D is for Door

by Pumpkin

It's been a long day and he is tired; that lethargic sitting around all day talking kind of tired that makes you feel fuzzy and half a step behind. Qui-Gon breathes a sigh of relief as he rounds the final bend and comes to the door of his rooms.

Something hot and soothing to drink, he thinks as he open the door and steps inside, perhaps warm milk, meditation and bed, though not necessarily in that order.

Or perhaps not, he thinks as he is thrown against the door he has just closed behind him and an eager tongue is thrust down his throat. A lithe body presses his tight against the door.

He doesn't resist as his ravager pulls at his clothing, hands scrabbling at his belt, pulling it and his sash from his body. His tunics are pushed over his shoulders and down his arms, but are left tangled at his wrists, effectively trapping his arms. Qui-Gon cannot stop the moan from breaching his control and his attacker growls in triumph. Greedy hands mould his chest, followed by a hot, biting mouth. His nipples are bit and then soothed, sucked and tugged in maddening succession. Qui-Gon pulls at his arms, but cannot free himself, cannot use a hand to press the head at his chest closer.

"Please," he begs instead, "more." But instead the teasing mouth moves higher, nibbling at his neck before a low, dangerous voice sends shivers down his spine.

"Patience, Master."

His mouth is taken again: quick guerrilla kisses that briefly land Obi-Wan's lips on his before they are off again, attacking from a different angle, and longer terrorist attacks that leave him quivering and locking his knees to stay upright. Still reeling from the kisses, Qui-Gon cannot stop the long moan as Obi-Wan begins to knead his erection, cupping it through his leggings. The hand is hot and familiar and thrilling. Rougher than usual, as is the mouth which is working on a love-bite in the juncture between Qui-Gon's neck and his shoulder. Obi-Wan begins to work open the buttons on Qui-Gon's leggings, scrabbling at them with both hands, brushing and knocking Qui-Gon's phallus, making him moan at the sensation.

The sound shocks him, loud in the room otherwise quiet except for their harsh breathing.

"Obi-Wan," he begins in a ragged whisper, but the hands at his groin fall away. Obi-Wan backs away, one step and then two. Qui-Gon reaches out to him only to be stopped again by the tunics. He cries out in frustration. "Obi-Wan," he repeats the name, louder and more desperately.

"Don't make me tie you down," growls Obi-Wan.

He is mute after that, surprised into silence, unmoving as Obi-Wan prowls around the room, pulling off his clothing and flinging the garments at Qui-Gon's feet until he is naked. Obi-Wan begins to stalk forward and Qui-Gon presses back against the door, but there is no where to go. The smooth duraplast is cold against his back and he blames his shivers on this. Obi-Wan drops to his knees in front of Qui-Gon and pulls the leggings down his legs. They are stopped by his boots and once again Obi-Wan lets the garment stay where it is, further trapping him.

The air in the room is cold against his suddenly exposed erection, the door even colder against his buttocks. But hot hands grab his cheeks, knead them, hold them. And a hot mouth swallows his length. He surges forward, sinking his phallus into Obi-Wan's mouth and beginning a quick rhythm that leaves him moaning loudly. Obi-Wan allows the movement for a several strokes before pressing Qui-Gon's hips tightly against the door. Now Obi-Wan controls him, teases him with teeth and tongue and lips and suction. Soft suction, hard suction, tongue playing with the small slit, swirling around the head and it feels so good.

Just as he begins to lose himself Obi-Wan stops, pulls his head back and lets Qui-Gon's cock slip slowly from his mouth, tongue caressing across the tip one last time as it falls from his lips.

Qui-Gon whimpers.

And again, the noise soft and needy. The third time the sound is swallowed as Obi-Wan flows up his body and steals it from his mouth. Obi-Wan's hot body is pressing against him, pressing his back against the duraplast which is warming from his own body heat and not such a shock anymore. Qui-Gon automatically tries to wrap his arms around his lover, but they are still caught.

Noticing the movement, Obi-Wan laughs. "Tonight, you are mine."

As lips close over his nipple, Qui-Gon surrenders. He takes a deep shuddering breath and sinks into the sensations, letting his lover control him. Every lick, every bite, every sucking kiss. Every caress, every pinch, every squeeze. He is tossed in an ocean of sensation, each new touch pushing him further out to sea. The heat of Obi-Wan's body presses tightly against his. The hardness pressing against his belly and then his thigh and then his shins as Obi-Wan's mouth travels from his neck to his nipples to his navel. He wants to beg, to plead, to demand, to order. He needs more, he wants more. Obi-Wan has to give him more.

"You cum when I let you," says Obi-Wan, as if Qui-Gon had spoken aloud.

He shudders, remembering every time he has teased Obi-Wan, every time he has brought Obi-Wan to the edge and then backed away again. Obi-Wan is pressing tightly against his body now, reaching down between them to take both cocks in his hand. He starts moving his hand over their combined flesh - a lazy rhythm.

Qui-Gon hisses, his hips jerking, but Obi-Wan puts his hand on Qui-Gon's chest, palm flat, and pushes, holding Qui-Gon still against the door. The hand moving up and down their erections slows, drawing the strokes out. Obi-Wan begins to pepper his chest with small, soft kisses, punctuating them with words.

"I missed you today."

He insinuates a leg between Qui-Gon's, pushing his legs apart and pressing his own hips tighter against Qui-Gon's. Off-balance, Qui-Gon rests his weight on his shoulders against the door, his hips pressing forward into Obi-Wan's. The strokes speed a little, their cocks sliding one against the other within Obi-Wan's hand, precum mingling and slicking both.

"I don't like it when you spend the day in meetings."

The kisses become harder, little nips of teeth followed by long strokes of tongue. Obi-Wan's hand squeezes tighter, pumping faster as his other hand moves to cup their balls, first his own then Qui-Gon's then both together, squeezing just a little, just enough to make Qui-Gon hold his breath.

"You're my Master."

Qui-Gon yelps as the sentenced is exclaimed by a hard bite to his shoulder.

"I shall have to mark you, Master, so that when you leave again through this door, everyone will know that you are mine."

Obi-Wan bites Qui-Gon's shoulder again before latching onto the abused flesh and sucking, pulling the blood close to the surface. He pulls back, surveying his handiwork before choosing a new patch of skin and starting over again. His hand is speeding now, rushing up and down, chasing the sensations along their cocks, pulling Qui-Gon's pleasure from him. Qui-Gon begins to moan, hips shifting with the strokes, strong hips moving them both.

Obi-Wan forsakes his chest to claim his mouth. He is chanting softly "yes, yes, yes" the words becoming lost within Qui-Gon's body. They are close now and Obi-Wan strokes with hard, purposeful strokes. He can feel the climax approaching, he tries to draw breath into his lungs but it seems impossible. His entire world consists of Obi-Wan's hand and their cocks.

Grunting, he comes, warm seed spilling over his belly, his cock, Obi-Wan's hand and Obi-Wan's cock. And then hot pulses not his own spill onto his body as Obi-Wan comes too. The door is hard, cool and solid, an anchor as their pleasure spirals out of control. Obi-Wan collapses against him and he slides awkwardly to the ground, still caught up in his clothing. He drinks deeply from Obi-Wan's mouth and lets himself drift towards sleep, the pile of Obi-Wan's clothes cushioning them slightly from the floor.

He got his hot drink, meditation and bed after all, he thinks, though not necessarily in that order.

End.

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