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Obi-Wan rasps in air so quickly that his throat burns with it. The back of his head presses down against the mattress, his shoulder blades the only other part of his body still firmly on the bed. His hips are held almost perpendicular in Qui-Gon’s strong grip, Obi-Wan’s legs flailing uselessly in the air as he shudders from sensation.
Qui-Gon’s face is buried against his ass, the scrape of his beard along sensitive skin making Obi-Wan whimper. His tongue fucks in deep, slippery and shockingly intimate as he opens Obi-Wan up with his mouth.
Obi-Wan’s arms are stretched out around him, trying to take what little of his weight isn’t balanced in Qui-Gon’s embrace. Obi-Wan feels vulnerable, helpless, as easily manipulated as a child’s plaything, and, Force help him, it’s so desperately erotic he can hardly catch his breath. Qui-Gon’s knees nudge against the underside of Obi-Wan’s arms as he drags Obi-Wan even closer, his back brushing Qui-Gon’s naked chest.
Obi-Wan couldn’t escape this hold even if he wanted to. The thought makes his cock leak messily, precome sliding across his stomach toward his chest.
Qui-Gon’s tongue curls within him, and Obi-Wan’s left leg twitches, kicking out aimlessly. Qui-Gon juggles his weight easily, freeing a broad hand to grip the back of Obi-Wan’s thigh. He pushes Obi-Wan’s leg back towards his body, until Obi-Wan’s knee threatens to touch against his own chin.
Folding Obi-Wan almost in half so effortlessly, and if this position had felt obscene before, now he feels completely on display, exposed, his face hot with embarrassment and desire.
“Master.” The whine slips from him before he can catch himself, toes curling.
Qui-Gon pulls back just enough to look down at him, hot breath still teasing the slick skin of Obi-Wan’s cleft. He wonders what he must look like there, if the skin around his hole is shiny and turning red from the drag of Qui-Gon’s mouth and beard.
“Hold yourself open for me,” Qui-Gon murmurs, gaze hot enough to sear him, and Obi-Wan is defenceless under the heat of those eyes, unable to do anything but obey. He bends one arm over his head, pulling his other leg back against his chest as well so his free arm can wrap around the back of both thighs. Surrendering even more of his weight and balance to Qui-Gon’s grip, his whole body openly begging for more.
It’s shameless, the blatant invitation of his body, the moan ripped from him when Qui-Gon lowers his head again. The movement of his mouth is so demanding, and Obi-Wan tries to spread his legs as much as he’s able, knees framing his chin. His head is spinning, the whole room is spinning; his consciousness orbits the slick feeling of Qui-Gon’s tongue fucking into him.
Obi-Wan tries to reach for his cock, the need for friction there so strong it almost hurts. But he can’t, not without overbalancing, not without letting go of his legs. He feels the pulsating pleasure building there, like every heartbeat throbs beneath his skin, stroking him from the inside. He can’t even rock his hips, no matter how desperate the urge is, because Qui-Gon holds him too steady.
He’s powerless, keening needily as Qui-Gon licks at him, and when his release surges through him, Obi-Wan wants to curl up into it, but still he can’t move. Qui-Gon fucks his mouth against Obi-Wan’s ass, and come spatters across Obi-Wan’s chest, his jaw. He feels himself rocked forward, bent over even more fully, and catches the next spurt across his parted lips, mewling weakly as he’s wracked with shivers.
His tongue darts out instinctively, tasting his own release. Qui-Gon groans throatily against his ass, and at least Obi-Wan knows he is not the only one powerless to this pleasure.