Good Enough
by Rylan
Title: Good Enough
Author: Rylan (rylanmcallister@yahoo.ca)
Archive: M_A, AFF; any others, please ask
Category: First Time, Angst, Qui/Obi, PWP (longish)
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: A barely-there reference to chan, but nothing explicit amongst minors. Turned out more angsty than I was originally intending. Honestly, LOADS of angst . . . This contains male slash – explicit sex between males, so if that isn’t what you’re expecting, turn back now.
Spoilers: Nada. But let’s face it, all fanfiction is AU/AR.
Summary: Obi's tired of living with frustration, and is ready to walk away.
Disclaimer: All things Star Wars are owned by Emperor Lucas. I'm just playing with the boys for a little while & promise to put them back where I found them - perhaps slightly wrinkled, but (hopefully) with big happy smiles on their faces (eventually). The only thing I own is my imagination, and it hasn't made me rich (yet), so don't bother suing.
Feedback: As this is my first fanfic, please send any and all, good or bad (do attempt to keep it constructive).
Notes: No beta other than myself (see Feedback). My only inspirations are all the great fics I've been reading (and my own very naughty muses). If I've trodden on any virtual toes out there, my apologies - drop me a line & we'll work something out *snicker*. Thought it was going to be a short little PWP, but then Obi started giving me all this angst. Hope you like it - feedback would be welcomed.
/these are character thoughts/
[this is speech that is mind-to-mind]
As the water washed over him, Obi-Wan admitted he had never been this angry in all of his nineteen years. It was anger spawned by frustration, part of which was, admittedly, an ever-increasing level of the sexual variety. Most importantly, it was anger borne of unappreciated devotion, of unreturned affection, of unrecognised love. He had spent the past six years working maniacally hard, trying to prove himself worthy to his Master; trying to prove that Qui-Gon had made the right choice in taking Obi-Wan as his apprentice. But he always felt that he was never good enough, and never would be.
In most of his studies, he was a class or two ahead of his yearmates, and always achieved extremely good grades. His physical training had lagged behind that of his yearmates for the longest time, but when his body had finally started to mature, and he had finally mastered the coordination of longer limbs and thicker muscles, his innate grace and his deep connection to the Force allowed him to surge ahead of his yearmates, culminating in today's victory. The victory that wasn't.
It had been the end-of-term 'sabre competition, and he had been competing against Padawans two and three years his senior - and he had defeated them all! Obi-Wan knew that excessive pride in one's abilities simply isn't the Jedi way, but he had worked so hard . . . surely a little pleasure in the accomplishment would be acceptable. Surely a heartfelt compliment from his Master wouldn't be out of order. Unfortunately, the higher Obi-Wan excelled, the farther apart he felt from the one to whom he should be closest.
"Done well, you have," Master Yoda praised as he presented Obi-Wan with the ribbon for first place, but his voice held an extraordinary warmth that was more prize than fifty trophies.
As Yoda moved away, Obi-Wan's friends moved in and he glanced towards his Master, hoping for . . . something. Qui-Gon happened to be looking in his direction at that moment, and inclined his head slightly in his Padawan's direction, before quickly turning away and continuing his conversation with Master Windu. There was no smile, no feeling of warmth along their training bond. In fact, his Master's shields were as solid as the walls of the Temple itself. Obi-Wan had been hoping that today, if he could claim victory over the more senior Padawans, that his Master would finally acknowledge that his Padawan was a good student, an acceptable apprentice, perhaps even . . . But he felt nothing from his Master. Nothing at all.
Clamping down on his own shields before his friends could sense anything amiss, he politely extricated himself from them, using exhaustion and the desire for a long, hot shower as his excuses. Even all of their enthusiasm could not compensate for his Master's coldness. Not today. Not this time. Not anymore.
He managed to hold his composure until he reached their quarters. He tossed his 'sabre onto his bed, stripped out of his clothes and stepped into the shower. As he let the hot water stream over his body, he braced himself against the tiled wall and let the past years run through his memory, allowing the negative emotions to wash through him and into the Force.
