Master Apprentice
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The Pirate's Captive - Obi-Wan's Turn
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Ben Kenobi stepped back to gaze at his captive. The pirate captain was manacled firmly between two upright beams, his ankles chained as well as his wrists. The mutineer knew well how dangerous this man was. It didn't pay to take chances.
He let his eyes roam over the solid planes of the man's chest, revealed by the indigo blue shirt that hung open to his waist. Quinn still wore his tight black trousers and wide leather belt, but not for much longer
"Release me," Captain Quinn demanded in the tone of one used to being obeyed.
Ben allowed himself a small smile. "No, I don't think I will." He stepped closer, one hand stroking across a flat stomach, insinuating itself under the blue silk until his questing fingers found a nipple.
Quinn hissed as he pinched it. "You'll pay for this! I'll have you drawn and quartered before I throw you overboard. Mutiny is punishable by death!"
"Enough chatter." Ben pulled out a handkerchief and used it to gag his prisoner, careful not to trap too much of his long hair under it. He had a use for that hair later. He caught the braid that hung in front of the captain's left ear, nearly a mirror image of the braid Ben wore. Yes. Braids looked good on this one. He gave it a solid tug before releasing it, then reached up to give a gentler tug to the gold hoop earring suspended from the earlobe. To his delight, his captive shivered at the touch. Oh, but this one was responsive. It would make their next few hours together memorable indeed.
The blue eyes shot defiant sparks at him as he stepped back. Now, he thought, down to business. The first thing to go was that ridiculous hat. He plucked it off Quinn's head and tossed it aside The belt was next, but instead of letting it drop to the floor, he slipped it behind the black clad hips, using it to pull the captain forward so that Ben could grind his hardness against one solid thigh. The difference in their heights prohibited more satisfying contact, but Ben planned to remedy that, too.
Slowly, he eased the shirt out of the top of the trousers, spreading it wide to expose the whole upper torso. He plucked lightly at the chest hairs, worrying them, then trailed one fingertip down past the navel to the tightly laced pants. Despite the captain's earlier complaints, the telltale bulge revealed his body's interest in the proceedings. Ben allowed himself a moment to feel that awakening hardness under his palm, smiling as it increased in size.
"The tables have turned, haven't they, my Captain?" he said as he kneaded that firm flesh. "Now, you are the captive, to be used as I will."
The cock under his hand twitched, but Ben abandoned it, moving instead to deftly untie the black laces. He eased the trousers down, letting the now full erection spring free, shoving the fabric down until it was stretched tight across the man's thighs. He couldn't get the garment off without cutting it, since the captain's legs were spread and chained. But, it was enough. He reached to fondle satiny balls, rolling them between his fingers. A soft moan, quickly cut off, answered him.
"Oh yes. You want this, don't you?" There was a garbled grunt of what could have been denial, and Ben chuckled. "Well, no matter. I shall do as I please."
He knelt in front of the captain. Steadying the massive cock with one hand, his other on one naked hip, he tasted the head with the tip of his tongue. Salty bitterness assaulted his senses, and he repeated the gesture. A longer swipe this time, from root to tip, and he felt his prisoner shiver.
"Yes. I'll make it good for you," he promised, just before taking the entire length in his mouth.
Captain Quinn shouted behind his gag, his hips thrusting forward of their own volition. Ben suckled lightly, laving the underside with the flat of his tongue, until he sensed that his captive was hovering on the knife-edge of completion. Then, he released him.
Quinn moaned, the sound low and throaty, as cool air washed over his dampened skin. Ben looked up into eyes that had gone smoky with lust, despite their still defiant glare. Straightening, he pulled out a second handkerchief and folded it carefully into a long strip, watching as Quinn followed the motion.
"I'm going to blindfold you now, my Captain," he said as he worked. He heard a soft groan, quickly cut off, and smiled again. "I want you helpless, silent, and in the dark. There is still so much I have planned for you."
He reached up, having to capture the captain's head as he tried to twist away, but succeeded in covering the man's eyes. He tied the blindfold firmly, then ran one hand through the long, dark hair. What a vision this one made, spread here for his pleasure, his skin slightly sweat-dampened and gleaming in the low light of the room. He trailed the flats of his hands down the powerful chest, feeling the muscles shift under his touch. The nipples had peaked to diamond hardness, and he spent some time rolling them between his fingers, pinching them, listening to the choked back grunts that his captive couldn't quite silence.
"You're beautiful like this," Ben whispered. He slid his hands lower, over the ribs. "Quivering under my touch like a frightened beast."
He watched the Adam's apple bob as Quinn swallowed, and he moved lower still, caressing the slight curve of the hips. "Your skin here is so smooth, so soft." He stepped closer, his hands shifting back onto firm cheeks. He cupped them in his palms, then spread them, and the captain couldn't suppress his moan this time.
"Oh, yes. You do need this, don't you, my Captain?" Ben let the tips of his fingers slide into the man's crack, savoring the moist heat he found there, and stroked one fingertip across the puckered opening. It contracted at his touch. He leaned forward. "I'm going to enjoy what comes next."
Captain Quinn strained his ears as he heard the mutineer move around behind him. He heard the rustle of his clothing, the soft sigh of his breath, then a harsher sound that he couldn't identify, like something scraping against the wooden floor. Hands touched his hips, spreading him, and he felt breath puff across his skin. That was his only warning before a tongue touched him most intimately.
