting to explode in his brain as the hands
gripping him tightened, the mouth continued, determined. The
pleasure was almost debilitating...his motor skills were fast
deteriorating in the wake of his single, monumental effort to
struggle free, to regain his wits.
A tortured growl was the only sound he could make as the hands
on his ass started to pump him in and out, taking him in as
deep as he could, a burning slick tongue sliding up and around
the aching tip. His own fingers were indenting the oiled skin
of the shoulders beneath him, the flesh white to the bone with
the pressure. He was reduced to an animal, grunting and gasping
as that final control was wrested from him and he shuddered
hard once, twice and then howled as he came violently into the
moist depths of the mouth beneath him.
There was no time for him to regain his senses before he found
his suddenly boneless body flipped easily onto his back, his
legs spread and lifted. When the hard, slick intruder pushed
itself slowly inside him, filling him so completely that he
felt it in his throat, he suspected unconsciousness might be
pressing against his brain. Was it possible to die from
pleasure?
The face above him was dripping with sweat, the wide mouth wet
and glistening pink from its previous efforts. Tendrils of
long, sandy hair stuck in fascinating swirls and curls to the
broad forehead, dark blue eyes burned down at him. It was the
eyes that told the story the body would not. As the slow,
deliberate thrusts began, eye contact was not broken. Like two
pack wolves, control was not relinquished by either
irregardless of position.
His hands gripped the clenching buttocks, fingers digging into
the hard flesh, pressing the movements onwards. Harder, faster.
More.
More.
Wordless noises were issuing from his lover's mouth, the eyes
half-lidded but still drilling into his own... even as control
was fought for...
...and finally lost. Eyes squeezed shut as the muscular body
over him tensed, veins standing out on the strong neck. He
could feel the hard thickness that stretched him throbbing with
release. A low growling moan rising through the half-dark of
the room before the larger body collapsed upon his with a final
gasp.
Silence filled the tiny room for several long minutes, broken
only by the labored breathing of the two men at its center.
He pushed his lover off him with a grunt, lying still for a
moment to slow his breath and then gracefully curling his body
up into a sitting position, rubbing one hand across his
close-cropped hair. He grinned down at the older man who
currently lay face down across the too-small pallet, his teeth
white in the half-light of space.
One finger trailed down the line of his Master's spine, feeling
the damp moisture of sweat mixed with the remnants of the
massage oil that had started this whole thing. It was easy to
imagine that they were simply spending an idle span of time in
bed. Easy to forget where they were.
Perhaps that was the point.
It was the point. His mouth flattened into a grim line
as he remembered.
Without even thinking about it, he was suddenly uncoiling up
off the pathetic pallet and stalking across the dirty floor to
the door, heedless of his nudity. For the 20th time, he pressed
his hands to the metal blast plate and stretched his senses
down into the locking mechanism.
"Obi Wan.." The voice was a sigh behind him. The rebuke was
faint, but present.
"I don't know how you can just sit there.." the young man
fumed, pushing back from the door as he failed yet again to
force the lock. He spun to face the older Jedi, Qui-Gon still
on the pallet, reclining easily against the durasteel wall, his
long legs folded casually at the ankles.
"If I recall, I wasn't just 'sitting here' a moment ago." The
words were painted with mild humor.
The sigh was explosive, and he folded his arms across his
chest, glaring. A soft chuckle was the only rejoinder. He let
himself fall against the cold metal, his head slipping back
until it met the door with a soft thunk.
"Obi Wan..," his Master's voice held a little more command this
time. "Stop fretting. We've been over this. What does sulking
get you in a crisis?"
"More than pretending there is no crisis!" He said, flaring
into motion again, his slender body tense as he began to pace
the breadth of the small room again. He could feel the heat of
his lover's eyes as he moved, restless as a caged cat. "At
least I'm trying to get us out of this!"
"How? What have you done so far that has gotten us any closer
to getting out that door? Off this ship?"
He shook his head, the long weight of his braid tickling his
collarbone.
