Master Apprentice Archive Stars Quick search:

Rating: NC-17

Archive: M-A

Series: mmmmmaybe

Categories: Q/O, PWP, AU, romance, first-time.

Feedback: Yes, please.

Summary: Obi-Wan's had done with waiting. Qui-Gon's got other ideas.

Spoilers/Warnings: none

Disclaimers: Someday I intend to use my own beloved, beautiful characters to write for fame, fortune and glory. Today is not that day.

Notes: Plotted by, written for and beta'ed by Wednesday, whom I cannot seem to deny anything-- as evidenced by the possible series beginning here.

/..../ thoughts.

It was crisp out, the air perfectly still, the sky blanketed in stars.

Small encampments dotted the hillside, the last remnants of a great festivity marking the closing of a month-long celebration to the stars. Astirla was a quiet world; technology was, by and large, disallowed. The humanoid race had no delusions about the value of things like nuclear energy, electricity, or photon reduction, but was more than content to leave such complexities outside their system.

Qui-Gon prodded the fire. It was snapping and burning brightly enough to illuminate their small camp space, and more than enough to warm them. Obi-Wan, in fact, was quite a distance away from it, rummaging through a pack for a snack.

"I know I didn't eat that last ration bar," he muttered, pulling items out of the pack and setting them on the ground.

Qui-Gon chuckled, watching the newly-made Knight talk into the bag. "How can you still be hungry? We just ate a huge meal two hours ago."

Obi-Wan shot a look up at his former master. "We did all that traditional dancing. And then there was the ritual hunt. And then there was the re-enactment of the supernova. Then there was the hunt for tomorrow's closing ceremony. We hunted after we ate. I've never heard of anything like it."

Qui-Gon didn't answer, his amusement fading to the quiet longing over which he'd been arguing with himself for years. He'd been the dutiful master. He'd seen his padawan through his knighting and past his Trials, which had consisted of events culminating in something that Qui-Gon privately referred to as The Thing That Never Happened. It had been heartrending for both of them, miserable, bleak times, completely unexpected-- and then, true to form, Obi-Wan had shone through: rather like a star.

Qui-Gon had never bothered to fault himself for desiring his padawan. Obi-Wan was as beautiful as he was diligent, and the master would never have spoiled that diligence for any number of worlds. Now, he stared, rather at a loss, at his protégé. They'd been out on rolling plains for a month during the observance of Astirla's ceremonies, and so Obi-Wan's partly-grown-out hair flopped into his eyes, long at the front, close at the back, and lending an odd innocence to Obi-Wan's demeanor. His face was a little scruffy, a decent beard having come in after a month of not shaving. Charmingly, Qui-Gon's homeland accent was still deeply rooted in Obi-Wan's speech after nearly fifteen years of close living.

More than anything else about Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon missed the braid. That braid that Obi-Wan had alternately cursed and blessed; perpetually in the way, but an ever-present symbol of his place in the Order and beside his master.

Qui-Gon suppressed a sigh as Obi-Wan, mildly triumphant, finally produced the ration bar for which he'd been searching.

"There," he said, and began to stuff his belongings back into the pack. He moved next to Qui-Gon, gazing at the older man for a moment, watching the firelight play over his face and hands and in his eyes.

Suppressing a sigh of his own, he unwrapped the ration bar.

It had been a long road since his Trials... he shuddered minutely. He didn't even like to think of them. He'd nearly lost Qui-Gon then, and it was then that it had hit him, hard, how ravaged he would have been had he never been able to look on this beloved face again. Yes, it was beloved. Obi-Wan agonized quietly, wondering if it was time to act at last.

/There could be so much more, and I want it./ The thought came to him with such sudden ferocity that he barely restrained a sharp intake of breath. Yes. It was so simple-- and he had to know. It was time to know, at last, if his feelings could be returned. These were the times he missed the training bond terribly, though at this juncture, he knew he would only be shielding against it heavily.

Obi-Wan made quick work of the ration bar and then folded the wrapper up carefully, putting it in the box they had designated for trash. He wondered at his master's odd bent tonight, but was, at the moment, rather more wrapped up in the way the firelight danced off the leonine features and in the silvering hair.

Obi-Wan stretched out one leg and began to unbuckle his boots. Companionably, he extended his foot toward Qui-Gon, who tugged one boot off for him and then the other, setting them aside.

