Archive: yes
Archive Date: November 07, 1999
Author's Webpage: http://adult.dencity.com/PumpkinPatch/
Category: First Time, PWP
Disclaimer: blah blah blah George Lucas blah blah blah
Feedback: is always very welcome
Notes: Smut for the smutless -you know I love you sweetie.
Pairing: Q/O
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Qui-Gon corrects Obi-Wan's stance.
Obi-Wan arched his body as Qui-Gon once again corrected his stance, pulling his hips and shoulders back while pushing his chest forward.
"You need to find your centre, Padawan, no matter what your stance."
"Tell me, Master," asked Obi-Wan dryly, "when am I likely to find myself in this particular position?"
"Well if you don't know..."
"But why would I need to know how to use my lightsaber if I were...Master!" Obi-Wan tried to maintain his shocked look, but failed to contain his laugh at the play on words as Qui-Gon chuckled behind him. His master didn't indulge in humour very often, which Obi-Wan had always thought was a shame given his sharp wit and his sense of the absurd.
Qui-Gon's breath skimmed over Obi-Wan's neck as he laughed, making Obi-Wan shiver and he suddenly juxtaposed his position with Qui-Gon's words and the soft, warm breath at his nape.
"Master," he said softly. "Yes, Padawan?" But Obi-Wan remained silent, caught between the past and the future; the moment rendering him inert. He could feel Qui-Gon's breath on his neck, hotter in the middle; the mats were cool against his bare feet, worn smooth and soft by thousands of feet before him; the lighting was bright without being harsh. Their shadows, usually dancing over the mats, remained as stationary as the two men and Qui-Gon, still standing behind the younger man finally broke the frozen moment with a question. "How would you defend an attack from this position."
The query acted as catalyst and soon both the men and shades were in motion. Obi-Wan reached back with his leg, bringing it behind Qui-Gon's knee and sweeping his Master's feet off the floor. Qui-Gon's breath left his body with an audible whoosh as Obi-Wan landed heavily on top of him. Before the older man could recover, Obi-Wan flipped over, knees to either side of Qui-Gon's hips, hands holding the bigger man's arms to his sides.
Qui-Gon's eyes looked up at him in surprise. "I would turn the tables on my attacker," said Obi-Wan. "I think that would work, don't you?"
Qui-Gon swallowed, chest heaving as he drew in a new breath.
"Yes, my Padawan. I dare say that would do very well."
Obi-Wan watched his Master's lips moved as he talked and became mesmerised by them. He began to lower his head, still on his hands and knees above his Master; their shadows observed no distinction between the two, melding them instead into a single figure.
"Obi-Wan," said Qui-Gon.
"Yes, Master?" Obi-Wan asked, moving inexorably downward.
"You are going to kiss me."
"Yes, Master." And then his lips were on Qui-Gon's, slowly tasting the soft warm flesh; the short hairs of his Master's beard tickling, teasing the skin around his mouth.
Qui-Gon's thighs were hot against the inside of Obi-Wan's legs; their thin training pants no barrier to that heat. The mat, by contrast, was cool, its force signature dull and muted. The room smelled of sweat; the dry musty odour of thousands of masters and padawans training through time and the sharp, immediate tang of his and Qui-Gon's combined scent -as familiar to Obi-Wan as breathing. But today it held something new, something warm and mushy and thrilling. Responding to it, Obi-Wan deepened the kiss, lowering his body to lie flat against his Master.
Only to be flipped, his back landing with a dull thud on the mat as the silhouettes on the wall twisted in a fine dance before falling still once again. Qui-Gon's body covered his, hot and warm and solid above him.
"You must never relax your guard, Obi-Wan, lest your opponent regain the upper hand."
"Yes, Master," whispered Obi-Wan, licking suddenly dry lips, watching as Qui-Gon's eyes darkened, waiting impatiently for the storm within them to be unleashed. Obi-Wan arched back, pressing his body up into his Master's stretching his neck; inviting.
