Master Apprentice Archive Tie Me Down And Call Me Padawan Quick search:

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Archive: M_A. Others please ask. Also archived at http://www.jediphiles.com/index69.htm

Category: PWP

Rating: NC-17

Spoilers: none

Summary: Obi-Wan's horny; Qui-Gon's always ready and able to serve.

Disclaimer: George Lucas is da man. He owns everything. We just play.

Warnings: Features m/m sex, mild bondage. Flavored oils may contain phenylalanine.

Note: In answer to Fox's statement, "There's more to life than sex," I say, "What's your point?" This was written to satisfy my craving for pure, mindless smut. Alas, I could not keep from the tormenting the boys just a little. Call me the Queen of Angst.

"I'm horny." The door to their quarters slid closed almost silently as Obi-Wan shed his cloak and slung it haphazardly on a chair.

Qui-Gon's head came up from the datapad he was hunched over, but he did not turn around. "Not a statement conducive to romance," he said neutrally, watching his mate out of the corner of his eye. Obi-Wan's shoulder-length hair hung limp and wet; he must have showered at the gym. And shaved -- the beard was gone again. Probably for a mission. Qui-Gon secretly relished the smooth-shaven look, but he would never try to influence Obi-Wan's preference for a full beard.

"Suppose I don't _want_ romance." Obi-Wan unfastened his belt and slung it atop the cloak. His movements were quick and fierce, a coiled spring ready to explode.

"Suppose I do?" There was something powerfully arousing about Obi-Wan in this state; he fairly radiated sexual potency. Still, Qui-Gon was not above teasing him just a bit before giving him what he so obviously needed.

"Romance," Obi-Wan said, tossing aside his tunics. He stalked toward his mate. "You mean ... soft lights?" The lights dimmed to near darkness. "... candles?" Flames sparked around the room from candles scattered on shelves and tables. A spicy, warm scent arose from them, seeming to heat the room a notch. "... music?" A soft melody woven around the calls of woodland creatures began to play from hidden speakers. "... sweets?" He had reached Qui-Gon now, stripped down to nothing but his leggings. The older man had not moved, just watched his lover approach with his heart in his throat. Obi-Wan was standing close, looming over him. He could smell his lover's musk, feel his heat.

Obi-Wan drew a small packet from his pocket and opened it to reveal an Alderaanian delicacy, chocolate and crisp citrus and a hint of buttery grain. A decadent treat ... and expensive. He broke the candy in half and offered one part to Qui-Gon.

The Master smiled slowly, then opened his mouth, allowing Obi-Wan to place the candy there. He licked and kissed at the fingers as they brushed his lips, eliciting a hiss of breath from Obi-Wan. Oh, but the young man was in quite a state. Qui-Gon wondered briefly what had brought this on, then decided he didn't care all that much at the moment.

Obi-Wan popped the sweet in his mouth and held out his hand. "Or do you want dancing?" he continued, one eyebrow raised in query.

Qui-Gon allowed himself to be pulled to his feet and into his lover's arms, but Obi-Wan made no move to dance. Instead, he slid his arms up around Qui-Gon's neck and pulled him down, murmuring, "Or perhaps, long, slow, deep kisses?"

Qui-Gon's arms came around the man in his arms, holding him lightly as their mouths met. Obi-Wan tasted of the candy and something earthier, more primal. The younger man moaned as their tongues touched. He deepened the kiss, and Qui-Gon relaxed into it, content to let Obi-Wan lead in this obviously planned seduction.

Oh, but it was good. He'd forgotten how much he enjoyed the feel of smooth, youthful skin against his lips. He pressed hot kisses to Obi-Wan's cheeks, his throat, and the irresistible cleft in his chin. "I love this dimple," he murmured.

