Series/Sequel: This totally smutty little vignette is for fun
(but you can throw it into the middle of my series if you
want).
Pairing: Qui-Gon/Obi-Wan
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: None
Archive: OK to SWAL and Master/Apprentice; all others, please
ask.
Feedback: Yes, please! On-list or privately, detailed or short
- your feedback is all that keeps these stories coming, and is
appreciated.
Disclaimer: Lucas owns 'em, darn it. I use them. Lots.
Summary: Qui-Gon teaches his Padawan a new skill.
"I...I can't..." Obi-Wan gasped. He was being raised, moving
too swiftly but nearly fast enough, and the relentless pressure
of his Master's mouth was an incessant luxury he suffered
gladly.
Qui-Gon ran his tongue lightly around the head of Obi-Wan's
cock. "Try," he hissed, his lips forming an open circle around
his Padawan's most urgent need, strangling him with wantonness.
Obi-Wan knew his Master was speaking, but the words resonated
across the desperate urgency of his lust, driving him half
insane. Head thrown back over the gathered sheets at the end of
the bed, Obi-Wan attempted the artistry his Master demanded.
His exposed soul was on fire with his Master's touch, as those
large sensual hands wandered purposefully, merciless in their
furious, fevered exploration.
"Master!" The word was torn from the young apprentice,
whose breathing ceased for a long moment, then resumed,
tortured and ragged. "Please..."
"Obi-Wan." The sound of his own name, spoken with exquisite
softness by the man who caressed him so intimately, threw
Obi-Wan into even greater overload. Those lips stopped their
motion but a moment, enough for the apprentice to reach out
selfishly. Qui-Gon caught his hands and grated, "Try, Obi-Wan."
Obi-Wan drowned in pleasure, his senses a mass of impulse and
decadence. Even as Qui-Gon's fingers explored all of his body
with fleeting strokes, Obi-Wan struggled to focus his mind. His
Master's thoughts intruded without reserve, shredding what
remained of self-restraint, even as that ardent, appreciative
mouth moved on him, sucking and nibbling. Qui-Gon lowered all
barriers in anticipation.
A subtle change in position and Qui-Gon was above him, filling
his field of vision, and inside him, inside his mind, and his
body. Glittering embers of deep fulfillment cascaded through
Obi-Wan's mental buffers, shattering his inhibitions like
rainbow glass. He was completed, enraptured, utterly incapable
of conscious thought. His mind's eye exploded outward, rushing
toward the magnet which drew it, faster and faster...
...and he was seeing, he was feeling himself through his
Master's eyes...
...the stark beauty of rippled, muscled flesh, the open
mouth, the delicate throat, the soft gasping sighs of
happiness, the rapid heartbeat which threatened to pound out of
his chest, and the deliberate, gradual assault of his body,
taking possession, and the warmth, the heat, the soft liquid
melting of his soul, his spirit. His reason for being was here,
so ready, so certain, in control and urging him on...the hard
length of desire against his belly, the unbearable friction of
ecstasy just out of reach, the soft pulling and tight
confinement of his lust, which absorbed his will...
...and an incredible, all-encompassing, sharply defined
love, so powerful in its aching need that there was no way to
hide from it...
Obi-Wan cried his Master's name, his body suspended in mid-air,
a thousand nerves firing at once, a symphony of noise and touch
and sensation and color and light, bursting and cresting over
waves of shock and helplessness. He felt his Master's essence
within him, and his journey was complete in the circle of
Qui-Gon's arms. They fell together through the brilliant shards
of Obi-Wan's last grasp at innocence.
"Now do you see, Padawan?" a voice whispered softly in his ear,
sending quakes vibrating through him.
"I see, Master," came the shaken reply. "I see
everything."
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