**************

 

Title: Another Bed Bites the Dust

 

Author: Darth Diebin [email protected]

 

**************

 

Summery: Qui-Gon breaks a bed.

 

Rated: Qui-Gon breaks a bed--and he's not jumping on it.

 

Disclaimer: You belong to you. Qui-Gon belongs to George, but I expect him

to come on loan for a while to fix the bed--since the bed belonged to me. ;)

Did you hear that, Qui? YOU OWE ME HARD LABOR FOR THAT BED! (Preferably IN

the bed . . . )

 

Archive: You want it? Damn, you can have it.

 

Inspiration from: You know damn well who you are. ;) Do it again! OFTEN!

Qui-Chicks--thank Sherrie for converting this from a Paddlewan story to a

Master story. She was so persuasive, I just had to do it. ;) (And don’t you

even START, Dande! You know you’re just disappointed because this isn’t a

Obi story, you closet Obi-Chick you!)

 

Author’s Notes:  totally without attempt at a plot. In fact, if you even

suggest that this has a plot, I'll be offended. ;) That's how plotless it

is. Just pure, plotless sex. (And with the Master no less--something is

wrong when my smut contains no plot AND no Paddlewan. I think I need to see

a doctor . . . .)

~~~~~~~~~~

 

Although you both agreed that relocation is necessary, the location to which

you are relocating is an issue that isn’t as easily resolved. Qui-Gon’s

refusal to detach his mouth from your neck may have had something to do with

it--but at this point you aren’t willing to trust your deductive reasoning

skills very far.

 

“Ground’s getting uncomfortable--” you gasp out, trying to coax Qui-Gon to

stand up. The cabin floor is far from comfortable, and as much as you enjoy

the length of him pressing against you, you can think of better places to

have that body stretched out on top of you.

 

“Love you,” Qui-Gon murmurs into your neck, rolling over and pulling you on

top of him. “Can’t stop touching you.”

 

“Please, couch, bed, chair--anything!” His hands are roaming over your back

restlessly, one sneaking under your shirt to glide against the bare skin of

your back. The feeling of his hands on your body after so long without him

is electrifying, and you grind down against him, moaning.

 

“You should have gotten a cabin with the bed closer to the door,” Qui-Gon

groans, latching his lips onto your earlobe and sucking enthusiastically for

a few moments before releasing it, sliding his mouth to kiss your neck

again. “Too far to move.”

 

“Sorry,” you respond, trying to moderate your voice as his hands slide down

to cup your butt, pulling you tightly against him. “This was the only cabin

they had this week--and this is our only week of sabbatical.”

 

“Fine.” In one smooth movement of muscle Qui-Gon is standing, your body

slung over his shoulder and his long legged strides taking him unerringly

towards the bedroom. “You should have been waiting naked in the bed to save

time,” he says, his voice rough. “It’s been six months since I got to touch

you.”

 

Instead of responding, you reach down and squeeze that beautifully muscled

bottom, enjoying his harsh groan.

 

Just as suddenly you’re on the bed, the out-dated wooden frame creaking as

Qui-Gon joins you, stretching out on top of you. “No more teasing,” he

demands softly, his mouth coming down to claim yours in a breath-stealing

kiss. Somehow he managed to get his belt and sash off, and you gladly help

shove the tunics from his broad shoulders, exploring skin that you haven’t

seen in months.

 

Those incredibly large hands come down to cup your face, sliding over the

skin carefully before moving down to strip you of your belt and sash,

tossing them off into the corner. A flicker of the Force and your tunics

slide apart, baring your chest to his hungry gaze.

 

“I hate these,” he says, biting the corner of your bra and lifting it away

from your body. Another deft flick of the Force and the clasp comes undone,

spilling your breasts out into his waiting hands. “Just another useless

layer of fabric.” He whispers the words against your ears, leaning back down

to kiss you as he begins to caress your breasts with slow, deliberate

movements.

 

“No, Qui-Gon--please,” you beg, forcing him to meet your eyes. “None of this

slow seduction right now--I need you. Just fuck me.”

 

“I don’t fuck,” he responds primly, leaning down to nip at your lower lip.

The next words are a low purr against your mouth, “I come in two

modes--making love and ravishing. Which would you prefer?”

 

“Ravish me now, or lose me forever,” you respond, grinding your hips up

against his and sucking his lip into your mouth. The low growl against your

mouth makes you shiver, and for a split second you wonder what you got

yourself into.

 

The few moments demonstrate why they call him The Master. Before you can

blink Qui-Gon has you naked, sprawled across the sheets on the rickety bed.

Another blink and your legs are draped over his shoulders as he dives

between your legs, latching his lips to your clit and sucking strongly.

 

You fight for the breath to scream as your entire body arches off the bed,

trembling already. “You said--no--teasing,” you gasp out, tossing your head

from side to side as Qui-Gon only chuckles, the vibrations of his mouth

sending jolts of electricity through your entire body.

 

