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"What in Sith's hell is this, Master?" Obi-Wan held up a datapad, pinched between his thumb and index finger. His handsome face was crinkled in disgust as the offensive item was held at arm's length. "It is exactly what it looks like, Padawan." They stared at each other; Obi-Wan eyeing Qui-Gon with a wary expression, Qui-Gon returning the gaze slightly baffled. Silence stretched before them and Obi-Wan appeared to become more agitated as the seconds ticked by. Qui-Gon gave up and spoke first, breaking into the charged silence, hoping to calm his angered padawan. "It's my assignment, Obi-Wan. I told you that I would be sitting a Master's class on Sentient Beings Resource Management. We had to write a job description for our Padawans-" "It's the shoddiest example of a job description I have ever seen!" "Padawan-" Obi-Wan cut him off. "Master, your description of my *job* makes me nothing more than a glorified pack mule. Worse - a servant! I most certainly am not!" Obi-Wan tossed the pad to Qui-Gon. Fighting off a sign of frustration, Qui-Gon looked down at the pad. "It mentions missions Padawan. 'Provide assistance in and out of the temple…'" "Provide assistance? What? Read further. Do the laundry? Cook the meals? Three weeks ago I fought my way through twenty armed guards to free you from that guerilla camp and this week I am nothing more than a slave!" A slave! Qui-Gon was appalled. "No, Obi-Wan, never that!" How could Obi-Wan think such a thing? Qui-Gon cherished him - loved him - how could he think that he held such a low opinion of him? "Well read your damn description Master and have a good long think about what it says about my place in your life." Obi-Wan turned on his heel and stalked into his room, shutting the door behind him. Qui-Gon followed him, concern propelling him across the room. Pressing his large palm to the lock, he found that he was denied entrance. Obi-Wan had locked him out. "Obi-Wan," he called, resting his head against the cool metal, "please let me in." Muffled curses and the sound of something hitting the door were the only answer provided. "Padawan-" Qui-Gon sighed. What could he possibly say to the man? Like master, like padawan and when it came to stubbornness, this was certainly true. Obi-Wan would not open the door until he wanted to. Only an order would circumvent this and Qui-Gon was not prepared to go that far. Yet. Qui-Gon was a patient man. He would ride the wait out, read his assignment - the very one that caused this fuss - and when Obi-Wan came out of his room they would discuss this like adults and hopefully afterwards… He'd always wondered what make-up sex with Obi-Wan would be like. Moving back to the couch, Qui-Gon settled in and began to read. By the time he reached the ninth line, he had a fair idea of the problem and by the twentieth…his face flushed red with embarrassment and shame. His error was a grave one and Qui-Gon could not believe that he had committed such a sin in the first place. It was unthinkable; it went against the very principles of sentient being resource management. When the assignment had been given, Qui-Gon had dug out a very old, dusty scroll from his closet - it was Obi-Wan's signed Pledge. Written on paper and tied with ribbon, the Pledge detailed a padawan learner's duties to the Order and to his master. An oath of obedience and loyalty signed by a thirteen-year-old boy eleven years ago. The same boy who had grown into a fine young man whose duty was no longer to follow his master blindly. Obi-Wan was no longer a tag-along whose primary role was to observe his master. He was a colleague in all but title, a friend, a confidant. A lover. And by copying the eleven-year old oath, Qui-Gon had done his padawan a great disservice and broken a rule that should never have been broken. Fit the job to the individual, not the individual to the job. Qui-Gon should never have used the Pledge. Obi-Wan no longer needed constant protection and curfews. Nor was the young man required to polish Qui-Gon's boots and mend his clothing. Obi-Wan was a partner and in fitting with that, his share of the responsibility on missions increased. The job description he had prepared should have reflected that. With one small tap of a button, the contents of the datapad were erased. He would fix this and then apologise and do whatever it took to have Obi-Wan's forgiveness. With a new perspective and grim determination, Qui-Gon began to re-write the description, becoming so engrossed in his task that he did not hear the