Master Apprentice
Archive
Stoicheia 9: Carbon
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Qui-Gon loved paper. Large uneven sheets of it, spread out on the tabletop or on a wooden board lying across his knees as it was now, crumpled at the corners, smooth but never quite smooth, releasing a surprising heat if one ran one's hands over it too quickly and without giving the material the reverence it deserved. Paper had been the basis of civilisation once. Paper was unassuming but demanding, ancient but versatile. Much like himself.
Paper could draw blood with a surprisingly sharp edge, or with the document it was made to carry. Or it could innocently hold the sweetest and most arousing sight without ever blushing from its noble pallor to something more agitated.
It held a pretty damn wonderful sight right now, and Qui-Gon shifted a little before gingerly resettling the board with its attached sheet of paper on his knees in the accustomed lotus position that had suddenly turned a lot less comfortable than he was used to. Taking a deep breath, he switched hands, stretched his right one, and picked up the charcoal once more, tracing the outline of Obi-Wan's lower thigh with one bold stroke, guided by the Living Force.
His apprentice grinned, draped as he was across the sprawling patch of deep green m'talla vines with their huge leaves, leaning on one elbow naked as the Force has made him, a delightful creamy delicacy against the dark green background. "Isn't that cheating, Master?"
Qui-Gon looked up from his work, Obi-Wan's impish grin adding to the slight discomfort in his loins. "I wouldn't know how else I could capture all of you, Padawan... you surpass my modest artistic talents by far..." -- "Take a holo?"
Qui-Gon sighed at his apprentice's sober practicality. "Brat. Leave me my little indulgences, will you? This is what people did before the invention of holography. It would do you well to show a little more reverence for the ancient arts and techniques of human culture, Padawan." -- "I am deeply sorry, Master. I forgot you were that ancient," a glitter of humour danced across the Padawan's perfectly quiet features, "so you're paying respect to a culture of ogling one's apprentice while engaged in a long and laborious imaging process...?"
Qui-Gon's charcoal pencil raced across the surface of the paper, leaving bold deep black lines that captured the relaxed muscles of Obi-Wan's legs while hinting at the coiled strength in those thigh muscles far better than any holo could. "I don't see what's wrong with ogling one as breathtakingly handsome as you, Padawan. Especially not over a long and laborious process. Besides, don't try to tell me you don't enjoy being ogled..."
"I'm just being the dutiful little Padawan, _Master_," Obi-Wan teased, the bright lilt in his voice taking the place of body language as he kept himself perfectly still. Qui-Gon snorted, the charred vine that he was using as a pen slithering to a faltering faint grey halt at the top of the bold curve of Obi-Wan's thigh. "Oh yes. I forget. Besides, you're missing a shade, Padawan, now that you've lost your pubes..."
Involuntarily, Obi-Wan's eyes slid down to the patch of silky bare skin where the thick bush of light brown curls had been. It had felt odd at first, the constant brush and touch of his clothes against the sensitive soft skin, not quite tickling, a faint sensation dancing on the edge of pleasure. A vulnerable pleasure, but one that he reckoned he could allow himself at least for the few days that they were off duty. Besides, the little hairs really itched when growing back, so he'd taken to shaving every other day. Just the memory of Qui-Gon's lips against the tender newly-exposed skin was quite enough to make him blush an extra shade that he somewhat doubted would show up on his Master's drawing.
"I heard that, Padawan. And yes, the blush is quite satisfactory. Keep it up if you please...," the pencil brushed lightly over the coarse paper's surface, leaving a delicate grey smudge on the two-dimensional Obi-Wan's cheeks, "babyballs."
Obi-Wan gasped, unsure for a moment whether to laugh or blush a deeper shade of red. Qui-Gon continued, unabashed. "There... if you could see yourself now, Obi-Wan. Blushing sweetly, your most delicate parts exposed... have you any idea how hard it is -- " a giggle from Obi-Wan momentarily interrupted his train of thought, "-how hard it is not to reach out and grab them, squeeze them in the palm of my hand, rubbing silky delicate skin over those cute little balls until you squirm for more, more of me, cock straining upwards and leaking, thighs spread wide in wanton invitation...," the Master's voice had dropped to a husky murmur, "oh Obi-Wan, don't worry... I know you for the little slut that you are. And I'm unspeakably proud to have you for my own. Even if it's a serious test of my Masterly patience to not jump you and smudge your cute little balls with charcoal dust... hey." The Master's one-eyebrowed frown was mocking, offset by a small smile. "You've _moved_, Padawan."
