The Waiting Game

by Ula Luva

Title: The Waiting Game
Author: Ula Luva
Rating: NC-17
Categories: Q/O, PWP, POV
Archive: M_A only
Feedback: Yes, please!

Warnings: D/s, sort of. Unusual application of sorbet.

Disclaimers: Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan belong to George Lucas. I wish they belonged to each other, if not me.

Summary: Qui-Gon loses his patience.

Author's Notes: Happy Birthday, Master Rose!

There once was a master named Rose Who kept padawans on their toes. "You know fic needs no plot --Just two boys who are hot. And squicks? I say anything goes!"

But this present didn't come for free...

Big hugs and thanks to Master Rose as well as Christina, LindaJ, Molo, and Merry for support, encouraging feedback, wonderful betas, and most of all, tolerance.

Any boo-boos lodged in this fic are due to my last-minute sticky fingers.

"Thanks, Zua," I say, taking the large bowl of garberry sorbet from her and crowding it onto the tray with the rest of Qui-Gon's lunch. In reality, I'm more grateful for the gossip she dispensed than the food.

"Any time, Hiri," she replies as I back out through the gleaming double doors. My false name jars me... Qui-Gon hasn't used it much. He's been addressing me by pet names instead of my alias, probably to avoid having 'Obi-Wan' slip out. I'm lucky that I can call him 'Master' as part of our cover.

Not that I normally use his title any more. I was knighted over a year ago and we've been lovers for the past few months.

It was a long wait, but worth it. The one thing that had made the delay tolerable was knowing my master felt the same way as I did. With a training bond between us, it just wasn't possible for us to keep our love and desire shielded from each other. Still, we did the right thing, and waited until I not only was knighted, but had finished up my year of solo field missions.

And what a homecoming that was! Though, to tell the truth, having sex with Qui-Gon always feels like a welcome home, almost as if I am slipping into a warm bath. Serene even in that act, he lets me douse my fire with his languid lovemaking. That's why I usually top, I guess; even when I receive, I do it riding my former master.

If I had my druthers, I'd bottom for real once in a while. At first I waited hopefully for him to take the lead, but now it looks like I'll be waiting forever. I can't bring myself to say anything to Qui-Gon about it; I know I can't change the way he is.

Sometimes I just wish he weren't quite so serene. It makes me wonder if waiting was as hard on him as it was on me. But none of that really matters -- I'm happy enough just to be with him now.

Even the Council seemed pleased with the news that we were paired. They all but said, "About time!" when they prepped us to pose undercover as a master and slave. With Qui-Gon making the business contacts and me chatting up the other slaves and workers, we've already collected nearly enough names to shut down the entire network centered at this pleasure resort.

In fact, this mission has been more like a junket. I'm a little sorry that we'll be wrapping it up so soon. Delicious food, nice weather, a luxurious room and the time to make use of it; we don't have to pay for our accommodations with endless diplomatic negotiations. Things have gone so smoothly that we haven't even had to perform sex in public to give credence to our cover. Our lovemaking has gone on much as usual, behind closed doors.

Maybe the credit for our success goes to the disguise specialist. In my case he insisted not only on cutting my hair back to its padawan length, but applied the depilatory a little too over-enthusiatically, in my opinion. Each time I look down, I still get a bit of a shock seeing my body -- even my pubic area -- nude and denuded as well. But it does make me look years younger and at least there's no chance of hair getting caught in the decorative chains that are threaded from my collar to my manacles.

I look up again just as I reach our door. I balance the tray in one hand and palm it open with the other.

Yes, I have to admit the disguise specialist knows his stuff... enough to leave perfection alone.

Qui-Gon is standing in the middle of the room, fists on hips. The only change in his appearance from normal is the stern expression he's wearing. Despite the crook in his nose, Qui-Gon's features have always struck me as noble. They usually convey a sense of warm caring, though on this mission, he sheds that in public and looks the part of the cold-hearted barterer of souls.

Of course his clothes are different too. Right now, he's wearing a robe and nothing else. It's not even belted shut. This robe is quite unlike the ones worn by Jedi -- yards and yards of smooth, flowing synthsilk, navy in color with abstract patterns ticked in silver threads. His icy blue eyes and the frosted glints in his dark hair shine in resonance.

But it's not the beautiful robe, or even his handsome face that captures my attention. It's the erection tenting the front of the fabric. It looks like Qui-Gon has something on his mind other than eating lunch. And now, so do I. I begin to smile as I think of how pleasantly we can spend the afternoon, with Qui-Gon stretched out like a landscape for me to explore.

His voice, gruff and loud, calls me back to the present. "Where have you been, Boy?" he demands.

