Master Apprentice  Archive Loopholes #3 - Ears |
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Feedback: Oh, give it to me baby ... emila_wan@yahoo.com
Archive: M_A. Others please ask. Also archived at http://www.jediphiles.com/index69.htm
Category: PWP, Angst, Romance
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: None.
Summary: In this AU the Jedi Order has a strict Code governing sexual conduct, but Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan find a few loopholes they can exploit.
Disclaimer: George Lucas is da man. He owns everything. We just play.
Warnings: M/m sex in case you stumbled onto this list from another planet.
Series: This is #3 of a series called Loopholes, with new fic to follow sporadically. See #1 and #2 first.
Note: I started thinking about how the boys would handle it if their Jedi Code paralleled our Real Life code of sexual conduct as expressed in conservative Judeo-Christian terms -- no sex outside of marriage, etc. I find forbidden fruit a terrific turn-on ... hope you do, too.
Thanks to my lovely Padawan and to Emu for their betas and encouragement. I didn't know whether this one would be too weird to see the light of day, but they assure me it's not. So blame them. *G*
Warning: Poetry by dead white people.
Despite the promise inherent in Obi-Wan's shy remark about "making a study" of loopholes in the Code, Qui-Gon insisted on spending their remaining hours until planetfall in research of a different kind. He and Obi-Wan took turns quizzing each other on the basic facts about Caerlon from the mission briefing, taking frequent breaks to cuddle and kiss in a haze of half-sated, half-hungry bliss. Having initially denied himself the pleasure of feeling Obi-Wan's lips pressed against his own, Qui-Gon found he could not stop himself from tasting his lover again and again, like a parched man drawing deeply from a well. Their hands explored, brushing aside and removing tunics, stroking and kissing everywhere they dared while skirting around the edge of the Code's many forbidden zones. Strangely, neither seemed anxious to go further, at least for the moment. It was enough just to hold each other close, to touch and kiss, letting their eyes caress where their hands and lips could not go. If this was all they ever had together, Qui-Gon reflected, it would be more than he had ever dreamed he'd have with anyone.
Their worm-like pilot Charza, accompanied by a myriad of smaller versions of himself known as food-kin, sloshed back to their makeshift cabin to inform them that he'd entered orbit and was waiting for clearance and navigation codes. The civil unrest meant that they'd be landing under cover of darkness, well away from any established port, to rendezvous with the documentary holofilm crew they'd been sent to protect. Charza estimated another three hours before they could make their approach. Qui-Gon thanked him, then turned to face his Padawan as the door slid shut behind him, cutting off the sound and smell of the brackish water which flooded most of the freighter's main deck.
Obi-Wan sprawled, barefoot and bare-chested, sitting on the deck with his back against the flat metal compartments built into every surface of the bulkheads, one knee up, his half-hard penis clearly outlined beneath the cloth of his leggings. The look he gave Qui-Gon as the door closed melted from studious decorum to smoky seduction.
"What shall we do with that extra three hours, Master?" he asked huskily.
Qui-Gon felt as if his heart had skipped a beat. He took a deep breath to steady himself. As he let it out, serenity settled around him like a cloak. He wanted nothing more than to dive between Obi-Wan's legs and take that bulge of flesh into his mouth, breathe in the musky scent of it, caress the firmness and silky heat of it with his tongue, taste the droplets of tangy fluid that even now left a moist stain on Obi-Wan's leggings ... but he knew that could never happen.
Instead, he slid gracefully to his knees and reached out to touch Obi-Wan's kiss-swollen lips with the tips of his fingers. "I think Charza has a Dejarik board."
A flash of startlement lit Obi-Wan's eyes for a split second. Then he grinned under Qui-Gon's fingers. "I'm not in the mood for games ... of that sort, anyway." He kissed the thumb that slid over his lips.
Qui-Gon let his hand slide down Obi-Wan's throat to the hollow, then back up to stroke the long braid. "We could always brush up on your Caerlish dialects. You might have need of one or more of them on this mission."
Obi-Wan shook his head slightly, his eyes hooded. "I've heard more than I can take of Caerlon already," he said, his tone insolent, indolent.