"Going to bed?" the master asked, looking up from the flames.

"Going to bathe," Obi-Wan amended. "I hope you'll do the same. It's been a long, warm day, and we're sharing a tent." He tipped his head and grinned at his master, a small thought beginning to grow in the back of his mind.

Qui-Gon smiled back faintly, the amusement touching his eyes in that way that had always made Obi-Wan catch his breath. Obi-Wan stood liquidly, arching his spine a little and stretching toward the stars they'd just spent the last lunar cycle celebrating. Then he picked up his boots, set them just inside their small tent, and took off his tunics. Qui-Gon's perpetual study of the campfire began to irk him somewhat, so he made a great production of digging for a towel in his pack before slinging it over his shoulder and saying, "Come on, Qui-Gon, before the night gets any colder. You'll feel better afterward."

Looking up and setting his stick aside, Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow. "What makes you think I don't feel fine as I am?"

Obi-Wan shrugged. "You're zoning." Wondering, he looked at the master pointedly, who stared back, his mouth open as though he would speak. After a moment, Qui-Gon stood.

"All right. A bath."

They were alone on the water's edge, dirty leggings tossed under a tree, clean ones slung over a branch beside their towels. Obi-Wan waded out waist-deep into the water, clutching a bar of soap and a cloth. The lake was still and quiet, almost glassy but for the small ripples he made as he entered. It was not too cold, but neither was it warm, and sadly they would probably not want to linger over this bath. His half-formed seduction plan lost a little ground under the thought.

There were great, tree-lined hills on the other bank, but down the length of the water he could see the reflection of the stars. Just over a thickly branched, fat, ancient tree, the moon rose, heavy and full. Still low on the horizon, it was a creamy yellow, peeking over the tree as if watching the proceedings on the lake.

"Come look at this, Qui-Gon. It's beautiful."

Qui-Gon moved down the bank and into the water, following Obi-Wan's stare to the end of the lake where the moon rose. Pulling in a breath, he was suddenly very glad for the utter lack of ambient light around them: the stars were thick in the sky, so densely crowded in distant places they appeared misty and indistinct. Truly, they lit the sky effectively, and one could move about quite safely just with their light. The moon, though, was a pendant in the sky, hanging low as though it were almost too heavy to be supported.

Quietly, unobtrusively, Obi-Wan shifted behind Qui-Gon and tucked the soap into his hand. "Hold that," he breathed, almost against Qui-Gon's shoulder, sensing the suppressed shiver. He gathered up Qui-Gon's long hair and draped it over one shoulder, out of the way. He was taking a huge risk, unknowing as he was of Qui-Gon's feelings, and suddenly it overwhelmed him: what if Qui-Gon didn't feel as he did? What if Obi-Wan stood on the cusp of destroying everything between them?

"What are you doing?" Qui-Gon asked, as though he were asking about tea, or mission statistics.

Obi-Wan froze, and then he gritted his teeth. /Do not be a coward. You're both adults. This can be handled perfectly maturely if it goes wrong./

Only he dearly hoped it wouldn't.

"I'm washing your back," he said matter-of-factly, and cupped water in his hands, sluicing it over the planes of Qui-Gon's shoulders. Almost reflexively, Obi-Wan began to distract himself from the sight of the night reflecting itself on Qui-Gon's wet skin, and then he stopped. It was well past time to quit that and do something.

Obi-Wan took the soap, rubbed it briskly between his hands, handed the bar back to Qui-Gon, then began to lather the broad, lean-muscled shoulders, massaging deliberately and firmly. Centering briefly, he searched for any sign of disturbance from Qui-Gon as best he could, but could find nothing but a relaxed contentment. It almost floated in the air between them.

"It's been a good mission," Obi-Wan observed quietly, working his hands a little lower on his master's back.

Qui-Gon made a humming noise, hoping that it sounded like agreement. Honestly, standing naked in a cool, starlit lake with his former padawan's hands digging into his soapy shoulders was a little more than he thought he could articulate around.

Emboldened, Obi-Wan leaned forward a bit. "It's been a good partnership," he added, sliding his hands lower through the soap to Qui-Gon's ribs, still making small, firm circles with his thumbs along the firm muscles flanking Qui-Gon's spine. "We make quite a team, Master. I'm very glad the Council continues to send us out together."

