Poetry in Motion

by Krystine (Krystine3@worldnet.att.net)

Archive: MA, anyone else please let me know
Category: Angst
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Q/O
Spoilers: None
Feedback: All comments greatly appreciated
Disclaimer: The characters belong to Mr. Lucas, no offense (or profit) is intended.
Notes: Many thanks to Crystal for her help and suggestions.
Summary: One man is rewarded in sleep with what he cannot have in the light.

I pull the worn blanket around my shoulders and nestle further into the crevices of my bunk. While the air is chilly, it is not warmth I seek in my burrow, but rather protection. I fear the content of my dreams may be discovered in a midnight confession.

Closing my eyes, my mind settles and my breathing slows. I can barely hear the chimes marking the hour. Sleep is almost upon me. Before I lose all sense of my being, I allow myself a moment to pray that tonight, I shall again be rewarded in sleep with what I cannot have in the light.

For the briefest of moments, darkness ensnares me, and then I am startled to find myself immersed in light. Activity surrounds me and it takes only a moment to realize I am at the landing bay in the Temple, preparing to leave on a mission

My duties come as naturally to me as breathing, but I am careful to note what occurs during this time. I watch for a moment as a group of technicians monitor the readout from the ship's main computer. Quickly they identify a defective part and set about replacing it. They are good men; they know their jobs.

My head turns and my breath halts as I catch a glance of a cloaked figure descending from the ship's ramp. I watch as your rugged boots make contact with the steel flooring, never emitting a sound. As you make your way to the front of the bay, you pause to speak to one of the technicians. A gentle smile appears on your face, his response pleases you. The simple act of speaking earns him the reward of your smile. How I envy that man!

I fight against the jealousy rising in me. I know I have no right to feel this way, yet I cannot help it. I love you. I always have, I always will.

How I wish I could tell you of my devotion. I do not dare, for I am certain you do not feel the same. How could you? You are a god, perfection among men, and I merely a lowly mortal, a boy trying to be a man.

I return from my thoughts to find you standing next to me. Joy fills me at the realization of how close you are. As I take a breath, I detect your scent floating in the recycled air and I am near drunk in rapture. Your fragrance is intoxicating, more sensual than the most extravagant perfume offered in the Coruscant shops.

Expecting my report, you address me. Your silky voice washes over me, unknowingly caressing me with your essence. I feel my skin tingle under that caress as passion burns within me. How I long to take you and pleasure you with my body!

Drinking in the sight of you, I am reminded once more that I would gladly trade my life for one night to love you. Surely being one with the Force cannot compare to the paradise of holding you in my arms, euphoric in our satiety.

Suddenly the firm deck beneath me disappears, and I find myself standing on something soft ... sand. As I lift my head, I am aware of a tropical breeze blowing through my hair, begging the strands to be released from my braid. Basking in the warm sunlight, I wiggle my toes and enjoy the sensation of the heated grains slipping between my digits.

As I turn towards the melodic sound of the waves crashing upon the shore, my heart stops at the sight of you walking in the surf. Your tunic is open and blowing in the wind, the fine hairs on your chest barely visible, teasing me with each quick glimpse.

Mesmerized, I sit and watch as you stroll along the beach. Your steps are casual, yet there is elegance in each movement that belies a divine heritage, a favorite son of the Tryptien gods, perhaps. Blessed with beauty, intelligence, and grace, surely you are poetry in motion!

Are you aware of how beautiful you are? That the sight of you drives the most reserved of men mad with desire? You do not know these things, I think. You see yourself only as a servant of the Force, nothing special. I long to show you how special you are, to make you feel special!

I continue to watch as you follow your path, surprised when you turn from the water and begin to walk towards me. Your brilliant eyes are focused in my direction, but I cannot tell from your expression if you are glad that I am here. A sudden thought causes fear to course through me. What if you are angered by my presence? Perhaps you will think that I am intruding.

Shame forces my head down as I prepare myself for the rejection I am certain will be soon in coming. How could I have been so foolish as to allow myself to think that you would have any interest in me?

Your footsteps stop next to me and I slowly look up. The bright sun causes me to blink a few times, but as my vision adjusts, my breath is completely taken away. With the sunlight framing your body, you are absolutely stunning!

My fear is forgotten when you extend your hand and I gratefully accept your help to stand. Your skin feels as soft as I dreamed it would. I try to apologize for disturbing you, but you place your fingers over my lips before my first word can form.

