Master Apprentice Archive A Way Into The Part Quick search:

Rating: NC-17

Archive: M-A, ask me, or Master Jacynthe's: http://jdemorae.slashcity.tv/lightsaberissues/index.html

Series: Unexpectedly, this is the third installment in the Labyrinth Series.

From the line, "You'll just have to find your way into the part." (Book reference)

Categories: Q/O, PWP, BDSM

Feedback: Dying for it, please. padawanhilary@gonwan.com

Summary: Food, bondage, and movie lines.

Spoilers/Warnings: BDSM, language.

Disclaimers: Someday I intend to use my own beloved, beautiful characters to write for fame, fortune and glory. Today is not that day.

/..../ thoughts and bond speak, *..* emphasis

Notes: This is in response to a personal challenge delivered by Sithdragn to kick my Muse back into gear. Some of it has been pretty far out of my range until now, so I had to try. These were the parameters:

-Qui-Gon begging (super-double points if he's literally on his knees ;-)
-at least one of them has never before performed whatever they're doing (or about to do) and has apprehensions
-they're somewhere besides their quarters, and not in a bed
-wrestling
-a sexual position requiring bodily contortion
-use of a non-sexual inanimate object
-dirty talk
-a secret is revealed
-Obi-Wan topping
No more than 20K

I missed the contortion (and I do believe that's for another time), the "not in their quarters" and the non-sexual inanimate object, but all I could think about was an electronic book, which didn't go here. So if someone wants to take up *that* gauntlet.

They'd finally done it. Finally fought over that inexplicable, blurred line between master and padawan, and Master and submissive.

Obi-Wan had been planning a beautiful scene, and now it was ruined. He had wanted to celebrate six months together in this new, exciting branch of their relationship: six blissful, sometimes harrowing, always transcendental months of Qui-Gon's gorgeous submission. They had laid out imported chocolate from three systems with the intent of determining their melting times and compatibility with berries on various body parts. And suddenly, for no apparent reason, Qui-Gon had developed a desire to reassert himself as a Jedi Master. He had dressed his padawan down for a damned overdue library book.

The scene was, in effect, destroyed. Obi-Wan looked disgustedly at the tray of chocolates and started to leave the room. He was irritable and disappointed, feeling churlish and not only un-Masterly but un-padawan-like as well.

Qui-Gon sighed. He shouldn't have mentioned the library at all, even jokingly. He'd really only been playing, but it hadn't carried well. The subject had quickly shifted from light humor to dark looks and even darker words, and now he just wanted to retract the whole thing. He certainly didn't want Obi-Wan to walk out of the common room this way to go away and stew. He knew it would only suffice to make Obi-Wan angrier.

"Obi-Wan, wait." Qui-Gon moved to where Obi-Wan stood, his back turned, stiff. Qui-Gon sighed and put his arms around his padawan's waist, but Obi-Wan neither turned nor relaxed.

"No more mixing my mastery with my padawanship," the affronted padawan muttered. "When I'm in my place as your Master, I *don't* want to hear about my failures as your apprentice." He was still very disappointed, but his tone had thawed from anger to petulance. It was a good sign, and Qui-Gon ran with it.

"Yes, Obi-Wan," he breathed, nuzzling the back of a small, pink ear. He felt Obi-Wan's grudging shudder and was surprised to feel him pull away and step forward.

"I need to be alone for a little while," Obi-Wan said.

"And I need you to stay with me," Qui-Gon said quietly, not wanting to let him leave the room like this. "What do you want me to do?"

Obi-Wan sighed. "It's not-- you can't."

Qui-Gon immediately went to knees, knowing this undid Obi-Wan every time.

Even with his back turned, Obi-Wan sensed it: he could hear that Qui-Gon's breathing had changed altitudes. He rolled his eyes and tipped his head back, staring at the ceiling. Ohhh, this man on his knees. His master, legendary knight of lightsaber duels and consular arguments and hard, piercing stares, on his knees. For him. He tried to hang on to his irritation, steeled himself, and turned around. "You can't. Don't."

