Category: PWP - NC-17 (for smut)
Pairing: Q/O
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. George Lucas does.
Archive: M/A, SWAL, Rising Force okay. Anyone else wants, just
let us know so that we can admire. :-)
Summary: Unredeemed Sweaty Fluff for a Sunday Morning :-)
Feedback: Sure! Send to kassxf@aol.com or hit "reply"
and I'll forward it.
It's an axiom, of course, padawans tend to fall in love with
their masters. Part of it is simply the intimacy of trust. Part
of it is the closeness of the bond.
In my case, I like to think that Qui-Gon himself had something to
do with it. Tall and well built, ruggedly handsome, and with the
gentleness that many big men possess.
Of course, the other axiom is that masters never fall in love
with their padawans, they merely gently encourage them to play
with their agemates. So, when it happened to me, I exerted iron
control over myself and did exactly that without ever being told.
After all, it's embarrassing to become just another statistic in
the lore of all Jedi masters who have ever been.
So, time passed, I finished growing up, more or less, and got
closer and closer to my trials. Qui-Gon stopped treating me like
a boy, realizing that I was, indeed, more or less grown, and I
think our relationship began to approach that of two men, nearly
equals. Nearly.
I was actually a little reluctant to push ahead for the trials,
which I knew was wrong, but leaving him was hardly a pleasant
prospect.
So, there we were on Danurian, on the southwestern hemisphere,
torrid and humid, thick jungle and our usual garb was impossible.
We stripped down to singlets and shorts once we'd been there a
day or so, working with the villagers to rebuild after a
devastating hurricane. I have never feared hard work, but there
were times I wondered if the Council thought we were superhuman,
sending just two of us.
By the fourth day, though, we'd done a great deal, not on our
own, and were able to take a day of rest.
I hate jungles. I'm not fond of insects. I'm not sure anyone ever
is, but I'm prone to mildly allergic reactions, and on the fourth
day of rest, I ended up sitting cross legged on the floor in
front of my master while he daubed ointment on what seemed to be
a thousand insect bites and stings, augmenting the ointment with
a bit of Force to speed the healing.
"You have sensitive skin," he remarked and sighed.
"You always did."
I snorted. "Or something." Growling it.
I heard a soft sound, like a smothered chuckle. "It's not
that bad," he murmured and daubed the last itchy spot.
"There. That should do."
"I thought insect repellent was supposed to repel insects,
not attract them," I grumbled.
"Perhaps you just taste good," he teased and tugged my
braid before rising to his feet. "Had you thought of
that?"
I looked up at him. Sometimes, something familiar, something you
know so very well, can still take on a new look, a new....sheen,
almost a glamour.
Standing above me, smiling down at me, with the afternoon sun
behind him in the doorway, he looked golden. We were both
sweating, and his singlet had gone almost translucent, I could
see his nipples through the fabric.
All my iron control vanished in a heartbeat and I stared up at
him blankly, seeing the pulse in his throat. "Taste
good," I echoed stupidly. "Perhaps I do."
His gaze went puzzled for a moment and then, astonishingly, he
flushed, turned away. "Well, let me see what there is for
noonmeal. You know, there's a spot just downriver, excellent for
swimming, you might want to consider that, padawan, something
pleasant and relaxing--"
You're babbling, I thought, and rose, trying to get my breathing
under control. "Well, if you join me."
The babbling was interesting. Very interesting. I looked at the
lines of his back and shoulders as he walked to the table to
survey the latest offering of food from the village. Could it be,
I wondered vaguely and sauntered up beside him, letting our
shoulders brush slightly.
I swear, he nearly started.
Reaching casually for a piece of fruit, I looked sidelong at him,
saw he was still flushed. "It's no fun swimming alone,"
I murmured and took a bite.
I confess, I made a production of it. Licked the juice off my
lips when he turned his head to look at me.
"I should finish up my report," he told me, and I
swear, there was nearly a stammer.
"You said this was a day of rest for us," I told him
reasonably. "Haven't you always said that rest and
recreation are just as necessary as work?"
He looked back at the table, picked up a piece of flatbread and
considered it. "I really need to finish my work before I
play, Padawan."
I took another bite, peeled off a section and held it up for him.
"Have some?"
A sidelong look. It was one of those moments; if he put his hand
up to take it, the movement would have been awkward. If he opened
his mouth to take it, that would have been normal, but at this
moment, I wasn't sure he would...
But he did. And flushed again.
"Well, if you must, then I'll help. I'll collate the
figures, that will help things go more quickly, and then we can both
swim.
He glanced at me again. Finally nodded.
I felt a little shiver catwalk up my spine. What in all the hells
was I doing, I thought, but had no desire whatsoever to stop
doing it.
Maybe it was the humidity and heat.
Maybe it was the lack of our ordinary garb.
Maybe it was the fact that even the most carefully watched kettle
is going to come to a boil sooner or later.
I didn't care.
We finished eating and sat down with compads. The Danurians
aren't much for furniture, even if we hadn't just spent the last
four days trying to help them rebuild their village. But they
weave the most beautiful matting out of terzza fronds, thickly
layered, and stained with dye. We sat on these, my master and I,
and I sat close enough that my knee brushed his, my expression
innocent, simmering with desire.
I didn't think I was alone in that any longer.
Good to eat, I thought and had to repress another shiver.
Qui-Gon worked doggedly, as if forcing himself to concentrate,
but finally I saw him enter the same figures twice, heard him
curse softly under his breath.
I looked up, all innocence still. "What is it, master?"
A scowl. "This heat addles my wits." He sighed,
canceled his latest entry and began again.