"We could recite poetry," Qui-Gon suggested softly, his hand teasing along Obi-Wan's collarbone.
Obi-Wan tried to chuckle, but ended up gasping as Qui-Gon's hand settled firmly on the nape of his neck. "You know I have no use for poetry," he said shakily.
Qui-Gon bent forward until his lips brushed Obi-Wan's ear. He felt the young man's body trembling beneath him, and his own arousal flared to life again. "Perhaps," he whispered, "you've simply not been introduced to the right poets."
"Perhaps not -- aaaaahh," Obi-Wan groaned as Qui-Gon's lips caressed his ear hotly. Qui-Gon increased the pressure, adding his tongue to lap gently at the opening. Obi-Wan clutched at Qui-Gon's biceps and slid down until he was on his back. Qui-Gon followed, ending up half on top of his apprentice. He swung a leg over and between Obi-Wan's knees, careful to make no contact where it was wanted most, and set to work on the ear again.
The moans and gasps his Padawan made as he writhed beneath him were perhaps the most arousing sounds Qui-Gon had ever heard. He wanted to hear them again and again. His own penis was so full it felt as if it would burst, but he willed himself to ignore it. There was a lesson here, he remembered dazedly. A point he'd been wanting to make. Oh, yes. Poetry.
He drew back and pressed his lips again to Obi-Wan's ear. "I wonder by my troth, what thou and I did, till we loved? Were we not weaned, till then? But sucked on country pleasures, childishly? Or snorted we in the seven sleepers den? T'was so; but this, all pleasures fancies be. If ever any beauty I did see, which I desired, and got, t'was but a dream of thee."
Obi-Wan moaned softly. "If you're wanting to take the edge off, that archaic language will do it. Not to mention the word 'snorted.' Though I have to admit, you could probably read the Code to me and I'd get hard just from the sound of your voice ..."
"Shhh ..." Qui-Gon murmured. "Just listen." He pressed another kiss to Obi-Wan's ear. "If you don't like that, here's something else from Master Donne." His voice took on a seductive tone. "Come live with me, and be my love, and we will some new pleasures prove --"
"Mmm. Now that's more like it," Obi-Wan said, carding his fingers into Qui-Gon's hair. "But I thought Master Donne wrote spiritual verse?"
"Hush, Padawan," Qui-Gon chided, smiling against the ear under his lips. "They don't let padawans read his earlier works, for good reason. They're far too profane. Now, where was I? Oh, yes ... of golden sands, and crystal brooks, with silken lines, and silver hooks. There will the river whispering run, warmed by thy eyes more than the sun. And there th'enamored fish will stay, begging themselves they may betray."
"Fish?" Obi-Wan asked impatiently, and tugged Qui-Gon's head around for a kiss.
Qui-Gon came up for air some moments later and continued his assault on Obi-Wan's ear. "When thou wilt swim in that live bath, each fish, which every channel hath, will amorously to thee swim, gladder to catch thee, than thou him."
"Qui-Gon, this is not doing it for me." Obi-Wan nipped him on the neck none too gently.
"Demanding lad. How's this, then? Master Donne has something for every occasion: License my roving hands, and let them go ..."
"Oh, yes!" Obi-Wan cried, as Qui-Gon suited actions to words.
"... before ... behind ... between ... above ... below."
Obi-Wan was literally writhing and panting as Qui-Gon's hands stroked him, over his rippling abdomen, along the waistband of his trousers, between his thighs (ever careful not to get too close to the needy bulge that pulsed with a life of its own) over the curve of his flanks, around and up to his armpits, then over and down the taut chest again.
Qui-Gon's voice had begun to crack with the strain as his padawan groaned beneath him. "Oh, my new-found-land," Qui-Gon continued brokenly, "my kingdom, safeliest when with one man manned, my mine of precious stone, my emperie, how blest am I in this discovering thee! To enter in these bonds, is to be free; then where my hand is set," Qui-Gon placed his hand over Obi-Wan's wildly thumping heart, "my seal shall be. Full nakedness! All joys are due to thee, as souls unbodied, bodies unclothed must be."