Obi-Wan chuckled. "I know." He tugged Qui-Gon's face down and urged their mouths together again. He took a step back, tugging Qui-Gon along with him, their mouths still locked in a sensuous, open-mouthed exploration. Suddenly Qui-Gon realized Obi-Wan really meant to dance, and he let himself be led into the middle of the floor. The music had no rhythm that he could perceive, but Obi-Wan swayed them in a slow shuffle-step around the room, kissing him sweetly all the while. The younger man's body was pressed against his from knee to chest, and there was no mistaking the hot, needy shaft that fairly pulsed against his thigh.

After a long while, Obi-Wan broke the kiss and laid his head on Qui-Gon's shoulder, still dancing to his own slow, sensual beat. He was breathing heavily, and Qui-Gon could feel him trying to tamp down his arousal to match his master's easier, more sedate pace.

Qui-Gon's heart filled to overflowing, and his voice, when he spoke, was husky. "Sometimes I can't believe you still want me, after all these years."

"Only thirteen years, love," Obi-Wan murmured.

"Yes, but I was an old man even then."

"Mmm." Obi-Wan ran a hand inside Qui-Gon's tunics and pushed them aside, then laid a kiss on his bare skin above the circular scar.

"What, no protest?" Qui-Gon stopped dancing and gave him a mock frown.

Obi-Wan looked up, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "You _are_ old, love. It's harder for me to deny since I'm getting on up there myself."

"Nonsense."

"No. If the white hairs and wrinkles don't convince me, the music in the Padawan Lounge certainly does." He laughed. "I actually caught myself wondering how anyone could listen to such awful noise, and so loud!"

Qui-Gon fought back a grin. He met Obi-Wan's eyes, and the depth of need there took his breath away. He threw off his tunics. "No more talk," he growled.

He was gratified to see Obi-Wan's eyes darken. He reached out and crushed the younger man in a tight embrace, bent down to take his mouth in a searing kiss. The feel of skin on skin was exquisite. Obi-Wan's shaft scalded his thigh through the cloth of his leggings; he felt an answering twitch between his legs as his own shaft began to fill.

"Oh, Force, Qui-Gon," Obi-Wan gasped when he came up for air. "It's been so long."

Qui-Gon thought back. How long had it been since they'd made love? Several weeks, at least. With his duties on the Council and Obi-Wan's responsibilities to his Padawan -- not to mention their respective missions -- they had little time together, and even then they were often distracted or simply exhausted. He chided himself. His own libido had waned considerably once the newness of their bond had worn off, and he sometimes forgot Obi-Wan was only in his thirties. No wonder the young man was fairly vibrating with tension.

Obi-Wan's grip on his tightened. "Master." Desperation colored Obi-Wan's voice, and a tacit plea shone from his eyes.

Qui-Gon could no more ignore that plea than he could stop his own heart from beating. "Padawan," he growled, and claimed the younger man's mouth in a rough, possessive kiss. "Take off your clothes." He backed away and started stripping out of his uniform.

Obi-Wan gulped. "Yes, Master." He hurried to comply.

Qui-Gon smiled grimly. This was an old game between them, not one that Qui-Gon particularly relished, but one his Obi-Wan seemed to need on occasion, and he was happy to oblige. It was as if Obi-Wan sought reassurance in being dominated by the solid, serene presence of his former Master, like a rock to anchor himself upon in a storm.

He gathered Obi-Wan into his arms and kissed him hard, bowing the younger man's back with the force of it. Obi-Wan groaned deeply as their bare flesh made contact. The tip of his shaft nestled between Qui-Gon's legs, brushing his sac and painting his lover's flesh with a line of moisture. It was Qui-Gon's turn to groan. "Bed," he murmured.

"Yes," Obi-Wan whispered, letting himself be pulled by the hand into their bedroom.

