Archive: M_A. Anyone else, just ask
Category: PWP
Rating: NC-17 (I think) M /M sex
Spoilers: Yeah, right.
Summary: A Padawan decides to play
Disclaimers: They're not mine. They belong to George Lucas. But
he doesn't let them have near as much fun.
Feedback: Please. Anything constructive is appreciated. Flames
are draigon food.
Notes: This is my virgin story, in a lot of ways. First fanfic,
first slash, first smut. Please let me know what you think.
Special thanks to Iroshi and Amber for being wonderful and
encouraging betas. All mistakes are mine alone.
Qui-Gon Jinn strode into his quarters and closed the door with a
bit more force than befit a Jedi Master, especially one with his
renowned serenity. But really, what more could be expected? He
and his Padawan had been sent to this planet with no more warning
of the inhabitants' predilection for unreserved displays of,
well...affection...than a tiny blurb in one of the documents.
"The Paladians are an affectionate people and quite
uninhibited in their responses to others." What an
understatement. And it wasn't just the fact that he found it very
disturbing to be attempting a serious conversation with the
Minister only to have one of the palace guards start disrobing
for one of the handmaidens. It wasn't even the distraction of
trying to eat a meal or walk in the garden with a constant line
of men and women touching him and propositioning him. No, what
drove him over the brink of his vaunted control was watching his
Padawan be pawed and purred over like an expensive toy.
'And he's enjoying it. I know he is,' Qui-Gon grumbled to
himself. Throughout the constant attention and offers, Obi-Wan
had consistently maintained an air of pleasant charm. No blushes.
No sudden looking away. 'He acts as though this is something he
sees every day at the Temple.'
The Jedi Master took a deep breath, knelt, and tried to restore
his sense of calm. Perhaps meditation would help. He would
breathe and relax and push away this rising spiral of distress.
In. Out. In.
It wasn't working.
With every breath he kept seeing images of his Padawan. Obi-Wan
smiling at a flirting courtier. Obi-Wan dancing with a minor
dignitary. Obi-Wan running his hands down his Master's chest.
Qui-Gon's eyes flew open. Where did that come from?
Obi-Wan smiled and nodded absently at Lady Analla's chatter while
scanning the room for the third time. Where was Qui-Gon? He had
disappeared almost an hour ago saying only that he needed some
solitude. Then a short while later his master had suddenly thrown
up his shields. A small frown creased the Padawan's brow. What
could be wrong?
A soft caress on his cheek suddenly pulled him from his drifting
thoughts. He turned his attention back to his companion.
"I'm sorry, my lady. I'm afraid my mind wandered a bit. You
were saying?"
"You could go to him, you know. Sometimes it's more fun to
be the hunter than the prey." Analla's eyes took on a
decidedly predatory gleam.
"I beg your pardon? I don't understand." Obi-Wan
attempted to put more confusion into the tone than he was really
feeling.
The aging lady's smile softened. "Oh, I think you do. I
think you understand very well." She glanced around the
room, then nodded her head toward a lovely brunette. "See
Krisa? She and Toba grew up together. Toba sees her as nothing
more than a little sister. But Krisa knows differently. She's
wanted Toba for years and today is her age ascension. Today she's
going to show Toba just how much she's grown up. Why don't you
watch her for a while. Perhaps you'll get some ideas for how to
get what you want."
They watched the girl in silence for a few minutes. "You see
the way she moves? The way she touches, just so, never too much.
She looks in his eyes when she speaks to him and her eyes convey
much more than her words. She leans and her breast barely brushes
his arm. Subtle, but effective." Analla smiled fondly at the
two.
"What if Toba doesn't understand the signals? Or pretends
not to?"
Analla's eyes flashed with humor. "Well, then more direct
methods become necessary."
Obi-Wan turned. "And what will she do if he says he still
just sees her as nothing more than a sister? If he cannot return
the desires she feels."
Analla glanced up at him, a calculating look in her eyes.
"Do you think he will do so? Or is that your own fear
speaking?"
Obi-Wan looked back at the young couple. Then, slowly, he began
to smile.
The meal times were always a struggle. Qui-Gon half expected
someone to suddenly push aside all the dishes and silver and
start making passionate love on the table after the soup course.
It usually took at least that long for the heated looks to
progress to touches. It always relieved him to get through a meal
without being an unwanted voyeur. This meal was different.
