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Qui-Gon Jinn does not look back at his Padawan as the door to their shared quarters slides shut with a soft hiss. He carefully folds his robe, drapes it across a chair, and says, calmly as ever. “Why don’t you go clean up, Obi-Wan. I’ll see to our dinner.”
“Yes, Master.” The young Jedi replies evenly, with no sign that he is anticipating how the rest of the evening will go and that he has been suppressing his excitement for it all day. In the bathroom, he undresses and opens one of the enema packages that they keep here, while he listens through the closed door for his Master talking into the coms system. A little later he catches a brief exchange with the service droid bringing their dinner. The noise from his shower covers anything else from the living quarters beyond and when he steps out of the bathroom, clean and soft from head to toe, and unabashedly naked, Qui-Gon is seated in one of the two armchairs in the bedroom, facing him. Obi-Wan lets the tiniest shy smile tug on his lips but makes no move to cover himself. His Master returns the smile warmly, softening his entire face, and beckons him over. Obi-Wan slides into his lap and immediately presses his face to Qui-Gon’s neck, breathing in his scent, and pressing kisses to his skin. Qui-Gon’s hands are warm as he cradles his Padawan against his chest and strokes along his exposed body tenderly.
It always starts out like this and this is the basis of their physical relationship: Qui-Gon being gentle and caring with him in a way that would appear almost innocent to an outsider. But his hands quickly drift lower along his body, to the firm muscle of his arse and between his legs. Obi-Wan doesn’t make a sound, just presses himself minutely closer to the solid warmth of his Master’s body.
“You have done well not getting hard all day, my young Padawan.” Qui-Gon speaks directly into his ear and he wants to shiver, wants to finally let his arousal spike and take over. Fantasies and memories of mindless, loud orgasms in his Master’s lap flash through his mind.
Instead he makes his voice come out calm and polite. “Thank you, Master.”
He licks a stripe along the side of Qui-Gon’s neck while the older man gently fondles his soft penis. He bends his focus on the quiet in the room and the soft warmth radiating through him. Qui-Gon kisses him softly on the cheek.
“You can let go now. It’s all right.”
Obi-Wan sighs and immediately gooseflesh radiates out from Qui-Gon’s fingertips caressing his bare skin all over. In the need to ground himself against the tremor running through him, he presses his open mouth firmly to the juncture between his Master’s neck and shoulder, only just pressing his teeth into warm skin. Qui-Gon’s hand is back on his slowly hardening cock, stroking him, fingers wrapped loosely around the already twitching shaft. Suddenly hot and tingly with sensation, Obi-Wan whines, head throwing back, hips bucking. To quiet and occupy him, Qui-Gon pushes his free hand into the silky strands of his shoulder-length hair and pulls back his head. Then he licks into his mouth and Obi-Wan opens up wide, sucking hungrily on his tongue. He already feels unbalanced and overwhelmed, like he can not get close enough, can not give up enough of himself and take enough of his Master to ever be satisfied. The need for more is disorienting. He wants to taste more, he wants to feel more, but where to start when control is being gently pried from his flimsy grasp.
When Qui-Gon pulls back to look at him, Obi-Wan’s tongue lolls out, drool dribbling onto his own bare chest, he stares at his Master’s shiny lips. The needy whine out of him is only half an act for their scene. He lets himself pant wantonly as his cock is being fisted.
Qui-Gon is holding him by the hair, not painfully but firmly. He lifts his other hand off his hard shaft and wipes it roughly across his mouth and tongue, smearing spit over his face, letting him taste the first hints of his own pre-cum. Then he pointedly holds out his hand under his Padawan’s chin and Obi-Wan lets more saliva drip into it. Thus lubricated he goes back to jerking his Padawan’s cock in a tighter grip. Obi-Wan keens and pulls against the fist in his hair. The tiny pricks of pain shoot straight into his crotch. Qui-Gon wipes his palm over the leaking tip of his cock, spreading pre-cum down his shaft. Obi-Wan is gripping the front of his Master’s tunic tightly and watches himself being pleasured, the broad, calloused hand sliding firmly and with increasing speed up and down his stiff, flushed prick.
