Master Apprentice 
Archive
Theme and Timbre: Tessitura
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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: NC-17
Warnings None
Spoilers: none
Summary: Qui-Gon experiences Obi-Wan's vocal range
Notes: All mistakes are mine. Thanks to Mac for the beta.
Feedback: Waited for with bated breath.
Disclaimers: Lucas owns it all. I don't have enough money to pay attention.
Tessitura - The range of an instrumental or a vocal part.
He sighs as our lips part, my breath leaving his lungs. I wrap his long braid around my hand and tug, needing the weight of his lips against mine, his body upon my thighs. I want to breathe in his essence, his Light. His eyes reflect mine and he leans into me. He drinks from me with a smile.
He murmurs his love, his need. My name is a prayer upon my lover's tongue, grounding me. We move, slowly, our whispers wrapping about one another, drawing us -- step by step, kiss by kiss -- into our bedroom. His hands weave in my hair, holding me tightly, bending me down to receive my blessings.
He moans. My fingers slide over his thighs, my lips trace the line of his jaw, the dimple in his chin. His body waits for me, hidden within layers of cloth that I peel away, exposing him like some exotic fruit. I scrape my teeth along his exposed shoulder, drawing a gasp. I hunger for him, for the essence of my Obi-Wan. I cannot remove his clothing fast enough.
His groans fill our room, crawling beneath mussed sheets and over my desk and into my closets and through me. I lick him, running my tongue along his flanks, his stomach. When I find a spot, a nerve that drags those deep sounds from his throat, I mark him with my teeth. I mark him as mine.
His cries, harsh as a bird's, buffet me, call for me. I strain to remain still as he moves upon me, body raising and falling, surrounding me with unbelievable pressure. Heat. He calls to me, begs me to move, to take him. So hot and I can't breathe and my hands grab his hips. I thrust, drowning myself.
His scream, joined with mine, echoes within the Force, within this room, within my head. I pour myself out, barely noticing the heat of his seed spread upon my belly. I am lost, caught between the love and desperation buried in our screams and the power of my release. Will I ever again separate the sound of his voice from the knowledge of bliss? Will I ever want to?
He sighs, arm slipping around my waist. He settles into the form I know so well, padawan braid against my chest, strong leg covering mine. His breath settles, soft snores tickling the hair on my chest. I allow the rhythm to lull me to sleep.
The End