Star Wars, Qui-Gon/Obi-Wan, nobody likes a sore loser
“You’re cute when you pout, Padawan Mine.”
“I’m not pouting, Master.” Obi-Wan’s arms were crossed over his chest, his legs were spread wide, and he was slumped in his seat on the couch.
“Hnm,” mused Qui-Gon. “You seem to be doing a good impression of someone pouting, then. You could catch flies on your lower lip.” Obi-Wan looked at his master, wide-eyed and insulted. “It isn’t very becoming to be such a poor loser.”
Obi-Wan turned his head and muttered something that was not too kind
“What was that?”
Obi-Wan hesitated. Then he spoke properly again. “I wouldn’t mind losing fairly. But I would have won had the referee not missed that call. It was an illegal move, Master.”
“Oh, was it?”
Obi-Wan glared. “You saw it. You know it was.” He rubbed his hand up and down his upper arm, as though his opponent’s saber had actually made contact with it. In reality, it had been an extremely close miss.
Qui-Gon got up from the desk and headed slowly across the common area. “All the more reason for you to lose gracefully.” He stood in front of Obi-Wan, then squatted down, hands on his padawan’s thighs. “Nobody likes a sore loser.”
Immediately, Obi-Wan wished to protest that he shouldn’t have had to lose the sparring match at all, and wasn’t it more important that a fight be fair? But a hand was being forced into his tight leggings, carefully pulling out Obi-Wan’s soft cock, which wasn’t soft for long. Obi-Wan forgot about the match almost completely as soon as Qui-Gon’s two hands wrapped around the shaft and his master’s wet tongue lapped at the tip. He wriggled around, asscheeks clenching and releasing. //Qui-Gon…//
Qui-Gon knew what Obi-Wan wanted. He untied his leggings and took out his own cock. He rubbed his cock in time to Obi-Wan’s, and continued nuzzling his face into Obi-Wan’s crotch. Obi-Wan exhaled deeply, pleasure shooting through him, thighs trembling. He desperately wanted to come.
Qui-Gon stroked faster, and took Obi-Wan’s cock in his mouth. He licked and sucked, trying to ease the stubborn orgasm out. His own thighs were going week and Obi-Wan could see him thrusting into his hand with reckless abandon. It was nice to see his master so turned on by caring for his lover’s cock.
Though, at the same time, Qui-Gon looked distressed that his ministrations were not doing more for Obi-Wan. Or, at least, that was how it seemed to him. Obi-Wan was doing his best to hold back, trying to imagine he was back at the match, sparring with Hijing-Li in front of the full Council. The imagined adrenaline did not help him keep control, however, and he switched his mind to an incredibly boring astronomy lecture taught by a particularly ugly teacher.
Qui-Gon had never taken astronomy with Master Wignum. If he had, he might have done better. A few seconds later, Qui-Gon came. His pelvis jerked and he groaned low and long, tickling and tingling Obi-Wan’s cock. Qui-Gon was out of breath and distressed, but kept sucking until he had to begin swallowing Obi-Wan’s equally-sizeable orgasm.
Afterwards, Obi-Wan pulled his master up onto the couch and snuggled close. But Qui-Gon was less than responsive. “You never last as long as I do,” murmured Qui-Gon.
Obi-Wan smiled. “Hardly ever. Looks like today, my willpower won out.”
Qui-Gon shrugged and sighed.
“Now, now, Master. Nobody likes a sore loser.”
Qui-Gon chuckled and finally put his arms around Obi-Wan. He hugged his padawan, then let a hand slide down to fondle his rear. “Not so sore.”