“You are doing very well, my young Padawan.” Qui-Gon says, his deep, even voice making Obi-Wan moan and shiver. “I would like you to cum several times tonight, does that sound all right to you?”
“Yes, Master.”, Obi-Wan pants. He rolls his hips, shamelessly fucking his Master’s fist. Qui-Gon swipes his thumb over the tip on every other pull, driving him wild. For a while everything feels very quiet, with only Obi-Wan’s half suppressed moans and the wet sounds of Qui-Gon jerking off the naked boy in his lap. Then Obi-Wan’s noises pick up and his hips stutter out of rhythm.
“Are you about to cum, Obi-Wan?”, Qui-Gon asks, still apparently unaffected by what they are doing. “I can feel your cock jerking. Go on, spill over my hand.”
Obi-Wan tenses and cums, moaning, loudly now, shooting cum over his own naked body. He jerks once more and more fluid oozes from him, dribbling over his Master’s fingers, still steadily tugging at his shaft.
His whimpers and moans only taper off when Qui-Gon’s hand stops moving. His Padawan lies limp in his arm, breathing heavily, a few last tremors running through his legs.
They have only just started and Obi-Wan feels filthy already, covered in sweat and cum, staining his Master’s clothes. Qui-Gon drags his cum-covered hand up Obi-Wan’s body, smearing sticky white across his stomach and chest, rubbing it into his nipples, and making him shudder and moan weakly. Then he smears the rest of it over Obi-Wan’s tongue and the boy eagerly licks it up.
Qui-Gon smiles and when the taste of ejaculate has faded and Obi-Wan’s lips slacken he brushes his spit-slick fingers along the lines of the boy’s face, stroking the soft, freshly-shaved cheeks.
“Excellent.” He says and Obi-Wan smiles back, glowing and happy.
“Now, please get on the bed and finger yourself open for me.”
Heat shoots through him and he moves to obey. His legs feel loose, relaxed, he is swaying just a little. By the end of this game of theirs he won’t be able to walk unassisted. He resists the temptation to bend further than necessary when retrieving the lube from the nightstand.
“Facing you, Master?” he asks.
Qui-Gon looks barely rumpled, as if he has just put aside a report he was reading, ready to discuss their training schedule, and was not, in fact, engaged in the thorough debauchment of his charge, squirming naked and wanton in his lap. He is still fully dressed, even his boots are still on, and that sight makes Obi-Wan inadvertently palm his flagging erection. His Master’s gaze flashes to his crotch and he snatches his hand away. The game says that he does as he is told, and only as he is told. Even if he likes to push the rules occasionally, the rules make it fun.
But he does adores those boots. Earlier in their physical relationship, when they started to realise just how much Qui-Gon likes him submissive and just how much Obi-Wan likes to submit, there was a memorable evening when Qui-Gon first let him rub himself off on his boot. Obi-Wan came humiliatingly quickly by humping the smooth leather. When the mood swings that way, Qui-Gon then usually keeps him at arm’s length at his feet, jerking off to the younger man’s longing gaze until he cums on his face and his eagerly stuck out tongue.
But tonight his Master is going to fuck him. And Obi-Wan hopes he leaves his clothes on so he can mess them up to the point where the stains are visible even in the dim evening light of their quarters. He shifts, tilts his hips slightly, obviously. Qui-Gon’s gaze wanders slowly back up his body.
“Facing away, please.” He says. “I want to see what you’re doing.”
Obi-Wan bows his head respectfully and lowers himself onto his knees on the bed, bracing himself with one arm, arse in the air, knees spread, leaving nothing to the imagination. He pours lube on his fingers and proceeds to reach behind himself to rub it around the tight ring of his hole. With his muscles already relaxed from a thorough cleaning in the shower he easily sinks in the first finger. The room is silent as he works more lube and fingers into himself, trying to loosen the muscles without hitting his prostate too much. His belly is roiling with heat and he can feel himself sweating. Soon he is slowly pumping four fingers in and out and lube is trickling down his taint. His Master approves of him using more lubrication than strictly necessary; it keeps him safe but also Qui-Gon likes him wet and messy.