The training bond had been tight in the beginning. He had once felt affection, encouragement, and approval from his Master. It seemed like so long ago. The happiness of those days was like a mocking shadow, a ghost that haunted him now. When had it stopped? When had the affection turned to distance? The encouragement to silence? The approval into a detached analysis of errors? He was fifteen, perhaps sixteen, when he had first felt the change. When he had ceased being a needy child . . . /But I still needed those things, Master! I still needed that guidance. Still needed your approval . . . your affection . . ./ He didn't even notice the salty tears that were washed away by the water pouring over his head. Despite Qui-Gon's increased indifference towards his Padawan, Obi-Wan's own feelings for his Master slowly changed.
Obi-Wan had observed his Master very carefully, on missions, and at the Temple. Qui-Gon's impeccable manners and uncanny talents at the negotiating table, not to mention his close connection with the Living Force, had filled the young boy with admiration. He couldn't help but absorb skills and knowledge while at the side of such a talented Jedi. The youthful adoration of a child changed into the admiration of an avid student for a favourite teacher. Somewhere along the way, the admiration had grown into something more, something stronger.
Obi-Wan was not sexually inexperienced. He had done his share of experimenting with his yearmates. Even with a few older Padawans who had made their interest clear to him. But he was always left feeling as though he was missing something, as though he was on the receiving end of an unfinished question. On the evening of his eighteenth nameday, when his friends had joined him in his quarters for a quiet gathering, Qui-Gon had left for the evening with a yearmate of his own. When the other knight had arrived at their quarters, Obi-Wan had caught the slightest hint of sexual excitement through the Force, and that was when he was struck by the fiercest wave of emotion he had ever felt. It had taken him several moments to realize that the feeling was jealousy, and quickly firmed up his shields so as not to betray himself. Qui-Gon had paused at the door and looked at him intensely for a moment, but when met only with the politely raised eyebrow of his Padawan, had left without saying a word. To this day, Obi-Wan could barely remember any of the time spent with his friends that evening. He had been completely absorbed in the realization that he loved his Master. Not as a student, not as a son, but as a lover, as a mate. Since that night, he had politely refused all sexual overtures that came his way.
He had thrown himself into his training, trying to prove to the object of his affections that not only was he an exemplary student, but that he was a worthy mate. Naturally quiet and circumspect, he became even more so, and endeavoured to emulate his Master's finest qualities - his compassion, his honour. He had a talent for diplomacy, which dovetailed nicely with Qui-Gon's excellence at negotiation. They had always been one of the Order's most successful teams, but now, with Obi-Wan's heightened awareness, their teamwork was nearly flawless, even when the missions called for more 'sabre skills than diplomacy.
/All for nothing!/ The anger had faded into a muted sense of loss. /How can I grieve for something I never had? He'll never see me. Face it, Kenobi, you're never going to be good enough for him./ He finally turned the water off and towelled himself dry, then dressed in an old, well worn pair of leggings and a light tunic. Snagging his 'sabre, he padded, barefoot, into the common room and knelt on the mat laid before the balcony doors. He sank into a light meditative trance, immersing himself in the Force, searching for a solution to a problem that had finally become unbearable.
Qui-Gon knelt before a small bench in a quiet corner of an empty garden, waiting for Yoda to begin. As he watched his former Master pace in front of him, he reached for the Force, seeking calm. He had not been in this particular position, in this particular place, since he had been a young Padawan. He seemed to recall that, on that particular occasion, Yoda had been taking him to task regarding a spectacularly stupid stunt involving three other students, the council chamber, and a particularly large amount of fresh fertilizer that had been misappropriated from the gardener's stores. The well concealed amusement of that time was definitely not present in the diminutive Master today.
"Be lost to the Order, Obi-Wan will not," Yoda stated decisively as he paced back and forth in front of his former Padawan. "If repair this relationship, you cannot, then take Obi-Wan as my Padawan learner, I will," sharp rap to Qui-Gon's chest with the ever-present gimer stick.