He jerked in his chains, the wrist manacles pressing the stiff lace cuffs into his skin. He wanted to move into the touch, to feel more of it, but he wouldn't give his captor the pleasure. Instead, he arched his body forward, trying to take himself out of reach.
The tongue followed him. It swiped up his crack, stopping at the dimple above his tailbone. Here, Ben spent a long time, his hot breath and his even hotter tongue teasing the skin there until it was super-sensitized. Hands moved around Quinn's hips, fingertips ghosting across his erection until he was desperately, painfully hard. He growled behind his gag. "Get on with it!" he wanted to demand, regardless of the fact that he was not in control here. Teeth scraped across his flesh in silent reminder of that fact, and Quinn shuddered under the sensation. The hands spread him further, and he yelped as the tip of the tongue pierced his anus. It was gone after a second, though, leaving him feeling slightly bereft without it.
The devilish hands moved upwards, pausing to pinch and torture his nipples. The captain clamped his jaws tighter, unwilling to let himself moan. The mouth finally moved higher, as well, laving his shoulder blades and the hard knobs of his spine. Higher still, onto the tops of his shoulders. Ben simply wasn't tall enough to be doing this. A mental image of the mutineer standing on a chair to reach him made Quinn chuckle.
"Something strike you as funny?" Ben growled softly into the captain's ear.
The chuckle died away when a hand fisted in Quinn's hair, catching the single braid and using it as a leash to pull his head to the left. Teeth grazed the side of his neck, perilously close to that most sensitive of spots behind his ear, and he gasped at the sensation. He jerked his head free, nearly losing his braid in the process, and slammed the side of his face into the other's.
There was a soft grunt of pain, but Ben was undeterred. Hands caught at the captain's hair again, separating it into strands and pulling, tugging his head to the left. Too late to prevent it, he realized that one strand was now in front of his arm, the rest behind, and it was being braided tightly.
He struggled to free himself, shouting muffled complaints behind his gag. There was a low chuckle from behind him. The last strand was woven, the ends apparently tied off with the ribbon from his braid. He was now completely at his captor's mercy. His own hair held his head immobile. Immediately, the mouth took possession of his neck again, the right side now exposed and vulnerable. Every inch of flesh was licked or nibbled or suckled.
And then, a tongue insinuated itself into his ear.
With a roar, Quinn came, shooting his essence onto the hardwood floor and splattering it across his chest. He sagged, letting the wrist manacles support him. Yet, even before the tremors died away, he felt a finger at his opening, pressing insistently. He squirmed as it invaded him.
"Tight," Ben said, his voice low and strained. "I knew you would be."
The finger withdrew, only to return a moment later, oily this time with some sort of lubricant. It worked its way inside him, twisting and thrusting, as Quinn's muscles rebelled. It was abruptly removed and replaced with something much thicker.
Quinn gave a muffled shout as he was impaled, Ben's cock impossibly thick and long and hot. The mutineer didn't give him time to adjust, merely rammed up into him, the force of his thrust lifting Quinn up onto his toes. Hands clasped his hips, hard enough to bruise, and held him still as Ben withdrew only to drive in again, just as hard. After the fourth stroke, he adjusted the angle, and raked across the captain's prostate.
Quinn was instantly hard again, his cock thumping against his stomach in a staccato rhythm.
"Force, yes," Ben whispered against the side of his neck, the tingle of his breath making goose bumps rise. He reached around and caught Quinn's erection in a firm, tight fist. "Come for me, my Captain."
With a shudder that shook him from scalp to toes, Quinn obeyed, helpless to do otherwise. Ben pumped into him hard. Once, twice, a third time, until he screamed out his own release, burying his face in the captain's neck to muffle the sound. For a moment, his weight sagged forward onto Quinn. It made the manacles dig more tightly into his wrists, but before the pain even registered in the captain's sex-fogged brain, Ben was pulling out and away. The blindfold was removed, and the gag, before the young man stepped into view.
"That was -"
"-- incredible," Qui-Gon finished when his padawan couldn't seem to find the brain-power necessary to form a complete sentence. He offered his lover a sly grin. "So, I take it you enjoyed yourself."
"Oh yes. But, I still don't see why I didn't get to be the pirate captain this time."
"Because the costume wouldn't fit you," the Jedi master answered with a smug tone. "Besides, you're too young to make a convincing captain."
Obi-Wan's face settled into a mock pout. "Am not. But at least I didn't have to wear that stupid hat."
"I thought I looked rather dashing in it." Qui-Gon shifted in his restraints. "You might want to release me now, Padawan. My hands are going to sleep."
Obi-Wan stepped forward obediently and loosened the manacles around his master's wrists and ankles. He watched Qui-Gon draw the tight black pants back up into place, but stopped him when he would have buttoned his silk shirt.
"Not yet." At Qui-Gon's questioning look, Obi-Wan grinned. "I'm in the mood for a wrestling match. I thought we'd try 'Pirate Captain Escapes and Overpowers Mutineer.'"
The master ran a speculative eye over the much smaller padawan. "You think you'd win?" he asked.
Obi-Wan's grin broadened. "Of course not. Where would be the fun in that?"
The End