“You can rub your prostate if you like.” Qui-Gon says.
Obi-Wan doesn’t turn to look but he imagines his Master staring at his hole with a blank face, still soft under his robes while Obi-Wan is fucking himself on his own hand, his arsehole quivering and wet. He pushes deeper, pushes down the tremors that want to roll through him as he steadily strokes his prostate. It shoots right into his cock and he whimpers and curls his fingers faster.
He is going to cum again, he can feel it. He will finger himself to orgasm under the close attention of his Master, while purposefully showing off his body and his lewd desires to him to him. He bites his lip, squeezing his eyes shut. His breath comes in fast, straining whimpers.
A warm hand suddenly lands on his back, making him flinch and a moan tumble unbidden from his mouth. Qui-Gon runs his hands up and down his back from his shoulders to his buttocks, avoiding his hole and his thrusting fingers, only giving a slow, gentle squeeze to his butt cheek. Obi-Wan feels the warmth his body looming over him and the edges of his robe brush his heated skin, making him shiver.
“Obi-Wan.” Qui-Gon murmurs into his ear. “I thought we were over this. There is no need for restraint here. Give in to your pleasure.”
Obi-Wan whines and tries to shove his fingers deeper but he’s starting to meet his body’s limits.
“Do you want to cum by yourself or do you want my help?” Qui-Gon strokes down his chest and over his belly and stops just before he touches his Padawan’s cock.
“Master!” Obi-Wan gasps.
Qui-Gon kisses his neck and shoulder. “What do you want Obi-Wan? Tell me.”
He slides his palms up and down his chest, calluses dragging on his nipples. Obi-Wan suppresses a shudder and stays stubbornly quiet. This is a game and he likes to be persuaded. Qui-Gon kisses his neck again, then he straightens up.
“Stop.” he orders and Obi-Wan wrestles down his reluctance to obey. He pulls his fingers from his hole with a faint noise of wetness.
He waits for what will happen next, stark naked, on all fours, his hole lubed and twitching. He refuses to twitch with unsatisfied arousal and quickly brings his breathing back under control. He almost misses the whisper of fabric behind him, then the warm, rough hands are back on his skin, sliding up his back. His hair is gathered up and wound around one hand. Then he feels the tip of Qui-Gon’s cock rest at his hole. Gooseflesh races over his body and he stops breathing.
The next moment he is wailing as Qui-Gon enters him in one long stroke, pulling his head back harshly by his hair. At first he doesn’t quite understand if he is in pain or ecstasy, his head is spinning, and there is a ringing in his ears. The sound of his own shocked gasping reaches his ears belatedly. A soothing hand runs along his back while he quivers around the cock inside him. His hair remains in a tight grip and he can not move, when even the trembling of his body is pulling at his roots.
“You’re fine, Obi-Wan.” Qui-Gon says, just as he would if Obi-Wan had got the air knocked out of him during training and had only to get back up. “Breathe through it.”
But instead of letting him catch his breath he pulls swiftly back and pushes right back in, straightaway fucking him in deep, even strokes, that shoot tingling heat up his spine. Within seconds Obi-Wan turns into a sobbing, shaking mess. His ass feels like it is on the verge of tearing, even though he knows in the now so overwhelmed rational part of his brain that it doesn’t even hurt and he has taken more and rougher before. He feels absolutely full and Qui-Gon grinds unerringly over his prostate with every thrust into him. In an onslaught of stimulation he finds himself incapable of distinguishing sensations. But he feels his body tighten up even more under the strain of being held upright by his hair. In flashes between his own sobs and cries and the slides of Qui-Gon, so hot and so hard, in and out of the depth of him, he is aware that his cock is twitching excitedly and his hole is spasming. It goes on relentlessly and Obi-Wan, suspended in a state of constraint and stimulation, of being handled just on the edge of brutality and fucked beyond pleasure, loses track of time and of his own body. He is only distantly aware that he is still upright on his hands and knees, rocking back and forth with the force of his Master’s thrusts, and that his scalp burns. His Master holds him tightly with one hand, only just without tearing his hair, and roams over his body with the other, scratching the skin of his back and flanks, wrapping a hand loosely around his throat to tilt his head up even more. His hand settles at his shoulder for a while, pulling him back into every thrust.
