Master Apprentice
Archive
The Red Satin Shirt
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Qui-Gon awoke, feeling the fading echo of the Force-suggestion that had put him under, to find he was flat on his back on a hard, unyielding surface. He tried to move, only to discover that his hands were tied down. Drawn down to near his hips, they were anchored firmly to metal rings set directly into the hard wood floor on which he lay. He raised his head as he tried to move his feet, but they were immovable as well, spread wide and bound to more of the solid rings. Another wide band encircled his hips, just above his already full erection.
Unless he used the Force, he was quite thoroughly helpless. And using the Force was forbidden
He shifted as much as he was able, feeling the cool wood scrape along his hips. He was still dressed in the sleeveless white shirt he'd put on this morning, but the waistband of his leggings had been pulled down onto his thighs, leaving him utterly exposed. He reached out automatically with his senses. It came as no surprise that he was not alone.
"So," he said in his most casual tone, as if he weren't staked down and entirely too vulnerable. "Now that you have me, what do you plan to do?"
"You'll soon find out." The words, softly spoken, were from directly above his head. He twisted to try to see, but hands stilled his face as Obi-Wan knelt up. The end of an already dripping cock brushed past Qui-Gon's nose and pressed against his lips. "Open."
Obediently, he did, reaching out with his tongue to guide the purpled head into his mouth. He savored the salty bitterness as his gaze roamed hungrily over the figure above him.
The red satin shirt was open to the waist, the white pants drawn down past narrow hips, and Obi-Wan still wore the black blindfold and chain collar and leash from their earlier role-playing. As he sucked gently on the head of his lover's cock, Qui-Gon wondered why Obi-Wan hadn't removed them.
"I like them," the padawan said, apparently reading Qui-Gon's thoughts through their bond. He leaned forward to stroke his master's erection briefly, the new position giving Qui-Gon another inch of flesh to suck. "They make me know that I belong to you, and you to me."
// Always, // Qui-Gon sent, his mouth too occupied for speech.
The almost inaudible rustle of clothing was his only warning before Obi-Wan moved, swinging around so that he was straddling the broad shoulders. Weight settled on Qui-Gon's chest, the firmness of slender thighs pressing against his upper arms. As the cold steel chain brushed the side of his neck, Qui-Gon opened his mouth again, feeling every inch of Obi-Wan's fully engorged cock as it slid past his teeth and pressed against his tongue.
"Suck."
Again, he obeyed. Fingers slid into his hair, tightening until they immobilized his head. It was painful, and terribly arousing, being held that way, used that way, while the thick cock began to pump slowly in and out of his mouth. He stared longingly at the tightly peaked nipples visible through the red satin, wanting to touch them.
"Use your tongue," he was instructed.
He begin to stroke the organ with the flat of his tongue, struggling to breathe around it as it suddenly went deeply into his throat. It was difficult not to gag, but he was a Jedi. He had control over his reflexes, even in times like this, when his padawan had control over everything else.
"So hot, so good," Obi-Wan praised. He was still holding Qui-Gon's head still as if he were some inanimate object with no feelings, no will of his own. He deepened his strokes further, and this time Qui-Gon did gag, if only slightly. Immediately, the cock in his mouth stilled. // All right, love? //
// Yes. //
Obi-Wan began to move again, slowly at first, as if savoring the slight rasp of teeth against the sensitive skin of his cock. Qui-Gon sucked as much as he was able, putting the same effort into it as he would have a training session or a 'saber duel. Above him, Obi-Wan moaned his approval. It was a beautiful sound, low and needy and entirely erotic. Qui-Gon tried to lift his hips as his erection throbbed insistently. A soft chuckle let him know that his padawan was aware of his difficulty.
"Later for that," Obi-Wan said off-handedly. "You will obtain release only if I choose."
Qui-Gon would have answered, would have said, "Yes, Master," had his mouth not been full. Instead, he sucked harder, reaching as far forward as he could with his tongue, though the action allowed the invader even deeper into his throat. He relaxed his muscles, closing his eyes in concentration.
Obi-Wan was thrusting quickly now, pistoning in and out of his mouth with no thought to Qui-Gon's comfort. His hands had tightened in the long, silvered hair until the Jedi moaned in pain. The vibration pushed his padawan over the edge. With a soft cry, Obi-Wan thrust deep, deeper than ever, and released his seed in a series of hot spurts.
Qui-Gon swallowed, though it was difficult with his jaws forced so widely apart. He'd done this before, however, and had gotten quite adept at it. The tightening and relaxing of his throat around Obi-Wan's member milked the younger man dry, and Qui-Gon felt the satin over steel cock softening and shrinking in his mouth. A moment later, it was withdrawn, the grip on his hair released, and Obi-Wan swung off of him.
"That was good, little one," Obi-Wan said, and Qui-Gon chuckled at hearing his favorite endearment turned back on him. It scarcely fit, he thought, given his much greater size. But, he had little time to dwell on it as fingertips ghosted down his chest, across his abdomen, and lightly circled his by now painful erection. "And, I suppose you would like me to do something about this?"
"Yes, Master," Qui-Gon moaned as his length was grasped. "Please."
