Master Apprentice
Archive
The First Cut
|
|
|||
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Blood-letting, knife play, non-con, BDSM, dark fic, angst.
Pairing: Qui/Dooku, Qui/Xan
Archive: MA, Franzi's site, Ally's site. Others please ask
Feedback: Yes, please. On or off list.
Summary: A legacy of pain over two generations of padawans.
Disclaimers: Not ours. Don’t sue.
Notes: Franzi says: Thanks to Hellsmouth-Oncidium and Ally for the beta and kind words :-) And also thanks to Ally for the bunny. And from Ally: Thank you to bayouskye for the beta and to Franzi for being... Franzi. Hehehe.
The first cut was the deepest and it burned across his skin, a hot breath of fire followed by the hot trickle of blood crawling down his arm. Another cut, and another, each one branding his arm with the kiss of pain, sweet, lovely pain spreading out and pooling in his gut. Travelling lower still, sending shivers of arousal through his body, fuelling his already throbbing erection.
He moaned, thrusting his hips up, his eyes finding his lover's and pleading. He couldn't speak, that was forbidden, but his eyes and his drawn out moans seemed to reach his lover and Qui-Gon cried out as a series of shallow cuts were added to the tapestry of cuts already painted on his body.
"You must keep still, Qui-Gon, and quiet. Center yourself, let the pain flow through you, then release it."
He listened, stilling his body, trying to reach for a skittish centre. He wouldn't come until he found it. His master wouldn't allow it. Long minutes passed, blending into hours--he wasn't sure--time didn't have much meaning during their sessions. The Force, always bright and blue when his master bled him, touched him briefly and jumped away. It tickled up his arm, winding around his blood soaked wrist before moving away to his stomach and the blood pooled there. But neither place was where he needed it and Qui-Gon grunted, the effort of reaching for the Force and being rebuffed time and again, taxing him.
Lips pressed against his forehead, the blade ran across his chin and his master spoke quietly, encouraging him. "Just relax, Qui-Gon. The Force will come to you when you're open to it. Just breathe, feel it flow around you and then accept it. You will find your centre."
The cuts rained down again, nicking his skin, creating angry red lines, not falling deep enough to draw his blood. The Force flowed around each sharp flare of pain and Qui-Gon relaxed into them as he was instructed. They weren't deep enough to arouse, but they were just right to calm and finally, he found it, the blue within all the red of his blood. His centre.
The next cut that fell was deep, blissfully deep. Qui-Gon no longer moaned, but he did feel and it was oh so good. Exquisite. More cuts, criss-crossed over his pale skin and then the razor was tossed aside and Qui-Gon reveled in the press of his master's cock at his entrance. The burn was even better than the cuts--he was unprepared for the invasion, as he liked it and needed it. It hurt and it excited him.
One thrust, two, then three and Qui-Gon threw his head back, his mouth open in a silent scream. The Force danced before his eyes, bright and joyous, aqua-coloured now. His orgasm was intense and the Force drew it out, allowing him to live in the moment, suspended in bliss; his master inside him, moving, the cuts on his body, singing.
It was beautiful and for the first time in his life, Qui-Gon felt more than connected to the Living Force--he was a part of it. He could feel the ecstasy of his master's orgasm as if it was his own, he could feel a couple down the corridor, inching toward their own release. Birds, so rare on Coruscant, but he could feel them too, their hunger, their own joy in life. He could feel everything.
It was too intense to last and Qui-Gon blacked out, waking up later, cradled against a warm body, cocooned in his master's arms and suprisingly, still connected to the Force.
He turned to face his lover, a small, proud smile on his lips. He'd finally done it; he'd found his connection. He was about to speak when he felt it. Looking at his master, he *saw* it. He didn't need the Force to tell him what was written so plainly on the face of the man who was his master, lover, best friend and life.
It was envy, disgust, anger.
Finding his centre wasn't his only lesson of the night. Now he finally knew fear, doubt...all at the hands of his master.
He felt shame.
The first cut hurt like it always did.
It always started with shallow cuts, those were the worst. His back felt like it was on fire as one cut followed the other, criss-crossing over his spine. He was tied, spread-eagle, between two posts, just like always. Spread out for his master. He could feel the blood running down his back, into the crease of his buttocks, hear it dripping on the floor in a steady rhythm, smell the sickening odour of it, see it forming a puddle between his legs.
He never wanted it like this, never wanted the pain, but he had learned to live with it, to ignore it. His Master, his lover, asked him once if he wanted to try it and he couldn't say no. Just as he couldn't tell Qui-Gon that he didn't like it. Qui-Gon was standing, no, kneeling, behind him now, sucking and licking the cuts he made. Long, strong arms wrapped around his torso, one of those big hands still holding the knife.
He knew what came next; it always followed the same pattern. And just like always, he readied himself for it, trying to channel the pain, to release it into the Force. Still, an involuntary gasp escaped him as the knife cut deep into his armpit, sending a wave of pain through his body, a warm stream of blood running down, over his sides, almost a tickling sensation.
"Shhh, be calm. Xani, my Xani", he heard his Master say and he winced again as those soft lips were pressed against his neck, caressing him, while more cuts rained down on him. Over his arms, chest, abdomen. The pain was almost unbearable, too strong and just when he thought he couldn't take more, he heard the knife being dropped to the floor.
Blood stained hands encircled his cock, pumping it, and he moaned, head thrown back, cheek to cheek with Qui-Gon. He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on the pleasure, blacking out the pain. He felt his Master's thick cock press against him and enter him, unprepared; more pain, a strong burn at the base of his spine.
"Scream for me, Xani", Qui-Gon whispered into his ear, before he raked his fingernails over the cuts on Xanatos' upper body.
And he did. A long, angry, anguished scream filled the room as Qui-Gon kept thrusting hard and fast into his body. He could feel Qui-Gon come. The hot semen was flooding him, his Master's grip around his cock tightening, pumping harder, milking him. He was still screaming, semen spurting from his own cock, mixing with the blood on the floor.
He passed out, the sensations becoming too overwhelming for him, too much to handle, too intense.
He woke up in their bed, his Master's arms wrapped around him. He was cleaned, his cuts healed, only a faint pain left that would be gone in the morning.
He swore to himself that this time was the last time. Next time, he would tell Qui-Gon not to. Just like he wanted to tell him since this started.
"I love you, Master," he whispered, "but I can't do this anymore."
Hoping that next time he would be strong enough to say no, he fell into a dreamless sleep.
END