Author's note: Inspired by today's yoga class. Oh boy, it was a
good class though I may have missed attaining the correct
meditative state. Not beta'd.
Category: PWP. No spoilers.
Feedback: Please, but keep it gentle. My first completed
fanfic.
Dedicated: To cincoflex, who got me hooked.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Sob. Wish they were. No money made.
"I can't believe he's going to make you work more tonight,"
Bant said to his friend Obi-Wan as the two padawans strolled
toward the rooms they shared with their Masters at the Jedi
Temple. "He was at the exercises today. He saw how much you
worked out."
Obi-Wan grimaced and shrugged. "Qui-Gon is a dedicated teacher.
Sometimes too dedicated," he said ruefully, stretching back
muscles exhausted from a full day of practicing ritual combat
with the other padawans.
They stopped in front of Bant's door. "If you need me for a
massage in the morning, let me know," she said, giving Obi-Wan
an affectionate cuff on the shoulder before opening the door.
"I will," Obi-Wan promised as Bant went into her rooms.
Continuing down the corridor, Obi-Wan wondered what his Master
had planned for tonight. Qui-Gon was indeed a dedicated
teacher. Even after the two had become lovers on Obi-Wan's 18th
birthday, Qui-Gon never let their relationship interfere with
his apprentice's learning. He rarely gave precise instructions
and explanations, requiring Obi-Wan to develop his own powers
of logic and reasoning to decipher the meaning of the lessons.
Qui-Gon had only briefly watched the exercises today, but had
contacted him quickly during dinner to warn him to eat a light
meal and be prepared for more work.
Entering their rooms, Obi-Wan was surprised to find most of the
lamps darkened. The center lamp was still lit, casting a glow
over the middle of the room. Obi-Wan stood in the middle of the
light circle and waited. His Master rose from a chair in one
corner, and walked to stand in front of the young Jedi. He
clasped a drinking glass in one hand, and Obi-Wan caught the
faint aroma of baranan juice. While Jedi did not usually
indulge in alcoholic spirits, Qui-Gon drank the very best
liqueurs on those infrequent occasions when he desired to
relax. Obi-Wan's hopes rose that this 'lesson' may be more
interesting than he originally thought.
"I watched you in the exercises today, Obi-Wan. Your form still
needs more work. You are an excellent athlete, but you tend to
rely on showmanship and flashy maneuvers when pressed too hard.
You need practice on precise postures." Qui-Gon's voice was
more detached than condemnatory.
"Yes, Master."
"Hang up your cloak. I wish you to run through the postures."
Obi-Wan took off his cloak and hung it up, wondering if he
should feel insulted. The postures were a series of meditative
poses, held for long moments while concentrating on the flow of
the Force. There were among the most basic of exercises taught
to young students at the Jedi Academy. Though seemingly simple,
the postures developed flexibility and muscular control.
"And take off your boots. You need to feel grounded."
"Yes, Master." Obi-Wan pulled off his boots and dropped them in
the closet. Qui-Gon had returned to the chair, sipping casually
on the baranan juice. The shadows concealed most of his body.
His feet were bare, and he crossed his legs as he waited for
his apprentice to prepare.
"And your shirt. I want to see if your chest muscles are
properly expanding." Qui-Gon's voice was losing its detached
air and developing a husky drawl.
Things were definitely looking up, Obi-Wan decided, taking off
his tunic and dropping it into the laundry bin. "Master, should
I remove my breeches? It would help you see that my knees are
properly aligned."
"An excellent suggestion, Obi-Wan. Please do so."
Dressed only in his undergarment, Obi-Wan returned to the
center of the room. The light cast down on his pale skin,
illuminating his form for his Master's gaze. Obi-Wan cherished
the thought that his Master was studying his form. Obi-Wan knew
that his shape was almost perfect by most humanoid standards.
Tall, well muscled, with strong features, his Master had
complimented him often on his beauty once their relationship
had passed the traditional Master/padawan boundaries. Obi-Wan
was not a vain man, but he deeply loved his Master and
appreciated that Qui-Gon derived pleasure from his body. He
certainly enjoyed studying his Master's even taller figure,
admiring his long brown hair and well proportioned physique.
"Warm-up," came the command.
Obi-Wan moved through basic warming exercises, deep breathing
contrasting with gentle stretches. He kept his movements light,
supple, rolling his head, then rotating his arms, hips,
stretching his calves. He heard his Master's breathing deepen,
then level out, as if his Master had to fight to rein in a
passionate response. Obi-Wan raised his right arm over his
head, fingers extended, feeling energy course through his body,
stretching one side. He repeated the gesture with the left
side.
"Warrior poses," Qui-Gon's voice had definitely deepened.
Obi-Wan stifled a brief grin as he moved obediently into the
first warrior pose, sliding his legs apart and bending over his
left leg.
"Right foot should be perpendicular to the left foot."
