Master Apprentice Archive Is There a Word for This? Quick search:

Archive: Yes to M_A, ask otherwise

Pairing: Q/O

Rating: NC17

Warnings: follows canon

Feedback: I would LOVE to receive feedback on this, my FIRST Q/O slash story!

Disclaimers: Well, I never thought I would ever have to do this, but here goes: sadly these boys aren't mine, they belong to one George Lucas, and if anyone ever offers me money for writing this stuff I shall laugh him dead, okay? (The offererer, not Lucas. :)

Category: First time

Summary: In which Obi-Wan Kenobi reveals a few enlightening middle names, finds and loses the love of his life, and totally fails to fall off a horse. Slightly surreal, a bit sad, closet linguistic and very Obi-Wan.

"And what's your name then, young initiate?"

He moves towards me as if on rails, as if something in the bloody force had decided that right now the world could do with being one-dimensional and shrinking to a taut tendril of determination stretched between myself and the man who is beginning to slowly but surely fill out my field of vision. I shuffle my feet uncomfortably - it's not like I'm not used to being the centre of the universe, but usually that would involve the bubbling, noisy daytime universes of the initiates' classes, giving humorous names to potted plants and devising jokes about Master Yoda's underwear. Not this.

Not a universe that involves a solid background of deep brown robe and a suspiciously benign smile from so far up that I feel like I'm being x-rayed by two bright blue suns, orbited, in no particular order, by a big nose, a neatly trimmed beard, masses of dark brown hair and a mouth that smiles quizzically but for all I know could be intent on biting my head off if I don't answer. Thanks, Force.

I feel in desperate need of the 'fresher - I'm heat-flushed and sweating all over, and something tight and warm in the bottom of my belly seems to want to tell me I urgently need to pee...

"Who do I have the honour of addressing?" That voice again, low and warm, with an ironic edge to it now. Hells, he's talking to me like a child, and me all of twelve-and-eleven-months of age!

"O...Obi-Wan Kenobi, master."

He winks, mischievously. "Oh-Obi-Wan-Kenobi. Oh-Obi-Wan-Kenobi..." weighing the words, he executes an elegant little flow of movement somewhere between a parry and a dance. "Well, I won't have any difficulty remembering that one - it's got a nice rhythm to it. Oh-Obi-Wan-Kenobi. You would be a dancer with the lightsabre it seems -"

My face must have grown so storm-cloudy at his travesties of my name that he stops dead in his tracks and almost takes a step back as I scowl at him, pronouncing " Obi -Wan Kenobi." as if it was a threat. Howling hells, how am I supposed to spend the next decade or so with a master who thinks my name is a dance tune ?

//Wanna punch him in the face. The disgrace. Shields down, Obi-Wan. Force help us.// Okay, composure, man. You're a bloomin' Jedi. At least you might be if you weren't so convinced you'd rather floor that smiling long-haired giant and get thrown out and be done with it and not get called "Oh-Obi" for the next ten years. Shit, why do I want the 'fresher now ?

"What's yours then... master?" I whisper, trying hard to coax my failing voice into a menacing hiss. Not that it works. I blush even deeper, and the twin blue suns sprout solar jets of crow's feet and the voice rumbles:

"Qui-Gon Jinn."

Okay, that did it. The tight feeling in my belly pops open like a ripe fruit and I spill over laughing. Sweet revenge!! Hey, suddenly becoming this bastard's Padawan doesn't sound like such a bad idea after all. Trust the Force to come up with the best jokes every time, hah!

"And what may be the problem with that?" He bends down slightly, now genuinely curious and not in the least bit hurt, and I fight a momentary urge to just flop against his shoulder hammering my fists on his broad chest and soaking him with my tears of laughter... "Only... where I come from a Jinn is a... a..." Hells where's my breath gone? "...a... well, a ... spirit of sorts" I manage, bright red in the face and still giggling uncontrollably. Jinn! Honestly...

