Master Apprentice Archive You're Not...? Quick search:

Series: no

Categories: Q/O, first-time, humor/parody

Feedback: Yes, please.

Rating: NC-17

Summary: "You look good, I look good. Let's go." And then, the 'whoops' that follows.

Spoilers/Warnings: General irreverence. Bottom!Qui. (trying to decide if that's a warning or a promise.)

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

Notes: Bunnied during the Escapade panel hosted by Minotaur, in which he described possible quandaries involved in sex that resulted from meetings in bars.

/..../ thoughts.

Qui-Gon had no idea Obi-Wan frequented this bar. He stared over at his padawan, who was decked out in a sumptuous leather outfit. The master was quite pleased to note that his padawan was staring back, the hot green eyes ringed with kohl.

Oh, yes. There was no mistaking it. Qui-Gon had long wanted the little trollop, but seeing him here-- that made him suddenly, deliciously accessible. And here he came, that swanky strut in full use, turning Obi-Wan into one long, hot, black leather slink.

"Hullo, Master," Obi-Wan said, just above the music. "I couldn't help but notice..." He dropped his gaze deliberately.

Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow and some other things perked up as well. /Look at that padawan of mine, he just radiates it,/ the master thought, wondering why he hadn't gone after it before. He smiled as Obi-Wan looked him over appreciatively.

"Well, Padawan," Qui-Gon leaned down, brushing his bearded cheek against Obi-Wan's smooth one and relishing the shiver he caused, "you're here, and I'm here, and... shall we go?"

"Absolutely," Obi-Wan responded, linking his arm through his master's and practically tugging him out of the bar.

They'd barely made it inside before Qui-Gon was peeling off the leather one piece at a time, kissing the smooth, young mouth ravenously. Obi-Wan's moans were electrifying and his hands were even better. They were all over the master's body, demanding and pushy and oh, yes. Obi-Wan was such a top. Qui-Gon was thrilled. They fumbled around for lube, they shed the last of their clothes, they kissed madly, and then Obi-Wan, Sith take him, rolled over onto his stomach.

"Oh --" Qui-Gon said, his erection softening as he was suddenly, unutterably disappointed. "You're not."

Looking over his shoulder invitingly and wriggling his hips, Obi-Wan smiled. "I'm not what? And what are you waiting for?"

"For someone to fuck me," Qui-Gon muttered and tossed the lube down, sitting on the edge of the bed heavily, pouting in a decidedly unmasterly way.

Obi-Wan's eyes grew large. "You're not--?" he demanded, tugging a blanket over him suddenly, as though he'd been caught doing something miserably nasty.

Qui-Gon shook his head. "I've been looking forever. Tonight, I saw you, and I thought that... well. There's no help for it."

"How can you not be a top?" Obi-Wan said petulantly, shoving his padawan braid off his shoulder.

Turning to stare, Qui-Gon questioned, "Me? How can you not? With the leather and the attitude and the--" he waved his hand around in a little circle. He didn't want to say Obi-Wan was a slut, but there it was. What Obi-Wan wanted, he got. Everyone knew it.

Sighing, the padawan slumped and leaned his forehead on his master's shoulder. "Yeah, I know. I'll do anything with legs, right? Whatever."

"Then you've had the same problem I have," the master said, turning to gaze at the taut, inviting body in his bed. "Such a shame," he added, and it was. How perfectly delicious Obi-Wan looked!

Obi-Wan, for his own part, had begun to think the Jedi were comprised of nothing but bottoms and heterosexual women, and he couldn't imagine what the women went through trying to get laid. The Force only knew how many dates he'd disappointed. It wasn't fair: he had a reputation as a complete whore and the fact of the matter was that he'd basically had a long-standing monogamous relationship with his hand.

"Well--" Obi-Wan sighed, raising his head, "if you wanted to-- you know, teach me? I could maybe--" He broke off, flushing miserably. He didn't particularly want to do it this way, but it had been so long. He wasn't even sure he could remember what another person's ass looked like.

Qui-Gon stared. "Teach you?" That was something that wouldn't have occurred to him in a million years.

Sheepishly, Obi-Wan smiled. "You're the master, right? And-- well. I've had you in mind for a long time."

Qui-Gon couldn't help the great grin that spread over his face. "Teach you!" he said again, thinking it over. It seemed perfect, a way to salvage what would otherwise be such a wasted opportunity. "What an inventive padawan I have," he observed, and kissed Obi-Wan with renewed fervor.

Obi-Wan was still marginally disappointed, but they were here, and he couldn't help it: he wanted Qui-Gon. So when Qui-Gon assumed the position and began to instruct him, Obi-Wan decided he would manage as best he could. Oh, this was the last thing he could have imagined. Fucking Qui-Gon, his master, was just something that would never have crossed his mind.

"I've never done it this way," Obi-Wan told him unnecessarily, taking up the lube.

"I know," Qui-Gon sighed. "You know how you need to be prepared. That's what you have to do." He glanced back at Obi-Wan's sizeable erection. "Lots of lube," he added.