Qui-Gon winced from the unexpected poke, then Yoda's words sank in and he paled. "What? Master, I . . ."
"Be silent, you will!" the small Master demanded imperiously, the stick prodding at the man's shoulder, "until finished, I am.." Qui-Gon obediently waited in silence as the ancient Master paced agitatedly for several moments, then tiredly hoisted himself onto the bench and looked sadly at his former apprentice. Yoda sighed loudly, his ears drooping low. "Let this go on too long, I have.. Kept hoping, I did, that let yourself feel, you would. But too much fear have you." He paused for a moment, then looked sharply at the kneeling Jedi, and continued, in a much stronger tone, "Think you, blind I am? Stupid?"
"No, Master! Never!" he answered vehemently, and then subsided under Yoda's unblinking stare.
"Perhaps, think you, that care for you, I no longer do?"
Qui-Gon knew that of all the Padawans Yoda had trained over the years, though the little troll would vehemently deny such a thing, Qui-Gon had always been the favourite. The most beloved. He knew that Yoda had always taken inordinate pride in Qui-Gon's accomplishments over the years, and had worried more than any other when missions had gone wrong. Yoda was the only parent Qui-Gon had ever known, and their closeness had not dissolved over the years as did most Master/Padawan relationships.
His voice was quiet, but the words came from his heart, "I was your son, and you were my father. That has not changed."
Yoda stared at him intently, judging the truth of his words. Satisfied, he nodded once and continued. "Then why come to me did you not, when help with your own Padawan, you needed?"
/He cannot possibly know about my . . . failure!/ He started to panic, clinging to his careful deception, "Every report I have given to the Council has carefully outlined Obi-Wan's progress as -"
"Bah!" Yoda cut him off, "Blind the Council is, to beyond a successful progress report anything else there might be. Played to their weakness, you have! Worthy of a Jedi, it is not! Worthy of my student, it is not! Blind, I am not, my Padawan."
"No, Master." Qui-Gon was stunned. /He knows. Knows that I can see nothing beyond my desire for an innocent young boy . . ./ He was startled out of his thoughts by the small hand on his arm. He hadn't even been aware that Yoda had moved until that moment.
"Qui-Gon," he said softly, "listen to me, you will. A fine Padawan, Obi-Wan is. A great Jedi, he will become. Overstated his accomplishments, you have not. Neglected his training, you have not. But, neglected his heart, you have," Yoda paused, needing Qui-Gon to hear his plea, for the sake of two hearts that were very dear to him. "A boy no longer, is our Obi-Wan. Become a man, he has," he patted Qui-Gon's arm and returned to his seat on the bench. His ears perked up, amusement filling his eyes, as he commented slyly, "Perhaps noticed that, you have? Hmm?"
As Qui-Gon made his way towards his quarters, he slowly lowered the shields that had been a constant strain on him over the past several years. He had diverted so much energy to keeping his own thoughts and desires firmly away from his apprentice, that he had never noticed the difficulties that Obi-Wan had been experiencing, which Yoda had just explained to him. Carefully feeling along the much-neglected training bond, Qui-Gon knew that Obi-Wan was still in their quarters, and as he allowed himself to sense more of that which flowed through the bond, he slowly became aware of Obi-Wan's distress.
Quietly entering their quarters, he carefully locked the door behind him, and searched out his apprentice. His breath caught in his throat as his eyes found the young man kneeling in quiet meditation, his body bathed in the golden light of the setting sun. Silently, the Master joined his apprentice on the mat, knelt, and reached for the Force, searching for calm and strength, and waited.
It wasn't long before the cadence of Obi-Wan's breathing changed, ever so slightly, and Qui-Gon knew he was aware of the Master's presence. Softly, he spoke, "Something troubles you, my apprentice."
The eyes fluttered open, and Qui-Gon winced at the pain evident in those beautiful eyes, their usual blue-green depths were now so clouded with distress that they were nearly gray. /I have done this . . . I have brought him this pain . . . Oh, my Obi-Wan. Will you ever forgive me?/ He said nothing aloud, simply waited for Obi-Wan to speak, and watched as the pain was quickly replaced by resignation.
