Master Apprentice
Archive
Narrow Bunks and Thin Sleep Pants
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Obi-Wan stared out the tiny transport window, watching the blur of hyperspace, and silently wished that the upcoming mission would last a very, very long time. At least it would give him something to occupy his mind besides the completely inappropriate lust he'd been feeling lately for his master.
His very tall, very big, very masterly master.
Obi-Wan sighed as his cock twitched, willing it not to get any ideas. They were still a day out of Sather Prime and the ongoing tribal dispute that was tearing the capital city in half. With luck, keeping busy would help him dampen his desire. He certainly didn't want Qui-Gon to know about it.
He looked around at the cramped cabin with its narrow bunk and was relieved that at least he had his own quarters. The further he stayed away from Qui-Gon right now, the better.
He shucked off his clothes, slipping into the pair of comfortable shorts he slept in whenever it felt improper to be nude, as was his preference. The bunk was surprisingly comfortable, and he curled on his side, facing the door. He was almost asleep when a soft knock sounded.
"Padawan? May I come in?"
He rolled up onto one elbow. "Of course, Master." He glanced at the chrono. It was late. What could be bothering his master that would keep him awake this far into the ship's night?
"Forgive the intrusion, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said as he slipped through the door. A flash of bright corridor lights dazzled Obi-Wan's eyes until the door was pushed closed again. "But I need to sleep with you."
Obi-Wan's heart somehow found its way into his throat, and his treacherous cock sprang to immediate attention. He raised his shields to full strength. "W-what?" he stammered, embarrassing himself further. Hopefully, Qui-Gon would think he was groggy from sleep rather than flustered nearly speechless.
His master was already slipping off his robe, revealing his broad, lightly furred chest and a pair of old, thin cream-colored leggings that molded to his skin and left little to the imagination. "It appears that my cabin is directly above the ship's main cargo hold, and some rather obnoxious fumes are filtering up through the floor vents. While probably not toxic, they are preventing me from resting."
Obi-Wan closed his mouth with an audible snap, and blue eyes rose to meet his in the dim lighting of the room.
"Is everything all right, Padawan?"
"Um, yes, of course, Master. And, you're more than welcome to sleep here." Obi-Wan scrambled up, clutching the blanket to him in an attempt to hide his arousal. "I'll just sleep on the floor . . ."
Large hands caught his shoulders and pressed him back into the bunk. "You'll do nothing of the sort. The bunk is small, granted, but we've made do with worse before. And you'll catch your death on this icy metal floor."
Obi-Wan swallowed hard, but he obediently pressed back closer to the wall, lying once again on his side. His heart was pounding so hard by the time Qui-Gon stretched out next to him that he was surprised the whole ship couldn't hear it. The master reached back with one hand and caught the corner of the blanket, drawing it upwards. The feel of his fingertips grazing Obi-Wan's hip in an almost caress made the younger man catch his breath.
Fortunately, Qui-Gon seemed not to notice. "Sleep well, Padawan."
As if, Obi-Wan thought silently. Aloud he said, "And you, Master."
For long moments, the twenty-one year old padawan lay still, trying to control his breathing. His master was close enough for Obi-Wan to feel his body heat, close enough to smell the fragrant shampoo he used on his hair. Qui-Gon shifted slightly, and his barely clad bottom brushed against the tip of Obi-Wan's erection.
He almost came on the spot.
Force! he said into the privacy of his own head. Get a grip, Kenobi, or you're going to embarrass yourself!
He struggled to bring his body back under control, but to no avail. Finally, he deemed that his master was probably asleep, and he decided he'd have to do something about his nether regions if he planned to get any sleep at all.
Very cautiously, he tilted his hips until they bumped the wall. He pushed down his shorts with one hand, freeing his erection, which aimed like a heat-seeking missile towards the warm body beside him.
Stop that! he ordered. When it failed to obey, he wrapped his hand around it. The warmth felt incredibly good, especially with the pleasant scent of his master so near, and he began to slowly stroke up and down his length.
A hitch in Qui-Gon's breathing made him halt, tension robbing him of his own breath. But, his master didn't turn, didn't ask him what he was doing, so after a moment Obi-Wan continued, certain the older man must still be asleep.
Up, down. Up, down. Up, down. The 'saber calluses on his fingertips felt incredibly good as they caught at the sensitive skin beneath the head of his cock. Qui-Gon has calluses like that, he thought. Probably larger ones.
He closed his eyes, giving himself over to illusion, imagining it was his master's hand on his erection instead of his own. He tightened his grip. Qui-Gon had very strong hands, after all.
Yes. Just like that.
