Master Baiting

by Asato

Title: Master Baiting

Author: Asato

Archive: M/A others please ask

Category: MMOM

Rating: Adult

Warnings: Pointless Smut!Fic, featuring self love. Also, some sexual power games, though I'm not sure it qualifies as BDSM. I posted this for MMOM a year or two ago, planning to edit it a bit and repost it for Archiving. Finally got around to it.

Spoilers: Oh, HELL no.

Summary: Obi-Wan baits his Master, and gets more than he bargained for.

Feedback: Validate me! ;)

The Master/Padawan relationship is an institution as old as the Order, a tradition as old and respected as any the Jedi hold dear. It exists to ensure that the knowledge and skill of ages past is passed down to each successive generation. A Master’s duty to his Padawan is nothing less than a sacred trust.

Obi-Wan had been my Padawan, my friend and companion, since he was little more than a child. As he passed into adulthood, he had less and less to learn from me. Having been his Master all these years, I have seen how quickly he picked up new, complex skills. I have watched him mature as he learned to trust in the Force and his instincts. Obi-Wan Kenobi is a man both fierce in battle and formidable in negotiation; I was as proud of him as a Master could be of his pupil. I trust him with my life, whatever the mission.

He was very close to his Knighting when things began to change between us. Obi-Wan had lost his eager determination to please me somewhere along the path to manhood, but as his training came to an end, he became distracted. His behavior toward me — while nothing less than polite — became almost cold. This was especially noticeable during those rare moments of rest at the Temple, when we were able to relax and pursue our own interests for a time.

Obi-Wan spent more and more time with his agemates, though that in itself was something of a relief. I had always wondered why my charming Padawan chose to spend so much of his free time with his old Master, reviewing new skills or brushing up on his astrophysics while I read or meditated nearby.

I didn’t want to admit how very much I missed his company, now that my handsome fledgling was almost ready to leave the nest. That was how I thought of him, then. I saw only the fine Knight he would be, my legacy among the Jedi.

The closer his Knighting came, the less I saw of him. Even the time we spent together was uncomfortable. I’d catch him watching me over his morning tea, the look in his bright green eyes almost calculating.

“Is something the matter, Obi-Wan?” I’d say, but he would only arch a brow and shake his head, those eyes never leaving mine.

His manner of dress and level of modesty changed as well, at least during the times I saw him in our rooms. He would come in from the salles and strip off his tunic, using it to dry his sweat, seeming to ignore me as he patted down his glistening torso. I would greet him naturally, but he would only smile, the look in his eyes intense and inscrutable.

It seemed he only came back to our rooms to wash or to sleep. One day, as he emerged from the fresher with a towel knotted casually around his hips, I asked him why he didn’t use the showers by the salles.

“I like the ‘fresher here better.” He smiled again, casually pulling the towel from his hips to dry his hair. “”We’re out of towels.”

Nudity has never been a problem between the two of us. We respect each other’s privacy, but we’d seen each other’s bodies many times when the quarters were close on missions. His casual nudity should not have affected me.

But it did.

Obi-Wan smiled as he pulled the towel off his head, leaving his short hair tousled. He flung it over his shoulder and walked to the com, placing an order for more towels with the housekeeping droids. Instead of taking a seat at the comdesk he leaned over, the muscles of his upper thigh and buttocks taut as bowstrings. He shifted his weight and I looked away.

He paused in the door way to his sleeproom, absently poking his right ear with a toweled finger. “Do you have plans tonight, Qui-Gon?”

I did, but it took me a moment to recall what they were. “Yes. Master Yoda and are having late meal together. Why do you ask?”

“I was thinking of having a friend over for a bit, later,” he said, his eyes full of mirth. “Wouldn’t want to interfere with your plans.”

Ah, so Obi-Wan didn’t want his old Master hanging about. I assured him I could make myself scarce until at least the eleventh hour, if he wished.

There was some mischief I could not quite decipher in his tone when he thanked me. “That will be perfect, Master.”

I smiled and went about my usual business. I like to help with the plantings in the temple gardens when I am not on missions. It is exhausting work, and work that allows a man to examine his own mind and still accomplish something.