"I wished to speak to you of my training," Obi-Wan began.
Qui-Gon nodded sagely, "You have been doing very well, Obi-Wan. I am very proud of you."
/Who are you and what have you done with my Master??/ Obi-Wan's confusion was evident on his face. He didn't know how to respond. His mouth opened, but nothing came out. He promptly closed it again.
Qui-Gon's heart ached at the shock on his Padawan's face. /Have I been so cruel that you will no longer believe in my admiration of your accomplishments? Is Yoda right? Is it too late for us? Force help me . . ./ "I am more than satisfied with your progress, Obi-Wan. Your trials are four years away yet . . . perhaps you have found an additional area of study that you wish to pursue?" he asked. After a moment, he continued, teasingly, a warm smile lighting his deep blue eyes, "Honestly, Padawan, you need to spend some time in sleep."
Obi-Wan shot to his feet and was halfway to the door before he turned to face the stranger watching him calmly from his position in front of the balcony doors. He knew his trials to be at least seven years away - a knighting in four years would make him one of the youngest in the history of the Order - he knew he was nowhere near good enough for such an honour. That idea was shock enough, but that final teasing statement, and the smile, it was too much. He called his 'sabre to his hand, lit it and took a battle stance. "Who are you and what have you done with my Master?" he choked out.
The smile faded from Qui-Gon's face and he bowed his head for a moment before slowly rising to his feet. He did not approach his agitated apprentice, merely questioned, "Have I been so remiss in my duties as your Master that a simple compliment from me should send you into thinking yourself the victim of some Dark plot?"
"Qui-Gon Jinn has overseen my studies as diligently as any Master in the Temple - that I cannot deny. But my Master has not thought me worthy of compliments in many years. And I am well aware that I am not good enough to be knighted in a mere four years!" he all but snarled. "I know whom you resemble, but I know not what lies beneath the mask."
Qui-Gon sighed. "That last," he admitted sadly, "is true enough, I suppose." He paused for a moment, at a loss for what to say next. Attempting a different approach, he focused on sending calm through their training bond, and asked, "What were you meditating on when I entered?"
Obi-Wan, though puzzled by this question, decided he had nothing left to hide. "How best to admit to the Council that I will never satisfy my Master, that I will never be good enough for him." For long moments, the hum of his lightsabre was the only sound in the room. "I know that I have done something to displease you, and I cannot make it right again," he slowly realized that he had acknowledged this stranger as his Qui-Gon. His stance eased as the despair overtook him once more; he powered off his 'sabre and tossed it at Qui-Gon's feet. "I will put myself at the Council's mercy and ask that they find another Master willing to complete my training."
He turned and walked straight into the door, as it did not open to let him through. He punched the unlock code, but the door would not respond. He tried code after code, completely by touch, as he could no longer see through the tears filling his eyes. Finally, he leaned his forehead against the unresponsive barrier and pounded his fist against it, once, in frustration.
"Let me out," he choked, pleadingly. "Please, just let me go . . ."
Qui-Gon silently approached the shaking form and felt the smaller man start beneath him as he laid his hands gently on the shoulders in front of him, then slowly wrapped his arms around the muscled chest, "That, my Obi-Wan," he whispered hoarsely, "I cannot do." Qui-Gon didn't know what else to do, so he took the greatest risk of his life and lowered his shields to the bond that shimmered between them, letting everything he felt for Obi-Wan flow through it, and into his Padawan. "Forgive me, my Obi-Wan," he pleaded quietly, "Please forgive me for pushing you away; for not sharing my feelings with you; for not speaking with you . . . for hurting you. Forgive me," he whispered into the curve of Obi-Wan's neck.
Obi-Wan had struggled briefly against the arms that held him, but the insistent tug on the training bond caught his attention. He had felt nothing from it for so long, he thought it had dissolved into nothingness. He cautiously lowered his shields to it, then staggered against the body that held him so closely, as waves of love and longing were poured into him. The knowledge of Qui-Gon's shame at lusting after a boy less than half his age seemed to burn away his own feelings of uncertainty and despair.