Obi-Wan cries and squeals and all of his attention focuses more and more down onto the heavenly, thick cock sliding in and out of his body, stretching and stroking the tight walls of his hole and radiating hot, all-encompassing pleasure into his belly, up into his chest, out into his limbs, all the way to his blissfully clenching fingers and toes, finally reaching his head and filling it with blinding heat that wipes out everything else.
He feels stupid and ecstatic. His mouth hangs open, his face is wet with tears and drool. Then Qui-Gon hits him. A hard strike with the open palm, stinging white-hot across his arse, and Obi-Wan’s shout of surprise and pain is strangled off in a throaty gurgle as it makes him cum. Qui-Gon fucks him mercilessly through it, keeping the grip on his hair. Obi-Wan comes back to himself bent awkwardly with his chest and face collapsed into the mattress, his arse still in the air and being plowed at an angle that is just so good and way too much. He is still crying and moaning pathetically.
“Uh, uh, uh, uh-“
Qui-Gon shifts his grip, pushing his head down now and bearing down on him with the weight of his body. Obi-Wan thrashes as his face is forced into the mattress and into a mess of his own snot and tears, and the cock in his ass pushes as deep as it can go. His knees slide out from under him and he is pressed down, buried naked under his Master’s body, who is still fully dressed. The rough fabric of his trousers and tunic against Obi-Wan’s oversensitive skin only adds to overwhelming his senses in something akin to pain. He clenches down hard on his Master and Qui-Gon hums, the first indication that the sex is affecting him even slightly.
“Very good, Obi-Wan.” He says. “Good boy.”
At the praise Obi-Wan’s spent cock squeezes out another dribble and his body jerks as if he has been hit again. Then the pressure on his head releases and both hands settled warm and gentle on his hips as Qui-Gon pulls out achingly slowly. He hasn’t cum yet and Obi-Wan knows this is far from over but he groans and sobs with relief as he withdraws from inside him. When he is empty once more his hole gives a few rhythmic clenches around nothing and he lies there, struggling to regain control of himself, legs spread wide. He hears clothes rustling behind him but is grateful that his Master refrains from touching him for the moment. The slightest brush of skin against skin, he fears, would send him into another overwhelmed fit.
After what may have been a minute, may have been half an hour, he manages to get his arms beneath himself and carefully turn over onto his side. Qui-Gon is standing next to the bed fully naked now. His cock juts out hard and glistening. Obi-Wan shivers at his sudden need to lick it clean.
Qui-Gon finishes neatly folding and laying aside his trousers. They must already be absolutely ruined for any further wear before a wash, but he delights in a show of orderliness and decorum in front of his fucked out and disheveled Padawan. He smiles down at him.
Obi-Wan returns the smile blearily. He turns over onto his back and runs a hand down his body, through the mess of sweat and cum. He gasps when he brushes over his softening and sensitive cock. Then finds his hole and pushes his fingertips inside, languidly stroking his around his loosened rim, holding eye contact.
The bed between them is a rumpled, stained mess and Obi-Wan still feels winded. Qui-Gon isn’t even slightly out of breath. He climbs onto the mattress and straddles his Padawan, grasping his hands to move them away from his hole. He presses them back, over Obi-Wan’s head and out of the way, holding them down for a moment, then letting go, trusting him to know that he wants him to keep them there. He pushes Obi-Wan’s now sweaty hair from his face, studying him with a serenity that makes Obi-Wan want to break the silence with a question, any question, makes him want to sit up and kiss him and beg him to let him suck his dick.