"That's not the point. The point is that I don't want to wait
here like some docile herdbeast for them to decide what they
are going to do with us!"
The captain of the freighter they had been using as transport
had inexplicably taken their weapons and locked them into the
tiny room over five hours earlier, and then jumped into
hyperspace. It made no sense, and that was part of the reason
he was so aggravated by their situation. It had been a routine
flight back to Coruscant. It drove him crazy, the lack of
control or knowledge. The lack of the ability to even
guess why they'd been captured. Qui-Gon was trying to
get him to simply relax and wait, but he was finding himself
unable to simply let his fate hang in limbo that way. He needed
to act...to do something. Anything.
Apparently his Master did not have the same compulsion.
Another sigh from the shadows surrounding the pallet.
"As much as I'm enjoying the view, young Padawan. You are
making me dizzy, come and sit."
Obi Wan paused momentarily mid-pace and then complied, sinking
to the edge of the bed. He dragged his discarded cloak around
his tightly muscled shoulders as an afterthought against the
chill of the room, leaning his elbows down on his knees.
Qui-Gon did not touch him, but he leaned forward, his face
dipping into the swath of half-light that streamed in through
the porthole. His eyes were serene.
"Think for a moment, apprentice mine. Which is better? Pacing
up and back across the room, beating your fists against an
immovable door and raging to the Universe? Or," and now he
lifted one hand and placed it softly on the strong column of
the younger man's neck, painting soft circles with the pads of
his fingers, "relaxing and resting yourself for the trials that
might occur when that door does open?" The hand was
kneading small knots of tension out of his muscles and he
couldn't restrain the tiny moan of pleasure that puffed from
his lips.
"I.." his voice stalled when soft lips suddenly replaced the
fingers, nipping and nibbling at the flesh there. This
seduction was very similar to what had happened an hour
earlier, though he had been clothed that time.
"You what?" The words were breathed onto his neck, against the
tender skin just below his ear. Gooseflesh rippled down his
arms, his nipples tightening with sudden need.
He blinked, what had he been asked?
"Which is better?" Qui-Gon prompted him again, now touching his
earlobe with the tip of his tongue.
Oh yeah. Better.
"I.." His voice was breathy, his fingers curling into the loose
drape of his cloak. He was supposed to be arguing something.
The thought kept him from bailing to the sensations. Qui-Gon
could sense his reticence and withdrew just a hair, his lips
only a whisper from his Padawan's ear. It allowed him to gather
his wits. "I have to do something...I can't just sit.." he
managed at last.
"Ah," warm breath tickled his neck, "but sometimes sitting is
the answer."
He was rock hard again, regardless of the passion he'd just
spent only 10 minutes earlier. His master's voice was pitched
low and intimate. It was hard to hear the meaning when the
delivery was so arousing.
"Or lying down.."
He swallowed. This was exactly how he'd been distracted
earlier. Qui-Gon was doing it on purpose. He might have been
annoyed, but it felt far too good. With a muted growl, he
surrendered, twisting his body agilely around and bearing the
bigger man down to the pallet. He was going to drive this time,
he thought as he captured his Master's wrists and pinned them
over his head, looking down at him with a mix of lust and
irritation.
"You're trying to distract me..." he accused, finding the dark
blue eyes in the dim light. They glittered with arousal and he
could feel the hard body beneath him quickening with
excitement. It made him catch his breath.
"Of course.." A smile, white teeth a slash in the murk. "Is it
working?" he asked innocently.
Obi Wan lowered his mouth in answer.
The kiss was more of a battle than anything else, especially
with the frustration of their situation burning so strongly in
his blood. Whenever they made love it always contained some
aspect of a delicious fight. The competition of it, the
wildness of it, every new time was more exciting than the last.
He had once caught a glimpse of them in a mirror, entwined in
ecstasy, akin to two sleek predatory felines fighting for their
share of the pleasure. It was breathtaking.
Their tongues clashed wildly together as he straddled the other
man, sucking and biting open-mouthed at the lips beneath him,
bodies grinding together in a sinuous dance. His cloak had
slipped back off and now lay half-trapped underneath Qui-Gon.