"Qui," he gasped, and loosed his own feelings into their bond. It flared between them, becoming something much more than it had been, as it was filled with the mutual love and desire that the two held for each other. The air around them seemed to glow with an otherworldly light as the Force itself rejoiced in the joining of two souls, then seemed to sigh as it settled, waiting for them to complete what had been started.
Obi-Wan leaned into the tall body behind him, reaching one hand up to bury itself in Qui-Gon's hair, while the other reached around to grasp Qui-Gon's hip firmly as he ground his arse into the satisfying hardness centered in the groin behind him. He shuddered at the growl in his ear, his hips thrusting wantonly into Qui-Gon's large hand as it stroked Obi-Wan's cock through his thin leggings.
As soon as Obi-Wan moaned in pleasure, Qui-Gon whirled him around, pushed him against the door, and followed, holding him in place with his own body.
Face flushed with desire, Qui-Gon forced himself to hold back for a moment. Looking into those changeable eyes, now shining emerald with love and lust, he saw the answer he was looking for, and felt it along the strengthened bond between them. Any remaining doubts he had were swept away as Obi-Wan reached up and tenderly laid his hand upon Qui-Gon's cheek, thumb brushing softly against his lips, [Yes, Qui, I am yours . . . and you are mine. For all eternity.]
[Oh, my Obi-Wan,] he answered as he leaned in closer, [for all eternity.] Lips met for the first time. Touching. Exploring. Tongues joined in, tasting. Feasting. Obi-Wan locked his arms around Qui-Gon's neck and lifted one leg around his hip, trying to get closer. Taking the hint, Qui-Gon slipped one hand behind each of Obi-Wan's thighs and hoisted him up, Obi-Wan obligingly opened his legs, gripping his lover's hips, allowing Qui-Gon the leverage he needed to thrust and rub their aching cocks together.
Obi-Wan broke away from the kiss, dragging air into his lungs, "It's not enough," he complained as he rained kisses over the beloved face before him. [Too many clothes!] he whined.
[My Obi never whines,] he objected, but agreed that his lover definitely had a point, and also thought that a bed would be extremely valuable in this situation, so he turned and headed towards his bedroom.
Obi-Wan simply moaned in agreement and clung to Qui-Gon, nibbling at his neck and sucking at the tender skin, marking him possessively. He squeaked indignantly as Qui-Gon used a tendril of Force energy to pry him away and toss him onto the bed, then simply stared as his lover started to strip out of his clothes.
Boots had never been removed so quickly, nor thrown so carelessly across the room. Sashes, belts and tunics fell to the floor, followed unceremoniously by the leggings and smallclothes. Obi-Wan watched helplessly, becoming more aroused as each length of skin was revealed to his hungry gaze. Finally, he could do naught but stare at the powerful strength of his naked lover, and at the instrument of pleasure that would soon be buried within his own body. His cock twitched and wept at the prospect, his hand reached to caress himself helplessly. Everything about Qui-Gon was large and powerful, and his sex was no exception. The thick shaft rose above pendulous balls, with prominent veins twisting their way around the tall shaft, up to the smooth, plum-like head, which seemed to kiss the skin just below his navel.
The sight of his Padawan staring at him whilst stroking his own obvious erection through his leggings, was the most erotic sight Qui-Gon had ever seen, to date. He had no doubt that there would soon be sights to eclipse even this, such as a naked Padawan . . . but the intent focus of Obi-Wan's gaze made him pause.
"Obi, we don't have to do this tonight," he offered. [Obi-Wan?]
