Master Apprentice
Archive
Anniversary
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Obi-Wan looked around the room, pleased with his preparations. Dozens of candles twinkled around the darkened bedroom. The new red satin sheets were already turned down, and a bottle of Qui-Gon's favorite wine sat chilling on the bedside table.
Tonight was something of an anniversary for the two of them. They'd been lovers for exactly one month. He intended to make this evening one to remember.
Hearing the front door open, he went to meet his master. Qui-Gon looked tired and irritable, as these long, late night Council sessions usually left him. Obi-Wan took his robe from him, folded it carefully onto the nearest chair, then led him to the kitchen for the light dinner he still had in the warmer.
"You are truly a treasure, my Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said as the last bite of tellian steak was consumed. Obi-Wan rose and moved behind his lover, arms sliding around his chest.
"I do love you so," he whispered, his hand stroking one nipple, barely discernable under the double layer of tunics, until it hardened into a firm peak. He pinched it between thumb and forefinger, then was instantly contrite. "Sorry . . ."
"Don't be," Qui-Gon said. "I think I could come from just that."
Obi-Wan felt his brows draw together. "From me pinching you?" he asked in confusion.
He heard Qui-Gon sigh. "Beloved, I need to make a confession."
Those words hardly ever meant anything good, and the padawan felt himself tensing. "Okay."
Qui-Gon rose, turning to take the younger man's shoulders in his hands. He cleared his throat, and Obi-Wan's anxiety increased. "Obi-Wan, there's something you don't know about me."
The padawan swallowed hard. "Oh? What would that be?"
Qui-Gon took a deep breath as if steeling himself. "I'm - a pain slut."
Obi-Wan blinked, not certain he had heard correctly. "Say again?"
"A pain slut."
"Meaning . . ."
"Meaning," Qui-Gon said, "that I enjoy pain. During sex, I mean. I get off on it."
Obi-Wan was silent for a long moment, struggling to understand. His mind flashed memories of all their gentle lovemaking. Qui-Gon had come then, hadn't he, every single time? So, what did this confession mean? Fortunately, his master saved him from asking embarrassing questions.
"Don't get me wrong, love," Qui-Gon said. "I have enjoyed each and every time we've made love. And, when I say I enjoy pain, I don't mean that I want you to carve me up or inflict serious injury. I just - I just like -"
"Show me."
Qui-Gon blinked. "I beg your pardon?"
"Show me," Obi-Wan repeated. "Show me how you want me to touch you."
Qui-Gon studied his face for a moment, perhaps trying to see if he was upset, before removing his tunics. He caught Obi-Wan's wrist and guided his hand to his nipple. "Pinch me, like you did a minute ago."
Obi-Wan obeyed, carefully at first, then with increasing pressure when Qui-Gon didn't flinch away.
"Harder," the master urged, still holding Obi-Wan's hand in place as if afraid he'd pull away. "Yes, just like that."
Obi-Wan's own nipples were stinging in sympathy, making him want to shield them with his free hand. He was pinching hard now, and Qui-Gon moaned, tilting his head back.
"Oh, yes, Obi-Wan. Yes."
The padawan glanced downward, toward Qui-Gon's suddenly tented leggings, and realized that he was, in fact, turning his master on. "That really feels good?" he asked. "Doesn't it hurt?"
"It hurts deliciously." Qui-Gon leaned forward to kiss Obi-Wan gently, finally releasing his hand, then grew sober.
Uh oh, what now? Obi-Wan wondered. Aloud he said, "What? There's more?"
To his amazement, Qui-Gon actually fidgeted. "Yes. I also have a fantasy - which doesn't mean we ever have to do it, of course -"
"Tell me."
Qui-Gon nodded. "I have a fantasy of being tied."
Obi-Wan felt his eyebrows rise. "Tied up?"
"Tied down. Helpless, dominated, controlled, while you - well, you know -"
"Hurt you."
Qui-Gon nodded again, his eyes boring into Obi-Wan's, begging for understanding. Then, he took a single step back, letting the subject drop. "Since you prepared dinner, I'll clean up."
"Okay. Then, you're coming to bed, right?"
"Absolutely."
Obi-Wan returned to the bedroom, gazing again at the candles and the wine and the red sheets. This wasn't right, wasn't - enough - not after what his master had just told him. He slipped out and made his way to his own room, gathering a few things. Yes. He'd make this the perfect night. A night to remember.