His hands still held his Master stretched and taut in his grip.
Definitely his turn.
His lips and tongue and teeth traveled down chin, jaw, throat,
collarbone.. pulling the trapped wrists with him, not
relinquishing his power. He growled happily to himself as he
found first one nipple, then the other, the sounds of pleasure
his Master was making going straight to his balls. He could
feel the hard heat of Qui-Gon's erection pressing into his
stomach and he rubbed his navel against the weeping tip. The
hissing breath warned him an instant before his Master tried to
yank his wrists out of his grip.
He tightened his fists almost painfully. Not this time.
Grinning into the light fur of the chest beneath his mouth, he
continued to move lower and lower, leaving a hot, wet trail in
his wake. Another moaning attempt at freedom from his lover
just as he was about to taste the tip made up his mind for him.
With surprise on his side and a little help from the Force, he
twisted Qui-Gon over onto his stomach, pulling the trapped
wrists up and crossing them easily at the small of the muscled
back. Much easier to control now, he grinned to himself.
"Quietly thinking ways out of here, Master?" he rumbled,
pressing his lips into the soft pad of flesh just above his ass
and flicking his tongue out. The older man responded by
thrusting his hips into the pallet and groaning. He bit down a
little roughly, moving his lips onwards down over the sweet
curve of Qui-Gon's flank, letting his tongue lave a long track
of wet behind it.
He let go of the wrists, certain now of his control, grabbing
ahold of the hips before him and lifting slightly, grinning as
his Master's legs parted with the movement. Qui-Gon wasn't
going anywhere now.
His lips traveled further down, nibbling on the tender insides
of the older man's strong thighs. A moan rumbled from the head
of the pallet, deep and wild as he breathed gently on the
exposed balls that hung before him. His tongue flicked out
again, curling under one of the soft sacs and pulling it back
into the wet heat of his mouth. A hitching gasp sounded,
Qui-Gon's whole body shuddering. His thumbs were digging into
the muscular thighs, pushing them further apart as he took the
second into his mouth, sucking gently on them together, letting
his tongue soothe them, caress them. He could feel the
throbbing need of his Master's cock only a whisper away from
his lower lip and he darted his tongue out from the warmth of
his mouth to tease the base of the heated shaft.
Qui-Gon was breathing heavily, his whole body an exposed nerve.
He'd moved his hands up near his face and he was clenching the
rough, worn pallet covering in his fists. It looked like the
thought of regaining control of the situation had vanished from
his mind with the onslaught of Obi Wan's latest attentions.
His own passions were becoming too wild to control and he let
Qui-Gon's balls fall out of his mouth as he worked his tongue
upwards, tasting the sweat and musk of his Master's arousal.
The older man actually flinched when his tongue found the taut,
puckered ring of muscle...laving it with saliva, gently working
it open.
Qui-Gon was writhing against his tongue by the time he finally
moved away, biting almost roughly at the flesh of one cheek
before clasping the squirming hips and mounting his lover. His
cock was slippery with a mixture of sweat, pre-cum and the
remains of the oil they had used earlier...and he slid inside
the tight passage with a groan that peeled his lips back from
his teeth.
He began to rock, closing his eyes against the need to simply
explode, thrusting upwards deliberately, forcefully...listening
to the music of his lover's gasping moans. With an intensity
that seemed to pull that familiar red cloud of lust over his
eyes, he kept his movements slow and hard, letting the tight
muscles clench almost painfully around him, stroking him,
squeezing him.
One hand dropped down and up and around Qui-Gon's body, closing
the other man's erection into his hand and beginning a sliding
stroke up and down the engorged muscle. Qui-Gon bucked under
him, a choked shout exploding from his lips, creating a
delicious friction on his cock as he clamped down inside. He
wasn't going to be able to keep any semblance of control much
longer, his vision was dissolving into a crimson haze. He
thrust harder, his hand moving in tandem along the velvet steel
of his lover's penis...and then his Master was coming,
shuddering and shaking with his release both inside and out. It
was enough to push Obi Wan over as his cock was squeezed with
the rhythmic contractions of the tight muscle that surrounded
it.
