Actions

Work Header

In Your Body

Work Text:

~In my body you search the mountain

for the sun buried in its forest.

In your body I search for the boat

adrift in the middle of the night.~

Counterparts  by Octavio Paz

 

 

The grunt shattered into a moan as Obi-Wan dropped his weight, seating Qui-Gon fully inside of himself at last, at long, long last.

He rode then, slow and torturous, until he found the right angle and cried out, fire exploding up his spine like blastershot, whiting his vision around the edges; heard Qui-Gon’s hoarse shout as Obi-Wan’s body clamped down around his.  Then it was fast and hard and fast and harder, Qui-Gon's fingers digging in above Obi-Wan's hipbones and pulling, gasping as Obi-Wan took him.

Gasping, all but begging, skin gleaming in the low light, sweaty and cursing, straining, beautiful – beautiful as Obi-Wan had never seen him before, until at last Qui-Gon bared his teeth and arched up, shuddering and breaking underneath him, coming, cock thudding against Obi-Wan’s prostate and that was far, far more than Obi-Wan could withstand.

When his own orgasm let him breathe again, Obi-Wan crumpled to knees and elbows on either side of Qui-Gon's torso, sweat and semen slick between them.  Obi-Wan dropped his face into Qui-Gon’s neck and panted, taking in the ripe stink where he’d painted the older man’s body clear up to the shoulders.  Wonderful, wonderful smell.

Qui-Gon lay hot and limp beneath him, aftershocks running shivers through his lean frame; unmoving except for the rise of his breathing and his hands, rubbing slowly over Obi-Wan’s hips and waist and arse again and again, as if he could not stop.  Obi-Wan kissed him: the hollow of Qui-Gon’s throat, down his sternum to the ‘saber scar and back up, feeling Qui-Gon’s pulse against his mouth – precious life thundering just below fragile skin. Obi-Wan smiled, exhausted, and closed his eyes.

 

When he opened them again, he was alone.

No matter.  Qui-Gon had merely answered the call of nature, surely, and wouldn’t be long.  Obi-Wan stretched, smiling at the dull ache of muscles not used that way in a very long time.

And stilled.  

And rolled over, peering around the dim room.  Reached out and laid a hand on the sheet beside himself.  Too cool to his touch. Obi-Wan sat up and raked his hair out of his eyes, and looked around for his sleep-pants.

 

He found Qui-Gon in the garden – no surprise there – and knelt down at his side on the dry grasses.  They were due for rain tonight, perhaps even storms and very soon indeed, judging from the feel. The air was heavy, charged.

And not only from the atmosphere.    

Obi-Wan studied the object of his search carefully in the faint lights that glowed from the garden paths.  One would think the Jedi Master deep in peaceful meditation, as still as he was, clad only in his own sleep-pants, his eyes closed and craggy profile serene.

But Obi-Wan had lived with the man for more than twelve Standard years; lived with and watched and come to love.  He knew better. “Qui-Gon.”

After a few moments Qui-Gon took a deeper breath and opened his eyes, although he didn’t look around.  “Obi-Wan.”

Silence.

“Leaving a warm, new lover in favor of meditation outside in the cool threatening-to-rain isn’t terribly flattering,” Obi-Wan said at last, venturing to tease, when it seemed Qui-Gon had no more words than his name.  "Your, ah, permit to operate my sexual equipment doesn't expire, you know."

That won him a huff and a momentary upward quirk of mouth and mustache.  Then Qui-Gon closed his eyes again and the tiniest pinch appeared at the corners, and now Obi-Wan was concerned.  “Qui? What is it?”

“You.”

What?  “What?”

A much much deeper breath, that filled and lifted Qui-Gon’s bare chest before expelling in a long, long sough of air.  “It’s you.”

Qui-Gon opened his eyes once more, staring at everything or nothing, there was nothing in front of him but the inky phantoms of the roe’u bushes, just visible in the murk.  “I didn’t know. Before. I believed I did but I did not, before you.” Qui-Gon shook his head just slightly, barely enough to shift the hair tumbled over his shoulders. “Not truly.”

Obi-Wan laid his hand on Qui-Gon’s forearm where it rested on the older man’s thigh; the skin was too cold and Obi-Wan felt it pebble up, tiny hairs rising beneath his touch.  “Qui -Gon.”  

“You.”  And finally Qui-Gon looked at him, and his eyes seemed portals of black that reflected no light.  “Showed me the crack, the place – only you could reach. You made me weak.”

Obi-Wan swallowed, past concern and heading quickly for alarm.  “Master – ”

“The barest tap of your hand – ”  Bottomless eyes looked down at Obi-Wan’s hand and Qui-Gon’s bigger one snared it when Obi-Wan would have moved; covered it and gripped, holding it, them, in place.  “And I shattered. Was remade, into something – something I don’t, as yet, completely understand.”

Obi-Wan heard the click in his own throat as he sought for words and found none.

“But I know now the power of this; begin to know how beings would move mountains, and planets and the stars themselves to feel it.”  Qui-Gon cradled Obi-Wan’s face in both hands, and his fingers were cold against Obi-Wan’s cheeks, 'saber calluses catching on the night’s growth of stubble.  “I need you.”

“You have me,” Obi-Wan whispered.  “As long as the Force allows, you have me, you know that, you must know that.”

“Obi-Wan.  I need you, Ben,” Qui-Gon breathed.  “I crave you,” and he was leaning into Obi-Wan now, bearing them both backwards onto the grass, the longish blades cool-cold-dry under Obi-Wan’s bare back, Qui-Gon catching himself on hands planted to either side of Obi-Wan’s head.  

“I hunger for you,” he growled, shifting, caging Obi-Wan with arms and legs, boxing him in with quickly-arousing Jedi Master.  “I thirst for the feel of your body; for the taste of your skin, the heat and sweat –”  

He flattened down and Obi-Wan clutched at him, coming promptly and near-painfully erect, instantly desperate for Qui-Gon’s weight.  He locked his arms around Qui-Gon’s back and dug his fingers in as Qui-Gon mouthed at his shoulder and collarbone, kissed-bit up his neck to the hinge of his jaw – “the taste, the salt of you, Obi-Wan – ”

“It’s all right – ”

“ – Ben, I can’t, I can’t –

“It’s all right,” Obi-Wan repeated, trying to reassure, tunneling his fingers beneath the tangled mass of Qui-Gon’s hair, shivering and arching his head back as Qui-Gon began to suck at his throat.  The backs of his eyes prickled.  The threatened rain was starting now, soft stings of wet on Obi-Wan’s skin, mingling with the sharper stings of teeth. “It will ease in time, it will, I p-promise you, we’re new yet, just learning each other – ”

Qui-Gon moaned against his skin, a sound like nothing Obi-Wan had heard from this man before: long, low. Lost.

Obi-Wan shuddered hard and squeezed his eyes shut, and tightened his arms.  “It will ease, like a river after the rains stop. It will. Let go and feel it, I have you, you’re safe, safe with me, I won’t let you drown, I swear by the Force – let go, let go –”

And the rains fell, drenching Obi-Wan’s face and washing away the tears, muting the salt’s sharpest sting as the waters flowed together, bitter and sweet, down into the needful grasses.

 

***