“Have to make sure you’re ready,” he responds, pulling back for a few

moments to lick at your inner thigh. “I only ravish the willing.”

 

Before you can compose a proper response he buries his face inside you

again, tongue darting out to twirl teasingly around the bundle of nerves.

 

The bed creaks startlingly as your arch off the bed again, but you’re hardly

in a state to care. One of his large, blunt fingers finds it’s way to your

passage, slipping inside and taking up a counter-rhythm to his tongue.

 

“You--you--you--you,” you chant, trying to urge him up with your hands

pulling frantically on his head. “Inside me, you!”

 

And then he’s above you, broad expanse of shoulders blocking the rest of the

world from your view. All you can see above you is golden skin, stretched

out over silken muscles that tremble as he fights for control.

 

You thrust your hips up blindly, enjoying his groan as you rub against his

erection. Wrapping your legs around your hips you continue to grind against

him, rocking back and forth and biting his shoulder.

 

Large hands wrap around your waist and push you back to the bed, strong

thighs wedge themselves between yours, holding your legs open. Qui-Gon’s

lips steal yours in a passionate kiss, one hand knotting in your hair and

caressing your scalp as the other hand guides his straining erection towards

you.

 

He tries to enter you slowly, knowing that you’re small and not always

accustomed to men of his size. You’re having none of that, however, and arch

up to take him fully, loving the throaty growl that issues from his throat

as he pins you back to the bed, impaling you fully.

 

“Love you,” he whispers against your throat, raising his head to meet your

eyes. Every time you make love there is this moment--just after he slips

inside you when he insists on pulling back and meeting your eyes, staying

completely still inside you and enjoying the feeling of being one.

 

Normally you love this part of the act--but it’s been long. Too long.

Impatient, you begin to write beneath him, thrusting upwards and urging him

to movement. You feel his large fingers wrapping around your thigh, urging

it up around his hip to give him better access. Without urging you wrap the

other leg around him, angling your body upwards to meet his thrusts fully.

 

Weight braced on his arms, Qui-Gon begins to move. His hips thrust

powerfully, met by equal thrusts of your own hips. Over his harsh growling

and your own moaning, the creaking of the bed is audible, making you wonder

for a split second if this wasn’t the best place for the current activity.

It had certainly /seemed/ stable enough at the time . . .

 

Your questions are answered a few minutes later. Qui-Gon’s powerful thrust

is met with a resounding crack as the legs of the bed give out, sending you

both tumbling to the floor in a pile of broken wood.

 

The force of the fall leaves you impaled on Qui-Gon, his length reaching

deeper into you than he’s ever been before. You let out a low moan,

protesting the lack of movement, and thrust your hips towards him, trying to

regain the feeling of barreling towards completion that was suddenly ripped

away from you.

 

For a few moments more Qui-Gon is still. Suddenly he lets out a throaty

groan, rolling over onto his back and pushing you into a sitting position.

His hands lock around your waist as he lifts you, dropping you back down and

moaning as he buries himself deeply within you again. Your hands fall to his

shoulders and you help him, lifting your body up and meeting his thrusts,

riding him.

 

“No--need for--you to get--splinters--” he growls out between thrusts, his

head flung back as he moans. You take advantage of the skin laid bare to

you, leaning down to bite at his neck softly, licking the sweat starting to

slid down his body. His hands tighten on you, forcing your movements to

become faster and harder.

 

“Faster--please,” you gasp out, rotating your hips against his as he drops

you back onto him. He lets out an unrestrained cry, thrusting even faster

into you.

 

When one hand strays around to rub against your clit you throw back your

head and scream, coming with almost violent force. Qui-Gon latches his hands

around your waist again, half lifting you off of him as he starts to thrust

upwards quickly, hips pistoning against your own.

 

He comes almost as violently as you did, filling you with warmth as you

collapse on top of him, bodies still connected as you both ride the waves to

completion.

 

“Dear gods. If that was ravishing, I think I need more of that,” you finally

say, pushing yourself up to gaze into your lover’s eyes.

 

“Let’s just hope the other furniture is sturdier,” Qui-Gon responds casting

a gaze around you at the ruins of the bed. “Otherwise by the end of the week

this place is going to be one large pile of scrap wood.”

 

“I’m holding you to that,” you whisper, leaning down to kiss Qui-Gon’s nose.

“I expect to be ravished until every piece of furniture in this house has

been destroyed.”

 

“Well then. Let’s proceed directly to the couch. It looked sturdier--that

might take two or three tries.”

 

~~~~~~~~~

 

This Plotlessness has been brought to you by PlotBunny(tm--supplying stories

to sex-crazed fanatics for generations. Get your PlotBunny today!