Master Apprentice  Archive The Master's Musings - 2002-05-17 -
MMoM Day 17 |
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Archive: MA, any others just ask, I probably won't say no
My Home Page: http://www.jediphiles.com/~mali
Category: PWP
Rating: NC17
Spoilers: None
Pairing: Q/O
Summary: A series of short snippets, all from Qui-Gon's POV, focusing on his love for Obi-Wan, and their relationship.
Disclaimer: These beautiful boys aren't mine, they belong to George. I'm just playing with them for a bit. I promise to put them back when I'm done. Don't sue - I've got no money. I've spent it all on seeing TPM way too many times and buying SW toys and feeding my Liam obsession.
Feedback: Oh yes, please. Good, bad or indifferent.
This one hasn't been betad. You've been warned.
I found Obi-Wan in the exercise room. He was lying on the floor, on his side, his head propped up on his elbow. He was looking outside at our private garden, and everything about him radiated peace and tranquility.
"The rain stopped about an hour ago," he said, not looking away from the window.
I walked over and sat down behind him. "How long have you been here?"
"A while. I finished my lessons and checked on you, but you were still meditating. So I came in here to wait for you."
I leaned over and kissed his cheek. "You could have joined me."
He turned his head and smiled up at me. "I could have," he answered agreeably. "But I felt like working out a bit instead. Then when I came in here and opened the wall, I saw it was raining, and . . ." he shrugged, ". . . here I am."
I looked around the room and noticed he'd brought the toy trunk in from the spare bedroom.
He saw what had drawn my attention and chuckled softly. "I was thinking you might like a bit of a workout after your meditation."
"I like the way you think," I grinned.
"You might not say that after you hear what I've planned."
"I can't imagine what you could ever think of that would not interest me in that area." I wiggled my eyebrows suggestively at him.
He laughed out loud. "I had no idea I was in love with such a dirty old man!"
"Are you complaining?"
He rolled over and sat up. "Complaining? Never, my love." He reached up and put his arms around my neck, pulling me close. I wrapped my arms around his waist and held him. Instead of the kiss I was expecting, he rubbed his nose against mine. "I am in love with the sexiest Jedi Master in all of the universe," he whispered, his breath softly caressing my lips. "What do I have to complain about?"
I tried to capture his lips with mine, but he wasn't about to relinquish his hold on me.
"What do you want, my beautiful dirty old man?" he teased, keeping his lips just out of my reach.
"Kiss me," I growled hungrily.
"Is that all you want?" His voice was low and husky, and it went straight to my shaft.
"Have a care, my Obi-Wan. Neither of our control is at its best."
He sighed softly, and tried to pull away from me, but I didn't let him go. "I still want that kiss."
He looked at me a moment, and then smiled softly. "I love you so much, Qui-Gon."
I leaned forward and kissed him, allowing all my love and respect for him to flow through our bond. He opened his lips to my questing tongue and our kiss quickly moved from soft and slow to heated and hard. Like starving men we drank from each other, our soft moans giving testament to how hungry the both of us were. Yet I felt his constraint, even through his passion, and I was fiercely proud of him.
I broke our kiss and rested my forehead against his. "You are my light and my life, Obi-Wan, and I love you with all that I am."
We held each other for a few moments, relishing the feeling of loving and being loved.
It was Obi-Wan who finally broke the silence. "Do you want to just hold each other and masturbate or do you still feel like playing?" he said, smiling at me.
"Either would be perfect," I answered honestly. "But since you went to all the trouble of bringing the trunk in here . . ."
He laughed and in one fluid motion, pulled away from me and stood up. "You'll need to get undressed," he said, walking away from me.
I quickly did as he bid, and a moment later he returned with a straight wooden chair. Along with a few interesting looking items from the trunk. The blindfold and several of the scarves. "Sit here," he said, suddenly all business-like. Again I did as I was bid, feeling the thrill of the unknown rush through me.
He worked quickly, tying first one of my ankles and then the other to the legs of the chair. "Put your hands around your cock," he said softly.
Puzzled, but intrigued, I placed both of my hands around my penis. He took another scarf and wrapped it around both of my wrists, somehow managing to never touch my erection. If I hadn't been so aroused by what he was doing I would have been impressed with his skill. He used two more scarves to bind my wrists to the bottom of the chair. When he was finished, he sat back on his heels, looking over his work. Apparently satisfied that I was, for the most part, immobile, he stood up, the blindfold in his hand.
"If you don't want this, we can do it without," he said, watching me closely.
"I don't know what we are going to do," I told him, "but I have no problem with the blindfold."
He smiled and slipped the blindfold over my head. "Force, but you are beautiful like this," he whispered huskily.
I heard the rustle of clothing and knew he was undressing. I had no idea what he was about to do, but whatever it was, I had no doubt I would enjoy it.
He didn't leave me in suspense for long.
"I'm going to masturbate, now, Qui-Gon. And you are going to sit there and listen to me."
"Obi-Wan," I groaned softly.
"And you can't do anything but sit there and hold your cock. You can't stroke it. You can't touch your balls. You can't do anything but sit there and listen to me pleasuring myself."
My lover is a cruel and evil man.
He knew how much I love the sounds he makes during our lovemaking, and he didn't hold back today. His soft sighs and deep groans told me exactly how much he was enjoying himself. I could see him in my mind as he pumped his cock, running his thumb over the tip with each upstroke. A sharp gasp, and I knew he was fondling his balls. I was in agony. I wanted to stroke myself, wanted to move, to do anything, but I couldn't. All I could do was sit there, squeezing my penis, listening to him masturbate.
He got louder, his moans turned to groans, his gasps coming more often and then he hissed loudly, and I knew what he was doing. I knew that sound so well. It was the sound he made whenever I slipped a finger inside of him. I could hear the sound of his hand sliding up and down his cock, and all I could do was squeeze my aching shaft harder.
He was breathing faster, groaning louder as he neared his completion. It was incredible. Not being able to see him, but knowing exactly what he was doing. Hearing him groan and hiss as he worked his finger deeper into himself, as he pumped his shaft harder.
"Oh, Force!" he cried out, and I knew he'd found his sweet spot. He was close now, and it took every bit of control I had not to yank my bindings off and take my rightful place inside of his body.
I needed to come, oh Force, how I needed to come.
And then it was over. I knew it was by the long, deep sounding moan he made. And I couldn't imagine being any more aroused than I was at that moment. I clenched and unclenched my fists around my shaft, and finally, thankfully, it was enough. With a groan of my own, I followed him over the edge. And it was one of the most intense orgasms I'd ever experienced while masturbating.
Yes, I am in love with a cruel and evil young man. But I wouldn't have it any other way.
Fini