Battle Lust

by Nix
(crimsonquills AT gmail DOT com)


Author's Notes: I don't use betas, so all mistakes are mine. Plus, I wrote this in just over an hour. Please be forgiving.

Acknowledgements: I wrote this especially for Destina, but also for all those others who I know are dying for smut and haven't found it on list lately.

Warnings: Q/O. Totally PWP. So PWP that there are only exactly 34 words of dialogue. And four of those are "Yes, master"s.


Obi-Wan moved faster than conscious thought would allow, letting the Force flow through him and guide his movements. Blaster bolts bounced off the narrow blade of his lightsaber, often returning to their sources with deadly results. He was not thinking about winning, though. His only object was to protect their retreat as Qui-Gon ran with the ambassador to the ship.

A blaster bolt sizzled by Obi-Wan's shoulder and a cry of pain rang out. The Padawan could spare neither a moment to feel fear it had struck Qui-Gon, nor a glance to check. He forced all his concentration to protecting the two men behind him, the Force and adrenaline the only things touching him.

Finally, with sweat pouring down his neck and back, his arms aching, Obi-Wan felt the boarding ramp beneath his heel. A surge of relief was pushed aside as reinforcements of the enemy came running around a corner. Then a hand grabbed the back of Obi-Wan's tunic and, with help from the Force, he was yanked into the ship just as it took off.

Obi-Wan, thrown off balance, thought he would fall, but strong arms caught him and held him upright. He leaned into that strength, his nerves still singing with energy though he'd released the Force. "Obi-Wan," he heard Qui-Gon say, "are you unhurt?"

"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan managed, reaching out along their bond to assure himself that Qui-Gon, too, was well. He was briefly overwhelmed with a vision of himself, hair spiky with sweat, skin flushed, eyes bright and body taut with energy. The desire that colored the image startled him before it was shut away.

In an instant, all the aggressive energy flowing through his veins turned into sexual energy. Without even stopping to think about it, Obi-Wan reached up and claimed Qui-Gon's lips in a kiss he'd been aching for for ages. It wasn't gentle or chaste. It was a deep, hungry kiss that lasted only long enough for Obi-Wan to push aside the other man's tunics.

Then his lips moved to taste elsewhere. He nibbled along the collarbone and licked his way down to taste a tight, peaked nipple. Qui-Gon gasped under the touch, overwhelmed and unbelievably aroused by the hunger of the young man who was even now tossing aside his tunics and going to work on his pants.

Obi-Wan slid appreciative hands down long, strong legs as they were revealed. He frowned at the fabric caught on the boots, but grinned as Qui-Gon quickly kicked them off. The younger man straightened up and claimed another kiss, his hands pulling his Master firmly against him. Only then did he seem to realize that he was still fully dressed. Quickly, Obi-Wan shed his own clothing.

Qui-Gon had only a moment to appreciate his Padawan's beauty before Obi-Wan molded their bodies together, eager for the sensation of skin against skin. Qui-Gon slid his hands along Obi- Wan's hips and flanks and butt, hardly knowing what to touch first. Warm skin and lean muscle beckoned everywhere.

Pleasure spiked through both men as Obi-Wan ground his hips against Qui-Gon's, and the older man couldn't help but moan aloud. Then Obi-Wan was drawing them both down, the cold metal a shock against heated skin. Obi-Wan disappeared for a moment, but before Qui-Gon could form a question he was back, a small crystal bottle of oil in one hand. The Padawan stopped any questions with a kiss and a teasing caress that began at Qui- Gon's throat and ended with an all-too-brief stroke along his cock.

Obi-Wan's intent was clear, and Qui-Gon bent his knees and splayed his legs to open himself to his apprentice's touch. A single, oil slicked finger pushed into him, but it wasn't enough, not nearly enough. Qui-Gon pushed against it, silently pleading for more. Obi-Wan gave it to him, inserting a second finger and gently stroking his prostate.

Qui-Gon cried out and arched into the touch, his body tense with want. The fingers disappeared, leaving the older man gasping with need. Then Obi-Wan was entering him, slowly sheathing his cock in Qui-Gon's tight heat. For a moment the two men froze there, sweat slicked bodies pressed tightly together. The need to move quickly overwhelmed any remaining restraint, sending Obi-Wan pounding into Qui-Gon.

The Master gripped his Padawan's hips tightly, encouraging every thrust with little tugs of his hands. The tension built to a fever pitch, the relief coming when Obi-Wan reached between them to take Qui-Gon's cock in a firm grip. That was all it took to send Qui-Gon into orgasm, his release slicking their bodies with more than sweat. A few more deep thrusts and Obi-Wan was spending himself deep inside his Master.

His energy spent, the younger man collapsed to lie, panting, on Qui-Gon's chest. After a moment taken to recover themselves, Qui-Gon said, "Obi-Wan?"

"Yes, Master?" Obi-Wan asked, wondering for a moment if he was going to be reprimanded.

"Where did you get that oil?"

Obi-Wan grinned. "This ship is carrying supplies for the fertility rites that will soon be occurring on Terek 3."

"How appropriate," Qui-Gon murmured, a smile touching his lips.

--End--