"Ah. That spirit... is it the long-haired, Cfath-winged female variety? You know, the ones who live in spirit bottles, not to put too fine a point on it, and dedicate their lives to laughter, lechery and giving passing travellers wrong directions?" The smile is still in place, and I'm beginning to wonder if it's painted there. "Yes. I've heard of those. There may be some in the family for all I know, but" - smile - "I try to keep the influence in check. At least as far as directions are concerned."

I gape. And I'm beginning to feel very warm within, from the gales of laughter subsiding and the dawning realisation (two blue suns, remember) that I'd have a really hard time getting this man cross with me. Whew. Padawanship, here I come.

"And do you know what the word round my parts is for someone like you, little Padawan Obi-Wan (is he grinning at the assonance or am I just imagining that?)?"

I shake my head.

"Upstarts like you, Obi-Wan Kenobi, would be referred to as quanith . Actually I should make that your middle name. Obi-Wan Quanith Kenobi. How about that, Padawan?"

"Uh-huh. Er, Master... what would that translate as?"

A fine smile plays on Qui-Gon's features. I'm going to love this smile, I just know it. Whatever he calls me.

"The Forthright Mushroom."

Augh.

"Eight years' worth of Padawan braid and you still get it caught in your food? Honestly..." Qui-Gon chuckles softly as I lick the cream-of-mushroom soup off the end. I mean really, why does such a thing never happen to him - I'd love to see something sticky running down his velvety short beard... who am I kidding?

Not my master. Not Qui-Gon-doesn't-mind-being-called-Jinn. Forever elegant and poised, lightsabre or soup spoon. Patient. Gentle. Strong. Deep-voiced. Thoughtful. Too bloody perfect to even have a crush on, and yet I do. Sticking my braid in the soup is at least another good excuse to blush deeply while giving him a good long gaze and letting the butterflies in my stomach go for a fly (The 'fresher - indeed! Well, how is a not-quite-13-year-old to know the meaning of lust? Dammit, I should thank the Force for that day!). That smile. Does he know he smiles me into the ground?? Does he have the faintest clue what's going on behind the shields, in the little room in my mind where he strokes me till I'm hard and then bangs me till I'm soft again, every bloody night? Laughter, lechery and wrong directions indeed. What does it take to lure you off the road to Heaven, Master Qui-Gon Jinn? Uh, make it me...

"-ntally revising the declensions already..." I only catch the rear end of that sentence, and am speared by another one of those fine sharp little smiles. Dammit, that sounded like I should answer that.

"Good to see you getting so carried away over your Huttese assignment, Obi-Wan. I take it you've read the relevant chapters well in advance? Only I don't want to have to defend you to Master SasWha -

//how does he manage to pronounce the capital W in the middle? Damn, that's another thing to be added to the list of Things Qui-Gon Jinn Is Perfect At. Languages. Tongues. Shields down, Obi-Wan!!!//

"- again for considering everything else more important than the study of living tongues -"

//aargh//

" - when I've got more important things to do with you than defend you to Master SasWha all day."

That does it. Wipe that smile off, Qui-Gon!! Huttese is one of the items rather low down on the list of what I would like to do to you, but here it comes!!

"Ktha w'nissar burr tah-min, ve urbb tem ve sinn-abathmuck, frawth Qui-Gon."

He's halfway through a spoon of mushroom soup when the sentence hits, and I'm halfway between running for cover and admiring the view when the creamy stuff hits, propelled by his sudden and violent outburst of laughter. Gods, the sight... my fabulous master Qui-Gon Jinn, mouth open in a hearty laugh, creamy white soup dripping from his short neat beard on to the tiny exposed bit of skin that the layers of tunics leave, radiating joy and I'm not bothered it's me who's the source for all the mirth once again, I just take a bath in the sight and come away all crimson and throbbing...

"I take it you don't know what you've just said, Padawan?" he essays as soon as the gales of laughter have died down. I mime hurt pride. "In my book, that should have been, 'I have read it and know it inside out, master'".

He chuckles. "If you had, you wouldn't make the amusing blunder of saying 'I am red-hot inside and out, master' while I'm trying to eat my lunch!" Grinning, he tugs on my still-wet braid. "I think it's extra phonetics for you tonight, young Obi-Wan Quanith Tem-ve Kenobi!"