"Yes," Qui-Gon agreed pleasantly, leaving the young knight a little nonplussed. Obi-Wan certainly had washed his back before, and they had exchanged such pleasantries as evening swims and massages on many occasions. But this... couldn't Qui-Gon tell this was different?

Obi-Wan decided he was about to make his master toss that Sithly serenity right out the window. He took the soap again, lathered the cloth thickly, and tucked the bar back into Qui-Gon's hand. Making a pretense of scrubbing at Qui-Gon's back with the cloth, he said throatily, "Is there anything else you would have me wash, Master?"

"Anything else?" Qui-Gon asked, that rigid serenity firmly in place.

"Well, yes," Obi-Wan said, and slid the cloth down the plane of Qui-Gon's back and around to one hip, dipping it into the water innocently and dragging it back up to the broad shoulders again. Now he was a man on a mission: he was going to dissolve that infuriating calm.

"Your chest, perhaps," he elucidated, "or your arms." His voice had dropped until it had a low, purring quality to it. "I don't mind," he added.

Qui-Gon began to cup water up in his free hand and pour it over his arms and chest. "That would be a kindness, Obi-Wan, but it isn't necessary."

Obi-Wan dipped the cloth back into the water and wrung it over Qui-Gon's back, smoothing soap away with his hands. Then he stepped forward, very close to Qui-Gon's body, close enough that they shared heat above the water's surface, but not close enough that they were touching.

"I know it isn't necessary, Qui-Gon. I want to."

Qui-Gon turned around, facing his former apprentice squarely. "You do."

Obi-Wan's eyes had gone dark with desire and starlight, and he nodded his head slowly, a smile curving his lips. "Yes, I do," he said, quite seductively.

The master opened his mouth to speak, and Obi-Wan lost no time. He raised one soapy hand to the back of Qui-Gon's neck and tugged him down, kissing him firmly, allowing no question. His tongue slid forward inquisitively and was immediately met by Qui-Gon's. Instantly, fire flared between them.

Obi-Wan released a moan, drowning in the kiss that had been so terribly long in coming. He reveled in the sudden lust in the mouth over his, craving more of it. He pressed himself forward, wrapping his arms around the master's neck and planting his feet between Qui-Gon's, firmly inhabiting the same space. Obi-Wan was reeling, breathless, the kiss overwhelming him as much as being this close after this long to the one who had always been there but had also been maddeningly distant. In spite of the coolness of the water, Obi-Wan grew hard, and was painfully thrilled to feel the answering twitch and shift of Qui-Gon's growing erection.

"Yes," the knight breathed, sliding one hand down Qui-Gon's chest and over the torso that tensed under his hand. "Waited so long... " He wrapped his fist around Qui-Gon's cock, now fully hard under the water, and Qui-Gon pulled in a breath, hips rocking forward reflexively.

"Yes," Obi-Wan whispered again, sliding his hand to the head of Qui-Gon's erection, thumbing the slick fluid at the tip and sending it into the water.

"No," Qui-Gon said suddenly, stepping back.

Stunned, Obi-Wan stared. "No?" His throat convulsed around the word and would not let him say any more.

Qui-Gon stepped closer again, combing his wet fingers through Obi-Wan's hair tenderly, and then sliding them around to capture the back of his head. He leaned very close and whispered, almost against the knight's lips, "I do not want it over so quickly."

Relieved beyond expression, Obi-Wan stared. "I don't want to wait any longer," he said, surprised at himself. But then, why should they wait? They wanted each other; it was evident.

Qui-Gon kissed that soft, warm mouth again slowly, lingering over it, the tip of his tongue teasing Obi-Wan's delicately. Fire bloomed in Obi-Wan's stomach, and when he would have deepened the kiss, Qui-Gon drew back.

"We are going to bathe first," the master said, half growl and half murmur.

Obi-Wan blinked. He glanced down, and saw that Qui-Gon was holding out the soap for him. He looked up into those night-darkened eyes and saw no teasing there, but an enflamed, raw desire: predatory, as if Obi-Wan had unleashed something long dormant. He took the soap and lathered the cloth again.

They bathed quickly, though Qui-Gon insisted they bathe thoroughly, even to the point of washing hair. Obi-Wan drew patience around himself as best he could, but it was difficult. He kept stealing glances at his master, alternately soapy and dripping wet in the silvery lake, smooth hair cascading down his back darkly. It did not make the wait any easier, to be sure.