After that I went to salles myself. I caught a glimpse of Obi-Wan and Garren sparring, and I had to wonder why my fastidious Padawan had bothered to shower before a work-out. They were both giving it all they had in a friendly struggle for dominance. I watched until I saw Obi-Wan had bested his friend, and slipped off to find a private salle where I could practice advanced katas in peace.

Though my dinner with Master Yoda was pleasant enough, I believe he sensed my unease. I could not articulate what disturbed me about my Padawan’s recent attitude. It was good for him to be spending time with his agemates while we were at the Temple. He had finished his advanced classes with good marks, and had not let his meditations slip. Obi-Wan was the perfect Padawan, soon to become a Knight in his own right, with all the privileges and responsibilities that entailed. It was only natural for some distance to come between us, now that Obi-Wan was on the cusp of such a milestone.

I should have been proud of him. I should have been pleased to see him become his own man. Why had my heart begun to ache every time I saw him?

I wandered around the meditation gardens, pondering these thoughts until nearly the eleventh hour. Heart heavy and head confused, I opened the door to our quarters, determined to slip into my sleeproom without disturbing Obi-Wan and his guest. I was not prepared for the scene that met me in the common room.

Garren stood, his head thrown back in ecstasy, with Obi-Wan kneeling before him. Both were naked and in such a state of arousal that it took them a moment to notice they were not alone. I stood rooted to the spot, watching Obi-Wan’s hands grip Garren’s buttocks as they clenched with each quick thrust.

Garren moaned as he climaxed; his knees buckled and Obi-Wan caught him as he collapsed to the floor.

Past the body of his sated agemate, Obi-Wan met my gaze and grinned wickedly, not surprised to see me standing like a dullard in the open doorway. Not surprised in the least. He wiped a drop of semen from his chin with the back of his hand.

“Hello, Master.”

Garren, gods help him, hissed a Huttese curse and scrambled to cover himself. “Master Jinn-”

His distress helped me muster the wherewithal to step out of the doorway and speak. “Please excuse me.”

I crossed the space that separated me from my sleeproom in three strides, and closed the door behind me, heart racing. Obi-Wan had wanted me to walk in on that scene. He could not possibly be so lacking in discretion as to have sex in the common room when he knew I would be returning. If he had kept their activities confined to his sleeproom, I would not have intruded. I would not even have known that he and Garren…

I heard Obi-Wan’s calm tones on the other side of the door, though I could not make out the words. Garren’s voice answered a little more quietly, but carried a note of tension. It sounded like he was already hopping into his boots. I heard the outer door open and close, followed by Obi-Wan’s soft laughter.

I could not let this pass. I waited a moment to ensure that Obi-Wan had time to dress, and went to confront him.

I entered the common room quickly, not even bothering to shield my annoyance.

“Obi-Wan! What is the meaning of this? Why did you do this here, instead of in your own room?”

My quick strides slowed when I saw Obi-Wan. He had not taken the time to dress, but was now lying back on pile of cushions on the floor, legs spread. Heavy-lidded eyes turned to me, glistening lips parted in a sigh. With one hand he stroked his erection roughly while with the other he fondled his balls and teased along his crack. When he spoke, his words were punctuated by gasps of pleasure.

“With you, ahh, in a moment, Mmmaster.” His back arched and he let out a moan that was pure sex as he pushed a finger inside himself. “Garren … left me… Ah, gods… hanging.”

Flushed with something two parts anger and three parts lust, I looked away, searching the floor for his clothes. I intended to throw them at him and insist that he pleasure himself in private.

But there weren’t any clothes lying about; he must have disrobed in his sleeproom.

“Obi-Wan! This is unacceptable!” I rushed toward him, frustrated and angry at his outrageous behavior, and more than half hard. I grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him, though I had to crouch over him to do it. He looked at me through fringe of golden eyelashes, and his hands never faltered in their tasks. “For Sith’s sake, Obi-Wan!”

I grabbed his wrists and pulled his hands away, pressing them above his head. His eyes met mine, pleading, saying more than he dared to speak with words. The scent of him surrounded me — clean skin mixed with the faint musk of sweat and sex. I was practically on top of him.

“Obi-Wan,” I whispered, not trusting my voice in a normal tone. “What has gotten into you?”

“Not what I wanted,” he said. He was breathless and flushed. He didn’t pull his hands free of my grip, but tilted his hips to press his hardness against my thigh.

