Master Apprentice
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He watched the young man perform. Leaps and tumbles, rolls and flips, all executed with grace and apparent ease. The lithe body moved efficiently, under total control, from ground to air to apparatus to air to ground again. It looked like the padawan was as light as the air he travelled in -it looked like he was flying.
The master felt his shaft grow heavy, the air in his lungs becoming thick with his need. Air that his padawan had flown through, that had kissed the young man's body. Breathing had never been as intimate as it was at this moment. He reached out with the Force, tugging on the braid that marked his padawan's service, caressing the finely muscled chest hidden beneath the thin tunic damp with sweat.
Obi-Wan faltered, hands hitting the bar he was aiming for, but failing to grasp it. His fingers whispered against the rough grain of the wood and he fell, catching himself with the Force and settling softly on the ground, bare feet making no sound.
"Master!" Was that shock he heard in his padawan's voice? Was Obi-Wan scandalised or outraged?
"Focus on what you are doing."
"But, Master..."
"Ignore all outside distractions and complete the routine. All the ability in the world will matter little if any little thing can disrupt your concentration." Qui-Gon allowed himself a grin of satisfaction as Obi-Wan leapt back up to the aviary bars and began again.
He continued to watch, for a time doing no more than admiring the way the simple cream leggings moulded to his padawan's form, muscles clearly outlined beneath the linen he knew to be soft to the touch. The tunic was damp, clinging to the padawan's front and back. Qui-Gon could see Obi-Wan's chest move with each deep breath, filling and expanding to accept the air that brought life and strength to working muscles.
As Obi-Wan flew through the air, flexible legs splitting, Qui-Gon's eyes were drawn to the fragile bulge at his padawan's groin. The leggings were not thin enough to see through, but he had seen that treasure often enough to picture it now. The lax genitals would be tucked neatly together, held in place by Obi-Wan's undergarments. Penis, long even when flaccid, hanging protectively in front of the sensitive testicles.
Once again using the Force, Qui-Gon touched the quiescent shaft, imagining it's velvet texture beneath his finger. He caressed the length of it before moving beyond, rolling the small ovals within the sack and then continuing back to stoke the smooth perineum. His padawan's gasp was audible, loud in the silence of the training room, but this time Obi-Wan did not falter.
Qui-Gon let the touch of the Force slide along Obi-Wan's cleft, teasing briefly at the padawan's opening before tickling it's way up his spine. Increasing the scope of the touch, adding suction and wet warmth, he moved his assault to his padawan's throat and chest. The Force flicked across one nipple, licked and tugged on the other while a wet caress moved over the curves and angles of Obi-Wan's neck and shoulders. He could remember vividly the taste beneath his tongue, how his padawan's body reacted to his touch and his own erection grew harder in response.
Obi-Wan continued to perform the training exercise to perfection, though his breathing had become laboured, far more so than was warranted for the work he was doing. Qui-Gon let his fingers cup his own erection through his leggings, echoing the movement of his hand on his harness with the Force touch he applied to his padawan. He didn't make a sound and neither did Obi-Wan, though he could see his padawan's body begin to quiver with the strain of focussing on the acrobatic routine while being brought toward orgasm.
Just as Obi-Wan swung from the topmost bar, letting go to summersault through the air, Qui-Gon let the twin strokes speed, slipping a finger of the Force into both his own and Obi-Wan's openings. His orgasm forced his eyes closed, his ejaculate making his leggings hot and wet beneath his hand. Opening his eyes once again he watched as his padawan landed with a gasp, almost losing his footing on the gymnastic mat that lined the floor. The front of Obi-Wan's leggings bore the same wet emblem as his own.
"A little rocky on the landing," observed Qui-Gon dispassionately.
"That was revenge for the Dra'ni incident, wasn't it?" asked Obi-Wan, panting.
"A master seeks not these things. Merely a training exercise, my padawan, and, except for your landing, you did quite well after that first little bobble." Pulling his robe around himself, he tuned, leaving Obi-Wan spluttering behind him.
End.