hiss of Obi-Wan's door or the heavy footsteps of his angry padawan. He heard and saw nothing but the datapad until a shadow fell across the screen. Looking up he inhaled sharply. Obi-Wan stood before him, barefoot and shirtless, sculpted arms folded across a rippling chest. The position showed off Obi-Wan in all his glory and even after having the young man in his heart and bed for sixth months Qui-Gon still found that his pulse raced faster when confronted with such a display. "Padawan." Qui-Gon offered the word cautiously, preparing himself for Sith-Knows-What would come next. "Master." Obi-Wan held out a datapad. "Since it appears that you are inept at creating a job description, I wrote one myself. You might use it as a guide, before you decide that I should polish the windows or whatever else you think a padawan is good for." Ignoring the insolent tone, Qui-Gon reached out and took the proffered pad and began to read it, giving it careful attention since it was his original job description that caused this problem. Qui-Gon gasped when he reached the position description. "Obi-Wan-" "Yes, Master?" Green eyes bore into his and Qui-Gon found desire in their depths and a suspicious glint that stank of mischief. "It's not your job to-" "No." Obi-Wan agreed to the unspoken task. "It's my pleasure to." "But-" Obi-Wan smiled a wicked grin that caused an involuntary shudder to coarse through Qui-Gon's body. "Have you realised your error, my Master?" Qui-Gon nodded - it was all that he was capable of. Scanning his eyes down Obi-Wan's creation, he found himself speechless. "I trust that you realise that a thirteen year old could not perform those requirements? That I am not a child and my job description should reflect this? That next time you have to do an assignment you shouldn't take the easy way out. If you had performed a job analysis instead of copying my Pledge, then we wouldn't have this little problem here. Now would we?" "No." Qui-Gon conceded his breath rapid. A familiar heat was rising between his legs. Obi-Wan had a very good point. No child could do what his padawan described in vivid detail. "But-" "Problem, Master?" The lust in Obi-Wan's eyes made Qui-Gon flush a deep red. "Ah. Padawan, it's not your duty to go down on me when I am tense. Or at any other time. The Council would have my head if they thought-" "It's not the Council who gets to have your 'head' Qui-Gon and I would be appalled to think that you would allow them to." Qui-Gon shook his head, understanding lighting the fog in his mind. Since they had become lovers, he had found that he was Obi-Wan's favourite play toy. And his padawan was playing with him now, teasing him with his near-nakedness and this - this job description. Qui-Gon returned the smile his padawan had flashed earlier. This was a game he could play too. He cleared his throat. "Well, Padawan, there are several items that I must bring to your attention. I am most displeased to note that you have neglected item 24 completely." Obi-Wan snatched the pad back from Qui-Gon, who looked on, silent. His face flushed with pleasure when he saw Obi-Wan smile back at him. "Item 24 you say?" Qui-Gon forced his voice to sound dry and unimpressed. "Yes." Obi-Wan nodded curtly, maintaining his role. He began to untie his leggings, working the knots slowly, drawing each cord out in a long extended show. The playful creature that he was would not continue with out teasing Qui-Gon first. Knot undone, Obi-Wan's fingers caught the waist of his leggings and he moved them inch by slow inch, making Qui-Gon's breath heavy with anticipation. Green-blue eyes maintained constant eye contact with Qui-Gon and as hip bones were revealed he was torn between losing himself in those eyes or following the trail of the pants, ever closer to revealing to Qui-Gon what was his and his alone. His own arousal pushed against his pants, straining harder the longer Obi-Wan took to undress. If the other man wasn't naked soon… "Padawan-" "Master, is there something you want?" The fingers stopped their movement before Obi-Wan's cock could be freed. Words failed Qui-Gon and with a low growl, he pulled Obi-Wan into his arms and ripped down the pants himself. With Obi-Wan naked at last, Qui-Gon reached out and fondled the cock before him, revelling in the feel of it against his hand. He yelped in surprise as his hand was batted away and he looked up at Obi-Wan, confused. "Master? Have you forgotten item 24?" Appearing ignorant of his nakedness and aroused state, Obi-Wan stood with his hands on his hips in mock indignation. Item 