sinful kind

by Keelywolfe

Title: sinful kind
Author: Keelywolfe (keelywolfe@gmail.com)
Pairing: Obi-Wan/Qui-Gon
Rating: NC-17
Archive: M-A can have it.
Summary: Just a little early morning masturbation, we all like that, right?
Notes: My, it's been a while since I wrote these boys. Thought I'd try my hand at it again.
Disclaimer: Property of Lucas and not me. I am making no money off of them or this.

The dim evening light was unchanged when he awoke, pulling one hand free of the tangled blankets to switch off the alarm moments before it would have beeped. Obi-Wan yawned deeply as he stretched, reaching out automatically with his senses into the surrounding room. Pure habit to check the area around him upon awaking and it had served him well many times in the past. On this particular evening he felt nothing in the Force but peaceful quiet; most of the palace inhabitants were sleeping soundly in anticipation of tomorrow's wedding.

Or today's, rather, a glance at the chrono told him. Qui-Gon was standing watch over the princess's rooms, a formality more than any true need for protection, and there was still a little time before he had to relieve him.

A little time left for his own pursuits, before he would once again enfold himself in yards of cloth; tunics and robes and a sedate expression for outsiders to marvel over. Jedi were great warriors, they would whisper, passionless and dignified, less emotional than droids.

He swept a hand down his bare chest, fine hairs prickling lightly at the tips of his fingers, and lower, cupping his hand around the growing heaviness of his waking erection and he wondered what they would think of the Jedi, could they see him now. Obi-Wan closed his eyes, saw what another would see if they slipped into this room to silently spy.

Bare skin smooth against paler sheets, dark lashes curved over his cheeks and the edge of his tongue caught between his teeth as he stroked himself. He could hear the slickness in the movements of his hand, rubbed his thumb over the head and moaned at the sensation. Slipped his other hand over his chest to press just the edge of his thumbnail against his nipple and the flickering blurt of pain was bright behind his eyelids.

It was good like this, satisfying, he thought, sighing aloud to hear his own voice. Outside of the robes and the prying eyes, his body was his own to touch, the faint roughness to his palm abrading him deliciously even as he absently cataloged each callus, knew exactly what part of his saber hilt they came from.

Had it been so long since he'd had a chance to do this, just on his own? He thought it had, missions, debriefings, days spent traveling while curled up in the cargo hold of some creaking old ship. And in between those times, well, he'd hardly spent any time alone--it made him imagine a large hand beneath his back, forcing him to arch up and Obi-Wan followed it, jerking himself harder as he imagined it. The thought of a hard mouth against his own, kissing for what felt like hours, biting at his lips and Obi-Wan bit his own lip, hard enough to flinch at the pain but he held it and imagined it, -remembered- it, wanted it again. Tipped his head back and remembered the sharp edge of teeth at his throat as he was spread out beneath a hot, heavy body, and there was no serenity in his mind, none at all.

A thought came to him and he followed it, only a matter of a moment to gather it all together, capturing glossy sensation and thought, and holding it, letting it swell against the mental bonds he held it in and he was close, so close, just a moment longer…

Reaching out, Obi-Wan brushed lightly at the back of another mind, testing to see if –he- was awake, aware, if –he- remembered, and finally, Obi-Wan let it go, dimly felt the liquid rush of his own orgasm spill over his hand as he was swamped by the startled backwash of sensation that wasn't his own, the pure, sweet pleasure of it sweeping through him and back, like the tide, and he rode it out until its end, let the little aftershocks tremble through him.

He was still gasping, chilly sweat prickling his bare skin when his comlink chirped. Obi-Wan reached for in languidly with his wet hand, his slick thumb clicking the 'talk' button.

"Yes, Master?"

"Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon's voice was as wintry as nighttime on Hoth. "If you are quite finished, I would appreciate it if you would come relieve me."

"I thought I just did." There was a long, chilly silence and Obi-Wan finally added, contritely, "Yes, Master, I'll be right there."

"Good." Curtly. "And Obi-Wan, I do hope you enjoyed that because it is going to be a long time before you're going to be able to do it again, physically or otherwise."

"Yes, Master."

"Next time you are going to –beg- me before I let you finish," The dark promise in his voice sent a delicious shiver down Obi-Wan's spine. "And after I change my clothes, I'll leave them for you to wash in the morning, is that understood? My wardrobe has suffered entirely too much lately because of you."

"And yet, I haven't heard it protest." He bit his tongue a moment too late, mentally calculating the suffering his master would add to what he had already earned.

"I'll be waiting at the door to Princess Elora's chambers," Qui-Gon said tersely and his comm clicked off.

Obi-Wan doubled his mental estimate of misery as he slipped from the bed and stretched, walking naked to the bathroom. And yet…he changed his mind and slipped quickly into his robes while his scent was still fresh. His master was the only person at the door and there was still a little time yet, before dawn. Before he stepped from the room Obi-Wan composed his face and his robes. Jedi serenity and the smell of sex, and the palace still slept around them.

If there was to be retribution, well, there was no better time to start.

-finis-