Qui-Gon’s long hair falls around them as he leans over him. Obi-Wan’s breath evens out and the oversensitive thrumming throughout his body slowly begins to ebb away. His Master is very carefully barely touching him now. Abruptly it feels like their little scene has been cut off, the galaxy outside their quarters locked out more permanently than by a personal security code, keeping them for a moment as nothing more than two men together in their own close and tender world.
“How do you feel?”, Qui-Gon asks.
Obi-Wan basks in the warmth of his naked body above him and feels all tension and stress finally drain from himself. His reply comes out soft and slightly mushy. His tongue feels heavy in his mouth.
“Good.”, he says. “Thank you, Master.”
“Thank you, my young Padawan.”, replies Qui-Gon. “You did very well for me.”
Having just cumed his brains out twice, his cock won’t be stirring again for a minute, but the words sparks warmth in his stomach that trickles down to his groin. He is quite aware of the pressure of his Master’s arse across his lap. He purposefully clenches his asshole that still feels loose and hot. Qui-Gon smiles his narrow, kind smile down at him.
“Can I kiss you?”
Obi-Wan nods and closes his eyes. It is slow and tender and almost chaste. Until his Master opens his mouth wider over his, licking across his lips, sucks on his bottom lip, slides their tongues together deep into his mouth. Obi-Wan opens up for him, letting himself be kissed thoroughly, luxuriously. He feels almost more debauched like this than being fucked into incoherence from behind. Their kisses seem obscenely loud to him in the quiet room. He dares move his hands down to rest on his Master’s hips. Qui-Gon doesn’t let him do this in their scenes, not until afterwards when they have cleaned up and are lying in bed together. To get a break for tenderness when he knows they aren’t done is novel and wonderful. The skin beneath his palms is so warm. It makes him shiver with pleasure and he slides his hands slowly up along the other man’s sides. Qui-Gon hums and kisses him harder.
A drop of stringy fluid hits his abdomen, startling him. Qui-Gon grabs the side of his head to hold him in place for one last deep kiss before he pulls away with a lewd, wet pop and sits back on his haunches.
Obi-Wan revels in getting to just enjoy the view for a moment, the older man’s lean torso above him so defined and elegant and strong. His chest is lightly dusted with hair trailing in clean lines down his stomach to his groin. His long hair falls smoothly around his shoulders and his cock is in his hand now, still rock-hard and leaking pre-cum, slicking the way of his fist sliding up and down the shaft.
Qui-Gon in turn admires the docile, fucked-out boy beneath him. He is flushed and sweaty and covered in drying cum, with lips kissed red and shiny. His pupils are blown wide and his beautiful locks are spread out around his head. Qui-Gon wants to smear them with cum.
Casually masturbating to his Padawan’s erotically submissive form he loses himself for a moment to fantasies of what he might do to him. Make him gag and choke on his cock before coming on his face and into his hair, then pushing back into his throat and doing it all over again. Littering his body with light bruises and red welts until he is a shivering and crying mess and it takes hours to gently nurse him back to full coherency, though not before he has made him cum on himself a few more times and put him beyond speech and thought. Or doing the same thing tenderly, with light touches just enough to keep him hard and leaking for hours until he is begging to be broken. Things they have done before, things they have yet to try if Obi-Wan is willing. But for tonight he has already made the boy cry. And though he knows from experience the delightful effect that being fucked relentlessly for hours has on his Padawan, he is also itching to release himself inside him; and to maybe make him scream along the way.
“How did you feel about being hit?” he asks. “It made you cum quite hard.”
It wasn’t the first time Qui-Gon hit him during play, but never before this hard without warning. Obi-Wan flushes deeper and squirms. His hands now rest on Qui-Gon’s thighs very lightly, ready to pull away at any moment. His eyes keep wandering back to his Master’s erection.