Boy? That's not much of a pet name... and I'm twenty-four for Force's sake! It's not like there's anyone around in the corridor to overhear. I step inside.

"I was fetching your lunch, Master, at your command," I reply as mildly as I can, nudging the door shut with my foot.

Once the door is closed, I figure he'll revert to normal. Force, am I wrong!

"That was a half-hour ago!" he rebukes me sharply. "When I say I want something, that means that I don't want to wait for it!"

Uh oh. The room must be bugged. I notice the flower arrangement has been changed, like it is every day, since I left. Qui-Gon must have found something in it. I'll bet there's even a video feed. It's at times like this I wish we still had a training bond. I try reaching out to sense his emotions, and am baffled to find him tightly shielded. I'll have to just play along.

"I apologize, Master. The kitchen staff was busy. I returned as soon as your meal was ready. I assure you, this is all freshly prepared," I simper, holding the tray out at arm's length as an offering.

Qui-Gon slaps the tray out of my hands, sending the lunch plates flying across the room to smash into a wall. Miraculously, the bowl of garberry sorbet remains intact, rolling about before wobbling into stillness.

He grabs my chin and yanks my gaze away from the dessert and into his own cerulean stare. "I don't want food any more," he growls. "I'm hungry for something else instead."

His intense expression makes my legs go rubbery. Now I know how his adversaries must feel facing him.

He pushes my shoulders down until I am forced to my knees -- not all that difficult in my current state. My face is right at his crotch level.

"It's time for you to eat," he orders in a domineering tone -- one that he never used on me when I was his padawan.

Even though he is acting, his arousal is very real. I swear I can smell the pheromones pouring off him. I know I should ham it up for the camera, but I remain frozen like a frightened pirichick, mesmerized by the bulge in front of my face. As if to chastise me, Qui-Gon's impatient erection surges out from between the folds of his robe and taps me on the nose, breaking the spell.

His heavy shaft is flushed and hungry looking. I suck in the head, pushing back the foreskin with my tongue. The salty precum spurts in my mouth, and I feel like my insides are melting. I've given Qui-Gon this pleasure plenty of times before, but never kneeling before him, in chains, with my shoulders in his tight grip. Even thinking of the audience doesn't stop my own cock from springing up full force.

Qui-Gon groans and starts ratcheting slightly in and out, causing his robe to fall all the way open. Maybe a real slave master would just shove himself in, but he's probably afraid I'd choke. I make it up to him by using my tongue on his sweet spot and massaging the hot shaft with my hands. His flesh swells even larger inside my mouth.

Qui-Gon's fingers clench on my shoulders. He starts thrusting my whole torso back and forth, causing my erection to swing around with the motion. He isn't letting me draw this out like I normally would. He's using me like the submissive slave I'm supposed to be.

I fall into the role. It's easy with him straddled above me, looking like an angry ghod draped by the silken night sky. The slick fabric kisses my cock, time and again. I'm already on the edge, about to come.

From Qui-Gon's raspy breathing I know he won't last either. I decide to go for broke and take him deep in my throat.

"Stop! Enough of that," Qui-Gon suddenly orders, pulling my face off of his quivering member. I sit back on my heels, more than a little lost.

My confusion doesn't last long. He grabs my arms and throws me several meters onto the bed, with such force that I nearly bounce off again. How could it be that during my entire apprenticeship I never realized just how strong Qui-Gon is?

"Stay still!" he barks as a blanket of Force pins me in place, face down. Qui-Gon isn't taking any chances that I won't follow his script. To the camera it must look like I'm just an obedient bed slave. The pressure doesn't hurt, but my face is buried in a pillow, making it a little hard to breathe and impossible to see.

If the powerful man in the room with me were anyone but Qui-Gon, I'd have every reason to be frightened. As it is, I can only think "Thank the Force!" This may be the only chance I ever get to bottom the way that I've wanted. I'm burning with curiosity to find out what he will do next in the role of slave owner.

I listen for clues. A whispering rustle -- he must have slipped off the robe. A scraping noise -- the bowl being picked up, perhaps. His heavy tread comes my way, each step echoing inside me.

After a moment, Qui-Gon's hands are at my collar, detaching the chains. I hear him fussing with one of the metal loops set in the bed posts, then my right arm is pulled taut by the manacle. A few steps to the other side of the bed, and my left arm gets the same treatment.

Oh, my master is not one for half measures. He may do this only once, but he'll do it right. Restrained, I feel truly vulnerable, not just playing a role by choice. I'm going to keep these chains, even if Qui-Gon won't ever use them again. I'll tell the disguise specialist they were lost.