Qui-Gon pressed his young lover into the oversized bed, driving the tension higher with a series of wet, deep kisses that left Obi-Wan breathless and almost incoherent. From a drawer in the bedside table he took what he would need: several lengths of silk, a bottle of flavored oil, a blindfold. He grasped Obi-Wan's hands one after the other and drew them above his head, used the ties to bind them together at the wrists and fasten them to the headboard. Obi-Wan watched him, eyes at half mast, panting softly. "Need you ..." he moaned.

Qui-Gon kissed him again before gently tying the blindfold over Obi-Wan's eyes. It was a shame to extinguish such a bright light, but Obi-Wan liked it that way; liked the complete giving over of control to his partner. As always when they made love this way, Qui-Gon was moved by the trust his lover placed in him. He sighed softly and sat back.

Obi-Wan's shaft rose from the center of his body like a separate creature, angry red and throbbing. It would take only the barest touch to bring him off, and that simply would not do.

Qui-Gon let him simmer, writhing slightly and moaning with each breath, as he took some of the oil and heated it in his palm. Obi-Wan could not see what he was doing, would not use the Force to sense him. He waited silently for whatever Qui-Gon might choose to do to him.

The Master dipped the tip of his middle finger in the oil and swirled it lightly around a pink nipple. Obi-Wan hissed and arched his back, the nipple pebbling instantly. Qui-Gon did the same with the other nipple, rubbing the hard knob of flesh until Obi-Wan moaned aloud. He smiled. "So responsive," he murmured. "So delicious." He bent and licked the oil away, using the point of his tongue to stimulate the buds of flesh, then nipped them with his teeth. The spicy sweetness of the oil burst on his tongue, along with the more subtle savor of his lover's skin. He rumbled his approval. Obi-Wan gasped and bucked, clearly close to being undone by this alone.

He rose to his knees, stilling Obi-Wan's hips with a hand on his abdomen. "Slowly, Padawan."

Obi-Wan subsided, but his breath was punctuated by soft moans. Qui-Gon leaned over him, caught his mouth in a kiss, then ran his hands down his lover's outstretched arms from wrists to shoulder. He pressed kisses everywhere his hands touched, ending up with his face buried in an armpit, inhaling deeply of his lover's scent. His tongue came out, lapping at a nipple again. Obi-Wan's hips began to rise and fall in a subconscious rhythm, seeking stimulation, seeking release.

Qui-Gon took pity on him. He gathered some more oil in his hands and warmed it, then stroked it over his lover's shaft. At the first touch he thought he might have gone too far; Obi-Wan shouted and arched completely off the bed. Qui-Gon saw the skin of Obi-Wan's sac tighten and pebble. "Not yet," he breathed, and with oil-slicked hands stroked the eager testicles very gently down and away, the pressure of his fingers preventing completion.

Obi-Wan groaned and writhed as Qui-Gon's hands continued to work him, bringing him to a peak and then gentling him down, each time drawing closer and closer to the razor's edge between arousal and pain. His shaft was like a living thing in Qui-Gon's hands, hot and silky hard and beautiful. Qui-Gon longed to take it in his mouth, just the swollen tip of it, run his tongue along its length, but he knew if he did it would be the end of their evening. He was not ready to end it yet.

He took some more oil and warmed it, drenched two fingers and worked them down below Obi-Wan's sac to the tight opening, coating the outside with oil. Obi-Wan lifted his knees and spread his legs, his voice a soft, hoarse litany: "Yes, yes, in me, oh, yes, now, oh, in me, inside me, Master, oh, yes, need you, please, please ..."

Qui-Gon bent and licked the oil away, the sweet flavor mixed with an even earthier taste of Obi-Wan. The young man froze, then groaned deeply as he seemed to realize what was being done to him. "So good," he said. "Oh, oh, I'm going to --"

Qui-Gon reached out and stroked Obi-Wan's sac again, held it firmly away from his body, once more delaying his climax. Obi-Wan whimpered softly.