Obi-Wan stood in the shadowed corner of the room, watching as Qui-Gon stepped inside and halted. He saw the master's eyes take in the candles, the expensive sheets, the wine, and could tell from the way his tired face softened that he was deeply touched. Obi-Wan tensed as Qui-Gon's gaze was drawn to the posts at the head of the bed, and to the two long lengths of soft white rope he had tied there. Obi-Wan heard his soft intake of breath, and stepped out into the open.
"Do you like it?" he asked, his voice whisper soft.
"Oh, yes," Qui-Gon moaned. He pulled his lover to him, kissing him deeply. "But, you don't have to do this if you're uncomfortable with it."
"It's true I've never tried this," Obi-Wan admitted. "Or ever really imagined it, actually. But, I want to give you everything I can, everything to make you happy. If this will do that, then I'm willing to try it."
Qui-Gon smiled. "Have I told you lately how much I love you?"
"Yes, but I don't mind hearing it again," Obi-Wan said. Then, he drew himself to his full height, trying to slip into the role he'd assigned himself. "Strip. Now. Then, get on the bed, face down."
He watched Qui-Gon's pupils dilate, listened as his breathing sped up in anticipation. "Yes."
"You will address me as Master."
Qui-Gon's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. "Yes, Master."
Obi-Wan watched as clothes were shed and his lover's large form was spread across the blood red sheets, open and ready for him. He felt a thrill of anticipation trickle down his spine, spreading out to heat his blood. He stepped up close, winding the soft rope around one wrist.
He found himself securing the knot much tighter than he'd intended. When he'd placed these here, he'd imagined merely winding them around a few times, giving Qui-Gon the tails of the rope to hold, so that he could release himself whenever he wanted. Now, however, as the sense of power overtook him, he suddenly wanted Qui-Gon under his control.
"Too tight?" he asked, his voice coming out as an odd sort of croak.
"No. It's perfect."
Rounding to the other side of the bed, Obi-Wan secured the other wrist. He stepped back for a moment to admire the view. The broad planes of Qui-Gon's back, the shoulder muscles rippling as he tested his bonds, the soft curve of his ass, all worked together to make a glorious picture. Only one thing was lacking.
He reached under the bed for the rest of the rope. "Would you mind if I also tied your legs?"
A rush of arousal washed over their bond, so intense it almost made him come on the spot.
"As my master wishes," Qui-Gon said, but Obi-Wan could hear the pleasure hidden in the words.
He separated the older man's legs, tying them snuggly to the footboard, widely spread. Then, on sudden impulse, he raised his hand and brought it down sharply on one butt cheek.
It made his hand sting, made the skin he had spanked glow a bright, satisfying pink. Pleased, he did it again, slightly harder.
Qui-Gon grunted, and Obi-Wan froze. "Did I hurt you?"
"You never have to ask that," Qui-Gon said. "If it ever becomes too much for me, I'll tell you."
"Wait. We need a safeword, don't we?" Obi-Wan asked, thinking back to what little he knew of domination and submission.
"Liberate me," Qui-Gon murmured.
Automatically, Obi-Wan reached for the ropes, to untie them, but Qui-Gon's next words stopped him.
"No, love. 'Liberate me' will be our safe word. It's easy enough to remember, yet not likely to be screamed out unintentionally in a moment of passion."
Obi-Wan drew a long breath. "Fine. 'Liberate me' it is." He looked up and down his master's body, wondering what to do next. Qui-Gon seemed to sense his hesitation.
"Touch me, beloved," the big man purred. "Spank me again if you so desire."
Obi-Wan looked at the still visible handprint on the pale skin and grinned. "Since when does the slave give orders?" he mock growled. His hand came down hard on Qui-Gon's ass, once, twice, a third time, hard enough that his own flesh was protesting. But Qui-Gon, he noticed, was moving into each blow.
So Obi-Wan set up a steady rhythm. Three sharp slaps to the right cheek, three to the left. After the second round of this, he broke off. "Remind me next time to buy a paddle," he said.
"Oh, Force . . ."
Obi-Wan was thrilled by the blatant need in those soft words. "Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you, my pet?"
"Yes, Master. Please . . ."
"Please what?"
"Take me! Please, Master! Fuck me!"
Obi-Wan blinked. In the month since they'd been lovers, he'd always bottomed. The thought of taking his master sent a shiver of delight up his spine, and his cock jumped at the idea. Still, he had to be certain.
"You mean you want me to -"
"Yes! Please, Master, fuck me hard!"
Eager, yet a bit intimidated, Obi-Wan crawled onto the bed between the widely spread thighs. His quickly deteriorating brain cells reminded him he needed lube, and he held out a hand to call it to him. He poured some into his hand, coated a finger with it. Still, he hesitated.
