Master Apprentice
Archive
All My Life
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*I will never find another lover sweeter than you*
Beautiful. This word comes to mind as I watch him sleep. However, even that does not begin to do him justice.
Starting at his head, I allow my eyes to trace all the things I love about my Obi-Wan's body, skimming over the spiky reddish-gold hair that he keeps trimmed so neatly, not in vanity, but as an outward expression of his disdain for disorder. I had such a difficult time with him at first; he was simply unwilling to accept that some things didn't always turn out the way he wanted.
I stop to run a finger just behind his ear, finding his Padawan braid and tugging it gently, smoothing down the plait, tracing it to its finish. I get rather distracted by the sleek muscles under the smooth, lightly sun-bronzed skin of his belly, and remind myself to return to my contemplation, not wanting to skip a bit of my Obi-Wan.
Back to the forehead, unlined in sleep, that creases so endearingly when he is upset. My Obi-Wan is stubborn and obstinate. His connection with the Force is strong, but sometimes he does not heed its warnings nearly closely enough. I have almost lost him several times because of his unwillingness to admit defeat, his refusal to surrender.
A quick skim over the long eyelashes, the strong, straight nose, that full, perfect mouth, the cleft in his chin, allowing my lips to follow my eyes. He sighs gustily in sleep as I kiss him gently, and begins to awaken. Feeling slightly guilty, I nudge him back to sleep with a touch of the Force, not wanting to give up my studies just yet.
Down over the slender column of his neck, pressing my lips to the pulse I feel throbbing there, relishing this outward sign of his life. Continuing downward over the well-defined muscles of his chest and abdomen, I take one of his hands in mine, examining the blunt, callused fingers. I then move still lower, remembering and then testing the way his slim hips fit so perfectly in my hands.
Rubbing my cheek against his shaft, I feel it shift slightly in response to my ministrations, and move on quickly. I don't want him to awaken yet - not until my leisurely perusal is done.
A quick perusal of muscular thighs and sinewy calves, then on down to fine-boned, almost delicate feet. I carefully examine each toe, relishing in these final small details of the perfection of my Obi-Wan.
There. Now my studies are complete. I begin to move back up to the top of the bed, certain I won't be able to resist waking him this time. Just then, I notice that two blue-gray eyes are open and looking at me with undisguised lust in their depths.
Obi-Wan pulls himself into a sitting position, stretches leisurely, then favors me with a lecherous grin. He launches himself at me, tackling me and using the Force to pin the weight of my much larger frame down, imprisoning my hands above my head with a thin circlet of the Force.
He then begins his own exploration of my body, learning once again every line, every battle scar, every imperfection, but where my caresses had been gentle and studious, his are impassioned and slightly rough, licking, tasting, and rubbing me until I am thoroughly aroused.
He leaves me then, drawing a wordless sound of protest from my throat. His answering chuckle reassures me that he will not be gone long.
He rummages in the drawer of the bed stand, cursing, and finally climbs off the bed to dig underneath, in the process giving me a lovely view of his backside.
He locates what he wants and, opening the bottle, slicks himself with the oil. Carefully moving between my legs and positioning himself, he slides into me gently.
The look of rapture on my Obi-Wan's face as he fills me is, I am sure, only matched by my own.
He withdraws and carefully pushes back in, setting a leisurely rhythm. Soon, though, the pace becomes too slow for both of us, and we speed our movements, sweat-slicked bodies sliding together as we build toward our respective climaxes.
Obi-Wan tenses for just a moment before crying out, emptying himself into me. The sensations running through our bond send me over the edge as well.
Obi-Wan collapses heavily onto me, head resting on my chest, stroking my hair, and I reach up, wrapping my arms around him, unwilling to break the contact for even a moment. He pulls away, though, retrieving a warm, wet cloth from the 'fresher, and we slowly clean the evidence of our pleasure from each other's bodies.
Obi-Wan moves until he is half on top of me again, legs twined with mine. He locates one of my hands and brings it to his lips in an endearingly gentle gesture.
"Obi-Wan," I say, my voice rough and sated, "My most beloved."
"Mmmm," seems to be all the response he is capable of in his present state, although I feel a rush of love along our bond, and return it double.
Ever mischievous, Obi-Wan returns the thought, accompanying it with a picture of our bodies together, making it clear that he is ready again.
"You overestimate this old body, Obi-Wan." I admonish gently. "Insatiable."
Obi-Wan grins, slowly and lazily. "Not old, Qui-Gon."
"I'm sure my muscles will dispute that in the morning," I say ruefully, clasping Obi-Wan's beautiful body closer to mine.
As I do so, though, I realize that the things I love most about my Obi-Wan are in his mind, quick-witted and sarcastic; his heart, mindful of the Force, always striving to uphold the Code even when it seems difficult; and his soul, pure and light, bonded to mine forever.
My precious Obi-Wan. He is indeed a treasure.
_fin_