Master Apprentice Archive Ease of Access Quick search:

Author's web page: http://www.ravenswing.com/aeshna/

Archive: Yes, please! Whoever wants it; just let me know where it ends up.

CD: no thanks!

Pairing: O/Br

Category: PWP, non-Q/O

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: here be words.

Summary: a short tale of plaid, padawans and cultural tolerance....

Disclaimer: not mine, alas, no matter *how* many toys I buy. Everything here belongs to George.

Feedback: of any variety is very much appreciated, but not essential -- I'll post anyway! I've suffered for my art, now it's your turn....

Notes: This is entirely Emu's fault, for first posting pictures of kilted!Ewan and then goading me into using 'em for bunny-breeding. IRC has a lot to answer for sometimes. It's also (slightly belated) birthday smut for Velma -- hope you had a good one! <g> Thanks to Emu for looking this over for me and to Dee for the wonderfully thorough beta!

"Will you stop laughing, Chun!"

There was a pause of several seconds while the other padawan tried to bring himself back under control. "Kenobi, what are you wearing?"

Obi-Wan drew his dignity tight around him. "It's traditional male dress amongst the Grassifial and as they're being welcomed into the Republic at the Senate tonight, it was requested that the Jedi honour guard --"

Bruck just looked at him. "It's a skirt, Kenobi."

"It's not a skirt! It's a --"

"It's a dubiously-cut, overly-bright, too-short skirt in several clashing colours and it's showing off your hairy little white knees," Bruck told him solemnly before bursting into laughter again. "Oh, how did you manage to pull this job? I can't believe that you're going out in public dressed like that...."

"It's not funny, Chun!" Obi-Wan scowled at the other padawan and stalked across to sit on the edge of the couch, fiddling with his long brown braid. "I just got given the thing an hour ago and told to get ready -- I think my master owes someone a favour or something. Not that he has to wear one of course...." He picked at the edge of the multicoloured material glumly. "What do you want anyway?"

"Just came round to see if you had the notes from Master Lathriis's lecture -- my datapad decided to eat mine." Bruck grinned. "Glad I did -- I wouldn't have missed this for the world!"

Obi-Wan glared at him. "Sod off, Chun. Just because you don't do diplomatic work --"

"Thank the Makers...."

"-- there is no reason to laugh at the expense of those of us that do!" Clearly annoyed, Obi-Wan stood and stalked across the room to fetch his own datapad, the material of the offending garment swaying with his movement, caressing muscular legs as he walked --

All of a sudden, Bruck began to see the appeal of Kenobi in a skirt.

"Here you are." Obi-Wan held out his datapad. "Take it and download what you need -- give it back to me tomorrow. I don't think I'm going to be using it tonight at the --" He paused. "What are you looking at me like that for?"

Bruck took the 'pad and licked his lips slowly as a thought took hold in his brain. "What are you wearing under that thing, Kenobi?"

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement creeping into his expression as he regarded his sometime lover. "You think I'm going to tell you after you laughed at me?"

"Kenobi...."

"You want to know, you're going to have to find out for yourself, Chun...."

Bruck knew an invitation when he heard it. Tossing both datapads onto the chair behind him, he launched himself at the other padawan, who jumped back with a laugh. Kenobi's master was senior enough to have been assigned relatively spacious quarters, with far more room to manoeuvre than the more modest chambers of Bruck's own mentor. Under normal circumstances he enjoyed having the extra space to play in but right now it just allowed Kenobi more places to escape into.

Still, he couldn't run forever....

"You're going to have to do better than that, you know," Obi-Wan laughed, narrowly avoiding a lunge. He scrambled backwards, knocking a chair into his pursuer's path. "My master isn't going to be out all day...."

"I'm just wearing you down," Bruck growled, sweeping the obstacle aside with the Force. He was getting more fascinated by the moment with the pale flashes of thigh dancing before him -- he was no stranger to the more intimate reaches of Kenobi's body but things were rarely this... accessible. The thought of just being able to lift that material and --

"Right, sure you -- hey!"

A flicker of Force snatched at a rug just as Obi-Wan's foot connected with it, sending him sprawling. Bruck pounced on him with a whoop of triumph, wrapping his arms around the other padawan's waist and hauling him upright, enjoying the feel of the solid body in his arms. "Clumsy."

"Cheat."

"Nobody said there were rules, Kenobi," Bruck told him roughly, dragging his prize across to the couch. "Right, let's see what you've got under there...."