Obi-Wan's blush returned as he looked down on an unmistakable erection that looked even more raw and demanding now that it rose out of nothing but smooth skin. "M-maybe I should cover myself?" A sweet grin as the Padawan ripped a large leaf off the m'talla patch he was lying on and draped it over his hardness with deft hands. "Better?"
"Now you look like one of these stone idols Knight Pe-etti-pe came across on Sol 3... though he said the ones without leaves were disappointingly small despite the planetary races having pretty much standard human anatomy. So, unless you want to hide your real talents from view in order to gain the worship of the people of Sol 3... no, Padawan."
Obi-Wan flicked the offending leaf away, delighting in his Master's aroused little squirm at the sight of his jutting pink hardness, the amusement now plain on his mobile features. "So what do you propose, Master?"
"Oh...," Qui-Gon pretended to think for a moment, mock-absently putting the tip of his vine-pencil to his lip, "I think I should just immobilise you, my young Padawan. Yes, that sounds about right... don't you think?"
Obi-Wan's face fell, and he didn't have the presence of mind to stop the little surprised gasp that left his half-open mouth.
"Im... immobilise me?" Obi-Wan swallowed, his blush another shade deeper and clearly verging on the warm pink glow that suffused his features during and after sex. "As in..."
"Tie you up, yes. Don't tell me you haven't fantasised about that before, Padawan. It doesn't take a mind-reader to deduce that you're quite a delightful natural bottom, Obi-Wan. You broadcast your pleasure quite... quite intensely when I'm pinning you down, you know?" The Master's casual tone had darkened to a seductive purr, and Obi-Wan's private parts were now clearly showing a mind of their own. "How much more would you like it," Qui-Gon continued, quietly, "if you were tied down, bonds holding our gorgeous squirming self in place while my hands are free to roam all over you... hm? Don't tell me you wouldn't. I can smell your arousal all the way here... feels like you've dreamed about it for a long time, hmm, my Obi?" Dragging his eyes away from his gasping blushing desperately hard lover, Qui-Gon added a few bold strokes to the picture before discarding the charcoal stub and turning the board around to present the artwork to the model.
The Obi-Wan on the picture was reclining seductively against a non-existent background, his penis just beginning to fill and rise to its full impressive length, a relaxed sparkling smile on the handsome face... and a pair of shackles chaining his slender ankles together.
Before Obi-Wan could even form words to describe his desperate arousal at the idea, Qui-Gon had sent him the mental image of just how he would have intended to immobilise him, the heavy dark irons on his ankles complemented with thick pale rope snaking around him, pressing his knees together, curling around his balls and pulling them away from his straining cock, just not quite hard enough to be really painful, more rope wound taut around his trim waist, pinning his arms behind his back, and snaking tightly across his chest and shoulders, up to his neck and higher, just that little bit higher... the last loop dug into the corners of his mouth, a mouth open in an inarticulate whimper of sheer need.
Grabbing his rock-hard cock and pumping himself frantically, Obi-Wan came with a deep groan that was partly muffled by Qui-Gon's coal-smudged hand as it clamped over the young man's face, the Master bringing all his skills to bear to stay in the moment and not go over the edge himself... not while his Obi-Wan was convulsing in spasms of pleasure, naked on the bed of leaves, naked and bound in his dreams, in both their dreams... Obi-Wan's eyes widened, and he gasped in a desperate breath as Qui-Gon's hand left his face, smudged with charcoal dust.
"You're dirty, Padawan."
Obi-Wan expelled a breathless laugh, shaking with mirth. "_You're_ one to talk, Master!"
Qui-Gon smiled as he straddled his giggling naked lover, pulling out his hard leaking cock and hastily slicking it with saliva and Obi-Wan's own seed. "Just... just give me a little time, Obi... just a little time..."
Obi-Wan's face lit up in a big lazy grin. "I'll give you anything, Qui... anything." And the sight of Obi-Wan wantonly spreading his legs for him was quite enough to send Qui-Gon's mind into blissful overload...
---The End---