Dedicated: To Van, who thought I missed an opportunity for wild
sex with "Qui-Lion." You should know, dear, that given
sufficient incentive I can always find another reason.
<g> Thank you for everything!
Disclaimer: The boys belong to George Lucas.
I was a tad worried about Qui-Gon. He planned to meet me for
afternoon exercises and never showed. I tried to touch his mind
through our bond but failed. We were on Coruscant, in the
middle of the Jedi Academy, so what could happen? I decided he
must be shielding himself - he'd been called to a Council
meeting this morning and was undoubtedly protecting me from his
foul mood. I sparred instead with Stavron, whose Master was
off-planet on a special assignment.
I skipped showering and changing into clean clothes at the
practice hall, thinking that if Qui-Gon was aggravated by a
Council decision, I'd drag him into the bath with me. A nice
hot bath with loads of sudsy bubbles and a little recreational
loving always improved his mood, and certainly never hurt my
own.
He was napping on the couch in our quarters, sprawled on his
back. The couch is too short for his length, so his legs
dangled over the edge. One arm hung into the air, the other
rested between his side and the back of the couch. He was
wearing only his trousers and I mentally drooled while
contemplating my course of action. Let him sleep or wake him
with a kiss? Easy decision, really. He never managed to sleep
off a dispute with a Council - only intense meditation with the
soothing comfort of the Force or great sex with me restored his
peaceful equilibrium.
I quietly made preparations, removing my boots, socks, sash and
outer tunic. I left my inner tunic and trousers - Qui-Gon liked
to open his present himself. Kneeling by the couch, I feathered
kisses over his face, his closed eyelids, his sensitive lips,
his high cheekbones, that majestic nose.
No response.
Highly annoying. I was dying for his lips to connect with mine.
Hours had elapsed since we kissed this morning. My lips were
suffering from neglect, my arms were empty. He must be more
seriously asleep than I calculated. I wanted him awake and
aroused.
I feathered some more kisses on his face, adding small licks
and nips, spreading to his ears and throat. Still no response.
I was getting more than annoyed. I was becoming concerned.
Nothing ever prevented Qui-Gon from reacting to one of my
advances. I shook his shoulder, calling his name gently, not
wanting to waken him abruptly.
Still no response.
I shook him harder, saying his name louder.
He woke, yawning, stretching his full length, every muscle in
his body rippling. I used our bond to seek his mind. As he
segued from dreams to consciousness, his thoughts filled with a
wildness, a primal passion, an unthinking animal awareness.
Damn damn damn. He couldn't have been drugged with the
Catarrian drug again. He couldn't.
His eyes trapped mine, the familiar azure blue, but gleaming
with only a beast's limited perceptions and needs - to sleep,
to eat, to mate.
As soon as the insatiable craving to claim me obsessed his
mind, his body leaped at mine. Rather than resisting, I
accepted his solid weight and rolled back on the carpet. He was
on top of me, hands holding my wrists to the ground, legs
outside my own, dominating me with his imposing size and
strength.
I sighed. Damn. It had happened again. I would have to wrestle
him off me and call Yoda for assistance. The aged Master could
handle any necessary commitments for us during the next few
days. I would lock Qui-Gon in our rooms until the drug wore out
of his system. I started to flip him over to free myself.
He growled, a rumbling sound that developed in his chest and
gathered volume until it emerged from his mouth with a fierce
warning. That growl said I was his. And a demonstration was on
his agenda.
"Qui-Gon. Qui-Lion." I attempted logical discourse, appealing
to the rational mind behind the beast. "Let me up. I must call
Yoda." I tried to roll and this time he dropped his entire
weight on mine. Every part of our bodies touched. My breath was
forced from my lungs. He began kissing me as I expelled, and
his ferocity almost suffocated me.
I could feel him rubbing his chest against mine, his inner
thighs sliding against my outer thighs. I grew dizzy as his
kiss lengthened, continued for an eternity of licking lips and
seeking tongue. My lips would be swollen when he ended his
possession.
He released my lips and growled again, a savage victorious
sound. His paws ripped at my inner tunic, exposing my chest. He
nuzzled his face on mine, on my throat, on my chest, scratching
his beard on my skin. He was staking his claim to my body. His
hair was a wild and free mane, caressing my skin with its
silkiness. His legs and hips were still pressed tightly to
mine, and his heavy erection stabbed at me.
Slinking down, he grabbed at my trousers and undergarment,
pulling them off my hips. Things were getting out of hand. Or
more accurately, too much in his hands. I started gathering my
inner control, concentrating my mental focus. Ever since the
last fiasco on Catarria, I had trained diligently, improving my
ability to use the Force in small, precise measurements, rather
than extravagant battle gestures.
In his drugged state, he shouldn't have understood what I
planned. As soon as my first Force tendril jailed one hand, he
seemed to realize my intentions. His free large paw quickly
snaked to my penis. He clutched it and squeezed, roaring a
definite warning with a flash of white teeth.
There are some things no man will risk. Peeling a hand the size
of Qui-Gon's off that most sensitive instrument when a Jedi
Master doesn't want it removed is one of them. I love Qui-Gon's
hands. They are huge paws which seem to span my entire body
when he caresses me. Comforting, caring, exciting, they also
are callused and hellishly strong. My escape efforts subsided.
I liberated the captured hand and slackened my muscles to
signal my submission.
With rumbling approval, his fingers began kneading me. Not
pumping as he normally would, but leaving his hand in one
place, his fingers flexing and rolling. I gasped at his amazing
skill as my cock rapidly stiffened under his ministrations. He
hunched over, his broad tongue darting out to lap at the first
leaking drops. A satiated hunger flowed into our bond, as if
he'd drunk the finest deverian cream.