Tem-ve. Red outside. Force, I am. And you wouldn't want to know how red-hot I am inside, mate. Master. Qui-Gon. Jinn. Jinn .

Branches whip my face, I'm covered in sweat, and my sash is coming undone with all this wobbling up and down. Whoever was it had the brilliant idea that we must have been having too much fun hiding out from the Federation's invasion in this Force-forsaken and admittedly beautiful primeval forest, watched over, and smirked at by a bunch of babbling life-forms who wouldn't know phonetics if it hit them in their rubbery faces and left paw-prints in the cavity between the eyes where the brain should have been. Force.

Well, who would have had the idea to go for a kaadu ride than my ever-serene master Qui-Gon bloody Jinn. I reckon he does take after his family, what with giving wrong directions. I certainly feel bloody lost in this forest, and misguided as well, trying desperately to stay within sight of the flickering mane of now-greying hair dancing in the wind, and someone should tell him that riding a kaadu full-canter without his robe on brings out his ass to stunning effect, but I'll be damned if that's me who's going to tell him - ouch!

Sithspit. From what I can tell the kaadu's no better at being ridden than I am at riding it, and that is pretty bad. My hands are slippery with sweat, the reins are totally useless, and the damn beast's skin is too leathery and thick to hold on to. Also, it seems to regard rocks and fallen tree trunks as playthings rather than obstacles... that one just then felt fairly lethal.

Damn. I've lost Qui-Gon. And how do I get this monster to stop? I lean into the reins with all my weight, tugging back hard. Tree-trunk! Rock! I do, madly, the pink beast rears up under me, and I am stuck in mid-air, just like that. Horizontal. Staring at the fern-covered ground six feet below, one leg cramped on the kaadu's bucking back, the other supported by a cushion of firm soft nothing-at-all and my body cradled in tendrils of Force from out of nowhere, warm, inexplicable and right now holding me six feet away from painful injury and a few inches from a puzzled kaadu who's probably never seen a rider totally fail to fall off.

"Hand!"

It's Qui-Gon, reaching out an arm to me, comfortably astride his own mount which is exchanging worried glances with mine. His forehead's furrowed with the concentration of keeping me in mid-air, but he is smiling that impossible smile nevertheless, and gripping me firmly and warmly with thick tentacles of Force that fall just short of caressing me. Just. Not that my imagination wouldn't be able to do the rest... I gasp in relief as he drags me off the plainly mystified beast on to his own, and I land belly-first on the rugged spine of the kaadu, bent over behind Qui-Gon like a piece of baggage.

"Now that won't do, will it?" he grins.

Might do, Qui-Gon, might do. I get a damn fine view of your rear from here... but ever the respectable little Padawan I scrabble pathetically (no use using the Force or Jedi elegance when there's something as desirable to hold on to as Master Qui-Gon's broad back, dammit!) until I'm upright and sitting behind him, at a decent distance from my master's backside but precariously close to the kaadu's own.

Qui-Gon chuckles at my efforts, commands my confused kaadu's reins into his left hand, turns round and purrs, "Don't worry, you'll be off this thing's back soon. Let's just find somewhere quiet to sleep, eh? Hold on."

Yes!! Oh Force, three good things rolled into one... not having to spend the night anywhere near these cute but terminally babbling-stupid Gungans, and the prospect of getting off this kaadu that's already beating my bum into a pulp again with its unbalanced galloping and my sash's really coming loose now... and 'hold on' and I clasp my arms round Qui-Gon's waist and bury my face in his hair and drown in the musky salty scent of him and rub my nose against the back of his neck and then my lips as I know he just can't turn around and growl at me and keep the madly galloping kaadu on its track and he tastes marvellous, filling my senses completely and my heart's pounding like crazy and I'm red hot inside and outside oh yes and all points inbetween and I pray he doesn't notice my rampant cock against his backside, rubbing up a sweat and I shudder with delight at the overload of feeling him so near and I clasp my arms more tightly around his hips and -