I froze, knowing I should not take what he offered, but lacking the will to remove myself from temptation. “What is it that you wanted? What could you possibly hope to gain by staging this … this display?”

His hips twitched again. “I wanted you to see me as a man, Qui-Gon. I wanted you to see me, and want me. And you do, I can see it.” He moved his leg between mine, brushing the hardness there. “I can feel it, too.”

The raw abandon in his expression - so unlike my reserved, dutiful Padawan – was almost painful to see. He had laid himself bare in more ways than the obvious; I could accept what was offered or I could refuse it, but no matter how I chose, this moment would change everything between us.

For a long moment I remained paralyzed, suspended between two paths. Reason suggested that my duty to my Padawan would not be served if I indulged him now, but the revelation of Obi-Wan as the sensual being beneath me, hard flesh and pliant, moistened lips, argued strongly for savoring the moment. He looked at me with those pleading eyes, and it took all my strength to push myself away from him.

“We will talk about this when you’ve dressed.” I rushed to my sleeproom, making an effort to walk normally despite the rock-hard erection tenting my leggings. I closed the door and set the lock. I needed to clear my head, purge the desires raging inside me. The best course of action would have been a purging meditation, but I am only human. The image of Obi-Wan, so wanton and debauched. So unlike the boy I had trained...

I could not remember the last time I had orgasmed so quickly by my own hand.

I took some time to clean up and compose myself, hoping that Obi-Wan had done the same. I had no idea what might come from this wrenching evening, but I was determined not to let what had happened destroy our partnership. I entered the common room, prepared to wait for Obi-Wan to join me.

He was already there, standing calm and straight by my reading chair. His dress was immaculate, the very image of the perfect Jedi Padawan. The expression on his face was passive and serene — if he was experiencing any of the tension and apprehension I felt concerning this meeting, it didn’t show. All the cushions had been restored to their original positions as if the events of the last hour had never occurred.

Except, we both knew they had.

“Padawan-”

Before the word had passed my lips, Obi-Wan knelt before me, head bowed and eyes downcast. “Master, I beg your forgiveness for the offense I have committed against you.”

“Padawan,” I began, “I am shocked and dismayed by your behavior, but I think it is Garren who deserves an apology.”

Obi-Wan looked up at me, all earnest seriousness now. “But Master, it was his idea.”

“His idea?” I looked down at my Padawan, still wondering what in the hells he thought he had been doing. “He seemed rather surprised by what occurred.”

“He is half of the Order’s best covert missions pair,” Obi-Wan replied blandly. “This would not be the case if he could not be convincing.”

I saw the rosy flush across his collar bone, still visible at the neck of his Jedi tunics, spread up through his face. As he shifted on his knees before me, it became obvious that he was still in a mild state of arousal. I chose to ignore it. “But why?”

“I saw you,” he answered, eyes downcast once again.

“You saw me.” This was growing tiresome. “Explain yourself, Obi-Wan, just as you would during a mission. Explain your actions.”

“I saw you on your way out of the Temple several months ago. I was with friends. You were dressed… differently, and I wanted to see where you were going.”

“You spied on me.”

“Yes, Master.” Obi-Wan flashed his bright eyes up at me. “You looked so good that night. Different. Free, maybe. I followed you to a club. You went into the back to meet someone. I spent every credit I had with me for the opportunity peek into the room where you had gone. I saw what you did… what you like.” His voice broke a little on the last, and I could see that the memory of it affected him.

“Yes?”

“I saw and… I wanted to be the one with you like that.” Eyes downcast again, but a definite upturn discernable lower in his clothing. “Garen thought this might…”

Obi-Wan trailed off and said nothing more. He was waiting for me to speak, to decide what would happen next. I realized that I wanted him.

“You saw me playing sexual power games with a professional, and you wanted to submit to me?”

“Yes, Master.”

“And you thought sucking off Garen and playing with yourself would get you what you wanted.”

Obi-Wan looked up, his expression one of confusion. “Garen didn’t think you could resist me if I was ... debauched. That was what he said. It’s so unusual for me to be anything but controlled. He gave me an aphrodisiac, and…”

“That is why you’re still erect.” I sighed, wondering what I should do next. I wanted him, yes, and he wanted me. He was of age, his Knighting only a few
tens distant. We could be together, but that did not change the fact that he should be disciplined. My cock jumped with interest at the thought.