Qui-Gon knew he could, and was. He slid his hands up Obi-Wan's flanks and said, "Please. please don't walk away. I'll do whatever you ask. 'Do as I say and I will be your slave'."

Obi-Wan made a low groaning noise and looked down at his master's earnest face staring up at him. "Whatever I ask?"

Qui-Gon nodded, heartened.

"Drop the master trip, then." He paused, considering. "I want you to talk dirty to me."

Qui-Gon glanced away, uncomfortable.

"See?" Obi-Wan huffed, tossing his hands up a little. This was something he'd wanted, something his master wouldn't let go of the Sith-damned control for, even in the middle of molten sex. He turned to walk out, but Qui-Gon grabbed his hand. Obi-Wan jerked it away, so Qui-Gon grabbed his foot and pulled, shooting a pad of Force out to cushion the impact of his padawan's body landing on the floor.

"What--" Obi-Wan sputtered. "Bastard!" But Qui-Gon was crawling up his body, intent. Obi-Wan shoved his shoulders, offsetting him for a moment. Qui-Gon, in turn, looped an arm around Obi-Wan's waist and yanked him over. But the reason it wasn't wise for a tall man to wrestle in small, standard-issue common rooms was that there was no headroom. Qui-Gon discovered this, knocking hard against the coffee table.

The master grunted an obscenity and clutched his head, wincing. He shoved the coffee table a good two feet out of his way and Obi-Wan burst out laughing, straddling Qui-Gon's hips.

"How gracious of you," Qui-Gon muttered, rubbing at his offended crown.

Obi-Wan pointed at the furniture. "You'll talk dirty to the table!" he said, laughingly indignant.

Qui-Gon snorted and tugged Obi-Wan down to him for a kiss. "You know that makes me uncomfortable."

Obi-Wan sat up, grinding his pelvis downward into his master's. "Mmm. So does that."

Qui-Gon pressed upward, straining a little against the front of his sleep pants. "Tease."

"Talk to me. Tell me about it."

Qui-Gon bit his bottom lip, a meltingly endearing habit he had picked up from Obi-Wan. He looked up, pulled Obi-Wan's hips down, hard, and said in a hesitant, surprisingly small voice for such a great, large man, "Fuck me."

Obi-Wan pressed his lips together and arched an eyebrow, trying to suppress a quivering grin.

Qui-Gon cleared his throat. "Obi-Wan."

The padawan waited. When Qui-Gon hesitated further, Obi-Wan sighed, disappointed, and made to get up. "We don't have to do this at all. Never mind."

Qui-Gon's hands clamped down on his thighs. "Wait. Please." He paused. "Can't we do this another time?" He thrust his hips up by way of explanation.

Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes and drew his resolve together. "'Another time' will never come. You'll *always* find a way to avoid it. I want this. You said you would do whatever I asked. So do it-- or forget it." He looked at Qui-Gon steadily. When there was still no answer, he said, "You'll just have to find your way into the part."

His master closed his eyes, and took a breath. /Find your way into the part, Qui-Gon. Toss the Jedi demeanor and be what he wants you to be./ That gave him the determination to stop feeling silly about it.

"I want you to fuck me." He looked up at Obi-Wan, whose expression had stilled eagerly. Qui-Gon drew from it. "I want you buried inside me. Fuck me senseless, Obi-Wan." He took another steadying breath, looking into Obi-Wan's eyes, transforming and quickening now with growing lust. He dropped his voice, purring the way Obi-Wan loved to hear. like a great horny cat. "I want your cock buried in me, impaling me, wherever I can get it. I want your hands and teeth all over me. Use me like a sex toy. A pet. A great, big, fucking pet. Your own personal animal, hot for--"

Obi-Wan descended over him, kissing him madly, and Qui-Gon groaned as his padawan's tongue thrust into his mouth, not implying, but, yes, *fucking.* Qui-Gon was on fire now, as much from his own tongue as Obi-Wan's, and when his padawan moved down to his throat, biting and sucking, he went on, using the words to distract himself from the rapid downward assault.