- the world slows down. Wha- ? I channel my red-hot insides for a strained moment and earnestly interview the nerve endings in my fingers. He's hard . Force, my Master Qui-Gon Jinn is hard for me... I feel the urge to scream with joy, and sink my teeth in his neck, just above the shoulder, and scream and laugh into the taut hot musky flesh and clamp my hands around him as my entire body goes 'wheeeee' and almost drowns out the sound of Qui-Gon going "Oiii!" and giving me a quick Force-induced clip round the ear before managing to stop the by now utterly confused kaadu. He turns round at me, his mane brushing against my startled face, blue eyes steely and flickering with the faintest of smiles. "I could consider spending the night here, Padawan", he murmurs, lips painting the words on mine and I get an accurate impression of what it is that Jar-Jar called 'an armful of Jedi' before I drown in a crushing kiss and the warmth and gorgeously horny flavour of the man I've spent the last decade fantasising about.

This is better than fantasies. Sliding off the fat tail of a terminally puzzled beast, landing on the messy mossy soft green ground nearly crushed by the glorious body of my master holding me in a tight embrace, squeezing the breath out of me and drinking it from my mouth that opens in shock and joy, only to be invaded by a gently probing tongue caressing my startled lips from within. And he tastes so good... and he eats me greedily, nibbling and sucking and biting at my lips until they're bright red and so sensitive I feel showers of delight running down my spine just at his breath!

//Oh fuck yes, how did you know?//

//Red-hot inside, Obi-Wan Tem-ve...// he gasps as I lick him under his ear, just where the ticklish velvety beard begins to cover the warm smooth salty skin //...and easily read outside//

"Ow!" I've bitten his earlobe - the cheek! Well, yes, the cheek as well... and the eyebrows... and losing yourself in that face is so easy when all of it wants to be tasted, licked, caressed, and all of it smiles that red-hot-inside smile just for me, hot just for me now, and glistening with sweat and kisses and such a promise of more, more of that salty tanned skin that is so sensitive it's making him moan as I kiss his throat and feel the vibrations of his deep voice against my lips... and just as my hands have steadied themselves enough to attempt an invasion of his tunics all hell breaks loose and I find myself Force-pinned to the ground as he tears my clothes off me with a predatory wildness and elegance that bears no resemblance to the calm considerate Jedi Master I've followed through the last twelve years, but every resemblance to the hot delicious demanding lover I've dreamed about for the last twelve years. Yes!!! And his nails leave little red marks on my chest as he strips off the tunics, and I take a stunned and lust-swamped two seconds to lift his Force hold on me and strike back and soon we're rolling around the mossy ground wrestling like kids, delighting in the sheer tightness of the other's body and trying to arouse as much as to subdue.

It is he who wins in the end, only just, and I would have let him win this long ago if I'd known what a delicious sight he'd make kneeling above me, hair all loose and undone and sticking to his sweat-covered body, shining and panting and holding me down and licking my whole body first with his eyes then with his tongue, warm and rasping and making my skin tingle to the bones. Skies above, I could die like this...

//No you're not. You're staying alive even if that means I'm having to breathe for you as well// and his mouth is all over mine again filling me with an absolute overload of sensation and his hair's flowing over my face and neck and my cock is so hard it hurts as I rub it into him. He's kneeling astride me, and when he straightens himself up again I can see how his own erection is straining against his leggings...

"If you had even the slightest idea how damn beautiful you've become, Obi-Wan..." With a sigh, he gets to his feet and strides off in the direction of the kaadu.

" But... where are you going? Master! Qui-Gon!"

He turns round, one eyebrow raised. That smile. That face flushed with desire and need. It's just too much... I jump up and dart over to him.

"You stay there, young Obi-Wan!" Almost a chuckle in that voice, loud and deep and commanding but undisguisably thick with lust... a soft punch of Force nudges me back to where I'd come from, and I do my best to make myself comfortable on the ragged moss again, head resting against a rotting tree trunk, admiring the view as my Master comes towards me again, grinning.