"Yes, Master." Obi-Wan shifted the position of his feet
slightly, his head touching below his left knee, allowing his
Master to study the stretched muscles of his back. He held the
pose for twenty breaths, enjoying the relaxation and energy of
his body as well as the intense feel of his Master's blue eyes.
Silently, he shifted into the second warrior pose, lunging
forward on the left foot, hands raised to shoulder width, left
hand pointed forward while right hand pointed directly back.
Obi-Wan continued the slow, gentle movements, lunging deeply in
some, stretching upwards and back in others, keeping his motion
graceful and fluid. Never before had the postures struck him as
sexual until tonight. Several times he heard the jerk and harsh
expiration of Qui-Gon's breath as he stilled his instinctive
responses to Obi-Wan's supple rhythm. Obi-Wan deliberately
exaggerated several poses, arching his back and thrusting his
hips. Each time, his Master noticed the lack of precision and
corrected him in a voice that became increasingly deeper and
darker.
The tension in the room built slowly until Obi-Wan could hardly
bear not to scream for release from the imprisonment of his
Master's eyes. He craved more than gazes and words but
ruthlessly restrained his desires, desperately concentrating on
the Force to keep his body calm. As if hearing his unspoken
scream, Qui-Gon finally raised himself from the chair, circling
around behind his apprentice.
"Very good, Obi-Wan," he said. "You have excellent form."
Obi-Wan had dropped into table posture, legs spread wide, back
straight and parallel to the floor, arms spread on each side.
He started to rise but was stopped by one strong hand holding
him in place. Qui-Gon brushed one palm up and down the firm
back muscles. "You have the most perfect body I have ever seen.
Have I told you that?"
"Yes, Master." Obi-Wan heard soft rustling movements, and
realized his Master was disrobing. Hands dropped to his
undergarment and Obi-Wan felt it falling off and onto the
floor. The excitement of being naked and trapped in front of an
equally exposed Qui-Gon was unbearable. He become suddenly,
shockingly erect as he realized that the voyeuristic play time
was finally ending. "Have I told you that you have the most
perfect body I have ever seen?"
"No, padawan. I don't believe you have." Qui-Gon's fingers were
drawing patterns on his apprentice's back, rubbing back and
forth along the shoulder blades and down the spine before his
hands slid to Obi-Wan's firm buttocks, shaping and massaging
them.
"Allow me to rectify that omission. You have the most perfect
body I have ever seen. And I would really like to see it right
now." Obi-Wan gasped, almost driven beyond breaking point.
"Head forward, looking straight, in table top pose, padawan.
You wouldn't want incorrect posture." With a brush of the
Force, a bottle of massage oil flew through the room and landed
in Qui-Gon's hand. Obi-Wan couldn't see the oil, but realized
what it must have been when the warm liquid was smoothed over
his buttocks. Qui-Gon inserted one finger into the entrance of
his body, stretching the tight muscle. With the other hand, he
massaged oil onto his own erect penis. Clasping Obi-Wan's hips,
feeling the prominent hip bones and smooth muscles, Qui-Gon
stroked into his body. One hand slipped around to grip
Obi-Wan's erection, pumping up and down the long length.
Qui-Gon thrust deeply and steadily, maintaining an even rhythm.
Obi-Wan tried to thrust back, to force him to move faster and
harder. Digging his fingers into Obi-Wan's hips, Qui-Gon held
his apprentice in place, forcing him to accept the elder's slow
speed. Obi-Wan whimpered with excitement and despair. The
postures had lasted too long and the tension had affected him
too much. He craved release but feared that disobedience was
likely to bring a complete stop to their activity. Satisfied
that Obi-Wan was accepting his dictates, Qui-Gon moved one hand
back to Obi-Wan's penis, teasing the soft skin underneath,
circling the head, pumping and caressing.
Qui-Gon drew out the excitement as long as possible, but
ultimately even his solid control broke. He thrust as hard and
as quickly as his apprentice desired. Obi-Wan locked his knees,
using the strength of his legs to keep him bending over and not
collapsing to the ground with the power of his Master's
forceful drive. Qui-Gon's hand pumped vigorously, both men
gasping loudly. With a wild cry, Qui-Gon erupted into Obi-Wan's
warm body. Seconds later, Obi-Wan exploded over Qui-Gon's hand,
allowing his knees to unlock. He dropped forward, still
breathing harshly. Qui-Gon followed him down to the ground,
wrapping his arms loosely around his shoulders and cuddling
him, brushing his check across the back of Obi-Wan's neck. He
smoothed his palms down the front of his apprentice, but
gentling and relaxing rather than teasing.
"Very good, Obi-Wan. To keep such excellent posture even in the
midst of such distraction.... I was wrong to think you needed
additional instruction."
"I'm not sure, Master. I think I slipped on a few occasions."
Finally able to breathe, Obi-Wan teased, a small retaliation
for his Master's dominance. "But since you have such excellent
posture, maybe I should watch you instead of just practicing.
To study the perfect example."
Qui-Gon released a shuddering sigh at the thought. "Yet another
good suggestion. Tomorrow, padawan. Tomorrow."
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