Turn Away

by Emila-Wan Kenobi

Title: Turn Away
Author: Emila-Wan Kenobi
Feedback: Oh, give it to me baby ...
Archive: M_A. Others please ask.
Category: PWP
Pairing: Q/O
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: None
Summary: Qui-Gon discovers something naughty in Obi-Wan's bag.
Disclaimer: George Lucas is da man. He owns everything. We just play.
Warnings: None
Series: None, thank the Maker
Note: Answer to a first line challenge by myself for MMoM.

"I can explain," Obi-Wan said.

Qui-Gon looked up with a start, letting the item he'd been holding tumble back into Obi-Wan's bag. He'd thought to be helpful, for once, and had come into Obi-Wan's room to gather his dirty laundry while his apprentice was showering.

That wasn't strictly true, he chided himself. Ever since Obi-Wan confession of desire, on his nameday several months ago, Qui-Gon had found himself growing more and more aware of his apprentice as a man. The casual nudity, the close quarters, the mischievous humor, the sly innuendo, the very smell and heat and brilliance of the strong body and keen mind of Obi-Wan Kenobi were conspiring to overthrow all of Qui-Gon's best intentions, until he had been reduced to this: using the pretext of gathering laundry to indulge his fantasies, growing hard while clutching a pair of sweat-soaked leggings to his face and inhaling Obi-Wan's intoxicating musk.

A few seconds of indulging his shameful lust, and he'd forced himself to stuff the leggings into a sack. Grabbing the rest of Obi-Wan's filthy clothes, he'd discovered something hard hidden inside a pair of socks -- a black glass dildo, veritably saturated with Obi-Wan's unique Force-presence.

Qui-Gon had lied when he'd told Obi-Wan he refused to consider a relationship with him. The very idea of it consumed him. Yet one more reason to exercise restraint. His own master, Dooku, had seduced him when Qui-Gon was Obi-Wan's age -- legally able to consent, but still young enough to fall prey to hero worship and the skillful manipulations of an older man in a position of power and trust. Qui-Gon would not do the same to his own apprentice, no matter how prettily he begged. Time enough for such things once Obi-Wan was knighted, no longer under Qui-Gon's direct influence and control.

But oh, how tempted he was to give in, especially at this moment, when the evidence of Obi-Wan's sexual activity lay gleaming blackly from inside his bag, and the man himself stood in the doorway clad only in a precariously drooping towel. Obi-Wan's expression was shocked; as well he should be, finding his master invading his rooms and rummaging through his personal effects.

"There's no need," Qui-Gon said hastily, horrified to feel himself blushing. He'd already unpacked his own bag and stripped down to leggings, waiting his turn for the 'fresher, so he was forced to shift the laundry sack in order to hide his needful erection. The organ in question twitched, growing impossibly fuller at the proximity of so much glistening, wet skin. Obi-Wan's body was a masterpiece of strength and flexibility. The scent of body soap steamed off Obi-Wan in waves, making Qui-Gon's mouth go dry. He forced himself to look away.

Obi-Wan crossed his arms and leaned against the door frame, effectively blocking the exit. "I bought it because it reminded me of you. Well, the size of it, anyway. The color is more Master Windu's shade, don't you think?"

Obi-Wan's insouciance had the incongruous effect of hardening Qui-Gon's resolve (if not other things). Why must the boy keep pushing the issue? "We've had this discussion, Padawan."

"What discussion is that? Oh, wait, the one where I beg you to fuck me, and you say no? You're right. That one *has* grown tiresome."

Qui-Gon looked down, suddenly weary beyond bearing. "Please, let me pass," he said softly.

Obi-Wan, looking chastened, stepped further into the room and gestured Qui-Gon through the door. Once he was outside, however, Obi-Wan spoke again. "Master."

Those words, in that voice! Qui-Gon suppressed a shudder. All he wanted was to flee to his room, to put a closed door between himself and the greatest temptation he had ever faced. With effort, he turned and met Obi-Wan's gaze, waiting.

"I hope you don't begrudge me this." Obi-Wan gestured towards his pack. "It's all I have ... until you say yes."

Qui-Gon closed his eyes. How simple it would be to surrender to what they both wanted. But he was a Master, and he knew now that he loved Obi-Wan too much to let this happen. Not now. Not when there might be any doubt, later on, about Obi-Wan's ability to give full and free consent.

"I can't ..." Qui-Gon whispered.

Obi-Wan was silent for a heartbeat, then, softly: "I know, Master. I'm sorry."

Qui-Gon looked up again, turning to face Obi-Wan, who stood far too near for him comfort. The look of longing and shame on Obi-Wan's face nearly broke his heart. Surely it wouldn't hurt to give the boy some small hope? "You're not the only one who's finding it ... hard ... to wait." Qui-Gon reached out, ran a finger down Obi-Wan's braid to collect a drop of water that hung there, then lifted it to his lips and tasted it. Force, what he wouldn't give to lick every drop of water from Obi-Wan's flesh, rub his face on the generous bulge beneath that towel -- but no, he had to be strong. "I can't even say that I intend to say yes," he said, as if to himself. He spun and walked away, crossed into his own room and gently shut the door.

Once safely inside, Qui-Gon leaned heavily with his back against the wall, forcing himself to breathe deeply. That had not gone at all well. He dropped the sack of laundry and plunged a hand into his leggings, drawing out his overeager, aching cock and fisting it roughly. The other hand he jammed into his mouth, to stifle a groan of longing.

He heard an echoing moan from Obi-Wan's room. He knew he shouldn't look, there was no good that could come from it, but curiosity got the better of him. He cracked the door open a few inches and peered through.

Obi-Wan had left his door open, and he lay back on his bed, arms out, a stiff erection tenting his towel. His hips moved gently, hypnotically, as he moaned again.

Qui-Gon stroked his own cock, imagining himself striding over to the bed, whipping off that towel, and sinking balls deep into the heat and pressure between those firm, round cheeks.

Obi-Wan rolled suddenly, grabbed the dildo from his pack, fumbled a bit with a tube of lubricant. Then he rose up on his knees, head and shoulders bunched against the pillows, towel rucked over his waist, and rammed the thing home, groaning lustily.

Qui-Gon had the perfect angle to see the dildo as it slid wetly in and out of Obi-Wan's body. Between Obi-Wan's legs, his balls were drawn up in a tight sac, and his generous cock bobbed, thick and dark with blood, in time with the dildo's thrusts.

"Oh, yes, yes," Obi-Wan groaned, ass in the air, fucking himself with abandon. Qui-Gon stroked himself frantically, knowing he should turn away from the sight but unable to do so.

Then, without even a touch to his cock, Obi-Wan shouted, "Master!" and convulsed, creamy ribbons pouring out of him in waves.

Qui-Gon turned away at the last moment, spending himself into the laundry sack with a strangled grunt. He was suddenly grateful for the laundry droids, who never questioned anything they might find among the linens.

He had the presence of mind to close the door again, very gently, before collapsing on his bed. It was quite a while before he felt ready to rise again and take his own turn in the 'fresher.

The End

Note: You can see the companion piece from Obi-Wan's POV here: "Let Him See."