Master Apprentice Archive Sweet Sixteen Quick search:

Rating: NC-17

Series: The Adventures of Marshmallow

Categories: Q/O, sukebe, kink

Archive: MA< anywhere else please ask

Feedback: Yes, please.

Summary: Qui-Gon loves his Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan loves his Padawan, and everybody loves Marshmallow.

Disclaimers: If GL wants to claim these Jedi, well. We'd owe the man an apology for misjudging him, wouldn't we?

Warning: If you got through the first one, what more can we warn for here? Chan/power/kinky roleplay.

Notes: We care, therefore we beta. Thank you, Cuimne.

It had been a week.

A week since Qui-Gon as Daddy had "caught" Obi-Wan as Princess playing in a rather inappropriate way with the bear.

Obi-Wan with Marshmallow -- rubbing his satin clad cock against the large, pink, plush bear from that long ago carnival game.

They hadn't talked about it. After all, what was Qui-Gon supposed to say?

He sure as hell couldn't ask the one thing he wanted to.

But now, Obi-Wan was out and Marshmallow was simply sitting in the chair in their bedroom. Lying in bed with a datapad full of mission reports, Qui-Gon tried to ignore the cool glass eyes of the bear, but finally he put the datapad down and looked at the bear.

Marshmallow looked back.

Less than two minutes later, Qui-Gon, wearing nothing but his thin sleep pants, had the bear on the bed and was rubbing his cock against the thinning plush of its ass.

I'm just curious, he told himself. That's all.

Obi-Wan entered their quarters a little early from the Senate chambers, tired but mostly horny. They hadn't talked about that whole bear thing, no--and Obi-Wan was just fine with that--but even unmentioned, the incident seemed to have perked up sex between them something fierce. The Knight couldn't remember the last time he'd been taken as hard as he had been the night before--and he couldn't remember ever having fucked Qui-Gon as hard as he did the night before that. Still, Obi-Wan thought maybe it was time to get rid of Marshmallow. Nothing further had come of Qui-Gon expressing a desire to fuck his Padawan into the bear, so Obi-Wan could only think the entire bear subject had been closed.

Until he hit the entryway to their bedroom.

Qui-Gon was groaning and clutching the bear, the poor hapless bear, grinding against the wide, pink ass with abandon.

"What," Obi-Wan asked, breathless, "is this?"

Qui-Gon froze, his cock still pressed hard against the bear. "Uh...." he began, and then couldn't continue. What was there to say, really?

"Are you--are you fucking my bear?" Obi-Wan demanded, but his incredulity wasn't quite enough to diminish the swelling in his leggings. "You didn't say anything, you never mentioned it again, and here I thought I was a freak after all--and you didn't even wait for me?"

Qui-Gon shook his head. "No! I never thought you were a freak. Or at least not any more than I am." He looked down at the bear and then back at Obi-Wan. Honesty, he realized, was the best policy here. "I ... I wanted to know what it felt like."

Obi-Wan started to undress; there wasn't any point in trying to skirt the issue now. "But you didn't even wait for me."

Qui-Gon, the veteran of countless negotiations, knew when it was time to give in, to submit in order to get the desired result "I'm sorry," he said, softly, submissively, dropping his gaze.

The last of his clothes in a pile on the floor, Obi-Wan stared down at Qui-Gon, who had given an apology--a very good one, with the lowering eyes and everything--but who had not, of course, let go of Marshmallow.

"You're going to have to make this up to me," Obi-Wan said, sliding his gaze over to Qui-Gon's ass.

"Yes, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon replied, in the same low voice that he always used when he was ready to do whatever Obi-Wan wanted.

It was silly, Obi-Wan knew, to be jealous like that. But the question that nagged at him then was of which of them was he more jealous? Qui-Gon? Or Marshmallow? As petty as that seemed, it nevertheless drove him around to the side of the bed where the lube was kept.

"Maybe next time," he said as he grabbed the tube of lube, "you can braid your hair and you can be me."

There was a long silence.

"Master."

Qui-Gon didn't really know where the word came from, but there's something so perversely satisfying, at his age no less, about the idea of being a Padawan to a Master he actually could have a crush on.

"Padawan," Obi-Wan replied, hoping his voice sounded calmer to Qui-Gon than it sounded to himself. Was this how Qui-Gon felt when he looked at Obi-Wan dressed as a girl and called him -- her -- Princess? Did the strange shift in dynamic make him as dizzy as it was making Obi-Wan?

Qui-Gon bit his lip, and Obi-Wan could read vulnerability on the other man's face, and shyness, and a strange, almost boyish quality that should have been absurd but was somehow completely arousing.

He's a virgin. Obi-Wan wasn't sure how he knew, but he knew it. He drew a deep breath and let the fantasy wrap itself around him. Qui-Gon, his virgin Padawan, was so desperate for attention of any kind that he was humping a stuffed bear.

Qui-Gon looked at Obi-Wan hopefully. Obi-Wan had called him Padawan, and seemed to be settling into the part. And now Qui-Gon felt the role settle over himself as well, felt the pained embarrassment any teenager would feel having been discovered masturbating -- with a stuffed bear no less -- by the very object of his affections.