His invitation was not refused.
The phantasms on the wall merged, one becoming indecipherable from the other as Qui-Gon lowered his body over Obi-Wan's. His weight pressed Obi-Wan back into the mat as his lips met and pressed against Obi-Wan's. The young man's mouth opened as his body accepted the heaviness of his Master. Their tongues duelled, twining together in a sweet dance of thrust and parry.
Obi-Wan dug his heels into the firm mat and thrust his hips up into Qui-Gon, moaning into his Master's mouth as solid heat branded him. His hands scrabbled over Qui-Gon's clothing and he was suddenly unable to remember how to remove the training tunic. Finally he took a hold of the material on either side of Qui-Gon's throat and pulled, the thin cotton making a wonderful tearing sound as he pulled.
His hands were caught, swallowed up by his Master's as Qui-Gon broke the kiss and pulled away, their twined shades separating as Qui-Gon pulled them both up into meditative poses on their knees.
"We must stop," said Qui-Gon, finger reaching out to silence his apprentice, heavy on soft lips. "This isn't right."
"I'm well past old enough to make up my own mind, to know what I want, Qui-Gon Jinn," Obi-Wan snapped, hands shaking as they again wrapped around the thin material at Qui-Gon's throat, pulling Qui-Gon towards him. His voice dropped, becoming low and intimate. "And what I want is you."
It was Qui-Gon's chuckle that stopped him.
"Am I really just an amusement to you, Master?" The words were light, but the question was heavy enough; the hurt twined through the words.
"No, my Obi-Wan, but when I said that we must stop, I meant making love here, in the training rooms where anyone could walk in on us at any moment." He reached out to grasp the slim braid, tugging gently at it until Obi-Wan's lips were merely a whisper away. "And I don't want our first time to be on the floor."
Obi-Wan's eyes fell shut at the words, his mouth opening beneath the sure warmth of his Master's. They broke apart, gasping.
They left the training room quickly -their shadows chasing after them as they tried not to hurried through the halls of the Temple. Qui-Gon laid his hand on Obi-Wan's arm, slowing him down as quick steps began to turn into a run.
"Softly, Obi-Wan, we will get there."
"Not soon enough." The words were uttered in a throaty half-growl and Qui-Gon's strides lengthened until he was practically dragging Obi-Wan along in his wake. They passed through the Crystal Gardens and the Ornamental Hall without pausing to admire their beauty; their silhouettes, equally uninterested in the Temple's delights, followed, nipping at their heels.
Qui-Gon palmed open the door, pulling Obi-Wan into the room and, spinning, pressed him up against the wall. Slate eyes glittered up at him and Qui-Gon pressed his body, from knees to chest, against the length of Obi-Wan's. His hands grasped Obi-Wan's and slowly drew them up over the young man's head. Their compact shadows were pressed tightly between them and the wall. Qui-Gon grinned as the hips trapped beneath his thighs twitched and pressed forward. Lowering his head, he ran his lips over Obi-Wan's face, barely touching the skin with feather-light contact. He touched Obi-Wan's mouth, allowing him to deepen the contact before drawing back, just out of reach. The room around them was familiar, but this evening it seemed to sizzle with electricity.
"Well, Padawan," he said, his best teaching voice marred by the ragged edge he couldn't quite control, "it seems you are caught once again."
"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan's eyes glittered now, like emeralds in the soft evening light from the windows.
"How would you free yourself?"
"Why would I want to?" Obi-Wan asked, twisting his hips and rubbing his erection against the bigger man.
Qui-Gon pulled back until he held Obi-Wan in place with only his knees pressed hard just above Obi-Wan's, and his hands wrapped around the slender wrists, holding the younger arms stretched high above his head, like some virgin sacrifice chained to a rock, waiting for the monster to come devour him.