He wasn't sure exactly when it started. But it was just about the
time he finished his soup that he really began to notice the
change. Not in the beings around him. No, this time it was the
difference in his own Padawan that had his eyebrows shooting up
and his heart beating faster.
Oh, it all seemed innocent enough on the surface. A brush of
hands when passing a seasoning dish. Obi-Wan leaning close to
murmur a comment that could have been spoken aloud or through
their link. The younger man's thigh pressed against his on the
bench. Things that could easily be explained away. What could not
be so easily denied was the look in his Padawan's eyes and the
slightly hungry smile gracing his lips.
'He doesn't realize what he's doing,' Qui-Gon thought to himself.
'He's just been on this planet too long.'
Obi-Wan leaned close. "Berries and cream, Master," he
purred into Qui-Gon's ear. "Isn't that your favorite
dessert? Looks like tonight is your lucky night."
Qui-Gon's head snapped around to look at his Padawan, who
grinned. He cleared his throat and began to rise from his seat.
"Actually, I believe I've had all I can eat tonight."
"Well, perhaps I can prevail upon them to give me a dish to
take back to our quarters. Then I could feed them to you later.
When you're not so full." Again, the sly, naughty smile.
Qui-Gon felt heat begin to flow through his body. The thought of
Obi-Wan placing a cream covered berry in his mouth with those
long, graceful fingers. Of stroking those fingers with his own
tongue. Of painting the younger man's body with cream and slowly
licking it off.
Qui-Gon stood hastily, thankful for the covering of his Jedi
robe. "That's not necessary, Padawan. I believe I will
retire for the evening."
"Just a moment, Master, and I will go with you."
"That's not necessary," Qui-Gon repeated. "I'm
sure you could find plenty of things to entertain you this
evening. There is no need for you to wait upon me." Just the
thought of the entertainment that might be offered was enough to
set his blood to boil. With a deep breath he attempted to release
the - call it what it is, old man - jealousy into the Force. He
turned and walked away quickly.
Qui-Gon hurried back to the rooms he was sharing with Obi-Wan,
muttering to himself the entire way. He must be imagining things.
Surely his Padawan wasn't trying to seduce him. He was just
overreacting to perfectly innocent remarks. 'Just because you
want that beautiful body pressed against yours does not mean he
returns the feeling, you fool,' he grumbled to himself. By the
Force, he felt like some sort of lecher the way he was lusting
after his apprentice, reacting to every look, every touch, every
word spoken in that soft, cultured voice.
He reached their rooms and once again closed the door a little
more firmly than was absolutely necessary. 'Meditation. That's
what I need,' he thought, as he quickly crossed the room and
settled to his knees. Restoring his composure was not so easily
accomplished, however. He began to recite the code to himself.
'There is no Emotion, there is Peace.' No peace here. Just a
tumble of conflicting feelings - desire, restraint, denial, need.
'There is no Passion, there is Serenity.' Hah! Serenity? With the
visions of his Padawan that were racing through his thoughts?
There was the time a year ago on Maraket IV when he and Obi-Wan
were bathing under that refreshing waterfall. And a few months
ago on Sendera Prime when they had been forced to share a bed due
to the frigid temperatures and a fuel shortage.
How was it, he mused to himself, that he was able to recall each
instance in startling clarity while being unable to remember ever
consciously acknowledging that his pupil had grown into an
amazingly lovely, imminently desirable man.
So caught up was he in his thoughts that he never heard the door
open, and didn't notice the figure that crossed the room to kneel
behind him. It was the fingers running through his hair that
snapped him from his reverie.
"Like silk," Obi-Wan murmured. "I've always loved
your hair, Master."
Qui-Gon twisted around in shock. "Obi-Wan?"
Obi-Wan placed his hands on either side of his Master's face.
'Oh, Light, don't let me be making the worst mistake of my life.'
Then he leaned in and pressed his lips gently against those of
the man before him. For a moment there was no reaction, long
enough for dread to begin to pool in his gut. Then hands slid up,
one around his back, one behind his head, and pulled him closer.
He felt a tongue slide gently across his lower lip then slip
inside to duel with his own. The dread was replaced with heat,
beginning a slow spiral which rose higher and higher.
He ran his hands down Qui-Gon's tunic to the sash, loosening then
pulling it away. The cloth fell open and his hands returned, this
time to enjoy the firm planes of his Master's chest. He kissed
his way down Qui-Gon's neck stopping to nip and lick along the
way - under an ear, across the collarbone, in the hollow of his
throat, then down further.