Knowing I may never have another chance, I kiss your fingers as they rest on my lips. A small crease forms in your forehead as your fingers withdraw, and I groan, both at the thought of having offended you and at the loss of your touch. Before I can even think to offer an explanation, your lips meet mine in a chaste kiss as your arm reaches around my back, supporting me as you guide me to the sand.

As quickly as your lips appeared, they withdraw, leaving me gasping. I hear you call my name and I turn to find you kneeling next to my supine body. The sight of you so close to me ignites my passion with a fervor I have never before known. I nearly cry out when you remove your tunic.

My eyes wander greedily over your naked flesh, the smallest details of your chest committed to my memory. As I come upon your nipple, I can feel the hardness between my legs straining to be freed from its cloth confines. Soon, I tell myself. Soon you will be free.

You are enjoying my struggle. I can tell that from the seductive smile electrifying your face, and from the protrusion in your leggings you have made no attempt to hide. It seems you want me to see it, to know that you will allow me the pleasure of pleasuring you. You own my soul, and you know it.

I can no longer control my urge to feast upon you as I watch your hips begin to sway, your shielded organ barely inches from me. With a hunger never felt before, I sit up and tear off my tunics and belt, heedless of any damage I may do to the fabric. You stop my hands when I reach to remove my leggings, instead guiding them to your own.

With all of the reverence of one handling a fine sword, I run my hands along your strong thighs, prolonging the anticipation of feeling your organ. I can hear you moaning softly, and it becomes even harder to resist touching it. As my hands continue their exploration and move to your chest, I watch carefully, fascinated by the way your throbbing manhood moves beneath the cloth.

I wonder if I continued my exploration long enough, will the straining cause you to break through the fabric. The thought sends a wave of lust through me, but I do not intend to find out. I have no wish to torture you, though I am fairly certain you cannot say the same.

Unable to resist temptation any longer, I give in and rub the tips of my fingers over the bulging cloth. I can feel the heat in my fingertips as I try to cup the precious hardness in my hands, but I am blocked by the tightness of the cloth. Frustrated, I take a deep breath and fight to gain control of myself. I long to rip the last of your garments from you, but I will not. You are my god and I will treat you as nothing less.

Reading my intent, you raise your hips and give me permission to remove your leggings. As the cloth is pulled away, I drink in the glory of your manhood surrounded by a crown of thick hair. Truly, I have been privileged to behold such a sight!

Once again, I reach for my own leggings only to be stopped by you. It is perfectly clear I am to be your slave, and I willingly offer myself as such.

I lean forward and plant a kiss on your neck. Your breath catches as my tongue measures the force of the blood coursing through your vessels. The beating of your pulse matches my own, but that should not be surprising. My body is yours to control, as you always have.

My fingers entangle in your hair as I lay you back, freeing the strands from their tie. Your hair is soft, so soft that the finest of silks could not ever compare.

As my lips move down your neck, I hear you moan. The thought that I am bringing you pleasure intensifies my own. I know it will not be long before my release comes, but I try to hold back, to savor the passion as long as possible.

I find your nipple and embrace it with my lips. My teeth gently nip at the stub, drawing another moan from you. It takes all of my strength not to attack you when I hear this. I must be patient, I remind myself. I cannot rush this.

Your moans become louder as my lips move further down your perfectly sculpted body, the fine hairs around your navel tickling my nose. I swirl my tongue in the depression, watching as your flesh responds to my attention.

I glance up to find you watching me, your azure eyes calling me, instructing me. No words pass from your swollen lips, but I know what you want. Your hardness pressing against my body delivers the soundless order.

As I slide down the remainder of your body, I can feel the heat from the friction produced by flesh rubbing against flesh. The heat is electrifying, my nerves tingling in ways I could never before have imagined.

For a few moments, I allow myself to concentrate on that heat, to become lost in it. Please, I beg silently of whatever deity may be listening. Please, never let this end.

A sound from you immediately brings my attention back, and I curse myself for my weakness, my selfishness. My purpose is only to bring pleasure to you, my body the instrument for that delivery. Any pleasure I experience from that must be only by your command.

Arriving at the most magnificent of glories, I draw one last deep breath before I continue my worship. Timidly, I take you into my mouth, the taste of you sending another pulse of electricity through me. I hear you cry out, your body arching to push you deeper, and my shyness disappears.

Boldly now, I draw you in as deep as I can. My lips reach the base of your shaft as my tongue brushes against the fullness inside me. Withdrawing slowly, I gently use my teeth to rake your tender skin. Your organ jerks wildly inside my mouth, and for a moment, I wonder if you have reached the point of release.