"You beg so prettily." The fingers tightened, past the point of comfort, while another finger was thrust into his opening. Obi-Wan must have already oiled him, he realized, as he felt the digit slide slickly inside. But beyond that, there was no preparation, and the invader burned. Qui-Gon shifted his hips as a second finger joined the first, increasing the pain as resistant muscles were forced to stretch. "So tight, aren't you? So tight for me."
"Only for you, Master." Qui-Gon needed to move, the heat of the enveloping fist making his cock twitch. He tried to thrust upward, seeking friction, but the strap across his hips prevented it. He groaned in frustration.
"Oh, no. You must earn this release, little one." Obi-Wan's crooning voice was accompanied by a third finger that made Qui-Gon gasp and go suddenly still. Pain sparked behind his eyes, a slow red burn, the same color as the shirt above him.
"Hurts," he mumbled.
"Yes, I know." The fingers pumped in and out once, twice, a third time, before finally being withdrawn. Feeling his way since he couldn't see, Obi-Wan shifted down to sit between Qui-Gon's bare feet. Hands slid inside the legs of his pants, fingernails scraping lightly against his calves. "I'm going to fuck you now."
A shiver raced up Qui-Gon's spine at those softly spoken words. "Yes," he gasped, needing to be taken, to be used. He felt the cuffs around his ankles being released, and then Obi-Wan was stripping off the leggings, tossing them carelessly away. Qui-Gon started to draw his legs up, opening himself, but hands caught him and held his feet down.
"Don't move," he was warned, and he forced himself to lie perfectly still, waiting and watching as Obi-Wan stroked up and down the inside of his legs. They trembled under the touch. Those strong fingers closed suddenly around his ankles, lifting them onto Obi-Wan's shoulders. The younger man leaned forward, folding him nearly in half. The ends of the long black blindfold tickled across one of Qui-Gon's nipples, the cold metal leash dragging up the crease between leg and groin. He felt every inch of it, every link, against his super-sensitized skin. All he could see was red as a thick, hot invader pressed into his crack, demanding all his attention.
Qui-Gon tried to push down onto it, frustrated when he couldn't.
"Don't move." The words were sharper this time, insistent, the voice harsh and husky with arousal. Obi-Wan pushed forward slightly, pressing just the tip oh his erection inside. "Who do you belong to?" he demanded.
"You! Only you!"
With a roar, Obi-Wan thrust, impaling his lover in one swift, deep stroke. Qui-Gon echoed the sound, feeling himself filled, the burn painful and red hot and delicious at the same time. His balls drew up tight, signaling his imminent release, but Obi-Wan sensed it, too, and froze.
Qui-Gon moaned in frustration.
"Silence!" Obi-Wan was breathing heavily, struggling to control his own climax. Qui-Gon studied his face. The short-cropped hair, the padawan braid that curled back over his shoulder, the crease between his eyebrows, the little mole that Qui-Gon loved to kiss; he knew them all so well, had mapped them time and again with fingers and lips and tongue. He wished he could see his lover's eyes, even though the image of a blindfolded and collared Obi-Wan sent spikes of need straight to his cock.
It seemed to be forever before Obi-Wan began to move again, but in reality, it was only a few moments. Finally, he withdrew, very slowly, only to slam back in with a grunt of effort and slowly withdraw. Each hard thrust shoved Qui-Gon upwards on the slick floor. Only the band around his waist and those around his wrists kept him from being scooted across the room by the power of Obi-Wan's movements.
Obi-Wan began to speed up, still driving in hard. He reached up to immobilize Qui-Gon's head and took his mouth in a fierce kiss, thrusting his tongue inside and bruising the older man's lips. Qui-Gon clinched his hands into fists, wanting so badly to touch and being denied even that simple pleasure. He groaned aloud, the sound muffled by Obi-Wan's mouth. He was hovering once again on the knife-edge of release, his untouched cock throbbing and dripping precum onto his stomach.
// Oh, Force, please, // he moaned into their bond. Immediately, Obi-Wan's free hand captured his erection, the fingers clinching, the thumb rubbing slow circles across the head.
Red stars gone nova exploded behind Qui-Gon's vision as he came. He screamed into Obi-Wan's mouth, his body going rigid as his padawan continued to thrust. The strokes grew erratic, though still fast and deep, and Obi-Wan broke off the kiss as his own climax rolled over him. He buried his face in Qui-Gon's neck, a moaning sound that was nearly a sob escaping him.
As the afterglow began to fade, Qui-Gon realized that his young lover was draped limply across his chest. The chain was cold against Qui-Gon's shoulder, in stark contrast to the hot breath that puffed near his ear. He opened his eyes to a sea of red satin.
"Release me," he whispered, "so that I can touch you."
Obi-Wan pushed himself up, easing his weight off of his master. He smiled, and there was a definite spark of amusement in his voice when he spoke. "Oh, no, little one. I'm not going to release you yet." He trailed one hand through the cooling come on Qui-Gon's chest, bringing it to his lips to taste. "I have many, many more things I wish to do to you first."
Qui-Gon swallowed hard at the heated promise, feeling his cock already beginning to refill. "Such as?"
The smile broadened, and even without being able to see Obi-Wan's eyes, Qui-Gon knew it meant trouble. "You'll just have to wait and see, won't you?"
The End