The mattress dips to one side, as Qui-Gon mounts the bed. He releases the Force binding, but coils a strong arm about my middle and lifts up my rear, tucking my legs into a low kneeling position with his other hand.

I'm almost as helpless as I was under the Force blanket, and now I'm on display to both my unknown audience and the unknown man behind me. At least it seems that way. He's behaving more like a stranger than the gentle, considerate lover I've known.

But, oh, Force, how I've wanted this... him to take charge. I don't care if he's acting. I don't care who is watching. I just want him to dominate and claim and sith-take-it, master me! My erection is unbearably hard, pulsing in time to the hammering of my heart.

He lays a hand on each of my globes, and massages them in circles, forcing them together and apart, ending with them spread wide.

"Mmmmm, now here's a real temptation!" he exclaims, one of his thumbs nudging my entrance. I shudder with anticipation. But things take a turn for the worse.

"By all the Stars!" he yells at me. "Why aren't you prepared, Boy? Did you think I would want to wait? I see I have to teach you a lesson."

My heart skips a beat as I realize that Qui-Gon will have to take me raw. Frankly, that's not what I want. I know it could be worse... at least he'll be wet from my mouth. What bothers me most is knowing that my tender-hearted Qui-Gon will make himself do it for the sake of the mission.

One hand leaves my ass; he must be aiming his penis. Here it comes... Suddenly, I am breached -- not by Qui-Gon's cock, but by two of his blunt fingers shoving something icy into me. I can't help shouting out, more from surprise than any pain. Oh, Sith, it's cold!

Qui-Gon chuckles deeply in reply and works his fingers in and out, fighting my instinct to clench tight. Then he cheats by pushing the frozen lump down onto my prostate. Any control I had is lost.

I writhe madly, but he clasps me about the waist again to restrain me. Still, I almost buck free of his grip so he throws his body on mine, riding me, while keeping his fingers in my passage.

At close quarters and without using the Force, I know I can't win, even if my arms weren't shackled. We've wrestled often enough. But I put up as much fight as possible. Straining and grunting, we sound like a pair of rutting tauntauns. I try twisting around. Qui-Gon's fingers dig into my side so I kick out at him. He bites my shoulder and locks his thighs around mine. I struggle on, but I'm essentially immobilized. It's liberating to use all my strength and still be held captive by Qui-Gon. Not only liberating, but intensely erotic.

He brings his full weight to bear on my back, and I collapse, exhausted and conquered. The blob has melted, and my entrance has been loosened from all the writhing about.

And I want him so much. I squirm, spreading my legs to offer myself. He pulls off me and withdraws his fingers, then he positions me, like before, in a low kneel.

"Master, in me... please..." I practically whimper. I don't need any acting skills.

"What's the matter, Boy -- you don't want to wait?" he responds to my begging. "Let's see if this satisfies you!"

I expect his cock now, but his fingers return --with a larger lump of sorbet. I cry out again. This time, he just pushes it in deep before leaving. Then another big lump is pressed inside me. And another. I've never used a dildo... only ever had Qui-Gon's warm flesh enter me. I never even imagined anything like this. I'm shocked that Qui-Gon has -- and that he is forcing it on me. And I'm thrilled that there's nothing I can do to stop him.

As he keeps at it, the cold stops registering, replaced by a feeling of fullness. I'm being prepared like some weird alien delicacy. I feel like a trussed-up squab being stuffed with dressing. What if the video is being recorded? I should be mortified. Instead I just moan as my passage is jam-packed with sorbet.

When I'm completely full-up, Qui-Gon leans down and sucks on the last lump, lodged halfway inside me. He tongues my opening. The contrast of his hot mouth with the cold inside me makes me shiver with want.

"Mmm. Nice. My favorite flavor... " he pauses to lick up and down my crack, "...in my favorite serving dish."

"Please, Master... " I find the breath to whisper.

"Not satisfied yet?" he asked with false innocence. "Good! Neither am I!"

Then he jams his cock in my opening, grabs my hips, and thrusts hard, with all his strength. I have no time to wonder what would happen before I find out.

Oh, sweet Force! He impales me, sliding all the way inside till his thighs slap mine. I thought I was full before -- now I know what it means to be stretched to my limit. I'm sure it would have hurt if my insides weren't numbed. Instead, I just feel like I've given my all.

Of course there's not enough room for everything. Some of the sorbet spurts out of me and some of it is pushed impossibly far in. Breached so deeply, I feel like Qui-Gon is claiming me, through and through.