“I liked it.” he says, licking his lips. “You can do it again.”
“Good.” Qui-Gon smiles, then moves off of him. “Come here.” he orders and Obi-Wan scrambles up to crawl to him. Without having to be prompted again he lowers his head between his Master’s thighs.
Qui-Gon pets his hair with one hand and rubs his cock into the boy’s face with the other. Obi-Wan slavers on his testicles eagerly. Then Qui-Gon lays a few sharp slaps on his arse, making him twitch and double his efforts to suck his Master’s balls into his mouth.
“That’s very good. Keep going.”
He picks up the lube from beside them. Soon he has four fingers inside Obi-Wan’s arse and is pushing in more and more lube, the obscenely wet sounds adding to the lewd picture before him. Obi-Wan can be coaxed to delightful debasement, though it always takes him a good while to shed his habitual poise and dignity.
When Qui-Gon pulls away he gives a pitiful whine and chases after his Master’s crotch. Qui-Gon grabs him by the hair and pulls his head back sharply, making him stare up at him, his eyes large and pleading, his face shiny with spit. Slowly, holding eye contact, Qui-Gon feeds him his cock.
“No complaining now. You get exactly what I give you, exactly when I give it to you.”
He pushes into his throat and moves his head back and forth by the hair a few times. Training his gag reflex had been easy, nothing more than another exercise in physical control, and he now rhythmically swallows around the swollen head lodged in his throat. If he were anyone else Qui-Gon would be moaning and rutting into the deliciously hot mouth around him, but as it is he calmly pulls him off again and releases his hair to cradle his cheek.
“Turn around. I’m going to hit you. You can cum as much as you like.”
Obi-Wan trembles. His eyes are slightly glazed but he nods and moves to present his backside. His hole is open and glistening. Qui-Gon makes it twitch with a ringing slap to his cheeks. Obi-Wan’s low moan comes slightly delayed. He drops his head and tilts his arse up further. Qui-Gon continues to hit him, hard enough to redden the skin, not quite hard enough to bruise. When a dark blush has started to spread over the perk arse, he unceremoniously sinks his cock balls-deep into the hungry, inviting hole before him. Obi-Wan doesn’t make a sound as he enters him, nor as he sits there in him, unmoving, gently caressing and massaging his cheeks, red and hot from being slapped. But his breathing is coming heavier again, and eventually, when Qui-Gon still hasn’t moved, he purposefully clenches down on him, not quite daring to move and fuck himself on his Master’s cock. Qui-Gon responds with another loud smack and Obi-Wan does jerk this time. Then he is crying out as his Master’s thrusts rock him and blows rain down on his skin.
“Ah! Ah- ah- ah- mh! M-master!”
Qui-Gon slaps both hands hard onto the boy’s hips and holds him in a bruising grip as he crashes his hips into his backside, ramming his cock inside with complete disregard for his Padawan bucking and screaming beneath him.
“Take it, Obi-Wan.” He rumbles.
“Master! M-master! F-fuck! Oh! oh! oh!”
Qui-Gon groans and speeds up. Even though he is long since ready to cum, he wants to draw it out more, stay inside him for hours with his hands all over his beautiful body, tease every nerve ending to its limits. He never wants to stop touching Obi-Wan.
Obi-Wan dissolves into high-pitched whimpers and cries. Despite the violent onslaught he continues to hold himself upright, a not unimpressive feat, and it makes Qui-Gon feel absurdly proud of him. He reaches one hand beneath and, yes, he is hard again. Squeezing his cock gently has the immediate desired effect of making his hole clench just a little and Qui-Gon moans as he finally reaches orgasm. Obi-Wan squeaks in surprise both at the hand on his cock and the shaft inside him pulsing and spurting warm cum into him. Qui-Gon slows his thrusts and closes his eyes as he rides out his the waves of ecstasy. Blinding, tingling heat rushes through his body. His cock feels amazing. The low moans of his Padawan beneath him make even more pleasure curl in his stomach. He leans forward over Obi-Wan’s back, strokes his sides tenderly, kisses his shoulder. He continues to move his hips minutely and they can both hear the low squelching of lube and cum filling him up.
