by Eiluned
(eil.at.phoenixfyre (AT) gmail(DOT)com)
ARCHIVE: Ask before archiving or linking.
DISCLAIMER: Qui-Gon belongs to George Lucas. Damn, do I wish he was mine...
RATING: NC-17
SUMMARY: ABH. You and the Master out in a rainstorm. A
plotless dollop of smut with whipped cream on top.
"Our love is like
the misty rain that
falls softly--but
floods the river."
Anon.
The fading sounds of pipes follow you out of the brightly lit hall, away from the celebrations. You step out into the warm night, the humid winds swirling your long, filmy dress around your bare legs. You turn back for just a second, to the place where he stood.
Follow me.
His words still echo in your mind.
You leave the festivities and venture out into the tropical forest, following a narrow trail up the side of the mountain. You can feel his essence here. It’s like a trail of breadcrumbs that leads you to him.
The perfume of tropical flowers permeates the air, making it heavy. You pause to breathe in the essence of a particular flower. Its petals are dark purple, almost black in the shaded moonlight. It is the only one that is open along the trail.
Come to me.
His voice comes to you again. You can sense that he isn’t far ahead of you on the trail. You leave the flower behind and continue up the gentle slope.
The look in his eyes told you everything you needed to know. He gazed at you across the throngs of dancing people, catching your attention with ease. His eyes smoldered, flames of his desire licking at you across the wide hall. His arms were folded across his immense chest, the broad line of his shoulders imposing and arousing all at once. He turned and walked out of the arched door, but his mind still spoke to yours.
Follow me.
The trail abruptly turns and you are faced with a rather steep section. Hitching up your long skirt, you start to maneuver the climb. As you ascend, a dull thunder becomes louder, and a fine mist floats around you, coating your skin. As you near the top, fat raindrops begin to fall, pit-patting over leaves on their way to the ground.
You crest the hill and are suddenly in a clearing. Qui-Gon stands with his back to you, looking out at a narrow waterfall that plunges its way down the valley. The festival hall is a silent dot of gold on the valley floor. The rain starts to soak through your gauzy dress, but it isn’t unpleasant. The coolness of the water counteracts the heat of the night.
"You found me."
His voice startles you. You slowly cross the clearing to where he stands. You slip your hands around his waist, pressing your body against his from behind. He sighs and leans back into your embrace.
"Did you think I wouldn’t?" you ask.
A silent laugh shakes his body. "I knew you would," he replies easily, turning in your arms and pressing his lips against yours.
His tongue immediately parts your lips, sliding into your mouth to stake his claim. You moan against his lips and feel your body go limp in his arms. He’s so damned good at this, you think. He can turn you to squirming, begging mass of hormones with simply a look.
He starts to inch your damp dress up your legs and you gasp. "But, we..." you start to protest.
He silences you with a kiss. All arguments die before they reach your lips. He tugs the dress over your head, hanging it from a nearby branch. His sash and belt fall to the ground, followed by his tunics. "They’ll get dirty," you chastise between kisses, and he flicks his hand, sending the tunics to hang with your dress.
Qui-Gon turns his assault to your neck, sliding his tongue from your collarbone to your earlobe. After giving it a nip, he dips his head to suck at your nipple. You gasp, burying your face in his hair, inhaling the gentle scent of rain and soap. He switches to your other breast, paying it the same attention as its twin. Stars of pleasure explode behind your eyelids.
He moves back up and slides his tongue into your mouth. You gain control of your own hands and begin your exploration. Thumb to thumb, your spread hands do not cover the span of his chest. You glide your fingers down his damp, golden skin, circling his nipples until he groans and shudders. Your hands continue their journey, skating over the flat muscles of his stomach, coming to rest on the waist of his pants.
He grinds his hips against you, letting you feel his hardness, his readiness for you. He kisses you with more ferocity, his beard scratching your skin. He backs you up until you feel the hard cliff wall against your back. You break the kiss, gasping for air, and let your tongue get acquainted with the taste of his skin. He tastes salty and tangy, and like the rain that falls over the two of you. You suck at his nipple and quickly dart away, following the trail of hair that divides his stomach.
Reaching your goal, you give his cock a nibble through the light wool of his pants. He moans, his fingers twining in your wet hair. You tug his pants down over his hips, exposing his long, curved cock to your eyes. Your mouth starts to water and you lick your lips eagerly. Qui-Gon sees this and his cock gives a lurch. "Anxious?" you murmur, running your lips over the hot skin.
"Oh, gods..."
Smiling, you take pity on him and run the flat of your tongue up the underside of his cock. He shudders and his hands tighten in your hair. He leans on his other arm against the moss-covered rock, trapping you between his hips and the cliff face behind you. Wetting your lips, you take the swollen head into your mouth, sucking lightly before letting him slide back into your throat.
His tightly reined control starts to slip. You pull back, flicking your tongue on the little indention under his head, then relax your throat and let him slide all the way in. His body stiffens, the muscles in his hips flexing and tightening under your hands. A few more strokes of your mouth over the tight, smooth skin and he’s pushing you away.
"Something wrong?" you ask innocently.
A lusty smile casts across his swollen lips. "Nothing at all," he replies, his voice rough and throaty, and he pulls you to your feet.
Qui-Gon’s lips burn yours and his hand roam possessively over your body. "Turn around," he rumbles, directing you to face the rock.
You oblige, leaning on your hands against the wall. He nudges you forward until you’re standing on a raised rock. "Spread your legs," he orders.
Trembling, you obey, rubbing back against him as he positions himself behind you. He tilts your hips back and you feel his cock pressing at you. You moan when his strong fingers plunge into you and slick out over your clit. "Are you ready?" he whispers.
"Oh, yes. Now, please..." you reply.
A swift pump of his hips and he’s inside of you, filling you. A cry escapes you both. He gathers his control and starts thrusting, pushing himself deep inside. You tip forward, leaning your head against your arm, moaning with every thrust. He feels so good inside of you, stretching you as far as you can be stretched. Gods, he’s so big...
His right hand snakes around your hip to tease your clit while his left takes a place beside yours on the wall. His body is pressed fully against yours, his hips grinding against yours, his fingers flying over your clit, sending little shuddery orgasms shooting away from your hips. You start contracting around him, coming harder than you ever have before, and he stops to feel you climax around him.
When the waves finally recede, he starts pounding into you, hurtling toward his own climax. It only takes a few thrusts and he’s there, emptying himself into you, filling you with himself. A low, keening moan escapes him and his teeth sink into your shoulder. You lean back into his embrace, letting him find his release in you. The rain washes over your naked bodies, cooling the heat of your skin.
Qui-Gon’s hips give a few more lazy thrusts and then it’s over.