Emerald eyes slowly rose to meet concerned sapphire, "Don't even think about backing out of this," was his fierce reply. "It's just that it's been over a year since I've . . ." his eyes lowered and refocused on the object of his desire, ". . . and you're just so much . . . more than I've ever taken . . . I -"
All thought of speech promptly fled as Qui-Gon all but pounced on him. Mouths feasted hungrily as Qui's large hands swept across Obi's lean frame, quickly divesting him of tunic and leggings. Obi had been so caught up in the kiss that he didn't even realize he was naked until Qui's lips left his to start a leisurely path down his throat, to his chest. Detour to nipple. Lick, nibble, suck. Obi-Wan moaned and his hands tangled in Qui-Gon's hair, urging his lover to pay attention to the other nipple.
Qui-Gon smiled, allowing himself to be led, and as his lips latched around the small nub, one hand moved up to worry the nipple he had just left while the other trailed down and wrapped itself around the hard heat of Obi-Wan's straining cock. He gathered the moisture that was weeping profusely from the tip and spread it lovingly around the sensitive head. Obi-Wan responded with a moan and an uncontrollable thrust. /Lovely, that . . ./ Qui-Gon thought, with a moan of his own. Fingers gathered more moisture from the weeping slit, moved down the shaft, a light scratch in the curls at the base, then back up to tease the sensitive spot just below the head, then swirl around the tip again. Over and over, taking his time, revelling in his own pleasure at the uninhibited sounds coming from the twisting body beneath him.
Obi-Wan's hands fisted in the sheets, reduced to a quivering ball of need. He had been dreaming about this moment for so long, but he had never been able to imagine quite this amount of desire, this amount of pleasure . . . this amount of love. As he thrust mindlessly into the firm grip around his cock, he pleaded with his lover, [More . . . Please, more . . .]
Little did he know that Qui-Gon had been waiting for that plea of surrender. He swiftly moved down and engulfed Obi-Wan's cock in his mouth. When his lips settled around the base, and he could taste his lover's essence at the back of his throat, he moved one hand to gently fondle the sensitive sack. As he moved up and down Obi's cock, massaging with tongue and lips, he started to hum.
Obi-Wan couldn't believe the wet heat of Qui-Gon's mouth as it enveloped him, but the vibrations from the humming seemed to travel from his cock into the depths of his groin and up his spine. He tried to sit up, one hand on Qui-Gon's shoulder, prodding at the immovable, "Qui, please - " his voice trailed off into another deep moan, [I can't . . .]
Qui-Gon increased his suction and his movements, [Let go, my Obi . . . Come for me, my love.]
The words, combined with a surge of love along their bond, triggered Obi-Wan's orgasm. His back arched, every muscle in his body clenched, and he came into Qui-Gon's mouth. Qui-Gon swallowed every surge, then kept the softening cock in his mouth, gently cleaning it of every trace of release. He then moved up the bed and wrapped himself around his limp Padawan, taking his lips in a gentle, loving kiss.
When he finally pulled away, he gazed adoringly at the stunned look on Obi-Wan's face. "So, my Obi-Wan, shall I take that as approval?"
"Approval?!" he exclaimed, "Qui, that was . . . amazing. I mean, you were . . . I've never . . . it just . . ."
Qui-Gon laid a gentle finger on the kiss-swollen lips to stop the flow of confusion. "That, my Obi-Wan, was love."
[Oh . . . . Wow.]
[Indeed. Mmmm . . .] Qui-Gon began nibbling on Obi-Wan's neck.
Obi-Wan took advantage of the opportunity to run his hands lovingly over the expanse of back that was so conveniently within reach. Strongly muscled arms, shoulders, back - all covered in smooth, hot skin – slightly damp from his exertions and the desire that still flowed between them. Obi-Wan could hardly believe he was finally able to touch that strong body, as much as he wanted to. He was amazed at the pleasure that the simple act could bring him. It suddenly occurred to him that there was something very hot and hard pressed alongside his hip, and he realized that Qui-Gon hadn't yet found his completion.
"Qui, you didn't - " his words were stopped by a quick kiss.
"I will, Obi, don't let it worry you."