“You are so good for me, my young Padawan.”
Obi-Wan can only whimper. His hips jerk back against the cock still buried within him, his fingers clench in the sheets. Qui-Gon kisses his warm skin again.
“Don’t worry, we’re not done yet.”
He pulls Obi-Wan up against his chest as he sits back, wrapping a hand around his throat. He doesn’t give him time to find his bearings and fucks up into him harshly. Obi-Wan flails for something to hold onto, gurgling against the firm grip at his throat, eyes rolling back in his head. The position doesn’t afford as much range of motion for hard thrusts, but the angle is intensely pleasurable for Obi-Wan, as well as serving to tighten him up nicely. That and his frantic squirming at being choked and fucked deep at the same time are almost too much around Qui-Gon so soon after orgasm. He grunts as he holds on tight, one arm across Obi-Wan’s sternum, steadying him, the other clamping down on his hip, pulling him down onto his cock. It’s not easy to hold him up like this but it’s worth his desperate little noises. Qui-Gon presses his cheek to Obi-Wan’s and closes his eyes, listening to the small whimpers and choked gurgles, relishing in the expanse of skin pressed up against his front, the lovely and beloved body captured in his arms. Obi-Wan doesn’t last much longer. A few more thrusts and his cock jerks once again, his back arches, his neck bowing in Qui-Gon’s grip. He makes a tortured keening noise as his cum spurts across the sheets. Then he goes limp in his Master’s arms, who releases his neck and tightens his embrace on him.
Distantly Qui-Gon realises that he is moaning loudly himself and cannot find it in himself to stop pounding his Padawan’s arse even for a second. Obi-Wan is slumped back against his chest, all strength having left him, and sweat begins pearling on Qui-Gon’s face from the effort of holding him up. He never wants to stop, never wants to not be inside him, never wants to not be touching him, never wants to stop overwhelming him with pleasure.
He cums a second time and fucks his release deeper inside, panting and moaning against Obi-Wan’s hot cheek.
His hips stutter and he can feel oversensitivity and fatigue creeping up on him. Reluctantly he slows his thrusts and carefully lowers Obi-Wan back down onto the bed. The boy moans as Qui-Gon slips out of him and his hole clenches a few times before cum begins to leak from him.
Qui-Gon makes sure nothing is bent awkwardly and that Obi-Wan is breathing freely before he sits back to observe and take stock for a moment. Obi-Wan’s breath comes stuttering, but he is moving his head and groaning. Despite how out of it he seems, his arse spanked tender, his entire body flushed and sweaty, it was, all in all, not the most intense or messy play they have had. Being at home, people would take note if they secluded themselves in their quarters far into the next morning, so Qui-Gon largely restrained himself today. Right up until the very end there. He hopes there will be no reddening around his Padawan’s neck.
He sighs and pushes his own sweaty hair back. Better to get Obi-Wan into the shower sooner rather than later.
Obi-Wan becomes more alert as his Master strokes his hair and back, talking to him in a quiet, steady stream of praise. Blinking and smiling dazedly he lets himself be pulled up and manoeuvred towards the bathroom. He feels unspeakably filthy and worn out. He is covered in his own sweat and cum and drool. Lube and some of his Master’s cum have gotten into his hair and smeared on his face and cum is trickling down his legs. Little shivers of pleasure continue to run along his spine. His nipples and his hole tingle with sensitivity.
Qui-Gon chuckles next to him. “Are you feeling all right?”
"Perfect. Thank you.” he sighs. Leaning against the shower wall he watches slow-blinking as his Master turns on the water, then steps close to press soft kisses to his lips as their fluids begin to wash from them.
Qui-Gon can’t resist fingering Obi-Wan to orgasm one last time before he finishes cleaning them up and they fall into the unstained one of their beds.