Careful not to rock the bed, he sped up his stroking, pausing now and again to run his thumb over the tip. He felt his balls tighten. Suddenly, the harsh reality of what he was doing slammed into his lust-muddled brain.
He was jerking off only inches from his sleeping master.
Worse, he was going to make a mess. With no towel to catch his semen, they'd both end up sleeping in a wet spot. And when Qui-Gon awoke . . .
Obi-Wan choked back a groan. What the Sith was he supposed to do now? He was so aroused, so hard that he hurt, and so bloody close to coming.
Caught up in his worries, he didn't realize that his master had moved until a warm, firm hand closed over his own. He yelped, a wholly un-Jedi-like sound, as the fingertips of the much larger hand stroked his over-sensitized skin.
Oh Force, oh Force, oh Force . . .
"Obi-Wan." The sensuous quality of Qui-Gon's voice threatened to be Obi-Wan's undoing. "What are you doing?"
As if you don't already know, Obi-Wan thought. He felt his face grow fiery hot and was amazed the room wasn't glowing bright red from his blush. Horrified that Qui-Gon must have realized the source of his arousal, he had to struggle to find his voice. "I'm sorry, Master. I just -"
But Qui-Gon was not finished. "Did you think I wouldn't want to watch?"
Obi-Wan's jaw clamped shut so suddenly that he almost bit off his own tongue. His hand tightened involuntarily around his cock as it twitched in anticipation. He replayed Qui-Gon's words carefully, looking for any hidden meaning, desperate not to misunderstand. He finally worked through the logic of it and decided that Qui-Gon meant exactly what it sounded like he meant. He cleared his throat.
"You mean, you want to . . . ?"
Qui-Gon turned slowly over, not releasing his grip on Obi-Wan's cock. "Only if you wish it, my Obi-Wan."
"Wish it?" He should have been embarrassed at the way his voice broke, but he was too caught up in the moment to care. "Of course I wish it!"
Qui-Gon's warm breath washed over Obi-Wan's face as he chuckled. He moved his hand, reaching up to stroke the padawan's cheek softly. "We are on a mission, so no more than this is permitted. But, I am deeply honored by your desire."
A tight knot of disappointment formed in Obi-Wan's chest. "Honored? So, you don't want . . ."
"Oh, my padawan, I want it - I want you -- very badly." Qui-Gon shifted, and his lips met Obi-Wan's. It was a brief kiss, and chaste, but the padawan thought it was the most wonderful thing he'd ever experienced. Then, Qui-Gon edged back a few inches and rolled up onto one elbow. "So, please, proceed. I want to watch."
He had to will himself not to come right then as the deep, resonant tones caressed his ears even as Qui-Gon's fingers caressed his cheek again. He nodded mutely, settling back into the mattress. His hand began a long, slow drag up his throbbing member. He could feel the weight of his master's gaze, could hear the slightly faster respiration. It further heightened his arousal.
He dragged a callused thumb over the head of his cock, spreading the little drops of pearly liquid that had gathered there. The lubrication helped. His hand began to move more easily up and down his length. He glanced over at his master in time to see the tip of a pink tongue stroke a lower lip. The implication inherent in the act pushed him over the edge.
"Master!" he cried as his climax rushed over him. His back arched, all his muscles seizing, as hot seed bathed his fist. Sagging, he closed his eyes, opening them only when soft, textured cloth was dragged across his abdomen, cleaning away the semen.
"Beautiful," Qui-Gon said as he used the corner of his robe to wipe away the evidence of his padawan's desire. "But then, everything about you is beautiful."
Obi-Wan's brain struggled to string a few words together. "You - how long have you --?"
"Wanted you? Much longer than is proper, given your age." Qui-Gon tossed the soiled robe aside and cupped Obi-Wan's cheek in one huge hand. "I have known of your interest, as well."
"Why didn't you say anything?"
"It was not my place. As the master, it would have been inappropriate for me to have broached the subject first."
"And now that it's out in the open?"
Qui-Gon leaned over for another kiss, his tongue stroking Obi-Wan's lower lip briefly before he withdrew. His smile lit up the dim cabin, and Obi-Wan fell in love with him all over again. "Now that it's out in the open," Qui-Gon said softly, "I intend to make love to you as often as you want it."
"Then -"
A finger pressed to his mouth silenced Obi-Wan. "But, not until we're back on Coruscant, love. We are Jedi first."
"Jedi first," Obi-Wan repeated. He sighed as he was gathered into warm, strong arms. Lying there, in that narrow bunk, enfolded in his soon-to-be lover's embrace, Obi-Wan silently wished that the upcoming mission would be over very, very quickly.
The end.