Master Apprentice
Archive
Stoicheia 3: Hydrogen
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Wiping the steam off the mirror, Obi-Wan squinted at the reflection he saw. In the dark warmth of the highly polished brownish metal his skin looked bronzed, and his hair deep brown, nearly black now in its wet state.
He tugged on his braid, hanging limp and wet over his shoulder, and absent-mindedly watched the moisture seep down its taut length, black and glistening, and fast. Capillary forces. Of course. He let go of the braid and watched it slowly float towards his skin while he carded his fingers through the rest of his hair. It would have been short enough to stand up on its own anyway. Here, on Shwef, it did so even in its wet state.
In fact, the only reason Obi-Wan managed to stay within the scope of the narrow oblong wall mirror was because he had wedged one foot under the sink cupboard, a move that had become second nature to him after he'd found himself at close quarters with the ceiling once too often.
The gravity here was so low that even an overly enthusiastic step could propel one up into the air, and once afloat, there wasn't much one could do except serenely wait to fall back down, unless one wanted to use the Force and irritate the natives, who more often than not stood around with what Obi-Wan assumed were faintly amused expressions, watching the offworlders struggle with their obviously untamed physical strength.
The t'Shwef themselves had the perfect physique for their environment: tall, slender creatures that easily towered over even Qui-Gon but probably only weighed half of what Obi-Wan weighed, if Obi-Wan's weight was at all measurable in meaningful units on this weird planet. Their spindle-shaped large-eyed heads sat atop long flexible necks like ethereal flower buds, and fortunately they used the bendiness of their necks to its full extent -- otherwise the apprentice would have had to face the choice of staring up all day until he developed a kink in his neck, or finding his vision filled with what the rest of the t'Shwef's bodies consisted of, which was mostly a long and lean leg ending in a flat foot that appeared to be totally symmetrical, so that tiny movements could propel the creature in any direction it wished.
He had experimented with weighting his boots, but found it made him even clumsier and not heavy enough, since even metal weights contributed little to his overall heaviness. In the end, he'd followed his Master's lead and simply taken them off, walking everywhere in his bare feet, often moving no more than his toes and still finding himself propelled forward in long, slow, and often badly-aimed leaps.
Obi-Wan fingered the spot behind his ear, testing the looseness of newly-grown hair, considered rebraiding, then postponed it. With a bit of luck, they might be off this planet in a few days, and while the experience of low gravity and the effortless near-floating state it afforded him had begun to grow on him, that was less the case for trying to do fine mechanical work.
And battling three wayward strands of wet hair wasn't one of his favourite pastimes even in normal gravity.
Stretching carefully, one foot tucked firmly under the cupboard, Obi-Wan eased the kinks out of his muscles and gingerly padded out of the tiny 'fresher room. They'd let him out of the talks early today, which of course he didn't mind at all. They could get just a little tedious, especially as the t'Shwef's thoughts were ostensibly like their physical movements: delicate, slow, and predictable once they'd set off in a certain direction. Most of the difficulty of negotiation was avoiding an impression of superiority and pressure on the Jedi's part. And avoiding hasty movements because it just did not do for a Republic mediator to end up hovering under the ceiling, robe flapping around him gently, braid trailing...
That said, the effect of the low gravity on Qui-Gon's hair was quite enticing. Qui-Gon's hair. It still felt a tad odd to call him by his given name, not 'Master Jinn' as he had for years, or simply 'Master' to his face. But that was what he was allowed to do now, and he relished it, delighted in the small warm smile on the older man's face every time the pale green bubble of the word "Qui" formed in the air between them.
They had had The Talk. And it hadn't been the one he'd been dreading for years, ever since he first noticed that his apparent sexual interest did not lie with girls, as was the case with most of his fellow Padawans (even the females, he had noticed with an amused grin. Well, Bant and her slightly more orange-ish ladyfriend made a rather nice couple). It wasn't exactly boys either, though he had amused himself for a while with his friend Garen, touching, fumbling, and jacking each other off... but his thoughts had not been with the tall brown-haired Padawan. His thoughts had been with the tall-brown-haired Master.
He'd toned down his explorations after that, feeling like he'd be betraying his friend wit thoughts of another, and soon after that, Garen had confessed he'd fallen for another Padawan, and Obi-Wan had let him go gladly, assuring him that they'd always been just friends, and that they would stay that way.
