Master Apprentice Archive A Pair of Heels Quick search:

Summary: There was no angst in the first story. Must atone. Sequel to A Touch of Lace. (Q/O). Rated R.
Q/O, Angst, PWP, Kink. No spoilers.

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan belong to George Lucas. They have not been used according to the manufacturer's instructions. Black lacy stockings to everyone who sent me feedback (despite the warning) on 'A touch of lace'. You'll all have to find your own Jedi to put in them.

Dr Squidlove, keeper of Qui-Gon's black lace stockings.

Obi-Wan awoke alone. Completely. He sent a probe out for his Master and found nothing. Wherever he was, Qui-Gon was more heavily shielded that Obi-Wan had realised was possible.

He pushed himself up onto his elbows, and surveyed the view from his Master's bed. Clothes were scattered where they'd fallen last night, Qui-Gon's cloak and sash gone with their owner, and the room reeked of sex. Obi-Wan breathed deeply.

He pushed himself out of bed and washed and dressed, making sure the room was tidy before he set out to search for Qui-Gon the old-fashioned way.

It was hours before he found him, meditating in one of the little-used corridors at the back of the temple that Obi-Wan had used as a hiding place himself in his initiate days. Qui-Gon tried to pretend he hadn't sensed Obi-Wan kneeling before him, but the slight wrinkling around his eyes betrayed him. Obi-Wan waited, his scepticism clear in their bond, until Qui-Gon opened his eyes and dropped his head. Obi-Wan waited longer, but that was as much as his lover was willing to give.

The fear and humiliation that leaked past his guard were enough. He was afraid of Obi-Wan. Ashamed.

Obi-Wan stood and pulled Qui-Gon up by his hand, not even trying to catch his eyes. He led him back to their quarters, keeping that hand firm in his own, letting go only when they reached the busier corridors. Qui-Gon lingered half a pace behind until Obi-Wan stepped back to let him through the door first, and then he headed in to stand uncomfortably at the centre of the room.

Obi-Wan stopped inside the door, staring at his Master's back and tilted head. What was the man expecting? Laughter? Pity? Did he trust his padawan so little? Was his memory of their night so poor?

Obi-Wan hung up his cloak and approached Qui-Gon, who stiffened, refusing to turn even when Obi-Wan reached around to peel away his cloak. He hung it neatly on the hook by the door and walked back, hovering behind for a moment before reaching for the sash.

"Don't."

Obi-Wan froze at the pleading in his voice, then firmed his grip and untied the material, pulling it away and walking over to lay it on the table. More slow footsteps back, then he slowly reached around and unbound the tunic, letting his fingers brush skin at every opportunity. The tunic, too, was placed on the table, and still Qui-Gon didn't move. Obi-Wan swept his hands slowly down the broad expanse of back, resisting the urge to plant kisses along his shoulder blades and down his spine. Wondered if Qui-Gon was beginning to understand. He let his hands linger around his waist, and then slipped them forward to the tie at the front of his pants, and an iron grip locked on his hands.

"I didn't have time to- I just... left."

When the hold loosened, Obi-Wan ignored the tie and slipped his hand inside the waistband, hardening as he found that familiar lace. He shuffled closer until his face rested comfortably against Qui-Gon's shoulder, not quite letting his erection touch his leg, but knowing his arousal had to be dancing through their bond. He set his fingers to the tie, fumbling it open and pushing the pants down to his boots to reveal those same beautiful stockings, still smelling of last night's sex.

Obi-Wan shifted in front of his Master, but still did not look up. Let him have his privacy. He knelt and unbuckled the boots, putting a hand on Qui-Gon's hip to balance him as he slid them off.

Obi-Wan stood, crossing to place the boots in the corner and the folded pants on the table, before he returned to admire the view.

The sleek length of Qui-Gon's legs was even more breathtaking when he was standing, tall and stiff to hide his discomfort, his penis awakening despite himself. The emotions Qui-Gon was working so hard to shield were prancing across his face, now: confusion, shame, fear. A little hope. And those eyes stayed on his apprentice as Obi-Wan slowly stripped his own clothes, hanging his coat by Qui-Gon's, placing his boots by Qui-Gon's boots, folding his clothes and laying them neatly on the table.

There was a wave of fear as Obi-Wan left the room, only slightly soothed when he returned with a meditation mat and laid it at Qui-Gon's feet.