A quiet groan. Was it his or his master's? He couldn't tell.
Didn't care. All his attention was on the man before him and the
rising need inside him. He gently pushed Qui-Gon back until the
Jedi was stretched out on the floor beside him, then returned to
his explorations. His tongue danced around one pebbled nipple
while his fingernails lightly scored the other. Qui-Gon
shuddered. Obi-Wan looked up with a grin, then continued his
descent. He ran his hands and mouth down over the firm belly,
building the fire with every stroke, until he reached his
master's leggings. He raised up, a silent question in his eyes,
and Qui-Gon lifted his hips.
Obi-Wan quickly tugged off the offending garment then ran his
fingers delicately up the inside of Qui-Gon's thighs. Another
soft moan, and then he found his wrists encircled by a pair of
strong hands. His eyes shot up.
"You, my love, have on entirely too many clothes,"
Qui-Gon murmured.
Obi-Wan laughed lightly and rose to his feet. Then slowly,
seductively, he began to disrobe. First sash, then tunic.
Qui-Gon's gaze heated as he watched the dim light play across his
Padawan's slim, muscular body. His heartbeat stuttered as the
leggings were discarded along with the soft shoes Obi-Wan had
taken to wearing around inside the palace walls during the
evening entertainment.
Qui-Gon felt the flame inside him burn hotter. It was the most
wonderful torture, watching his apprentice, seeing the way the
well-toned muscles moved beneath warm, golden skin. When had the
boy disappeared to be replaced by this exquisite creature before
him?
The younger man stood proudly for a moment letting his hands
glide down his body and over his own erect shaft before returning
to his master's side to take up where he had left off. He ran his
tongue around the hollow of one hip, then crossed to the other,
his braid gently caressing the heated arousal as he moved while
his hands gently massaged thighs and flanks.
Qui-Gon moaned, running his hands through the soft spikes of his
apprentice's hair and over the smooth skin of his back before
hesitantly nudging that talented mouth toward his aching
erection. Obi-Wan blew softly across the sensitive flesh then
swirled his tongue over the tip. Qui-Gon's grip tightened before
he purposefully moved his hands to the rug beneath him.
Obi-Wan teased, using his tongue and lips on the hard cock. His
fingers ran down to gently fondle the sack beneath as that hot,
wet tongue ran up the length to circle around the head before
sliding back down again.
Qui-Gon felt his hips rise, helplessly begging for more. His
breath caught as the heat of the younger man's mouth engulfed his
length, desire quickly spinning out of control. He reached down
and tugged his apprentice up over him, catching his mouth in a
dizzying kiss.
Arms and legs tangled and hips arched together, rubbing, sliding,
the slippery friction increasing the need. Mouths were voracious
licking, sucking and nipping at every patch of skin within reach
as hands aroused and incited until the peak was reached in a
flash of heat and light.
Obi-Wan lay with his head on his master's chest, his breath
slowing as he listened to his lover's heartbeat slowly return to
normal. He absently played with a length of the soft, long hair
as Qui-Gon caressed him languidly from shoulder to flank and back
up again. The heat had receded to a wonderful warmth.
"Obi-Wan."
"Mmmmm." The sound was a sleepy purr.
Qui-Gon smiled and tried again. "Obi-Wan, I don't mind
having a Padawan blanket, but I'm getting too old too sleep on
the floor when there is a perfectly good bed a few feet
away."
"Yes, Master." Obi-Wan snuggled closer and returned to
his doze.
Qui-Gon chuckled then sat up taking his apprentice with him.
Obi-Wan frowned sleepily, then stood and crossed to the bed. As
soon as his master had settled comfortably, he returned to his
previous position. "I, on the other hand, was perfectly
comfortable with my Jedi mattress," he joked quietly, before
reaching out with a tendril of Force to turn off the light.
Qui-Gon wrapped himself around his Padawan and smiled into the
darkness.
"We thank you for all your help, Master Jinn."
"You're quite welcome, Minister. I will be certain that your
requests are delivered to the Supreme Chancellor as soon as we
return to Coruscant." Qui-Gon turned to his apprentice.
"Are you ready, Padawan?"
"Yes, Master."
A pair of sharp eyes followed the Jedi as they left the palace,
quickly noting both the more relaxed posture of the elder and the
slightly smug look on the face of the younger.
Analla laughed.
Fin.