Obi-Wan didn't struggle as his captor tipped him over the back of the seats, leaving him with his backside in the air, the red and green material drawn tight across his flanks. Bruck grinned fiercely, feeling his cock stir and stiffen at the sight before him, a brightly coloured gift just waiting to be unwrapped, unveiled. Unable to resist any longer, he grabbed the edge of the concealing fabric and flicked it up over the other padawan's hips to reveal....

Nothing but bare skin, the pale flesh marked with the red welts of scratches inflicted by some other lover.

Bruck's erection sprang fully to attention and he felt his mouth go dry. Kenobi was known to be free with his favours, ever willing to indulge in whatever random perversion struck his fancy, but the thought of him walking the halls of the Senate with his abused arse barely concealed --

"Fuck it, Kenobi," Bruck grated, fumbling to free his cock from leggings that suddenly felt several sizes too small. "Who did that to you?"

Obi-Wan's voice was thick with his own need. "None of your bloody business, Chun. Things may have got a little... overexcited last night though."

Bruck's response was a low growl as he dropped to his knees on the hard panelling of the floor, his movements made awkward by the leggings that gathered around his thighs. Grasping the pale hips before him, he dragged his tongue along the raised red line of a welt, tasting soap and sweat and the barest hint of blood. Obi-Wan's moan turn into a gasp as Bruck reached the end of the mark and bit down on the muscular flesh, adding his own brand to the collection. "I'll show you 'overexcited'," he murmured against the bruised skin, moving brown hands to roughly caress the other man's buttocks. Parting Kenobi's crack with his thumbs, Bruck leaned in to tease the pucker of muscle with the tip of his tongue, grinning as Obi-Wan hissed and bucked against the back of the couch.

"Please! Come on, Chun -- I just used the 'fresher, I'm clean...."

Bruck didn't need much encouragement. He loved it when he could get Kenobi at his mercy like this, loved it when he could make the other man writhe and plead for his touch. Pressing his nose against sweat-damp skin, he laved the sensitive opening, first gently, then more roughly, feeling it twitch and pulse against his tongue as his partner begged for more. Good, good....

Obi-Wan yelped and swore in three different languages as Bruck suddenly altered his assault, probing for entry with quick, hungry motions. "Fuck! Yes!" He pushed his hips back onto the attacking mouth, then forward again to grind against the firm padding of the couch he was bent across. "Gods!"

Forcing his tongue hard against Obi-Wan's hole, Bruck felt it breach the entrance, felt hard muscles close tight around him for the briefest of moments... then he pulled back and ran a wet line of saliva down the other's perineum before rubbing his face against the flushed, musk-scented skin of the heavy scrotum. He could hear the sound of Obi-Wan's hands scrabbling against material as he sucked one of the sheathed balls into his mouth, rolling it against his palate before releasing it and moving on to its twin. His own groin throbbed in delicious sympathy, his pulse beating impatient time in his ears and cock, a war-drum rhythm of lust and life and passion the he could not deny for much longer. Gods, he wanted this, needed this. The floor was hard, making his knees ache as he moved, but it was worth it, so worth it to have Kenobi at his mercy....

Obi-Wan was all but sobbing with his own need as Bruck released his prize and spent a few moments tugging gently at rough, red-brown hair with sharp, white teeth, building up the sensations, the anticipation. "More! Please, Bruck, please.... Don't stop, please, I want... I want, I need... want more...."

"More? Like this?" Pulling back, Bruck pushed a finger against the dark ring of muscle, watching in lustful fascination as it was swallowed by Obi-Wan's ravenous body. "Hungry..." he murmured as he pressed his free hand against the small of the other padawan's back and added a second finger to the invasion, then a third, working the entrance open with quick, practised movements -- he was more than ready to bury himself in that willing flesh. Kenobi never took much preparation but there was something enthralling about watching him jerk and moan, legs spread and balls twitching as fingers delved and stroked. The Force sung with lust and need as Bruck growled, "Now, what shall I do with you, Kenobi?"

Obi-Wan gave a short, choked laugh. "Just shut up and fuck me, Chun!"

The words went straight to Bruck's groin. Swallowing hard, he fumbled in one of his belt pouches, finally locating the small plasglass bottle he always carried. He slicked his weeping cock liberally with cool oil then pushed himself up from his protesting knees and pressed the dark head against Obi-Wan's loosely grasping entrance. With an effort, he held himself back for a few teasing moments, a few moments more, letting the anticipation build until Kenobi was all but screaming his frustration, his need, into the Force. "Chun! Will you just --"

Bruck grabbed at the pale hips, oiled fingers catching in the bright material bunched across them, and thrust, his first stroke burying his erection halfway, the second sheathing him fully in the tight heat of Obi-Wan's rear. Oh yes, so taut, so tight, so hot, so good.... Bracing his feet as best he could given the angle of attack, Bruck withdrew slowly, pulling back until just the head of his cock was still inside the other padawan's body, then slamming home again, feeling slick flesh ripple and close about him. Obi-Wan hissed at the invasion, tensing and relaxing his muscles as Bruck wrapped tunic-clad arms around his chest and hauled him back until both had their booted feet flat on the floor. "Better," Bruck grated, pushing back into the hard form beneath him and giving in to blind instinct as he set a fast, punishing rhythm, seeking completion. Yes, yes, yes....

