Master Apprentice
Archive
The Hand
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Archive: MA
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Q/O
Category: First-time, Chan, AU
Warnings: 15 year old Obi-Wan (although there is no physical contact between adult and teen, heck they aren't even on the same planet).
Spoilers: None
Feedback: Bring it on
Disclaimer: We all know who the boys really belong to, but trying to convince my brain has proven more than a little difficult. And there's certainly no money swelling my bank account.
Note: Written for the MOM. Many thanks to Emma Grant and Jedi Rita for the beta without which this story would never have been posted. Of course I couldn't leave well enough alone so I take full responsibility for any errors. Thanks to all the TX MAers for their encouragement. And a very special thanks to Mali Wane for being such a gracious host, for her encouragement and for allowing me to share the obsession!
Summary: Obi-Wan's fantasies have taken an unexpected turn.
Obi-Wan Kenobi woke up horny, his hand already curled around his hardened shaft. Smiling slightly, he relaxed back into his pillow to enjoy the fantasy that had become the focal point of his sex-life. Of course, at 15 his sex-life was solely comprised of self-pleasure, but waking to enjoy it was so much better than waking to the aftermath of another wet dream. He wondered if he should be releasing this into the Force, but some things just felt too good to let go.
Thinad was a beautiful planet and the mission he was on with his Master turned out to be much simpler than most, with both sides of the border dispute in general agreement and only a few details to be worked out. Master Da'Torl had felt his padawan would benefit more from some down time and had released him from attending the daily afternoon talks. As a result he found himself more relaxed than usual when night came. He assumed this accounted for the vividness and intensity of this particular fantasy. He wondered briefly if having a vivid sexual imagination was one of the paths to the dark side, but couldn't remember ever hearing that one mentioned in any of his master's lectures.
Normally the goal of jerking himself off was to reach climax as quickly (and sometimes as frequently) as possible. This was usually accomplished by imagining the budding breasts and soft, slender hand of one of the female padawans he had known most of his life. Four nights ago, though, he awoke envisioning an entirely new scenario. The fantasy hand had become the larger, stronger, calloused hand of an adult male, someone who not only had handled a lightsabre for many years but who also was much more experienced in handling a penis. A master's hand, whose goal was to prolong the experience as long as possible. Intellectually he knew this was impossible. It was his hand on his cock, his hand stroking himself, but the sensations were so real he found himself believing.
This hand knew just how much pressure to apply during the long, slow strokes from base to tip and back down again. This hand knew when to alternate those strokes with a firm squeeze, pulling up slightly so that the thick, leathery palm pads dragged slightly against his sensitized skin, causing shivers of pleasure to course the length of his spine. This hand knew when to swirl its thumb around his crown through the leaking fluid, spreading it around the entire tip of his cock. This hand knew when to caress and grip his balls while gently pressing a little finger into his opening before returning to those maddeningly slow strokes. And no matter that Obi-Wan was desperate for relief, this hand would not be rushed.
Panting, Obi-Wan thrust upward into the grip on his penis. He needed to come, but the hand continued to tease him, bringing his so close, then leaving him on the edge. Again and again he thought his release was imminent, only to be denied the moment. Such sweet torment, such delicious torture. And then, just when he thought he might die of sensation overload, it happened. Spasm after spasm wracked his body as his orgasm rendered him incapable of both voluntary thought and movement. Yes, this hand definitely knew what it was doing.
Sated and drowsy, on the cusp of sleep, Obi-Wan's last conscious thought was that it was too bad that the master who would belong to a hand like that would never be interested in taking an inexperienced youthful lover.
On Coruscant, Qui-Gon Jinn woke for the fourth night in a row to the results of yet another wet-dream, unsure whether he should be disgusted or amused. His approaching 50th birthday was apparently having more of an effect on him than he had thought. Surely if he was going to mourn his lost youth, there were less messy ways of doing so.
Cleaning himself and preparing to return to sleep, Qui-Gon envisioned the unfamiliar face in his dreams. Laughing, blue-green eyes and an amused, mischievous smile, housed in a face both intelligent and handsome. A young face, barely past boyhood.
Qui-Gon thought again about that smile. Maybe if that was his last thought before sleep, his next dream -- and somehow he knew there would be another -- would involve those lips wrapped around his cock. Foolish man, he thought. As if someone that young would ever want an old man for a lover. And yet it was a dream of thrusting into that warm, moist mouth that woke him later with his second orgasm of the night.
Still deeply asleep, Obi-Wan moaned slightly in his sleep, his tongue snaking out to taste more of the slight bitter, salty taste that suddenly filled his mouth.
End