He squirmed against Marshmallow's body a little and blushed even harder.

"That is... a very disturbing thing you're doing, Padawan," Obi-Wan breathed, sounding faintly appalled, but his voice was so tight because the air in his lungs no longer seemed to be enough. "Aren't you ashamed of yourself?"

"Yes, Master. I ... I'm sorry, Master," Qui-Gon stammered. "It's ... it's just that ... I'm so lonely!"

"Lonely?" Obi-Wan tilted his head, pacing around the bed. "This is what you do when you're lonely? You couldn't have come to me?" He realized slowly that he was still clutching the small bottle of lube, and thought he might do something about that. Climbing up onto the bed, he pressed himself close behind Qui-Gon, cuddling him and murmuring, "Do you not trust your own Master?"

Oddly enough, Qui-Gon found himself wondering if he would have had this sort of courage if he'd found Obi-Wan at sixteen with Marshmallow, then the role claimed him again. Even as he snuggled back against Obi-Wan, he was looking at his master nervously.

"It's forbidden," he whispered.

"Oh, Padawan," Obi-Wan sighed, stroking Qui-Gon's hair. "If you only knew..." And he pulled the long hair aside, pressing a kiss to the back of Qui-Gon's warm neck. "I want you to feel you can come to me with anything -- even the forbidden."

Qui-Gon shivered at the touch of those firm lips on the back of his neck. "Oh Master," he breathed softly and shivered again. The motion made him acutely aware of the bear pressed up against his erection and he blushed again. "It's more than that...."

"Tell me." The "Master's" voice suddenly developed a bit of a hard edge.

"It's you," Qui-Gon managed to say, and to his embarrassment his voice broke, the '"you" coming out as a bit of a squeak. "I was thinking about you," he mumbled the clarification hurriedly, staring down sightlessly at the bedspread, the fingers of one hand toying with one of Marshmallow's floppy pink ears. "It's always you."

Obi-Wan pulled in a shaky breath, knowing this was just play -- for the love of the Force, he had Qui-Gon pinned between his naked cock and the bear -- but he remembered thinking something similar to that when he was as young as Qui-Gon was pretending to be.

From the gut, he replied with words he'd fantasized about for years: "Tell me what you fantasize about. Tell me what you want, so I can do it to you."

"I ... uh ... " Words failed Qui-Gon, and he simply spread his legs, still clad in the thin linen sleep pants, and squirmed back against Obi-Wan's cock. "I..."

"So you're telling me," Obi-Wan murmured, shifting away and kneeling up to tug Qui-Gon's pajamas down to his thighs, "that not only do you masturbate --" and he took up the lube, spreading some liberally over his hand -- "with a stuffed bear -- how often, nightly? More?" He pushed Qui-Gon's thighs further apart with his own knees. "But also that you think of me fucking you while you're doing it?"

Qui-Gon bit his lip. "I ... I don't always ... with Marshmallow ... but yes ... every night ... thinking of you, Master."

It was so incredibly odd to say that, Qui-Gon thought -- to reach back to a time when all of his yearmates had been sighing over their respective masters and he'd been smugly serene over his objective relationship with Yoda. Now, he was drawing on memories of Mace sighing over Master Sera and M'Bast staring dreamily into space as she thought of Master Vox. "You're so perfect," he said softly, infusing the words with a heavy dose of hero-worship.

That much, Obi-Wan remembered all too well. "You're young," he said quietly, sounding surprisingly wise as he petted the skin of Qui-Gon's lower back, saying the words he knew he would have heard if he had approached Qui-Gon so early. "You have much to learn of your imperfect master." Leaning down, he whispered something he knew he never would have heard: "Would you like to start with how I feel inside you?"

"Oh, please," Qui-Gon replied, almost shocked at the faint whimper in his voice. Did the "Princess" persona take Obi-Wan over like this, manipulating him until each word spoken sounded as though someone else was speaking?

With unfeigned reluctance, he began to ease off Marshmallow's soft bulk.

"Stay there," Obi-Wan said quickly, and pushed on the small of Qui-Gon's back to pin him to the bear. Heat shot through him at the sheer need in Qui-Gon's voice, compounded by the roles. Without any other response, he teased his lubed fingers between Qui-Gon's cheeks and played there a moment, stroking gently.

"Are you sure you want this?" he asked softly. "I don't want to hurt you." But Qui-Gon just whimpered and thrust his ass back to meet his Master's fingers, obscurely glad that Obi-Wan had allowed him to remain over the bear.

Groaning softly, Obi-Wan began to tease with more purpose. He dipped a finger just inside, then withdrew, then pushed further in. He set up a slow rhythm this way, whispering, "Force... Padawan... you're so tight. I can't wait to be inside you."

What was truly disconcerting to Qui-Gon was the realization that he was tight, that the nervousness and odd shyness which had crept over him, tightening his shoulders and stomach, had also made it rather difficult to relax and open to Obi-Wan's fingers. He moaned and arched a little, almost relishing the faint burn as his master stretched him open.