He'd never felt attracted enough to another man to actually explore his sexuality after that, and warded off his Master's occasional concerned questions with evasive answers. At some points in the past, he'd truly thought he'd turn into a celibate -- he just couldn't bring himself to do away with his technical virginity because it wouldn't have been worth it, not if it wasn't his Master. His Master who had been calm and reassuring and friendly, but never more than warm when all he'd wished for was heat, animal heat that he could picture so easily in those impossibly blue eyes.
And he had known all along.
It should have been infuriating, or at the very least embarrassing. It wasn't. Obi-Wan hadn't felt even the tiniest pang of regret as he poured his heart out to Qui-Gon, hoping, no, suddenly knowing he would be understood.
It was still warmth now, but with the promise of heat. They would go at his own pace, slowly, tenderly, and they had begun already. Just the memory of how good the tip of Qui-Gon's hard cock had felt in his mouth, how smooth and hot and silken and how delicious... just the memory of it was enough to make Obi-Wan's whole body flush with arousal. And there would be more... he felt more and more ready for more. He had but to say it, and Qui-Gon would do it. Would do him.
Sighing in pleasure and anticipation, he catapulted himself up towards the ceiling with one light jump and settled on one of the irregularly-shaped ledges that served as furniture to the t'Shwef. Stretching out on his back, naked as he was, his gaze caught on two prominent objects that weren't where he was used to them being.
One was an electrical socket on the ceiling, looking like it had been there since the room was built. At any rate it had been painted over several times already... and the other was his cock, flushed a deep pink and rising eagerly towards his belly --
The noise of the door swinging open halted all trains of thought immediately, and Obi-Wan leapt off the ledge with such eagerness that me managed to bump his head on the ceiling for the fourth time since they'd arrived here... sporting a sheepish grin and a rampant erection, he let himself float down to where Qui-Gon was standing, robed and barefoot, hair settling slowly on his shoulders and a wide grin spreading over his handsome weather-beaten features.
"Eager, are we, Padawan?"
Instead of an answer, Obi-Wan grabbed two handfuls of Qui-Gon's hair and pulled himself closer to the Master's mouth. Before his feet had even touched the ground he was devouring the velvety depth, stealing the amused little grin from lips that were suddenly just as eager as his own, sucking at his mouth greedily, trapping his tongue and teasing it with the tip of Qui-Gon's own... it was heaven. Being kissed by Qui-Gon was heaven.
But tonight, there would be more. There had to be.
"Mmmmmmmh," Obi-Wan agreed, licking his wet lips lasciviously, delighting in the flicker of pure lust in Qui-Gon's eyes. "Very." Slender arms and legs twined around the Master's body, holding him captive and pressing a very obvious hardness against Qui-Gon's belly. "May I entice you to come straight to bed, Qui?"
The Master laughed, a deep rumbling noise that reverberated against Obi-Wan's bare chest. "I warn you, Obi mine... your Master is hungry!" With that, he took a standing jump in the direction of the large but thin fold-out bed, hitting it just in time for it to be fully horizontal, crushing his laughing and whimpering apprentice under him.
Seconds later, a pair of ever eager hands scrabbled out from under the robe that had settled over both of them. Hands that single-mindedly tore at fabric, wrestled the clothes off Qui-Gon with such abandon that they soon found themselves a few feet above the bed, while Qui-Gon's robe and belt were just hitting the floor.
Tunics and pants followed in quick succession, and by the time Obi-Wan had unwound his lover's loincloth and let it flutter to the ground like a streamer, Qui-Gon's own arousal was unmistakable. Obi-Wan licked his lips, unsure where to stare -- at the bright smile that quirked Qui-Gon's otherwise thin lips into a delightful curve... or at the rather less curved, but equally delightful organ jutting out from the Master's long sinewy body... pink and silky skin beckoning...
A firm hand on his chin stopped him in his tracks, and Qui-Gon's whisper in his ear set the hairs on the back of his neck on end. "Let me, Obi-Wan. _I'm_ the hungry one right now..."
Shuddering at the warmth of breath at his ear, Obi-Wan complied and went limp in his master's tight embrace. Just as his back had begun to touch the sheets again, Qui-Gon's mouth was upon him, without preamble, sucking the living Force out of him. Obi-Wan whimpered and screamed, writhing on the sheer sheets, each gasp and moan spurring Qui-Gon on to rougher licks and deeper suction until Obi-Wan was sure he would explode with the sheer assault of savage pleasure... then, Qui-Gon's light chuckle sent a faint vibration along the nerves in his entire body, and... he was still.
Not quite himself, Obi-Wan took a dazed second to realise what had happened. There was Qui-Gon, on top of him, but nearly weightless, lips wrapped around his throbbing cock, holding him on the brink of orgasm, smirking slightly, eyes small blue suns of amusement.