"But - "
Fingers against his lips again, "Shush." Sapphire eyes filled with love. "I've wanted this night for so long . . . but never really believed it would actually happen," another peck on the lips. "You have the gift typical of most youths -" soft kiss to one temple, " - you come quickly and often," then to the other temple. "While I, on the other hand," nibble on the cleft in the chin, "have always been slow to release." Mouths joined, slowly searching, arousing. By the time he raised his head, they were both a little dazed. "So allow me the time to lay the groundwork," hand trailed slowly down the hard body beneath him to capture Obi-Wan's renewed erection, "I promise you'll enjoy it . . ." He grinned at Obi's moan, then covered his mouth once more, plunging his tongue into the heated depths, staking his claim.
Qui-Gon’s grip on Obi-Wan’s cock was firm but unmoving as his tongue repeatedly thrust into and out of the hot cavern of Obi-Wan’s mouth – imitating the movements in which their bodies would soon be engaged. Finally, Obi-Wan could stand it no longer, his hips thrusting helplessly. He moaned and tore his mouth from Qui-Gon’s with a needy moan, “Please, Qui . . . want you now . . . need you, please!”
Qui-Gon retrieved the lube from the drawer in the nightstand, pouring a small amount in his hand and warming it between his fingers before reaching toward Obi-Wan’s entrance. Blue eyes locked onto green as a single digit gently massaged around the tight opening. Obi-Wan tightened his grip on Qui-Gon’s biceps, pushing his hips towards the finger, trying to entice it to enter, but Qui-Gon kept his touch light and teasing.
[Qui!] he moaned, trying to transmit his need through their bond.
The Master grinned at these attempts, but allowed himself to be convinced, slowly slipping a single finger into Obi-Wan’s tight heat. Obi stilled at the sensation. It was only a single finger, but the satisfaction was in the accomplishment, that this was real, that they were making love. His eyes closed as his body arched, pushing against the small intruder, needing more. Qui-Gon obliged, slowly moving his finger in and out, gently stretching the tight entrance, searching for the small bundle of nerves. When he found it, Obi-Wan arched and whimpered, “More! Please, Qui, more . . .”
Quickly slicking a second finger, the next inwards thrust stretched the hole a little more. Qui-Gon took his time, scissoring his fingers, stretching the opening, continually rubbing against his lover’s prostate. The apprentice was moaning continuously, writhing beneath his master, so consumed by pleasure that he barely noticed the addition of a third finger.
Just as Obi-Wan was approaching his orgasm, the fingers were swiftly withdrawn, leaving him teetering on the threshold. “Noooo!” he moaned in denial. Raising himself onto his elbows, he opened his eyes to the sight of Qui-Gon smoothing lubricant over his massive erection. “Yes, Qui!” he groaned.
“Changed your mind awfully fast there, love,” Qui-Gon chuckled as he lowered his body onto his lover, capturing Obi-Wan’s lips in a savage kiss.
[No laughing at me . . .]
Quickly raising his head, Qui-Gon looked deeply into the clouded jade of Obi-Wan’s eyes. “Never at you, my love. Never at your expense.”
Obi-Wan stared back, seeing only love and desire, and reached for Qui-Gon’s head, bringing his lips down to meet his own once more. [In me now, Qui . . . need you . . . please!]
[As you wish, my love. It will be my pleasure,] he sent through their bond, coloring it with all the love and desire he was feeling at that moment. Slipping one arm beneath Obi-Wan’s shoulders to hold him close, he reached down with the other to guide his cock to the waiting entrance. He raised his head once more so that he could watch Obi-Wan’s face as he joined their bodies.
“Our pleasure, Qui,” Obi-Wan corrected, “It will always be our pleasure.” He wrapped his legs around Qui-Gon’s waist, tilting his hips up, presenting himself for his lover. “Now, Qui,” he whispered huskily, [make us one.]
The master pressed forward, the apprentice hissing as the enormous cock breached his tight opening, then paused once the head was inside. Qui-Gon fought for control, resisting the nearly overwhelming urge to slam forward into the tight heat that was waiting for him. He trembled and moaned, then reached for Obi-Wan’s softened cock as he leaned down to savage the swollen mouth beneath him. Slowly, slowly, Qui-Gon’s erection slid further into Obi-Wan’s passage, until, finally, he was seated as deeply as it was possible to be.