I leaned close, eyed the small screen. "Perhaps a swim would
benefit you," I offered.
"Obi-Wan, attend to your work." Sternly.
The hells. I put a hand on his knee. "Master, I'm forced to
point out to you that your temper is suffering as well. You
always say to me--"
He threw the compad aside. "Never mind what I always say to
you." Irascibly. "Go and swim if you want to swim, I
have work to do."
He rose then, and I rose with him. "Master," mildly,
"Have I done something wrong?"
That got an apologetic look, a grimace. "No, no. My
apologies, my padawan, you're right, my temper is suffering.
Perhaps that swim would do me some good."
I followed him as he moved. "Well, I have another
idea," I said huskily and moved closer.
He backed away as if I had suggested I would bite him. "What
is that?" Distractedly.
"Something more pleasant," I murmured and he suddenly
was against the wall.
I took that last step close, put a hand out and touched the pulse
in his throat, more rapid now.
"Padawan," sternly, or at least trying to be stern.
I leaned up slightly--he is much taller than me, after all--and
brushed my mouth over his.
He nearly jumped out of his skin. "Padawan." Shakily
now. "You know very well that this is not unusual--"
"Spare me the usual discussion," I told him and this
time I kissed him hard, hot and hard, my body pressed up against
his, and believe me, I wasn't the only one feeling desire.
Whatever his words, his body responded. His mouth flowered under
mine, his tongue slid against mine and I'm not sure which of us
was making the helpless sounds of wanton need. Maybe both of us
were.
All I knew is that I was suddenly against the wall, lifted and
held and he was against me, both of us feeding on kisses as if
that was the only food we required.
His hand was at my nape, his hips pressed forward against mine
and I wrapped my legs around him, pushing back hard. I tightened
my arms around his neck, I swear, we both were starving for this,
for this touch, for each other's mouths, but he broke away, put
his mouth against my throat. "This. Is. Not. Wise."
For a moment, I considered strangling him. "Why?" I
demanded and whimpered when his tongue flicked my skin.
"I'm your teacher, your master." His voice was a
whimper, too. "I shouldn't be doing this, you're my student,
my padawan."
A wave of exasperation interrupted the sensation of his lips
against my throat. "For the love of the Force, you can't
still think I'm a virginal boy, can you?"
He drew back, stared into my eyes. "What do you mean?"
"I'm twenty-four!" I tightened my legs, pushed my
aching flesh against his. "I haven't been a virgin since I
was sixteen!"
He stared at me blankly for a moment and then I saw something
primal flare in his eyes just before his mouth came down on mine.
No complaints from me, I arched and surged up against him, gasped
when both his arms went around me and he lifted, turned us toward
his bed. We tumbled down together, and by that time, my ability
to think had completely vanished, I was a mindless, squirming
mass of nerve endings, fumbling unsuccessfully with his singlet
and shorts.
Big hands simply ripped mine away, his fingers closed around me
and his teeth worried gently at a nipple.
I whimpered in complaint and he leaned back for a moment, his
face tight with that primitive need, pulled off the singlet and
shucked off the shorts.
I got a quick glimpse of impressively aroused manhood and he was
on me, his weight driving me totally mad with desire. Kisses and
bites and we were almost grappling with one another until he
managed to work his way down and take me into his mouth.
It's difficult to struggle impressively at that point, and
besides, I wasn't struggling to avoid his touch, I was trying to
get more. His mouth was hot and silky and I whined in my throat
when he abandoned my shaft, his tongue moving lower, more
intimately. A sharp nip to the inside of my thigh and I was held
open, something thick and hot pressing against me, into
me, and that, I'm afraid, made me cry out in a combination of
approval and triumph.
It hurt for a moment, but that burn soon melted into pleasure, it
was apparent that he knew very well what he was doing, knew well
how to do it, I wrapped my legs around him and nearly howled with
delight.
Thrust and thrust, and I thought I was going to die from it,
pleasure and this deeply buried joy that I at last had my heart's
desire. His mouth claimed mine again, he leaned over me, his
expression taut with pleasure, murmuring words that I was simply
too far gone to hear.
So beautiful above me, torso shiny with sweat, eyes heavy-lidded
and his mouth swollen from our kisses--I whined again, pulled him
down and bit his lips gently, sucked on his tongue and his hands
slid beneath me, his shaft filled me even more deeply. I cried
out, arched upward, felt ecstasy seize me and nearly screamed.
Instead, mindful of our reputations, I bit his shoulder, arched
up and came and came and came, for what seemed forever.
He growled, put his face in my throat and drove into me, muffling
his own cry there.
Aftershocks of pleasure kept me moving, even as I came down from
the peak, I was whimpering steadily, slowly releasing his
shoulder and rubbing my mouth on it in tacit apology.
Harsh breathing in my ear. "You may not be a virgin,"
he growled, "But there will be no others from now on, my
padawan." His head lifted, he looked down at me. "No
one except me."
I nearly gaped. Stared upward and felt myself melting again.
"There won't be." Huskily.
And then, all I saw was joy in sapphire eyes. "Stubborn
padawan," he murmured and kissed me gently, lovingly.
"Stubborn and decidedly not the usual."
I tilted my head back to give him access to my throat, sighed and
put my arms around his neck again. "Oh, good." Sighing
in pleasure. "But then, my master is also stubborn, and
decidedly not the usual."
"Hush," he told me and kissed my throat.
So I hushed.
Sometimes, it's an art to know when padawan obedience is required
and when critical thinking is required.
My master taught me well.
Send comments to: kassxf@aol.com