Warnings: Mild m/m goings on, but that's what we're here for,
right?
Spoilers: none.
Feedback: I'm anticipating hate letters for this one. Don't
disappoint me. <g>
Summary: Obi-Wan is tired of waiting.
This is the fifth story in the series "My Padawan." The other
stories are "Sense," "Flight,""Knowledge," and "Dance."
Disclaimers: Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan aren't mine, blah, blah,
blah.
Webpage: http://adult.dencity.com/rosalita1
My padawan is naked.
He purposefully stalks over to where I kneel on soft grass,
pretending to meditate. Apparently, he is weary of my dithering
and determined to take matters into his own hands.
"Master." His rich voice is deep with desire. His body is still
wet from the river as he drops down to straddle my knees. Water
rolls in thin paths down his chest and before I can lose the
battle against licking him dry, he pulls me into a kiss.
Kiss. A simple word to describe a simple act. The pressing of
one set of lips to another. Except this kiss is so much more
than that.
This kiss is a promise.
Soft lips touch mine. Warm mouth opens for me. Wet tongue
glides over mine. Possessing me.
Devouring him.
Bare flesh under my hands, and I want to take him right here on
the banks of the Ylam. I want to see what color his eyes turn
in passion, to take in the scent of his arousal, to taste his
cock, and finally, to hear his cry when he comes.
When I make him come.
Unfortunately, this is neither the time nor the place for
fulfilling the fantasies stirred up months ago on a dark night
on a frigid planet. Reluctantly, I break the kiss.
My padawan smiles his understanding. The mission comes first
whether we like it or not.
"I love you, Qui-Gon," he whispers and the sound of my name on
his lips sends a pleasant shock to my heart that slithers down
to my belly and lower.
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