Qui-Gon drew back a little, swallowed hard at the thought of bodies unclothed, and then bent to kiss Obi-Wan's sweating brow. His padawan was still writhing, his legs wrapped around Qui-Gon's, his hands kneading Qui-Gon's back and hips convulsively, his movements punctuated by soft moans.
"There, you see? Even Master Donne can get it right sometimes. But perhaps you'd like me to stop."
"You," Obi-Wan gasped, eyes half-closed, "are an evil man."
Qui-Gon grinned. "If you don't like Master Donne, perhaps you would like to hear another poet? She's ... well, she's sneered at in some circles, but I find her words often echo the feelings of my own heart."
"Please."
Qui-Gon took that as a yes. He settled on his side next to Obi-Wan and gazed into his eyes, his hand idly stroking Obi-Wan's braid. "The face of all the world is changed, I think, since first I heard the footsteps of thy soul move still, oh, still, beside me; as they stole betwixt me and the dreadful outer brink of obvious death, where I who thought to sink ..." Qui-Gon paused, surprised to feel his throat tighten as the long-familiar words took on even greater meaning for him. "Where I who thought to sink was caught up into love and taught the whole of life in a new rhythm ..." He stopped, too choked up to continue.
"Oh, my Master," Obi-Wan said, and drew him down into an embrace. "I'm glad I was there for you."
They kissed softly, again and again, as if they could never get enough. Obi-Wan lay on his back, and Qui-Gon rested on his side, one leg draped over Obi-Wan's knee. The kisses grew more and more urgent, their touches more bold. Obi-Wan's hands sifted roughly through his hair; with each thrust of his fingers he let his forearms brush Qui-Gon's nipples. The sensation rocketed like lightning to his groin; with every touch it grew more and more intense, until Qui-Gon could not tell any more if what he felt was pleasure or agony. In the grip of a desperate emotion, Qui-Gon slipped his hand down to the ties of Obi-Wan's leggings. He ran his fingers under the waistband, caressing the damp skin there and knowing he could go no further. The feel of warm flesh and coarse hair against his fingertips enflamed him almost beyond thought. He slid his fingers deeper, touching the fold where leg met torso, then retreated, skirting so close to Obi-Wan's swollen sex that he could feel the heat radiating from it. Obi-Wan groaned and thrust against him, instinctively wanting contact. Qui-Gon withdrew his hand and breathed in the sharp scent of arousal. He flicked his tongue out to taste the fluid he'd gathered. Obi-Wan watched him with wide eyes, then slumped back, his eyes rolling up into his head with a loud, soulfelt groan. Qui-Gon found himself wrestling mightily for control. Never before had he so craved anything. But now he felt drunk with need. His mind drifted, filled with half-formed images of their naked bodies moving together in passion. Rational thought drowned in the sight of Obi-Wan's hips thrusting gently in time with his breathless moans. Qui-Gon's fingers started working at the ties of Obi-Wan's leggings. "I want to make love to you," he said, his voice and hands shaking.
Obi-Wan's hand came down to stop him. "We can't. We can't," he gasped.
Qui-Gon kissed him almost frantically. "What can we do? Tell me."
"I can't think. Oh, everything I want to do is forbidden. Help me, Master."
"Tell me. Whisper it to me." He bent and nipped at Obi-Wan's throat. "Tell me what you want."
Obi-Wan put his hand on the nape of Qui-Gon's neck and tugged his ear down. "I want to taste you," he rasped.
Qui-Gon moaned aloud. "Yesss."
"I want to kiss you all over, put my mouth on your nipples and suck on them until they're hard and tender, bite them and lick them --"
"Oh, Force." Qui-Gon shifted his hips, and his erection pressed against the hard muscle of Obi-Wan's thigh. He pulled back, gasping.
"Take your ... your cock in my mouth --"
"Gah ..."
His reaction seemed to burn away the last of Obi-Wan's hesitancy. The younger man rolled him over, pressed him down to the deck, and suddenly the words flowed forth in a voice thick with arousal. "Inch by inch," Obi-Wan breathed into his ear. "Taste you. Suck you in, lick the slit, over and around, down to the balls, take you all in."