Obi-Wan roared in frustrated need and bucked his hips hard, trying to thrust into that maddening mouth...
All he succeeded in was getting them both airborne again, and the air was cold on his pulsing wet cock -- Qui-Gon's mouth was gone.
"Quiiiiiii... please! Make me come... take me, take me whole... Force's sake do something, do something, do _me_ please..."
He was such a lovely sight like this, Qui-Gon reflected, eyes half-closed under thick lashes, pink mouth open and mumbling desperate obscenities, so open, so needy... so beautiful. And more, so much more than he had ever dared hope for...
"Ssssshhh, Obi. I think you are a little more well-prepared at this point than me, love, so... don't move now..." With a gentle shove and a ruthless application of the Force, the head of Obi-Wan's cock slid home into Qui-Gon's body, sending sparks of pain and pleasure up the older man's spine. How long had it been...? And yet how right did it feel now, to be filled and possessed by this wonder of a man... with a deep sigh, he rocked against Obi-Wan, impaling himself on his Padawan's hard cock. He felt like it was touching his heart inside, so full and long and hard and so _right_ in its place... Obi-Wan's face was a rictus of shock and desperate arousal, eyes rolled back at the sheer heat and tightness of Qui-Gon's body wrapped around his throbbing erection.
His mind had clearly gone into blissful overload. His body, though, did not need reminding of what to do next -- slender hips started bucking slowly, gently at first, then ever more forcefully, spurred on by Qui-Gon's strong hands grabbing the young man's firm buttocks and pushing, amplifying the rhythm that threatened to sweep them both into oblivion.
Dimly, Obi-Wan felt his back touching the bed again, and leaving it again a second later, propelled by the force of his manic thrusts. Oh, this was so good, so good, so wild and hard and so _there_... the sight of Qui-Gon's face deep in the clutches of the Living Force, light sweat breaking out on his brow, mouth half-open in lusty gasps and moans, and that hair, all that wonderful silver-touched hair floating about them both in lazy messy waves as they sank again, down towards the bed, as they sank again, deeper into the other, Obi-Wan thrusting so hard it nearly hurt... oh, and he so wanted to be on the other side too, so wanted to be pierced and opened and filled and stretched to bursting with the eager flesh of his beloved... needed to give the incredible pleasure Qui-Gon was giving him, tight and hot and hard...
The mind-touch was wordless, even the Master struggling for coherent thought as his apprentice fucked him into the mattress and off it again, floating in body as well as in mind... but when a large blunt finger trailed over Obi-Wan's moist hungry lips, he knew what was afoot, and shuddered in delighted anticipation.
It was a ticklish touch, barely there under the deep red wash of pure lust engulfing his cock, but he welcomed it in all its strangeness. It felt small, the touch, and yet the finger felt big as it gently worked its way inside him, piercing him deeply, making him feel quite full with just the one finger. Oh, how must Qui-Gon feel, tightly clenched around his pumping cock, and still moaning his pleasure with every thrust? He could only imagine... and the finger still wasn't even all the way in, for it kept pushing deeper... deeper... there!! What was...
Obi-Wan screamed, a high-pitched shriek of unexpected ecstasy. That it could feel... this.... good... "ahyesyesquigonmoredeeperpleaseyesyesmorepleeease..." and the master's low moans now tinged with amusement, finger stroking relentlessly over that spot, that one spot that made the hard ticklish sensation in Obi-Wan's anus blossom into bright flowers of rude ecstasy, shooting flares of pure need and sensation from his anus to his cock and back, shorting out his brain completely and turning him into moaning whimpering goo...
He screamed into Qui-Gon's hungry mouth as he came, squashed against his Master in mid-air, held tight in one massive arm while the other hand continued to rub his prostate until he was sure he'd pass out from the pleasure, the hard rubs and the incredible tight heat and the... mouth... just flare up and... burn... roaring...
Light splashes of something wet and warm brought him slowly back to reality... opening his eyes reluctantly, Obi-Wan found himself flat on his back, on the bed for a change, with Qui-Gon sprawled half on top of him in a way that would rob him of his breath under normal circumstances. The Master's features were lit up by the most angelic smile he'd ever seen, eyes sparkling bright blue, lips quirked in genuine asymmetric bliss, hair everywhere, just settling down on the older man's broad shoulders, in fact... and...
Obi-Wan's burst of giggles managed to catapult them off the bed again, floating in a tangle of limbs, scrabbling for a kiss, while underneath them the last beads of Qui-Gon's come were hitting the sheets soundlessly.
---The End---