"Now what?" he asked softly. Teeth flashed whitely as Obi-Wan laughed up at him and tried to arch his body into Qui-Gon's, twisting and pushing until he conceded defeat. He stood in the trap of Qui-Gon's body, panting softly, his face flushed with exertion. Qui-Gon lowered his head and took Obi-Wan's bottom lip between his own, running his tongue over it and tugging until a moan slipped from Obi-Wan's mouth, breathing heat into Qui-Gon.
"You are so beautiful," he said softly, moving to capture Obi-Wan's top lip, intent on giving it the same treatment. Obi-Wan sank his teeth into Qui-Gon's lip, the older man yelping and pulling away in surprise. Pressing his advantage, Obi-Wan surged forward with his body and the Force until Qui-Gon felt the back of his knees hit the arm of the couch and he fell back into it, the world tipping on it's axis.
Refusing to give up his one advantage, Qui-Gon kept his hands wrapped around Obi-Wan's wrists. Obi-Wan turned it to his own benefit by pressing his palms against the cushions on either side of Qui-Gon's head as he climbed up until he was seated across Qui-Gon's hips. His thighs pressed tightly against the bigger man, his knees digging into the cushions.
Qui-Gon flexed, looking for purchase, but with his knees over the arm of the couch, his feet didn't quite meet the ground and he stubbornly refused to relinquish his grip on Obi-Wan's wrists. He could thrust up with his hips, but not enough to dislodge the younger man, succeeding only in pressing tighter against him. Obi-Wan rolled his own hips forward, bringing their erections together through the thin cotton of their training pants. Qui-Gon tugged on the hands in his, pulling Obi-Wan's face down and their lips met in a deep kiss.
Their tongues wrestled, Obi-Wan pressing the advantage of his position atop Qui-Gon and pushing his tongue into Qui-Gon's mouth, sweeping over teeth and gums, running lightly over the sensitive skin on the roof of Qui-Gon's mouth before mating with his tongue to Qui-Gon's. Silky flesh thrust against silky flesh in an echo of the movement of their hips.
Their lips parted and Obi-Wan ran his tongue over Qui-Gon's face; tracing his eyebrows, sucking at the slight bump on Qui-Gon's nose where it had been broken but never properly healed. He combed the short beard with his lips and teeth and then, pressing his face down, he fluttered his eyelashes against Qui-Gon's cheeks in a soft caress. All the while their hips moved together, driving their cocks against each other; their shadows merged into one undulating form.
"You do realise," Qui-Gon began only to be cut off as Obi-Wan tightened his grip on Qui-Gon's hips and thrust harder.
"No more lesson tonight, Master."
"Yes, Padawan," Qui-Gon replied, his meek tone coloured with need and belied by the insistent movement of his hips. Obi-Wan's mouth covered his again as their rhythm became frantic. Qui-Gon's grip tightened, bruising the wrists he held. Obi-Wan arched his back, his own hands locking awkwardly around the wrists of those that bound him and he shouted, wordless noise, his orgasm riding him hard. A moment later Qui-Gon whispered his name and stiffened. They held the position while their pleasure stormed through them, soft tremors and quivers passing through their bodies. Obi-Wan collapsed on the older man, their breathing harsh, hands still locked together beside Qui-Gon's head.
"Master. Qui-Gon."
"Mmmm?"
"Do you think you could let go of my hands now?"
"Only if you will let me up."
"Deal," said Obi-Wan with a chuckle. Qui-Gon let go of him and Obi-Wan sat up, stretching for a moment as he rubbed his wrists. Both men grimaced as the air hit their wet trousers.
"I think a shower is in order," commented Qui-Gon wryly as he accepted Obi-Wan's hand and help in standing.
"Do you think," Obi-Wan paused and then looked up earnestly. "Do you think I could join you?"
"That eager to be rid of your sticky mess?" Qui-Gon teased, hand already reaching for Obi-Wan's, fingers twining around fingers, silhouettes already beginning to merge once again.
"More a case of wanting to make another."