“Padawan, you have shown very poor judgment. You should never take medicine that is not meant for you. Has it gone down at all?”

He reddened before answering. “Yes, Master. But it… comes up again.”

“You need to learn a lesson in self-control,” I said. I heard his breath hitch. “Take off your clothes.”

He obeyed with hands that scarcely trembled and kept his eyes fixed on me. When his clothes were set aside – neatly folded, as I expected from my fastidious Obi-Wan – he knelt in front of me. I urged him up to sit on the very edge of the chair. The blood flushed to his face and chest when I placed my hands on his knees and spread them wide.

I took the thong from my hair and lifted his sex, securing the tie around the base of it, behind his heavy sack. He said nothing, but watched me through half-closed eyes, his moist lips parted. I made sure the tie was firm but not too tight, and leaned in to lick the moisture from the head of his cock. He made a quiet noise, something between a ragged sigh and a moan. I stood.

“Now, Padawan,” I said. “You may not touch yourself, or seek your pleasure by other means, until I allow it. This is your opportunity to prove that you are not a slave to your physical desires. It will not be an easy thing.”

He nodded gravely, still staring into my eyes; his breath caught in his throat.

“Wait here,” I said. “Just as you are.” I went to my sleep room to collect a few things. When I returned, I bade him get on his knees with his arms resting on the seat of the chair. I took time and care to prepare him with oil, using my fingers. He was mewling like a nerf calf when I finally put the butt plug in place.

“You will keep this inside you until I give you leave to remove it.” I twisted the end, moving it inside him until he cried out.

“Yes, Master.”

“Now turn around and face me.”

He moved gracefully and with deliberate slowness; the line between his brows suggested to me that he gave some concentration to keeping the butt plug in place. A fine sheen of sweat covered his body. He looked glorious.

I sat across from him and opened my leggings. He edged closer to me, his intent clear. “No, no, Padawan,” I said. He was close enough that the arch of my boot curved under his bottom. I could press the butt plug with the toe of my boot, by flexing my foot. He gasped.

“Just watch,” I said, once again tilting my foot. I felt the weight of his sex lying against my ankle and up my shin. It was delicious. His hands were clenched into fists at his side, knuckles white with the suppressed desire to touch himself, to touch me. His nipples contracted to hard points, and his breathing was shallow. He was doing very well, but I could see how difficult it was for him.

He watched as I pleasured myself again, this time going slow and taking care to show him how I liked to be touched. Every few moments I would punctuate the experience with the toe of my boot pressed against his cleft. By the time I found my release, he was moaning on every breath, his weeping cock tapped against my boot with rhythmic twitching of his hips.

I urged him to lie back on the floor, and spread my essence over his heated flesh, out from the places where it had spattered. I indulged myself in this, I admit. Marking him, mapping his flesh with my hands, discovering his body’s secrets, the places where my touch affected him most. He drew his head back, baring his throat to my teeth. I tasted every inch of him, even though I had to keep my attentions to certain places brief, or else risk lessening the effectiveness of this particular lesson.

When I was satisfied with his frantic state, I allowed him to pleasure me with his mouth. It was so warm, his licking and sucking so frenzied that I knew I could not last long despite my recent satiety. I watched, but he kept his legs well apart and both of his hands on me. His hips twitched rhythmically, and tears streamed from his eyes.

After my pleasure crested again, I laid him back upon the floor and kissed his swollen lips, tasting myself there. I sat back and pulled loose the cord binding his cock. As the first pinkish light began to show through the window, I gave him permission to touch himself. I worked the butt plug inside him and watched as two strokes from his own hand brought an explosive end to his lesson. The trial of his flesh.

I took him in my arms and kissed his gasping mouth.

“We must always rule our flesh, Obi-Wan; never allow it to rule us.”

“Yes, Master,” he whispered. His eyelids had grown heavy. I kissed him again, tasting sweat and semen and the sweetness of his breath.

I carried him to his sleeproom and left him in his own bed. I would clean the things we had used and wipe away the traces of our passion, but some deep part of me felt certain that what we had done would leave its mark upon both of us.

“Master.” Obi-Wan’s quiet voice stopped me as I reached the door. “When is my next lesson?”

A smile was my only answer as I shut the door.