24… Item 24... It required Obi-Wan naked, him naked and a mirror. Obi-Wan was naked. They had a mirror. Qui-Gon's passion fogged brain made the essential connection and found the cause of his love's semi-frustrated pose. He wasn't naked. It took less than three seconds to rectify that problem and another heartbeat later he had them both standing before a full-length mirror, Obi-Wan's back pressed against Qui-Gon's chest. Qui-Gon ran his hands over Obi-Wan's body, skimming over nipples, their destination locked in. He looked into the mirror and met Obi-Wan's reflected gaze. When his hands reached the waiting cock of his padawan, he delighted in the moan his touch elicited. Qui-Gon stroked Obi-Wan, slow and lazy movements that were driving them both crazy as they watched the scene reflected back at them. Never one to spend too long in any one moment, Obi-Wan slipped his hand behind his back to place Qui-Gon's cock at his entrance. "Do it." "Oh yes." Qui-Gon said, pushing Obi-Wan to the floor. Kneeling behind his padawan, his hands fastened onto slim hips while his eyes drank in the image they presented in the mirror. Obi-Wan was on his knees stroking himself while watching Qui-Gon move into position. Another moan escaped Qui-Gon's mouth. Obi-Wan was a beautiful creature to behold, but in the throes of passion, he was a God. And Qui-Gon wanted to possess him, become a part of the beauty he saw before him. Easing inside Obi-Wan's heat, Qui-Gon gasped - the tight passage was slick with oil. A feral smile lit his padawan's face, but before Qui-Gon could say a word, Obi-Wan shoved his ass backwards, sending Qui-Gon deep within him. "Do *me*." And with that command, Qui-Gon forgot his questions and tightened his grip on Obi-Wan's hips. He thrust into the body before him, eyes fixed to the mirror as he watched another Qui-Gon plunder another Obi-Wan, while the other Obi-Wan placed his elbows on the floor, raising his ass so that his lover could go deeper. Master and apprentice both looked into the mirror, staring as each push was met with a powerful thrust, their eyes drawn to the other's. Obi-Wan took one of Qui-Gon's hands and slid it over his flank. "Touch me." "Yessss." Qui-Gon groaned, reaching for Obi-Wan's hardness and fisting it. Obi-Wan bucked in the tight grip, his eyes shutting, giving himself over to the sensation. But that wasn't what Qui-Gon wanted. "Obi-Wan. Open your eyes." Qui-Gon issued the order and was obeyed as lust clouded eyes sought his own in the mirror. Qui-Gon pulled Obi-Wan up until his padawan's back was flush with his chest. They were both so close to completion and although the position slowed his animalistic thrusts, Qui-Gon wanted, *needed* to see Obi-Wan come. And he wanted to share that beauty with his lover. He moved his fist up and down Obi-Wan's cock, memorising the gasping, sweaty image of his padawan being taken, touched and driven to ecstasy. "Watch yourself." Qui-Gon said, gritting his teeth as he felt his own orgasm approaching. Not yet though, not until Obi-Wan came. "Watch yourself come." Nipping at Obi-Wan's ear, he commanded, "now." Obi-Wan screamed as he came, his eyes doing as he was ordered. Never in his life had Qui-Gon seen something so erotic as this. As Obi-Wan watching as he was possessed, watching himself as he came - as Qui-Gon took him over the edge. The sight of Obi-Wan's seed spilling into his hand and the feel of muscles contracting around his cock sent Qui-Gon screaming after his padawan as the orgasm ripped through him. They both fell forward into a tangled heap of sweaty limbs, but still their eyes remained on the men in the mirror, both slumping to the floor, staring in return at the men before them, satisfied smiles on their faces. They lay there until muscles begged them to move and even then, they simply rolled over until Qui-Gon was facing Obi-Wan. He caught his lover's lips in a gentle kiss that left no need for either man to declare his love to the other. It was all in the kiss - the desire, need, friendship and the love - all shown within those drawn out seconds as their lips and tongues met. "Gods, you're beautiful." Qui-Gon said as he pulled back to look at Obi-Wan. His padawan smiled. "And yours." "Mine. As I am yours." They kissed until Obi-Wan drew back. "But you can mend your own clothes, Master." Obi-Wan looked at remains of his pants, lying in a sad puddle next to the couch. "And perhaps you should mend mine too, since you have this predilection for ripping them to pieces." Qui-Gon laughed before stealing another kiss. "Yes, Master." |