Qui-Gon's back arched slightly; he heard himself whimper. Obi-Wan paused to worry his ear with gentle teeth, then soothe the imaginary hurt with a hot tongue. "You don't know how many times I've thought about what I'd like to do with you," Obi-Wan continued huskily. "_To_ you. You don't know how many nights I lay there in my solitary bed and thought of you as I jerked myself off."
Qui-Gon clenched his fists against the deck and squeezed his eyes painfully shut. This was really more than he felt capable of bearing, yet he could not make himself put a stop to it.
Obi-Wan shifted against him; settling his weight more firmly across his torso as he switched his assault to the other ear. "I always imagine they're your hands," he said. "Wrapped around my cock, pulling and stroking and squeezing until I scream out my release. Force, those big, callused hands." He nipped and licked at Qui-Gon's ear, wetting it thoroughly, then thrusting the tip of his tongue inside. Qui-Gon's mouth went dry. He tried to speak, but no sound emerged. He felt as if he might pass out.
"Do you know," Obi-Wan continued after a moment, "when you touch me so professionally during training all I can think about is how big your fingers are? How I'd love to feel you thrust one of those thick digits inside me while I'm coming? Would you like that, Master? Would you like to feel my muscles contracting around you as I'm calling out your name in the night?"
The picture was all too vivid. Qui-Gon could imagine the feel of that tight, moist heat surrounding him. He shuddered, his eyes still tightly shut.
Obi-Wan made love to his ear for a moment, then drew away slightly and chuckled. "No answer, my Master? Ah, well. Perhaps you'd like to hear how some nights I slick my fingers with gel and fuck myself, pretending it's you inside me."
Qui-Gon had never realized how a few dirty words, spoken in the right voice, could shatter his control like a pane of transparisteel under a sledgehammer. He began to think he had pushed them both too far. He could scarcely remember why, exactly, he was holding back from ravishing his apprentice.
"I imagine that thick cock inside me, filling me, thrusting hard and fast until I cry out."
_His apprentice._
Obi-Wan was still talking, his voice growing more and more urgent. "Sometimes I _do_ cry, when I'm done. Sometimes I crave you inside me so much I think I'll lose my mind. I torture myself. I pinch my nipples until they're raw. I beat myself with a strap trying to purge myself of this need, but I can't stop. The pain only makes me want you more."
Qui-Gon gasped, shocked at the frankness of the admission, and at the jolt of lust that fired through him at the thought of Obi-Wan employing self-flagellation while thinking of him. _I must stop this,_ he thought. _Now, before we go too far._
He tried to roll away, but Obi-Wan clutched at him, rode with him until they crashed against the bulkhead. Obi-Wan moaned incoherently between kisses and licks to Qui-Gon's ear, his throat, the hinge of his jaw.
"Obi-Wan ..." Qui-Gon said brokenly, trying to rise.
"You don't know what you do to me," Obi-Wan said, sliding belly-to-belly against him, feet braced to hold him down. He captured Qui-Gon's mouth in a wet kiss, his tongue stroking in and out in a blatant simulation of the sex act.
Qui-Gon found it difficult to resist when his mouth was being ravished so thoroughly. It seemed every thought and nerve impulse centered on the aching, pulsing flesh between his legs. He feared at this rate neither one of them would be able to stop. One of them had to be strong. Had to be ... strong ...
Obi-Wan stopped assaulting his mouth long enough to gasp for breath. He stroked his cheek against Qui-Gon's beard. "I need you," he whispered.
"Padawan ..." Qui-Gon tried again, pushing at the body that pinned him. Obi-Wan's hands were braced either side of him, his legs splayed in a wrestling hold. Everywhere they touched burned him like a brand. The temptation to give in to his desires seemed to swamp his senses.
"Qui-Gon, Master," Obi-Wan moaned into his ear. "All I can think about right now is how I want to be inside you. Not just my tongue, but all of me." He pressed the scalding tip of his tongue into Qui-Gon's ear once more, igniting a firestorm down every nerve of the older man's body. "I want to crawl inside you so deep I can't find my way back. I want to live inside your skin. I love you. I love you ..." He murmured more broken endearments as he kissed and nibbled at Qui-Gon's ear.