Qui-Gon caught his elbow, searching his eyes nervously for a moment. "My cupboard - in the bottom, near the back."

Obi-Wan tipped his head, curious, but nothing more was offered, so he made his way to the cupboard in the corner. A Master's cupboard was private, a place no padawan would ever presume to explore. Laid open to him. Obi-Wan reached in and felt something smooth and cool under his fingers, knew instinctively that this was what Qui-Gon wanted.

He pulled out a pair of patent leather black spike heels. Obi-Wan rubbed a thumb up the stiletto, feeling his groin ache, turning his head to meet his Master's piercing gaze.

The mood had changed, now. Uncertainty was masked by challenge. I dare you.

Obi-Wan rose to his feet and carried the shoes over, making no secret of his waving cock. With a return of Qui-Gon's own brazen look, he dropped to kneel on the meditation mat.

After a long moment, Qui-Gon lifted a foot and Obi-Wan slipped on the shoe, letting his hand travel up the the flexing tendons of Qui-Gon's calf, taking his hand to help him balance as he slid the second shoe on the same way.

Mission accomplished, Obi-Wan sat back to stare at the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen. Qui-Gon's feet, slightly apart in towering heels, dark silk shaded over muscles and tendons around the ramrod line of shin, the sudden bump of knee and thick, masculine thighs. The solid light of day rendered the garters even more exquisite, and a little higher the suspenders framed Qui-Gon's heavy, eager cock.

Obi-Wan looked up and saw past the challenge in Qui-Gon's darkened eyes and wet lips. There was amazement, and an edge of desperation. Obi-Wan let the curve of approval on his own lips grow into a warm grin, felt his insides harden as Qui-Gon responded with a small smile.

Obi-Wan returned his attention to matters closer to his own nose, rubbing his cheek against Qui-Gon's inner thigh and pressing higher, to inhale last night from his Master's curls. He grasped Qui-Gon's cheeks as he set to nibble all the most delicate areas he could find, laughing softly as hands nudged him back to the straining cock. Obi-Wan dipped his head and suckled at the heavy balls, squeezing Qui-Gon's ass to pull him closer, letting his hands slide down to the exciting blend of lace and muscle, sighing when he felt those muscles tense as Qui-Gon shifted his feet a little further apart, smiling as the knees wobbled when he finally licked his way to the tip of Qui-Gon's cock.

Those hands gripped his head, locking him in place, but Obi-Wan wasn't ready to settle down, not yet. He kept his touches light: a lick, a kiss, a whisper of breath while his fingers skirted up the hip bone to the belt that underlined the curve of Qui-Gon's stomach. Obi-Wan's eyes slid closed, to better feel the warmth under his fingers and lips and buried in his hair.

His thumbs slipped naturally under the suspenders, belonging, and in a sudden impulse he twisted his head to take a strap in his teeth. Qui-Gon sucked in his breath and let go of his head.

The elastic pulled in his mouth, roughly abrading his lips as he followed it down to the clasp and the soothing smooth of crocheted silk. Obi-Wan worried the edges of the garters with his teeth, and slid his hands down the thick, corded muscle at the backs of Qui-Gon's thighs, dipping in behind his knees and massaging his calves. Qui-Gon groaned and Obi-Wan dug into the flesh a little harder, working his way down still further to the graceful extension of ankle. If he concentrated, Obi-Wan could just make out the quiver of his Master's balance tested on precarious shoes.

Lower still, over warm satined skin and the cold sheen of patent leather, curling his fingers under the arches of Qui-Gon's feet. He let his head fall forward, between the towering legs, his world spinning as silken thighs encased his cheeks.

He felt the stirrings of impatience from the man above him and smiled, but delayed no longer. He stretched up to the waiting cock once more, dropping kisses along the length and taking in the tip, had only the tensing thighs as warning before Qui-Gon shoved his way home. Thick-fingered hands settled back around his head, holding him still, and Qui-Gon began to thrust a firm rhythm, working for the long-overdue release. Obi-Wan squeezed Qui-Gon's thighs and hummed his approval, using his tongue to counter the rhythm until Qui-Gon lost his place, stabbing indiscriminately, moaning incoherently, and came.

Yet another sequel: A shade of blue.

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More Squidfic can be found at
The Lecherous Tentacles of Dr Squidlove
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