He collapsed onto his master's back, rubbing his stubbled cheek
in the sweaty dampness between Qui-Gon's shoulder blades.
"You did that on purpose." He murmured finally, almost
sleepily.
Qui-Gon chuckled, deliberately collapsing under his apprentice
and rolling him over to pull him into his arms.
"What if I did? I like you better this way then when you're
pacing and fretting like a sulking child. It gets neither of us
anywhere. Except maybe you end up clouding your mind with
needless frustration...and I get a headache watching you."
He was silent for a long time and Qui-Gon looked down at him as
if wondering if he'd fallen asleep. He settled his arms up
behind his head, light blue eyes peering at the older man
thoughtfully.
"Ok. So. Maybe I see your point." A sheepish grin. "We've
already determined there's no way out. We have no food or water
and we don't know how limited our air is. We don't know where
we're going. We have to wait and find out more before we can
act properly. And since we can't get out the door, we have to
wait anyway."
Qui-Gon was smiling at him, pleased.
"Good, Padawan. I knew that once you got past your impatience,
you would see my point." His master looked up then, his eyes
flicking to the porthole. Obi Wan followed his gaze, surprised
to see the glittering points of normal light that meant normal
space. They had come out of Hyperspace.
Obi Wan twisted himself up and out of his Master's embrace, off
the pallet, padding across the room to the round window and
peering out. His brow lowered into a frown.
"Coruscant," he muttered in surprise, seeing the dark
glittering mass of the planet below. No other world looked the
same. He twisted his head over his shoulder to stare at
Qui-Gon, his gaze suddenly suspicious. Why would they be back
where they had started from? Why would a kidnapper take them to
the heart of their power?
The older man was pulling his tunic closed and buckling his
belt with a small smile on his face, the long hair somewhat
askew. Obi Wan's crystal eyes narrowed to slits, but before he
could open his mouth, his tunic was tossed at him. He
automatically pulled it on, lips slightly parted in
consternation.
"Better get dressed." Qui-Gon said cheerfully, swirling his
cloak over his shoulders. "She'll be coming."
"Damn you..." Obi Wan fumed, realizing, "this was a test?" He
yanked on his pants, trying to keep his temper up and failing.
His master's smile was infectious....and he felt too good to be
mad.
Even now he could sense the presence of the captain coming to
open the door. A test. Of course. He should have realized that
Qui-Gon, while enjoying his image of pure emotionless
perfection, would never have been as collected as he had been
over the past hours of 'captivity'. He would have noticed that
if he hadn't been so worked up over their incarceration.
A lesson indeed.
He couldn't stop his mouth from quirking a little as he scooped
up his cloak from the floor, crooking an eyebrow at the odd,
wet stain on the hem. He had just settled it on his shoulders
when the door opened and the captain poked her head in.
"We've arrived at Coruscant, as you ordered Master Jinn. Will
there be anything else required of me?"
"No Captain. Thank you. Please arrange for a shuttle to take us
to the surface."
She bowed slightly and strode back down the hall, leaving the
door open.
"So." Obi Wan said, his arms akimbo, his stance loose. "A test.
What was I supposed to learn here?" he asked, his voice almost
teasing.. eyes burning with a hidden amusement.
"Patience. Restraint." Qui-Gon folded his hands into his
sleeves, his eyes mild and almost mischievous. "The ability to
see a situation for what it is and accept it. Perhaps even to
accept that there might be nothing you can do about it."
Obi Wan moved towards the older man smoothly, almost like he
was stalking him.
"And how does fucking my brains out achieve such a lesson?" His
voice was a sultry whisper as he stood only inches from his
master.
A chuckle and then Qui-Gon turned away, walking towards the
door.
"Usually you try to get your frustrated Padawan to play chess
to pass the time," he said smoothly. A long pause and then he
grinned openly.
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