But the night air was cooling, and the lake had never been truly warm. By the time they were finished, Obi-Wan was chilled through and ready to dry off, the cold and his own urgency making him half-wonder if he'd really only daydreamed the interlude in the water. After he had scrubbed himself dry, he moved to tug his leggings down from the branch.

"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said, in a decidedly warm voice, hanging his towel back on the branch. The knight turned toward him, hopeful expectancy in his eyes. The master immediately took Obi-Wan's hand and tugged him further under the tree, into the grass and the inky shadows.

Their bodies connected warmly, and in spite of the chill in the air, Obi-Wan was almost immediately hard again, his disbelief mingled with an almost overwhelming excitement. Qui-Gon guided them to the cold grass, and Obi-Wan swarmed over him, kissing him deeply. He pressed his erection into the master's hip, a needy noise escaping him.

"Months," he breathed. "Been dreaming of you for months-- oh!" Obi-Wan yelped as he was suddenly unseated and rolled on his back into the grass.

"Nine years," Qui-Gon said throatily. Ignoring Obi-Wan's shocked expression, he bent his head and kissed his former padawan, lightly, almost delicately, savoring the shaky hesitancy his admission had brought out.

Obi-Wan raised his hand and combed his fingers into his master's long, damp hair, enjoying the feel of the kiss too much to do more. His short beard caught slightly in the master's longer one, scraping delicately and making him shiver. Their tongues slid together perfectly, already well-matched.

/Nine years./ Obi-Wan realized that would have made him about seventeen when his master started to think this way about him. Groaning, he slid his hand around the back of Qui-Gon's neck, using the other one to hug the lean waist over his body. Nine years. It was too good, too amazing to think about. He would give it careful, due consideration when the warm, naked body over his was, hopefully, wrapped around him in slumber.

But slumber was the last thing he wanted at the moment, and thankfully Qui-Gon was in accordance with him. The warm bearded kisses suddenly left his mouth. Before he could think to protest, they were on his throat, nipping and sliding down to his ear, pausing there only a moment, though Obi-Wan's thrilled noises would have encouraged money out of a Hutt.

Qui-Gon's restraint was snapping. It had been all he could do to set Obi-Wan away from him in the lake; he'd waited an eternity, but now he wanted their first experience together to be perfect, slow and sensual. Still, it was difficult to go slowly when Obi-Wan was stroking his back and neck, moaning, and continually driving his hips upward, making clear his hot arousal.

"Oh, my Obi-Wan," he sighed against the soft skin, feeling goosebumps break out under his lips as his beard brushed a taut nipple.

"Ohhhh, my..."

If Obi-Wan had been about to return the endearment, it was lost in that warm mouth that had suddenly clamped itself over his skin, tongue circling over the nipple before teeth closed around it gently. Obi-Wan ached and shivered and groaned, hands working aimlessly in Qui-Gon's hair, reduced to a mindless mass of nerve endings and need.

He wanted Qui-Gon to continue downward, but when the hot kisses slid over and left cool air in their wake, they simply trailed over to the other nipple and it began again. Obi-Wan was humming in his throat, thrusting his hips greedily, until Qui-Gon's large, warm hands clamped down on the slender hips, pinning him to the grass. Obi-Wan could do nothing now but mewl helplessly as Qui-Gon's lips and tongue made their maddeningly slow way toward his erection.

"Qui-Gon, please," he whispered, opening his eyes to distract himself. The tree overhead was dense and blue-black, but through its branches he could see the occasional star: the stars they had been over and around a hundred times. Often, they were seen blurred through a port during hyperdrive transit, or with aching clarity as this transport or that one took its last moment of orbit before descending into an atmosphere. But now, he stared at them, struggling to focus on anything other than the desperate need to lunge upward and take his master, hard. He wanted to make Qui-Gon see stars, too.

Obi-Wan gasped when Qui-Gon's lips latched onto the soft place at his hip, biting gently and then drawing at it before cupping one hand around Obi-Wan's cock and sinking his mouth over it completely, swallowing it whole. Obi-Wan's eyes squeezed shut as he cried out raggedly, pulling his fingers out of Qui-Gon's hair and sinking them into the grass, making hard, tense fists. Qui-Gon began to move slowly upward, swirling his tongue and drawing at the hardness between his lips. Obi-Wan made a groaning, hitching noise as Qui-Gon reached the tip, then sucked hard at it, lapping with his tongue, before descending again.