"You have no idea, Red-inside, Upstart..." he kneels down beside me and strokes my nipples, "...how long I've hoped and waited for this precise moment - " I shudder in pleasure and bring my hands up to cup his face - and that is precisely the moment he whips the kaadu reins around my wrists and ties them together and to the tree trunk over my head long before I can even summon up the mental presence to shout. When I do, my shout drowns in his warm greedy mouth... //oh, so much of you, Qui-Gon...//

//I just want to make sure you enjoy this hands-down// he assures me, still tracing little circles around my tingling nipples, then digging his nails in and swallowing my surprised and pleased scream. Owww... he marks me with delicate patterns of scratches, short red lines spelling out his desire a he follows the pain with sheer pleasure, kissing and nibbling along the trail his nails leave on my skin, down over the taut muscles of my belly to where I'm all soft and ultra-sensitive and I sigh in pleasure as he frees my cock from its confines and it jumps up at him and makes him smile as his nails continue their trail towards the base, pinking the skin and totally ignoring the throbbing need that's sticking out at him and dripping from the tip already... I moan halfway between agony and ecstasy as he slowly works his way up the length of my cock, scratching, squeezing, licking, nipping until I howl, bathed in unfulfilled need and tugging maniacally at the leather straps that bind my hands, totally unwilling to undo them by Force, drowning in the feeling of being at the mercy of my amazing Master and I scream with joy as he swallows my hot throbbing length, all of it just like that and screw contemplation and control I'm coming Qui-Gon I'm coming and the world takes a step back to make way for my roar...

...and the next thing I see when the red clouds and little blue stars have dispersed is his beaming face, sweaty and hot, the most beautiful sight I've ever seen. //Mine.//

//oh yes// I answer, floating down from an orgasm that I'm sure will leave permanent burn marks along my nerves somewhere, //yours.//

He stretches out on top of me again, covering me with his long hot body with a catlike laziness that totally betrays his hot needy cock as it presses against me, hard and delicious, and I arch up into him to squeeze it with my body as best I can with my hands tied, and I watch with a possessive joy as he grinds into me, rubbing his hard flesh against mine burning me red-outside from the sheer friction and he's oh so wonderful to watch as he comes, comes against me, comes for me, splashing his thick cream all over me and I feel like the centre of the universe as the universe contracts and is filled by nothing more and nothing less than my Qui-Gon screaming his orgasm to the skies.

The bonds on my wrists untie themselves slowly as control reluctantly returns into our spent bodies, lying boneless, sweat-slick and warm on the moss. I roll over to kiss his ragged breath away, and catch my shoulder against a long and vicious-looking thorn sticking out of the tree trunk we'd been leaning against. It buries itself in my flesh, and before I'm aware enough to feel the pain I've passed over it, and a small and perfectly round drop of blood is swelling on my skin.

Without so much as a word, Qui-Gon kisses the drop away, then proceeds to caress my mouth with his once more until we're both breathless and melted and bright red inside as well as outside. The drop of blood has returned. Qui-Gon frowns at it, then gets to his feet and carefully wanders off into the undergrowth. I watch, dazed with the beauty of this man, stark naked and radiating lust and love, and oh so mine... and I'm seriously craving the sight of him by the time he returns after a few minutes, with a handful of purple flowers that smell acrid and tangy and somehow gorgeous. Lips never straying from mine, he squashes the handful of petals against the tiny wound and gently rubs the purple pulp into my skin.

//It'll leave a mark...//

I smile. //An initiation rite? You'd better give me another name then//

//How about Hippolytos?//

//Meaning?//

He disengages his lips from mine and murmurs, earnestly: "He who is about to fall off a kaadu."

I throw the flowery pulp at him, miss narrowly and tease and pummel his grinning face until we both drift off to sleep...

This was just over a week ago, and yet it feels like years.

I may have shaken the moss out of my hair, I may have shed some of the clumsiness of the thirteen-year-old Padawan, and I may even have lost the braid, but I have not, and will not, lose the bittersweet memory of this first, and last, fulfilment with my beloved Master Qui-Gon Jinn.

That memory will stay, permanent and still painful and somehow beautiful. Like the purple dot on my right shoulder, the mark he put there just days ago.

I, Obi-Wan Qanith Tem-ve Hippolytos Kenobi, await sleep.

I may dream of him.

---The End---