Obi-Wan liberally coated his hand and took a breath, then inserted one finger. It was amazingly tight. "How can I--" he began, then swallowed as Qui-Gon let out a breathy moan and rocked backward.

/How can I possibly fit there?/ he finished in his head, but then remembered the last time he'd been in Qui-Gon's position, the guy had been pretty sizeable. Obi-Wan didn't, of course, sleep with guys who weren't sizeable. Dreamily, he remembered that last guy, then shook himself.

He began to work his hand, responding to Qui-Gon's half-spoken directions.

"There-- right--ohhhyes," Qui-Gon groaned, dropping his head onto his forearms. "Vehhhrygood."

Encouraged, Obi-Wan added another finger, and found--

"Ah!" Qui-Gon yelped, shuddering. "That, there, yes. Right there--"

He shouted as Obi-Wan, grinning rather broadly and quite full of himself at the moment, pressed that spot again. He added a third finger carefully, having some trouble, and Qui-Gon grunted and tensed. Trying to be patient, Obi-Wan sighed.

"You're supposed to relax," he said.

"I know how to do this part," Qui-Gon said waspishly, holding very still.

"Do you want me to do this or don't you?" Obi-Wan bitched back, gratified when Qui-Gon forced himself calm. It seemed to take forever, and Qui-Gon wasn't being very encouraging any more, as he'd gone completely silent. The padawan continued to stroke and stretch and massage, rubbing that place as often as he could, though Qui-Gon no longer cried out or squirmed.

/He's having second thoughts,/ Obi-Wan sighed to himself. /He doesn't think I can do this./

Finally, Obi-Wan felt the tension ease and said, "Ready?"

Qui-Gon nodded, and Obi-Wan didn't think he seemed very ready. Still, he took a moment to slick himself with lubricant and then sighed, then pressed the head of his cock against Qui-Gon.

Qui-Gon had gone completely silent by sheer dint of will. The fact was, his brain was completely useless. He didn't think he could talk. He figured if he heard any noises, including his own, especially his own, he'd come on the spot. He knew it was because Obi-Wan was overcompensating for lack of experience, but the patience and the time he'd spent with his hands had just about turned Qui-Gon inside out. Now as that large, blunt head pressed into him, he couldn't help it anymore. He let out a long, low groan and shoved himself backward, impaling himself.

Now Obi-Wan yelped. Actually, he shrieked. It was -- He shook his head. It was -- He gripped Qui-Gon's hips, trying to keep him still. "Don't move," he croaked, completely overwhelmed by the unbelievable tightness. He tried one more time to think what it was like, but his brain had melted and was currently swinging down between his legs. Slowly, he began to withdraw, moaning all the way out. Then he pushed back inside, and Qui-Gon was gripping the pillow and babbling.

"Force, that's good, so big, had no idea, Obi-Wan, just -- oh."

Obi-Wan curved his spine forward and angled his hips and made Qui-Gon shout again, and then the young, newly-made top was coming, shuddering, a long moan escaping his open mouth. He expected Qui-Gon to be disappointed that it was over so quickly, but his master was rocking back and forth, working himself with his huge hand and then following after Obi-Wan, howling as his orgasm hit him.

Obi-Wan withdrew, tugging Qui-Gon away from the messy spot on the bed and flopping down next to him.

"Okay?" Obi-Wan asked, hoping it was; he sure wanted to do it again.

Qui-Gon turned his head. "Okay? Okay?" He groaned. "It was --" He shook his head, toying with himself, wishing he were younger. The response time of a sixty-year-old Jedi wasn't going to be near fast enough to keep up with that. "It was --" he tried again, sighing. Finally he just looked at Obi-Wan, who had the most incredibly smug expression on, and who was toying with himself, and who was already hard again.

Obi-Wan glanced down at Qui-Gon's still-soft cock and said, "Don't worry. I don't mind if you don't." And rolled his master over again.

Qui-Gon sighed, moaned, and smiled.

"Here, I bought you something," Obi-Wan said, coming into their bedroom with a parcel. "Open it."

Qui-Gon did, and discovered a pair of the most awful hot pink training shorts he'd ever seen. He leveled an irritated look at his padawan.

"I'm gay," he said quite firmly, "not brain-dead."

Obi-Wan laughed. "But they're perfect." He flicked his hand in the direction of the shorts. "Come on. I want to see them on."

Sighing, the master shucked his leggings and yanked the shorts on, hating the way they were that snug, hating the fabric -- no, it wasn't even a fabric, was it? -- that molded itself to him, clinging, sticking to him almost, in a disgustingly hot pink display of ass and -- erection?

Obi-Wan grinned. "Oh, yeah." He slid his hand over the front of the shorts. "Yeah that's perfect. I knew you'd like them."

Opting for one last stand, Qui-Gon sighed heavily again. "I should have known you would lord that top thing over me." He adjusted himself inside the shorts, shifting and flushing a bit.

"You did know I would," Obi-Wan corrected, not the least bit bothered. "And you like it." He gripped his master's cock through the shorts and squirmed against one pink-clad hip. "Now take those off and let me lord it over you some more."

Qui-Gon decided after all that he was probably the happiest badly-dressed bottom in the Order.

End.