Qui-Gon shouts, a roar of triumph, or maybe just reaction to the cold. I'm stunned -- too stunned to come and that's the only reason I don't. But as soon as Qui-Gon starts to move, I know I won't be able to hold off. The ice forms an extension of his cock, reaching into my core, perversely igniting me. I'm burning up. My cock is a firebrand; with the least little bit more of fuel, I'll explode.

Qui-Gon must sense this. He doesn't move inside me. But one of his hands leaves my hips. After a pause, he grabs my cock and I screech. His hand is full of sorbet.

The ice acts like a cock ring, sensitizing and heightening without allowing release. Every nerve ending is afire, my flesh a flame that can't be doused.

Qui-Gon is pumping now, inside and out. I almost yell for him to stop; it's too much to bear and I can't come. But a slave never says no. And the master won't ask, as Qui-Gon normally would... How does this feel? Are you all right? Do you want to change position?

Some of the sorbet melts into slick suction. His hand and cock make sloppy noises. He grunts with each thrust, taking his pleasure more like an beast than a man. His shaft grows more rigid and his hoarse breathing faster, hot in my ear. He's not waiting for me this time. The last of the sorbet slips off my cock and I hump desperately, needing to come now.

He tightens his grip on my hip. Aiming himself like a weapon as he erupts in me, shouting out. I am awash in liquid fire. As if overflowing, my come shoots out of me, spraying into the puddle of melted sorbet already on the bed.

We both collapse, him on top of me, and me in the puddle -- the mother of all wet spots. I'm dazed, doused and wrung out and I'd like nothing more now than to fall sleep. Perhaps in a filled bathtub. But Qui-Gon is heavy and the sheets are all sticky, and it's still not my place to complain. The master may use his slave's body as a cushion if he likes.

But Qui-Gon does roll off me, and he brushes my cheek tenderly, looking into my eyes with such love that I'm sure he would give the show away if anyone could see him up close.

"Are you satisfied now, Master?" I ask, emphasizing his role to nudge him back into character.

"I thought the answer to that was obvious, Padawan," he replies, with similar stress, but using my former title.

Oh, Sith! I can't believe how badly he just slipped up. I'd almost gotten used to 'Boy'. I try to salvage the situation.

"Is that your fantasy?" I ask archly, "That you are a Jedi master and I am your willing padawan?"

Qui-Gon looks at me oddly. "Definitely not. I waited long enough to get you knighted, Obi-Wan. I certainly don't want to go back to those days."

Oh, Ghods, worse and worse... looks like we'll have to make a run for it -- without time for a shower! In desperation I reach for my pidgin-Huttese, "!What Hoth doing? !Why blowing cover?"

"I'm not blowing our cover," Qui-Gon says, calmly, still speaking Basic. "The room isn't bugged. What made you think it was?"

Switching back to Basic doesn't help me speak clearly. "You... " I splutter. I try again. "You were acting like a real master... I mean, you treated me like a real slave!"

"You seemed to go along with it rather enthusiastically," he counters with that Sith-damned serenity of his.

"But you didn't ask me!" I point out, completely aggravated.

"Asking would have ruined the setup. It was too good an opportunity. I've been sensing your impatience with our lovemaking lately and decided it was time to try a different approach."

I feel like someone has twisted the tube of a kaleidoscope, and the pieces have fallen into a new pattern. The man I love has been the mastermind, if not the master, in our relationship all along. How could he do such a thing without talking it over with me first?

I open my mouth to object again, but Qui-Gon strokes my cheek. "Please, love. I wanted to make you happy. And me. I thought we had waited long enough and it was time to explore something new."

I reach out to him in the Force and find his shields gone. Love and contrition flow back to me. My annoyance evaporates; I can't possibly stay mad at him. No, he didn't consult me, but he did what he thought was best. How like him.

And I realize that I'm as guilty as he is. I should have discussed my desires with him, but I just let it slide. I didn't want to risk hurting his feelings; I just wanted him to be happy. How like me.

"I did enjoy it," I admit. "Very much. But it's not something I want all the time."

I never wanted to replace the lovemaking we had... just mix it up a bit. There's a lot to be said for a warm bath. Especially right now.

Qui-Gon's melting smile is my reward for my confession. "I understand," he affirms.

But does he understand that he can't continue to make all the choices? We need to find a way that we can share.

"Next time," I state firmly, "it's my turn to decide when we try something new, and what it will be." I already have a few ideas; revenge would be very sweet.

I wonder if he will be willing to give up that control. It really does matter to me. I don't want to spend the rest of my life treated like a... well, not like a slave, but more like a padawan --loved and cherished by my master, but unable to direct my own fate.

"I was hoping you'd say that, Knight Kenobi," he says, drawing me into his gentle embrace, smiling serenely. "I've been waiting for you to take the lead."