Master Apprentice 
Archive
Theme and Timbre: Portamento
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Archive: master_apprentice, Theme and Timbre archive, anyone else, pls. ask
Author's web page: http://www.ravenswing.com/ravendreams/
Category: pwp
Series: Part of the "Theme and Timbre" Series
Rating: NC-17
Warnings None
Spoilers: none
Summary: Qui-Gon asks Obi-Wan for a favor
Feedback: Waited for with bated breath.
Disclaimers: Lucas owns it all. I don't have enough money to pay attention.
Three hours, twenty-six minutes, thirty nine seconds...
Just this afternoon, we were having lunch, a nice simple lunch -- some bread, some cheese, some fruit. Nothing special.
We talked about my afternoon classes. We talked about our last mission. We talked about replacing my boots when I could remember to actually take care of it.
He ate.
I ate.
If I try, maybe I could remember that his color was high, that his eyes were bright with something that could have been excitement. Maybe I could, if I tried.
Maybe not.
When we were done, I stood up and started clearing the dishes from the table. Qui-Gon sat, watching me silently. As I reached in front of him to grab his plate, he placed his hand atop of mine. "Obi-Wan, I have a favor to ask of you."
A favor? From me? Concern tickled through me. This was an uncommon request. My master sounded odd, breathless, but I could sense no frustration, no reason to worry emanating from him. I smiled at him and nodded. "Anything, Master."
His eyes narrowed, squinted, almost fierce. I could smell him now, with my body still half-bent over the table, hand enveloped in his. He leaned in close and kissed me, hand and fast and my toes curled within my boots. "Go into our room and get undressed, Padawan."
I glanced down at my chronometer. I had a class starting within the hour and...
"Please. For me, Obi-Wan."
I got undressed and just sort of stood there, naked in the cool air. He came up behind me, still dressed, tunics rough against my back, my ass. He was warm and I relaxed into him, sighing my happiness.
"I have a favor to beg of you, Obi-Wan. Something... something I found that I'd like you to wear for me."
Wear for him? I frowned, trying to guess, to imagine, when the timbre of voice captured my attention. His voice was raw, a shivering tremble that I only heard in those moments when he was most vulnerable.
When he was only mine.
"Yes, Qui-Gon. Anything."
"Stand there."
I heard a rustling, a faint jingling and then he was back, moving me, standing me before the mirror where I check my tunics, straighten my braid.
"First, this." He knelt before me, grace personified, and slid something cool over my semi-hard cock. I stood, widening my stance as he gently manipulated my testicles, slowly drawing them through the metal ring.
"Beautiful," he whispered, dropping a kiss to the tip of my more and more interested erection. When he moved to stand beside me, I could see myself, genitals pushed forward, offered up obscenely by the golden metal surrounding them. The metal was close fitting, erotic. I shifted my hips.
"Mast..."
"Shhh... I'm not finished." A brush of his mind against mind comforted me, warmed me, aroused me.
Another light tinkling from the bed as Qui-Gon moved behind me, hair brushing my shoulder. He smiled at me in the mirror. He hands came up to pluck at my nipples. I arched, he was neither gentle nor delicate.
My breath jumped within my chest and I couldn't decide whether to move away from those fingers or to move closer.
I didn't notice the bright metallic object in his hand until he attached it to my hardened nipple. The clamp was tight, pressing into my skin, pulling my nerves. He kept his fingers teasing around my pinched flesh. He stroked, teased, twisted. My nipple throbbed beneath his fingers.
"Qui-Gon! Oh, Force!"
"Hush, Padawan." He swooped around, kissed me, pulling roughly on the clamp as he stole my breath. I couldn't think, did nothing but feel as his tongue fucked my mouth.
Then he added the other clamp.
My gasp was captured by his lips, eaten by his desire. Tiny chains attached to the clamps, were draped over my shoulders, hanging down my back. A matching set tickled down my belly. "Almost done, my Obi-Wan."
He knelt before me again, his bearded chin brushing my hip, and drew the ridiculously delicate chains through tiny loops in the ring surrounding my throbbing cock. He licked at the liquid dripping from me, tongue moving too fast to feel.
My hips jerked, seeking more sensation. My hands flew to my nipples as the motion jarred them, sent bolts of sensation through them. Qui-Gon reached up, moved my hands, bringing them to his lips. His beard tickled my palms as he kissed each finger softly, calming me.
His gaze was fiery upon me and I searched his face, looking for answers to the question I hadn't asked.
"Shhh, Love. For me."
Staying on his knees, he moved behind me. In the mirror I could see myself, erect, sobbing with need. He smiled at me, full of passion and love. "Almost done."
Then his eyes were gone and his hands were gone and his tongue was sliding between my buttocks and I was flying. He licked me, caressed me, touched me enough to steal my breath, cloud my vision.
Then those eyes were back in the mirror, staring at me and something was sliding within me, something cool and hard and insistent. He worked it in, using his hand on my hip to shift me, open me further.
I panted, full and hard, as the chains behind me moved, grew taut, and the chains that had dangled between my legs were also pulled tight.
Qui-Gon stood, moved away. "There. I'm done."
I turned, moving awkwardly, the chains pulling with every motion, constantly aware of the metal that filed me, held me, surrounded me. "Done?" I croaked.
"Yes." That serene Jedi master face was gone, hunger peering at me. His nostrils flared. "I said I wanted a favor of you, Obi-Wan. I do. I want to go through my afternoon knowing a secret. Knowing our secret. Knowing you are sitting through your day, constantly feeling my gift for you."
All afternoon? I shook my head, convinced I couldn't, couldn't bear the sensation, the pressure.
The pleasure.
He stroked my cheek and his hand was warm. "For me, Obi-Wan?"
That was the noon hour. I have two classes left until the evening meal. My tunics brush against my tender nipples. Every movement on the chair rocks the hardness within me.
Two hours, twelve minutes, fifty-seven seconds...
The End