I rose up on my elbows to stare down at him, hunkered between
my spread legs. His hand and mouth shrouded my penis. His eyes
partially closed, as if supremely contented with life. His
mouth slurped loudly on the head. His hand finally stroked up
and down while the other fondled my balls. I flopped back,
moaning, lost to the bliss of being surrounded by my very own
Qui-Lion.
He turned me over, hands raising my hips, positioning me
before sliding his own trousers down to his knees. I folded my
arms together and placed my head on them. There was no oil and
I didn't think he was sane enough to use his fingers to loosen
me. I began centering myself, preparing to disperse the
anticipated pain into the Force.
Somehow, he sensed my strategy. Pearly teeth bit down savagely
at my shoulder before I could expect attack, breaking my
concentration. That warning purr sounded. I purred back with
docile acquiescence, accepting his supremacy. Despite my best
efforts, rough animal sex was going to happen here and now. I
decided to take what enjoyment I could and worry about
assuaging Qui-Gon's troubled conscience when he recovered.
The potent shaft rubbed on my opening and with a defiant roar,
Qui-Gon shoved his hardness into me. The pain didn't
materialize, as a soft maneuver of the Force opened me to
accept his intrusion.
Damn. He was faking. He'd been faking the entire time. Not only
could he blank his mind, enclose his intelligence with
primitive thoughts, he could probe into my body and ease the
tenseness of my muscles.
As soon as I finished killing him, I promised he would teach me
both techniques. Beginning with the second one. A Master should
never hide knowledge from his Padawan Learner.
Then nothing mattered any more, nothing but his driving,
powerful thrusts. His hands clasped my hipbones, moving me to
his feral tempo. My folded arms took the brunt of our combined
weight and I feared the vigor of his lunges would pound me
through the floor. I went insane, shoving back harder and
harder, asking for more and more. I never wanted him to stop. I
was a great big Qui-Lion fuck toy and I demanded everything he
had to give. Or was that an Obi-Kitty fuck toy to be used by a
Qui-Lion? My brain dissolved into hysterics as I cried aloud in
sexual rapture. Semantics were meaningless as I verged on
climaxing.
He stopped, damn him, and bit fiercely at my other shoulder. I
would have matching bruises in the morning. The pain dimmed my
erection. He waited with only the tip of his cock in my body,
petting my back soothingly. His sweat dripped onto my back, as
my sweat trickled onto the floor. When I calmed enough that my
eyes could focus, I could see drops of wetness turning the
carpet dark. He waited until my breath steadied.
I purred, a questioning, needy purr. He growled in my ear,
ordering my verbal surrender. I pleaded with alternating purrs
and moans. I begged with higher and higher sounds of want and
frustrated despair. When I whimpered, he gave me what I yearned
for, thrusting with a smooth rhythm, faster and faster. Raw
power coursed from his hands clenching my hips, from his cock
in my body, until I could taste his domineering energy in my
mouth, smell his aggressive male aroma in the air. The speed of
his strokes increased until the world vanished, leaving behind
only the maddening feel of his mighty shaft expanding to fill
my entire body.
I screamed even though I tried to purr, a shrill keening noise
as his come poured into my body and mine spilled endlessly on
the floor. We collapsed, plastered together, the alpha male
dozing on his subdued mate.
When breathing no longer hurt, Qui-Gon rolled off, urging me to
cuddle with him. I gladly settled my head on his shoulder,
loving the afterglow of togetherness. He whispered into my
hair, "I wanted to do that on Catarria. That's why I leaped out
the window. I had to. I couldn't control myself around you."
I gave a mild chuckle. "You mean - you made me chase you all
over the city and embarrass ourselves on live vidcasts to avoid
wild jungle sex?"
He didn't share my amusement. "I could have hurt you, my love.
I would never cause you pain. I had to make sure my skill was
sufficient for your pleasure."
No wonder he'd been so helpful when I asked to improve my
control over minor manipulations of the Force. He'd been
studiously practicing a surprise on the side. "Gods, Qui-Gon,
that - ." I stopped, licking one nipple reassuringly before
resuming, "that would have been worth it, with or without the
nifty Force trick. I'm Jedi, I won't break. When are you going
to teach me, by the way? The laundress is beginning to complain
about us and the massage oil stains."
"Any time you like, Obi-Wan. You're such a skilled student, I'm
positive you will immediately master the ability." The words
might have a flippant tone, but his voice was warm and adoring.
I thought more about the public mortification we could have
avoided if Qui-Gon had succumbed to basic impulses. I began
laughing, big whooping laughs radiating from my belly.
Qui-Gon's warm hand rested on my abdomen, rising up and down
with the vibration of my stomach muscles. He watched me with a
quizzical expression until I wore myself out.
"Something amuses you, Padawan?"
I craned my head back to look at him. "I was thinking - we
could start Obi-Kitty and Qui-Lion's Maxims of Life. I can
quote them when you're being too civilized for my tastes. The
first could be - When in doubt, fuck your apprentice. Or maybe
- When all else fails, fuck your apprentice." I started
laughing again at Qui-Gon's bemusement. He covered my lips with
his, swallowing my laughter, virtually devouring my tongue as
he leisurely but completely explored my mouth. I stopped
laughing and began moaning.
Qui-Gon apparently decided my hysterics would be improved by
exhaustion. He proceeded to demonstrate for the remainder of
the afternoon and long into the night, that no matter what we
decided the first half of the maxim would be, his skill at the
second truly made him the king in my life.
Archive 