Archive: master_apprentice is fine
Rating: Definitely NC-17ish
Category: PWP
Spoilers: None. Takes place prior to TPM.
Summary: A boring reception, a Padawan's sense of humor, partly
inspired by a number of things, but triggered by the challenge
Feedback: Sure, why not.
He hated formal receptions, Obi-Wan Kenobi reflected, nonetheless
doing his duty by making vapid conversation with a lovely member
of the Barrawhyn aristocracy who appeared intent upon snagging a
Jedi, knight or padawan, for her bed that night. Catching his
master's eye on him, he inclined his head, feeling a mischievous
impulse, turned back to his companion and raised her hand to his
lips.
Too late, he realized that it would only inflame her, and as he
had no intention of following through, offend or wound her. He
lowered the intensity of his regard, let himself appear to be a
green stripling of a youth and then, with more mischief, directed
her toward his master.
Then, hastily making his escape, he found a balcony hidden behind
the draperies that covered almost every centimeter of wall,
opened the doors and went through them, breathing in the night
air.
//Thank you, Padawan.//
Qui-Gon's mental voice was dry. Obi-Wan grinned. //You're
welcome, Master.//
//You thought I looked lonely?//
//I knew you could handle her with more skill than I could.//
Still smiling, amused at his own double entrendre, Obi-Wan walked
to the balustrade and leaned against it, looking out over the
embassy gardens.
//Ah, you deferred to my age and experience.//
//Something like that.//
//And how shall I handle her, I wonder.//
A flicker of jealousy went through him. He quelled it. //However
you think best, of course, Master.//
Gasped as invisible hands touched his belly, slid up to touch his
nipples. //Like this, perhaps? At least as a start.//
It was.....amazing. It felt like Qui-Gon stood behind him,
skillful fingers awakening his body, tormenting his nipples until
a bolt of pleasure seemed to travel from there to his groin. His
sex stirred, thickening and lengthening.
Warm lips that weren't there nonetheless suckled at the side of
his throat. He tilted his head back, shifting into weight that
wasn't there, except....except for the touch that slid down his
belly and into his breeches, fingers folding around him.
//Perhaps a bit of this?// Amusement and desire colored Qui-Gon's
mental touch.
//That's not fair, I can't do it to you.//
//Patience, Padawan, you cannot learn everything at once.//
He tried to hold still, too aware of the room behind him, the
doors that could be opened at any moment as someone else sought
the night air. Bit back a groan as the caresses, the stroking
continued and closed his eyes. Imagining that Qui-Gon really was
there. //This is...oh....//
//Yes.// Darker with desire now, with heat, and Obi-Wan could
barely breathe.
Lips moved on his throat again. His buttocks were spread, a
finger stroked him intimately and withdrew, he gasped, glad he
was leaning against something, else he would have fallen at that.
//Yes......//
Something thicker pushed against him, he pushed back, the
pleasure intensifying, felt himself filled and embraced, he bit
the heel of his hand to keep from crying out, steadied himself to
keep from falling to his knees.
Slow steady thrusting and the relentless stroking continued,
pulling him to the precipice until he could bear no more, bit
down hard enough to taste his own blood and the sensations pushed
him over the edge.
He came, panting, trying not to scream out his pleasure for the
edification of the entire embassy, leaning against the stone
balustrade, still panting, mildly embarrassed by the fact that he
had, indeed, left a rather sticky damp spot on his breeches, and
wholeheartedly grateful for the fact that his formal tunic was
just as long as his less formal attire.
When he could breathe again, and only then, did he compose
himself and turn to go back in. It was really rather wicked, he
thought, not without complacence, for his Master to use the Force
in such a manner.
He would not rest until Qui-Gon taught him.
Alone again, Qui-Gon smiled as Obi-Wan reappeared in the
reception room. The boy's face was still flushed, his lips
slightly puffy, and his eyes decidedly langorous. He caught the
eye of several others in the room, some of whom frowned, some of
whom smiled indulgently, supposing that the boy had returned from
a tryst.
He certainly looked as though he'd just been tumbled in someone's
bower, Qui-Gon thought, freshly amused, watching Obi-Wan make his
way politely through the crowd.
In a way, he had.
And if Qui-Gon had anything to say about it, he soon would be.