"Yes, yes-- that's it. Gods. So hot for you-- ooh!" Obi-Wan bit a nipple gently, listening eagerly as Qui-Gon went on. "Always. Wanting you to take me and-- ahhh. Mouth. Use your mouth. Like that-- oh yes." Obi-Wan was sliding his tongue around the waistband of Qui-Gon's sleep pants, dipping it under the fabric teasingly. Qui-Gon writhed and moaned, "Take. Off. Mmh. Fuck." Obi-Wan slid the waistband of the sleep pants down until it was cupping the base of Qui-Gon's erection, eliciting more talk that was little more than a series of moaned, half-coherent noises strung together. "Obi-Wan, tongue--oh, teeth. Ah!" Obi-Wan's mouth had just barely sheathed him when he came, moaning and digging into the carpet with his fingernails.

Obi-Wan climbed back up, straddling him again, eyes glazed and hot. He shoved the front of his pants out of the way and began to stroke himself, half-frantically.

Qui-Gon slid his hand between Obi-Wan's thighs, cupping him, teasing his fingertips at the tight entrance, and Obi-Wan jerked and moaned, staring at his master on the floor. Qui-Gon's hair was spread around his face and broad shoulders, and the idea of that proper, masterly mouth making those words made him shiver. He knelt up from Qui-Gon's body and leaned forward, one palm splayed flat beside Qui-Gon's ribcage on the floor.

"Don't stop talking," he said shakily, staring down at the beast of a master spread out under him, eyes glittering darkly blue.

"About me sinking into you?" Qui-Gon growled softly, putting a cultured tone into his voice that contrasted blindingly with the words. "Want that? Me pulling you back onto me, thrusting myself in you? It's hard being the master always, isn't it? You like to just give over and let me take you."

He'd found his way into the part, all right. He observed the effect his words had: they bounced around inside Obi-Wan's mind, becoming visual. He dropped his voice again, thickening his accent, feeling Obi-Wan come positively untied inside as he spoke. "You're hot like this. I could do anything to you, couldn't I? Who's in charge when I'm in you like that, making you scream? Who's the master then? It doesn't matter whether you're in my mouth or I'm in yours, or if it's just my fingers buried in you, finding that place that burns you inside out. Yes. Come on. Show me who's *really* in charge here, Padawan."

Obi-Wan shut his eyes and opened his mouth for the low, ragged moan that poured out of his throat. He stiffened all over and came to the sound of that voice and the images they conjured in his head. The result of his shattering orgasm sprayed Qui-Gon's wrist, hand and stomach. He shuddered as he braced on both hands, kneeling over Qui-Gon on all fours, breathing too hard, dizzy.

"Hmm?" Qui-Gon looked up at him questioningly, smiling a little. He tossed the padawan braid over Obi-Wan's shoulder; it had been tickling his chest. Obi-Wan leaned down and kissed him, hard, biting.

"Mmm," he grunted into the kiss, still unbelievably hot, biting Qui-Gon's bottom lip and sucking on it.

But his arousal had been damped enough that he knew he couldn't withstand the floor too much longer. Obi-Wan winced as he rose. The sturdy, utilitarian carpet did not make for comfortable sex. He rubbed at his knees and grinned sheepishly at his master. Qui-Gon was still flat on the floor, a great, leonine, come-stained mess smiling lazily up at his lover, still ragingly erect but somehow satisfied. Oh, yes. He'd gotten exactly what he wanted. Obi-Wan wondered, then, who indeed was in charge here.

Obi-Wan retrieved a towel and tossed it at him, sorry to see him break the wanton aura by cleaning up.

Qui-Gon looked up at him questioningly as he wiped his arm and stomach, then rose smoothly. He moved to sit on the couch and patted the place beside him. After years together, Obi-Wan no longer thought about it when he moved to sit next to his master.

"I liked that," Qui-Gon smiled.

"I know," Obi-Wan grinned.

"No, what I mean is-- I've been waiting for you to make me do something. Demand something."

Obi-Wan pushed stray hair from Qui-Gon's face, sweeping his hand over it affectionately. "Mmm. There's a lot we haven't done yet. A lot that I could demand."

Qui-Gon chuckled. "I am exhausted from living up to your expectations."

Obi-Wan leaned over and bit his ear, whispering, "Welcome to the club, Master."

End.