Master Apprentice 
Archive
Theme and Timbre: Rest
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Archive: master_apprentice, anyone else, pls. ask
Author's web page: http://www.ravenswing.com/ravendreams/
Category: PWP
Series: Part of the "Theme and Timbre" Series
Rating: R
Warnings None
Spoilers: none
Summary: Rest - sign indicating a silence or stillness of a specific duration
Notes: It's becoming more and more challenging to come up with interesting ways to show my appreciation for Mystique's talent and help. I'll just have to send chocolate.
Feedback: Waited for with bated breath.
Disclaimers: Lucas owns it all. I don't have enough money to pay attention.
I can feel him, hot and hard as he presses against me, not entering, not yet. His arms rest against my sides, warming me, anchoring me. His forehead rests upon my naked back and his breath tickles my skin, makes me shiver, makes me want to buck against him. I don't, of course.
Not quite yet.
I savor this, the quiet, almost surreal moment before he enters me. I swallow the anticipation, taste it underneath my tongue. I can feel his pulse, every minute movement. The non-pressure of his hardness, steady, not moving but not undetectable, drives miniscule bolts of lightning throughout me. This is my meditation on desire.
Stillness suits me -- not for long, never for long -- but my Obi-Wan wears it like an uncomfortable pair of boots. He chafes in this lack of motion, forcing himself quiet. His pride is an astonishing thing. If and when I can no longer keep him in stillness, we make love.
To Obi-Wan this is a game we play, to see who can hold out before one of us rocks back, or the other sinks forward and we begin to move together. Sometimes I think he sees this as another part of training. Can he outwait his master? Wait for me to break before we thrust and grasp and scream and need and explode.
He hovers, muscles beginning to tighten, pressing just a bit harder -- not much, barely enough to notice, ? but harder nonetheless. When I give in -- if I give in --when I cannot bear it one more breath, he crows, laughs out loud in a fierce wild joy.
When he wins this game of ours, he fucks me with a passion that dissolves my bones.
It is a delicate balance, this waiting. I reach out, sensing his passion, my lust, our love. I ride the waves, negotiating this delicious confrontation of will.
I can feel the seconds slipping past, feel his arms tremble around me. I can feel the Force around me, pushing at me, nudging me. The anticipation becomes sweet, then sharp.
A single drop of sweat drips from his forehead and trickles down my spine and the light shatters behind my eyelids.
I push back, feeling him fill me, deep and then deeper. He moans loudly, "Oh! Now!" and I nod.
We begin to move.
The End