Qui-Gon lifted one of Obi-Wan's legs and settled the calf against his shoulder. He turned and brushed a kiss against the muscle there, eliciting another loud groan. He ran his hands from thigh to toe, releasing tension, then he did the same with the other leg. When he was satisfied that Obi-Wan was no longer on the brink of climax, he drenched his fingers again and pressed them into his lover's body.

"Yes!" Obi-Wan cried. He thrust his hips down, trying to take more of his lover into himself, but Qui-Gon would not be hurried. Qui-Gon took a bit more oil and used three fingers to stretch his lover, then four. All the while Obi-Wan thrust against him and moaned encouragement.

At last Obi-Wan was prepared. Qui-Gon reached for the oil, then stopped. He leaned forward instead and tugged the blindfold away. Obi-Wan's eyes were wide and dazed. His mouth hung slack as he watched his Master gather more oil and very slowly, languidly stroke it onto his hardening shaft.

Oh, but it felt good. He reflected ruefully that he really -was- an old man, slower to harden, quicker to climax. Luckily the Force was good for more than levitating rocks.

He lifted one of Obi-Wan's legs to drape over his hip and turned until he was facing his lover at a 90-degree angle. It was like penetrating him from behind except he could see those expressive eyes. The position required almost no exertion, so it was perfect for prolonged, slow lovemaking. He pressed himself inside, just the swollen tip, and was rewarded with a soul-deep groan from his lover. Obi-Wan's eyes drooped closed as Qui-Gon slowly rocked in and out, penetrating him by degrees. The young man braced his bound hands against the headboard and used the leverage to thrust back, impaling himself on the thick shaft.

Qui-Gon moaned in bliss. Obi-Wan's body was as hot and as slick and as tight as he remembered. He spooned up beside his lover, half behind and half over him, turning his head so that he could take his mouth in a deep kiss even as he surged in and out of his body. They rocked together, filling the room with soft cries and moans as their pleasure built.

At last Obi-Wan threw his head back, crying out, "Oh, oh, oh," in wordless denial of the inevitable. Qui-Gon stopped moving, reached down swiftly to clutch his lover's shaft at the base with a firm grip, stopping him just in time. Obi-Wan gasped aloud, begging and cursing with equal fervor. Qui-Gon shushed him with another kiss. When at last Obi-Wan stopped struggling, Qui-Gon released him and surged into him almost brutally. "Mine!" he growled. He pulled out and thrust again and again and again, stroking hard against his lover's prostate, punctuating each thrust with a cry of, "Mine! Mine! Mine!"

"Yours!" Obi-Wan shouted, and convulsed with a shout that sounded for all the world like a death cry. Hot liquid fountained out of him, white streams pouring like ribbons over both of them as he writhed and twisted in his bonds.

Qui-Gon grunted and froze, the clenching of his lover's channel taking him over the edge. For a moment he held his breath, then he, too, shouted his pleasure out loud, pistoning a few more times in and out of his lover's body until at last he collapsed, spent. He had just enough strength to reach up and untie Obi-Wan's hands, then he gathered the young man in his arms and held on tightly.

Obi-Wan turned in his embrace, laid his head against Qui-Gon's shoulder, a suspicious wetness on his cheek.

"Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon whispered.

"Call me Padawan," Obi-Wan said softly, imploringly.

"Padawan," Qui-Gon said. "What's wrong?"

Obi-Wan chuckled, a rueful sound. "It's nothing. I ... I decided to recommend Anakin for his trials."

"Ah."

Obi-Wan raised his head to look at him. "Ah?"

Qui-Gon smiled. "I shall soon have to address you as Master Kenobi."

Obi-Wan laid his head back down again. "Do you think he's ready?"

Qui-Gon stroked his damp hair, affection making his heart sing. "He is, love. You have done well."

Obi-Wan relaxed against him. "Well, that's all right, then."

"And Obi-Wan?"

Obi-Wan raised his head again. "Yes, Master?"

"Master or no, you will always be my Padawan."

Obi-Wan rewarded him with a brilliant smile.

END