"There," Obi-Wan whispered, moving over Qui-Gon and working his hand gently. "It's scary, isn't it? But it's alright, Padawan, I've got you."

Slowly and with great, deliberate care, Obi-Wan stretched and teased, kissing the back of his padawan's shoulder and pausing twice to withdraw his hand and add more lube. It was maddening, he knew, and the perverse part of him adored that. But Qui-Gon's shivers and moans were driving him mad, too, so he thought it was only fair.

"Trust you ... Master," Qui-Gon moaned. "Always wanted it to be you ... waited for you for this ..." He ground his hips down, moaning again at the faintly bristly feel of the faded plush on Marshmallow's pink ass against his cock.

A hot, breathless groan got out of Obi-Wan's throat as he shifted over his padawan, positioning himself. The bear provided just the perfect angle, coincidentally, and he pressed against Qui-Gon's slick opening and braced on one hand.

"I promise, Padawan... this will be good."

And he slid inside, only just, and waited, breathing harder than he would have liked, given that he was supposed to be cool and calm and masterly.

It hurt. Not a lot, but more than it ever had with Obi-Wan before. A sweet, delicious hurt that flared its way down Qui-Gon's thighs to his toes. He groaned thickly and pressed back. "More," he managed to get out between clenched teeth. "Want more...."

Groaning softly, Obi-Wan held still, fighting his own urge to drive forward. Suddenly, the most perfect idea dawned on him. "Move," he whispered tightly. "Back -- onto me. Then forward." He thought of the bear under them and gripped its soft little hip, holding it still for Qui-Gon.

Qui-Gon heard another of those little whimpers leave his throat as he hesitantly pushed back. His master's cock slid further in, and oh, Force but there was something so sweetly forbidden about this. He was suddenly aware of the feelings of love and respect and helpless devotion that welled up in him at the thought that Master loved him enough to take this risk for him. Then he was moving forward, his cock once more softly abraded by the pink fur and fabric that made up the bear beneath him.

Back onto Master's cock, a little further each time, and then forward against Marshmallow's ass. Back and forward and back and forward ... and were those moans and grunts and whimpers really coming out of his own throat? "Master," he sighed adoringly. "Oh Master...."

"Force," Obi-Wan breathed, dropping his head. He began to slide forward a little at a time, rocking his hips toward Qui-Gon's ass. Finally he couldn't resist it any longer, and sank in deeply, going still and clutching the bear hard.

Caught between his master and the bear, Qui-Gon sighed happily. Grinding his hips down and then back, he reached behind himself to clutch at Obi-Wan's thigh. "Please Master ... please....

All the master could do was move, then. Holding still was too difficult and, quite frankly, ridiculous. Obi-Wan thrust, gently at first, then with slowly increasing urgency. He stared down at the pink bear parts extending lewdly from underneath Qui-Gon's hips, and it threw him completely out of the carefully-placed headspace he was in.

Qui-Gon just called me 'Master,' he thought, dazed, and the idea of it sent a hot curl of anxious need into the pit of his stomach. He looked down at the pink furry legs again and moaned, moving harder.

After eleven years of steady use, the fur on Marshmallow's ass was no longer soft and plush, and the harder his master fucked Qui-Gon into the toy, the rougher that fur felt on the oh-so-sensitive underside of his cock. The bear himself kept Qui-Gon's hips at the right angle for maximum burn as Obi-Wan's cock moved into him harder and harder, and that burn was matched by the increasingly hot friction of Marshmallow against his cock.

"Oh Force..." Qui-Gon moaned, much closer to climax than he normally would have been after such a relatively short amount of time. "Oh Master ... I ... I...."

"Yes," Obi-Wan breathed. "Yes, Qui-Gon. Do it. Grind yourself against that toy and come for your Master."

"Master!" Qui-Gon yelled, obeying without thought. He spasmed helplessly, the weight of his body compressing Marshmallow even more as he came all over the squashed stuffed animal. "Oh Master...."

The idea, the very idea of Qui-Gon calling him that and leaving the poor, badly-used plush toy covered with come sent Obi-Wan spilling over the edge. He drove into Qui-Gon one last time and followed him down, panting and shuddering, still tugging up on the hapless bear's hip.

"Mmmm..." Qui-Gon murmured after a little while. "That was ... amazing, Obi-Wan. Just amazing. Although," he added with a faint smile, "When we talked about a virgin padawan being fucked over the bear, I never ever thought it would be me."

There was nothing Obi-Wan could do in response to that but laugh. He rested his cheek on Qui-Gon's shoulder, sighing and content, if still a little puzzled by this latest encounter.

After a while, he grinned and said, "I want to be the virgin next time."

"Of course," Qui-Gon agreed generously. He reached back and stroked Obi-Wan's hip gently and then rather surreptitiously patted the bear beneath him. "I love you, Obi-Wan."

Politely choosing not to comment on Qui-Gon's oddly-placed affection, Obi-Wan nuzzled Qui-Gon's shoulder and then kissed it. "I love you too, Qui-Gon."

And silently, secretly squeezed Marshmallow's paw.

end