Obi-Wan dropped his head in willing surrender and let the other padawan take him, harder, faster, the only sounds the slap of flesh on flesh and the sharp grunts of exhalation as their bodies connected. The couch rocked beneath their assault, adding the soft whisper of abused upholstery to their rutting, the faint metronome click of furniture on flooring.

Bruck let his senses narrow to the momentary realities of sex and sweat and slick, solid heat, hungrily hunting sensation. Panting roughly for breath, he leaned forward to tug at the collar of Kenobi's damp tunic with his teeth, tasting salt and the earthy tang of arousal as he bit down on the exposed nape, feeling the flare of mirrored desire in the Force. White and brown braids twisted and tangled with each other, swaying and jerking, curling together with each wild thrust, wooden beads softly tapping random time. Bruck closed blue eyes and let his consciousness descend into the ebb and flow of pure sensation, of animal need. Obi-Wan was like a furnace beneath him, around him, so hot, so hot, bucking and squirming with each lunging stroke, grinding himself into the couch as --

The Force around them seemed to contract... then exploded in a starburst of lust and desire and pure carnal pleasure as Obi-Wan shuddered and cried out. Bruck rode the other padawan's orgasm, his fierce rhythm holding for a few moments before faltering, becoming ragged, then finally dissolving as the empathic resonances of Obi-Wan's climax drove him over the edge and he spent himself deep in the other's body. The Force crackled with their released passions, leaking through shields too battered to hold, and Bruck moaned as he finally collapsed over Obi-Wan's exhausted form. That had been just --

"Oh, shit."

"Hmmm?" Bruck blinked lazily and pushed himself up from Obi-Wan's body, feeling his cock slip free of its warm burrow as he did so. He wiped it on a trailing edge of tunic before tucking everything back into the safety of his leggings. "What's the problem?"

"Look at the bloody mess!" Obi-Wan began to move around the room, trying to remove the evidence of their chase. Bruck watched him until the crumpled skirt finally slid back down over his much-abused rear, then set to extracting the stains from the back of the couch -- there was much to be said for the padawan-proof furniture provided by Stores. It wasn't long before everything was back to its previous condition... with one notable exception.

"Shame about the skirt, Kenobi."

"I'm sure it will be okay," Obi-Wan said optimistically. He frowned, concentrating with the Force for a few moments, and the material shifted and straightened around his hips, the creases vanishing beneath the unseen touch. "There. Now I just need to hop back into the 'fresher and clean you off of me...."

Bruck snorted. "I'd be more concerned about cleaning you off that." He pointed at the front of the skirt, where Obi-Wan's efforts had left a distinctive stain in an all too obvious position. "They're going to know you've been up to something, you know...."

Obi-Wan grinned. "Well, they would, except the Grassifial seem to have thought of that already -- in fact, I rather suspect we've just broken the outfit in in some weird sort of ritual way. I mean -- just a strip of material to cover yourself, a tradition that forbids the wearing of undergarments...? It makes you wonder exactly what these people get up to. And then," Obi-Wan walked back to the couch, his movements looking even more well-lubricated than usual, and pulled something made of fur and leather out from under a cushion, waving it at Bruck triumphantly. "Then they give you one of these!"

The white-haired padawan blinked at the furry thing. "And that is?"

"I haven't a clue, but you wear it like this." Obi-Wan looped the black belt loosely about his waist so that the main part of the object, which appeared to be a bag of some variety, sat squarely over the stain. "See -- these are a people who have all the logistics worked out."

"Hmm. And it gives you somewhere convenient to put the lube, I guess...."

"It certainly does." Obi-Wan looked at Bruck and grinned suggestively. "So, decided that the 'skirt' isn't so stupid after all?"

"I think I might be coming around to the idea." Bruck sauntered across to him and slid a hand up under the material, grabbing a sticky handful and drawing a yelp from Obi-Wan. "Of course, if you're going to be keeping the thing, a little further persuasion wouldn't go amiss...."

END