That thought causes a trickle to escape from the tip of my own organ, and I moan as I feel it drip down my shaft until being absorbed by the fabric. I reach to touch myself, to give release to the need that consumes me, but I cannot. I am held prisoner within my leggings, my release denied.

Frustrated, I move to grasp your nipples while my mouth continues its work. Up and down I move, my fingers pinching while my teeth graze. Your cries are becoming louder, urging me to increase the speed and intensity of my actions.

Your body undulates wildly beneath me, at times nearly throwing me off. I know your release is close, and that knowledge drives me on. To know that it is my skill alone that has brought you to this state takes away any last thoughts I have for my own need.

I must bring you to climax. That command now consumes me. All of my actions center to accomplish this. Your climax is all that matters.

As my mouth again moves down on you, I am startled to hear your frantic shout and feel my hands forcefully pushed off your body. Dazed, I sit back in the sand and wonder what I have done to displease you. Did I hurt you? Did I, in my eagerness to bring you to climax, cause you pain?

Before my mind can offer other explanations, I feel you move next to me. Your lips meet mine for only a brief moment, but that moment is enough for me to know I have not lost you. My life will continue now, for if I had lost you, death would have been my only refuge.

Watching as you reach for my leggings, I now understand the reason for your actions. Eagerly, I pull the remaining cloth from my body and present myself for your use. I am yours to do with as you wish.

A smile appears on your beautiful face as your eyes take in my body, finally resting on my weeping organ. Pride fills me that my plain body is acceptable to you, my love, my god.

Again, your lips meet mine, but this time with intensity I have only dreamed of. My hands move to caress your face, my fingers lightly tracing the scar on your cheek as your tongue enters and begins tracing my mouth. My own tongue joins, and together, they perform a dance of passion.

Upon completion of the dance, I feel you withdrawing. The groan I want to release dies in my throat when I see the need in your face. Your expression tells me again what you desire, and happily, I place myself to comply with your demand.

Positioned on my hand and knees, I feel the heat of your body behind me, your organ so close to me. I whimper as I feel something cool drip into my cleft, teasing me with its maddeningly slow descent as it follows the contour of my body and then drips into the sand between my legs. My organ throbs with each drop's descent, each throb bringing me nearer to release.

Your voice fills my head and your command denies me what I draw ever closer to. My release may only come with your permission, and until then, I must force myself to wait.

Please, I beg as the heat of your slick organ rubbing against my cleft sends charges of fire coursing through me. Please end this waiting. Take me.

Trapped in my sensual torture, I vaguely feel you prepare me for penetration. Fingers enter me, though how many and for how long, I cannot say. Their entry is a tease, too fleeting to bring any measure of relief.

Whimpering, I hang my head only to scream as your organ opens and fills me, joining us as I have so long dreamed of. The pleasure is more than I have ever hoped for, and I am drawn to the final point of release. No, I tell myself as I fight to hold back. I must wait for you to give me that blessing. I cannot take it on my own.

Your body moves in a steady rhythm as your manhood is sheathed and unsheathed within me. My fingers claw at the sand beneath me as each thrust adds to the intense pain of my pleasure. Please, I silently beg repeatedly, please let me have my release. Only whimpers escape me, as I am no longer capable of speech.

The pain of my torture comes to an extreme intensity as you reach around my waist and grab my organ, stroking it in time with your quickening thrusts. Oh, I cannot survive this! My vision blurs and turns white as the fire in my body nearly consumes me.

With a final powerful thrust, you call my name in your climax, granting me my release as well. As your spasm forces your essence deep into me, my body shakes uncontrollably and spills my seed onto the sand. After the last droplet is forced from me, my eyes close and I collapse, too weak for my limbs to support me. Briefly, I feel your tender arms encircle me before my senses completely shut down and I know no more.

Reluctantly opening my eyes, I am surprised then disappointed to see darkness surrounding me. I am no longer lying on warm sand I realize as I feel the motion of the ship in the hyperspace. Once again, I am in my bunk. My pleasure was only a release in a dream.

Quickly I look around to make sure others in the shared cabin have not heard me. Confident that my secret is safe, I remove my hand from its sticky position around my organ and permit myself a few minutes to try to recapture the pleasure I had felt.

Failing, I give up and turn to look at you asleep in the bunk across from me. Even in sleep, you are breathtaking. Poetry is what you are. Yes, poetry in motion.

Finis