His soul and body aflame, Qui-Gon stopped struggling. His head dropped back to the deck in surrender, and he let the love and need in that beloved voice wash over him like a benediction. He was so weary of being strong. What did it matter? Bugger the Council _and_ the Code. He'd never agreed with the Jedi's stance on sex, anyway. Let Obi-Wan do what he would. He would live in the Moment, and let tomorrow worry about itself.
Obi-Wan continued to whisper scandalous things into his ear between nips and kisses. Qui-Gon's hips rotated, seeking contact. Even the touch of fabric from his trousers was enough to enflame him. He wouldn't have believed he could climax simply from the sound of his padawan's voice, but suddenly he was so close he saw stars. Obi-Wan ran his tongue firmly down Qui-Gon's jaw, then suckled at the join of neck and shoulder. Qui-Gon shifted and groaned loudly.
Obi-Wan's mouth descended on his ear again. "Mmmmmm, I love the sounds you make. I want to make you lose control. I want to make you moan and shout. I want to thrust myself inside you, slow and deep and oh, so good. I want to feel your flesh wrapped around me, stroking me. I want to spill my seed deep inside your body and make you mine ..."
And suddenly Qui-Gon was coming, his body contorting as if in agony. He gritted his teeth to keep from bellowing and thus alerting the pilot Charza or his many food-kin. He gripped Obi-Wan's arms so tightly he knew he must be leaving bruises, but he couldn't seem to help it.
Obi-Wan lunged down and took his mouth in a searing kiss, pinning his head even as Qui-Gon's body continued to buck and writhe. Qui-Gon let go of Obi-Wan's arms and slid his hands down to grasp at Obi-Wan's hips. He pulled Obi-Wan's body down on top of him, reveling in the weight and warmth against his skin.
Obi-Wan's erection rubbed against his thigh as they moved, and all at once Obi-Wan shuddered and buried his face in Qui-Gon's neck to muffle his shout of completion. Qui-Gon wrapped his arms about his apprentice and held him as his body jerked and trembled.
They moved together from a time, stroking and kissing as the aftershocks slowly dissipated. Obi-Wan rested his head against Qui-Gon's chest. "That was ... " He swallowed heavily. Qui-Gon felt Obi-Wan's lips curl into a smirk against his skin. "I don't think you could call that strict adherence to the Code, Master."
Qui-Gon felt an answering smirk twitch his lips. "And yet it was only fabric that touched us, nothing more."
Obi-Wan chuckled weakly. "And I thought _I_ was good at finding loopholes. If a layer of fabric is all we need, I have some leather gloves ..."
Qui-Gon went very still. Obi-Wan raised his head and looked at him. "They're in my bag," he said slowly. "If you want me to get them."
"Another time," Qui-Gon said lazily, and tugged Obi-Wan's head back down onto his chest. He chuckled.
"What's so funny?"
"I thought I could arouse you with classic love poetry, and then I found myself undone by your crude words. Ah, well. Sometimes the apprentice teaches the master."
"I didn't mind the poetry so much," Obi-Wan said lazily. "Especially that last bit. What was it?"
"Part of a sonnet by Master Eliz-beth Browning. Would you like to hear another?"
Obi-Wan sighed contentedly. "If you feel you must."
"Go from me. Yet I feel that I shall stand henceforward in thy shadow. Nevermore alone upon the threshold of my door of individual life, shall I command the uses of my soul, not lift my hand serenely in the sunshine as before, without the sense of that which I forbore ..." Qui-Gon took Obi-Wan's hand and kissed it, then turned it over and clasped it tightly. "... thy touch upon the palm. The widest land doom takes to part us leaves thy heart in mine with pulses that beat double. What I do and what I dream include thee, as the wine must taste of its own grapes. And when I sue the Force for myself, it hears that name of thine, and sees within my eyes the tears of two."
Obi-Wan's eyes shone as he met Qui-Gon's gaze. "That's exactly how I feel," he whispered.
Qui-Gon nodded. "I love you, Obi-Wan."
Obi-Wan laid his head down once more. "I love you, Qui-Gon."
END - for now
Apologies to the following for mangling their excellent verse:
- John Donne for "The Good-Morrow," "The Bait," and "To His Mistress Going to Bed"
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning for "Sonnets from the Portuguese"