Then he began to move more quickly, repeating the same motions over and over in a playback loop that had Obi-Wan clawing the grass and babbling senselessly. Qui-Gon took him all the way in, then swallowed. Obi-Wan screamed hoarsely as he careened into orgasm, panting and thrusting, unable to help himself as that altogether talented mouth worked him till he was completely, totally limp: mind, body, penis, everything.

Obi-Wan's mouth opened and closed, but he could find nothing to say, and at any rate his vocabulary was somewhere stuck in the tree with the distant suns. Qui-Gon moved over him, smiling quite smugly, and kissed him. Obi-Wan tasted himself and moaned softly.

Before he could so much as move, Qui-Gon was off him, digging around in a pocket of the leggings Obi-Wan hadn't realized he'd put here. When he returned, he still had that self-satisfied smile on his face.

"Sated, love?" Qui-Gon murmured, and the endearment shot through Obi-Wan like alcohol, warming and dizzying and giddy.

"I--" Obi-Wan began, but then he saw that Qui-Gon had retrieved a small bottle of oil. Smiling, he could not manage any indignation as he cupped his master's cheek in his hand and accused lightly, "You planned this."

Nodding, Qui-Gon opened the vial and then kissed the knight again. "Shall I continue, then?"

Obi-Wan hitched in a breath as Qui-Gon moved between his legs, teasing him softly with oiled fingertips. "Yes, I think-- ahhh don't stop." He squirmed and tried to shift onto the hand that was playing over his entrance so softly.

Qui-Gon slid one finger inside experimentally, angling it until Obi-Wan was fisting his hands in the grass again and arching, his mouth open soundlessly. Qui-Gon closed his eyes and sighed shakily, struggling to draw control from the very air as he added a second finger. Obi-Wan was relaxed, but so warm and so tight, and Qui-Gon could not imagine how he would last even to penetration when faced with the sounds his delectable former padawan was making.

Obi-Wan, amazingly, was hard again, circling his hips over that hand that kept triggering bright waves of pleasure inside him. He bit his lower lip and let out a sighing moan as Qui-Gon added a third finger, and then the sparkling lights exploded inside him once more, and he was babbling again. He barely restrained himself from crying out as Qui-Gon took his hand away, and after a moment's pause, Qui-Gon was encouraging him up and over, onto his knees.

Gently, carefully, Qui-Gon guided him forward, positioning him so that he straddled Qui-Gon, sitting beneath him. This was new to Obi-Wan, but he relaxed, put his arms around his master's neck, and sank down slowly, tearing a noise from his master that nearly put Obi-Wan over the edge again. Their mouths didn't meet so much as simply begin devouring each other, and Qui-Gon clung to the young knight, who moved over him with a steady rhythm that was neither too fast nor too slow: perfect.

"Nine years," Obi-Wan breathed, stunned all over again, and buried his face in the master's neck, smelling soap and cool air. He began to move faster, shifting his hips forward in small pulsing movements, gasping as that place inside him caught fire over and over again.

"Qui-Gon--" he said brokenly, his fingers digging into the broad shoulders.

"Yes," Qui-Gon said simply, then came, a torn cry issuing from his throat, muffled against Obi-Wan's chest. It sent Obi-Wan over, too, grinding his hips forward as he came against his master's tense stomach, momentarily blinded. Gasping for air, he tipped his head back and looked at the stars again, thanking them.

"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said softly as they lay warm and utterly sated in their tent. He stroked the soft hair over the knight's ear, then ran his finger around the lobe, eliciting a shiver.

"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan sighed, pillowed against the broad shoulder.

"I understand that this was a bit of a shock to you, and I want you to know that I would not ask any more of you, if you do not wish it."

Obi-Wan raised his head in surprise. "...'Would not ask any more' of me?" he said, incredulous. "I'm to believe you waited so long for me and you would let me go so readily?"

Qui-Gon shook his head, bringing Obi-Wan down to him and kissing him reassuringly. "No... it would be the most difficult thing I've ever done. There would be nothing 'ready' about it. But I will not keep you if this isn't what you want."

Relaxing again and resting against the master's body, Obi-Wan smiled, relieved. "Keep me, Master. We have more stars yet to see."

End.