Obi-Wan shunted the burning pain away, releasing it into the Force, trying to concentrate on the pleasure of being split apart by the enormous cock that now rested, unmoving, deep in his arse. “You’re so big,” he gasped, “. . . so hard.”
Qui-Gon buried his face in Obi-Wan’s neck, breathing hard, struggling for control. He groaned, “Obi-Wan . . . so tight . . . so hot . . .” He shifted slightly and reached for Obi-Wan’s cock, gently teasing it back into hardness as he nipped and suckled at the tender skin beneath his lips. He started to move slightly into the man beneath him. Just a small, nearly unconscious movement – press and release. Press and release. Over, and over again, simply because he couldn’t help himself.
Finally, lifting himself to stare down into the adoring gaze of his lover, Qui-Gon slowly drew back, until just the head of his cock remained within the tight passage. He paused, sapphire eyes boring into emerald, waiting .. . . waiting . . . Obi-Wan finally whimpered with need, hips canting upwards in longing – and Qui-Gon thrust in, aiming deliberately for that sensitive bump within the tight passage. Obi-Wan cried out as Qui-Gon found his mark, his body arching into his lover, his own cock throbbing in reaction.
“Yes, Qui! More!” he demanded.
Qui-Gon’s legendary self-control was gone, annihilated by the green-eyed siren writhing beneath him. Bracing both arms on the bed, he powered back and forth within the hot passage, constantly battering against Obi-Wan’s prostate.
Obi-Wan moaned and whimpered and writhed and yelled. Never had he dreamed of such ecstasy. The feel of his lover’s strength above him, the enormous heat and hardness within him – the size, the friction – the feel of the huge balls slapping against his arse with every thrust. He reached for his aching cock, using the fluid that had leaked onto his abdomen to ease his way. Gripping himself firmly, he pumped himself in counterpoint to the cock reaming his arse.
“More . . .” he moaned, “. . . harder . . . Qui!”
The low encouragement was heard – and Qui-Gon obediently sped up his thrusting, slamming into the body of his lover over and over again, grunting with the force of his efforts.
“Unnnh! ‘m coming . . . Qui!” Obi-Wan spurted violently over his stomach and chest, body arching, clamping down on the hard intruder inside him..
The vicious contractions around his cock was all Qui-Gon needed to find his own release. His body convulsed and thrust uncontrollably as he emptied himself into the sweet heat of his lover, then collapsed in exhaustion. Obi-Wan hugged Qui-Gon with arms and legs, loving the small aftershocks that wracked the large frame atop him.
Long moments later, his breathing calmed, Qui-Gon lifted himself up onto one elbow, the other hand reaching to trace adoringly over the face of his beloved. He leaned down and tenderly kissed the swollen lips, pouring his love through their bond. When he raised his head, green eyes were swimming, and he felt the love returned to him. Carefully pulling out of his lover, he used the Force to call a towel from the ‘fresher and tenderly wiped them both clean. He then lay down on his back and gathered Obi-Wan to him.
Obi-Wan ignored the ache in his arse and gratefully snuggled against his lover, head pillowed on the broad chest, one arm and leg flung across the taller body, keeping as much contact as possible without actually laying on top of him. He sighed in contentment as Qui-Gon’s hand lazily stroked up and down his back.
Eventually, despite the very obvious satisfaction implied by their current lethargy, Obi-Wan’s doubts resurfaced, and he just needed to know . .. . “So, uhm,” he started quietly, “was that okay – I mean, was I good en-”
With a low growl, Qui-Gon flipped Obi-Wan onto his back and captured his mouth in a fierce kiss. Several long, and very satisfying, moments later, he raised his head and looked down into the greenest eyes he had ever seen.
"Never doubt, my Obi-Wan," he said thickly, as he gently touched the beloved face, "that you are more than good enough."
*** End ***
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