"I've never -"
"I know," Qui-Gon said softly, his voice deep and needy. "But, you know what to do. Please, I need this!"
Decision made, Obi-Wan pressed his oiled finger into his master's opening. The heat of the channel surprised him, and he paused, savoring it. He turned his hand, easing further inside, and Qui-Gon shifted impatiently beneath him. Easily reading the body language, he pushed in deeper.
Qui-Gon grunted and pushed back, impaling himself on the slender digit. The ring of muscle constricted around Obi-Wan's finger, and the thought of that hot tightness clinching his cock drew a groan of anticipation from him. With less care than he had intended, he began working the muscle loose, his hand moving in a stuttering circular motion.
He withdrew, and prepared to push two fingers inside, but Qui-Gon's voice stopped him. "Enough preparation. Take me now."
Obi-Wan wanted to remind his master that he was the one in charge here, but his voice seemed to have failed him. He grunted a non-committal answer and slathered the lube on his cock, suddenly impatient to be buried in his lover. He bit his lip as he positioned himself, checking along the bond for signs of pain as he pressed inside.
Qui-Gon groaned, a low, delicious sound that robbed Obi-Wan of what few thought processes he still possessed. He began to thrust, hard and fast, enthralled by the heated, swollen flesh that gripped his cock like a vice.
"More, Master," Qui-Gon moaned, pressing back into each thrust then forward to rub his own rampant erection into the satin sheets, his arm muscles straining against their bonds. "Harder! Oh, faster! Please!"
Obi-Wan didn't need to be asked twice. He quickened his pace, the bed creaking beneath them, the headboard banging against the wall. Part of him wondered what the neighbors were hearing, and part of him didn't care as a high, keening cry from beneath him signaled Qui-Gon's release. The body he was buried in grew rigid, tightening even further around his cock, and Obi-Wan could hold back no longer. He screamed out his master's name as he fell over the edge.
When Qui-Gon at last regained his senses, he became aware of three things. He was still tied face down on the bed, the skin on his ass was furiously hot and stinging, and the not-insubstantial weight of his padawan was draped across him. He shifted slightly, and Obi-Wan mumbled, sliding off to lie curled against his side.
"That was -- incredible," the younger man said.
"It was more than incredible." Qui-Gon wished for a moment that he were free, so he could gather his lover into his arms and kiss him. But Obi-Wan saved him the trouble. He crawled up Qui-Gon's body and lifted his head, taking a few moments to thoroughly devour his mouth. When he finally broke away, the padawan's cock was firming against Qui-Gon's thigh.
"Up for another round?" Obi-Wan's voice rumbled against the side of the master's neck.
Qui-Gon growled his approval. "Always."
"Good. Because, there's something I want to try." A strong hand slipped between Qui-Gon's chest and the mattress, fingers tightening around a nipple. "You said you could almost come from this alone. Want to see if that's true?"
Qui-Gon grunted as his nipple was pinched. He raised himself slightly to give his padawan better access and ground his rapidly growing erection into the wet spot beneath him, moaning his approval.
"Good?"
"Very good," Qui-Gon replied. Obi-Wan leaned across him, his agile tongue tracing the curve of Qui-Gon's ear. "Oh, Force, beloved. What you do to me . . ."
Teeth closed on his earlobe, sending a wash of tingling heat through the master's body. Then, Obi-Wan twisted the nipple he held, hard, the pain delicious in its intensity. He felt his muscles tense as his climax approached. Apparently, his padawan felt it, too.
"Come for me, my master," Obi-Wan whispered into Qui-Gon's, his warm breath tickling.
With a shout, Qui-Gon obeyed, adding yet more wetness to the already soaked sheets. He went limp for a time, finally rousing when he felt his wrists being freed. Obi-Wan gathered him into his arms, and Qui-Gon sighed.
"Such a blessing you are to me," he murmured.
"And you to me." Then, the tone of the young man's voice changed, taking on a deeper, demanding tone. "But, you have unfinished business."
This might have been Obi-Wan's first foray into dominance and submission, but the young man was definitely a quick study. He sat up, drawing Qui-Gon with him, and directed the master's gaze down to his own still unsatisfied erection.
Qui-Gon licked his lips, entranced by the purpled skin, and by the pre-cum seeping from the tip. "Yes, my master," he groaned. Lowering his head, he engulfed the satiny smoothness in his mouth, letting the head slide deeply into his throat. Sending out silent thanks to the Force for bringing this young man into his life, he proceeded to tease his padawan toward completion.
The End