50 Ways - Way #18: In the Interest of Science

50 Ways To Screw Your Lover

Way #18: In the Interest of Science

by Kalujinn (kalujinn@earthlink.net) and The Rose (rosarocaminis@yahoo.com)

Disclaimers: George Lucas owns all things Star Wars and makes a fortune off of them. We write for the fun of it and give it away for free.

It had been a horrible day, Qui-Gon surmised. Already, he'd been tortured with one of those seemingly endless Council sessions. He'd been told that the report he'd worked on for the past tenday was too long, too confusing, not detailed enough and, frankly, lacking in objectivity. Only the promise of a revised report, one more organized, concise and completely objective, had won him a reprieve.

After departing the Council chamber, Qui-Gon headed for the refectory. When he rounded the last corner, he had the misfortune of running, literally, into Padawan Cherbaa. Normally, an incident of this type would have been handled without thought. Unfortunately for Qui-Gon, however, Cherbaa was a sensitive soul. When startled or upset, her species had one annoying habit. They spat green ink on their offenders.

Qui-Gon looked down at the rapidly spreading stain covering the front of his favorite tunic and sighed.

"So sorry, Master Jinn, but one mustn't be held accountable for instinctive reactions, must one?" Cherbaa said quickly, then swept away.

For a moment, the Jedi Master debated returning to his quarters to change. Then, his growling stomach reminded him he hadn't eaten since Firstmeal. He decided to eat first, then go change clothes. He went into refectory, loaded up a tray, and went to sit at his customary table. Mace Windu soon found him. Fortunately for the Council member, he elected to say nothing about Qui-Gon's attire. A few moments later, they were joined by Obi-Wan, whose behavior, as the meal progressed, became more and more distracting.

The young man sat down beside him at the table he was sharing with Mace. Obi-Wan speared a piece of nerf steak, dipping it in the chubu sauce, wearing a speculative _expression as he chewed, his attention focused on Qui-Gon. The older man tried to concentrate on his discussion with Mace, but his apprentice kept tapping his foot under the table. Finally, a bit exasperated, he turned to Obi-Wan as he lifted his cup to his lips. "What is it, Padawan?"

Mace chuckled as he leaned back in his chair. "That's a good question, Qui. Just how many times a day do you masturbate?"

Qui-Gon refused to give in to his friend's baiting. "Look at my apprentice, Mace. I've got that in my bed. Who needs to masturbate?"

Qui-Gon began to chuckle as well when Obi-Wan had the grace to look shocked, an outraged "Master Windu!" bursting forth from his lips. He fell into an embarrassed silence for the duration of the meal. Still, Qui-Gon was rather grateful when Obi-Wan left for his next class.

"Hello, Master," Obi-Wan said as he entered their quarters that evening, setting down the datapad and the small package he carried.

"Hello," Qui-Gon said distractedly, barely glancing up from his work. A few minutes later, he frowned, sniffing the air. "What is that Sithspawned stench?"

"No." He was pleased when the candles were blown out and the scent began to dissipate, but it was quickly replaced by another. He pinched the bridge of his nose tiredly, wondering if he'd ever get this report done. "And what, pray tell, is that?"

Qui-Gon considered the question briefly. "Hungry," he said, before standing up and making his way into the kitchen.

By the time Qui-Gon had prepared a modest latemeal, Obi-Wan was already seated, and two new candles graced the table. He lit them as Qui-Gon sat down, and a rather nauseating odor wafted across the table. "Would you like to explain this?" the Jedi Master asked.

"It's homework, for a paper I'm doing," Obi-Wan explained. "Do you like this scent? What does it make you think of?"

Qui-Gon took a forkful of casserole and considered. "The mission to Hemmilstadt."

"Hemmilstadt?" his Padawan asked with a frown. "But we were in stagnant water up to our ankles most of the time."

"Is that the last of them?" Qui-Gon said hopefully when no more candles were presented.

Qui-Gon crawled into bed gratefully. He was pleased when Obi-Wan settled in beside him, but a bit surprised when a wave of his young lover's hand extinguished the lights completely, not leaving even the faint, ambient glow that Qui-Gon preferred. Too tired to quibble, he stretched out on his back and willed himself to sleep. He had nearly succeeded when he felt fingers gently rearranging his flaccid penis.

"Not tonight," he started to say, then he gasped at the brief touch of something ice cold against his sensitive member. "What the -"

Deciding he didn't really want to know, Qui-Gon drew a deep breath and reached for sleep again, only to be stopped once more by Obi-Wan's fingers. This time, there was no doubt about the Padawan's intentions, as his fingers stroked and caressed until Qui-Gon felt himself hardening.

"Shhh," the young man whispered. "I know you're tired. Just let me take care of this for you." He continued to stroke, his hands quickly bringing Qui-Gon to a state of full, almost painful arousal. Again, something cold touched him, and he yelped.

Whatever it had been, it was gone now, replaced by the incredible heat of Obi-Wan's very talented mouth. Qui-Gon clinched his hands into the bedclothes as his cock was suckled and licked and nibbled. Just as he finally shuddered into climax, however, the mouth disappeared, and something cold and almost metallic feeling settled on his abdomen, directly below the pulsing head of his cock.

"What the Sith are you doing?" he asked, rising up onto one elbow. Obi-Wan just as quickly pushed him back down.

"Relax, Master." The sensation of cold, whatever it was, disappeared and the light by the bed flickered on briefly as Obi-Wan rolled away from him. Before Qui-Gon could protest, it was turned off, plunging the room back into darkness. He closed his eyes as strong, slightly callused hands begin to stroke his chest. Fingers plucked at his nipples, then stroked down his torso until they found his penis.

"I know," Obi-Wan said, but he kept working the limp flesh until, amazingly, it began to harden again.

Maybe if I just ignore him, he'll stop, Qui-Gon told himself. He closed his eyes and let his body take over, and soon his throbbing erection was tenting the sheet. To his dismay, Obi-Wan rolled over and flicked on the light for the second time. This time, Qui-Gon clearly saw him making note of something on his datapad.

"All right, enough," he said, sitting up and glaring down into his Padawan's eyes. "Tell me what you're doing."

Qui-Gon dropped his head back against the headboard with an audible thunk. "And, I am the subject of this essay?"

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. "How many other Jedi Masters am I sleeping with?" He picked up his datapad and snuggled against Qui-Gon's side. "See, here are the questions I'm researching: average number of erections per day, average number of masturbations per day, length of penis when not erect, length when fully engorged, amount of semen per ejaculation, amount of time needed to regain erection, odors that stimulate -"

Qui-Gon cut him off. "I get the picture," he said around a sigh. He glanced at the small metal measuring cup containing his semen. "That is not leaving this room," he said firmly.

"Good." Qui-Gon slid back into bed. He closed his fist around his cock, and with a few firm strokes, brought himself off. He turned his back on Obi-Wan, who was still bent over his datapad.

"Actually, Master, I do have one more question for you," his apprentice said hesitantly.

Qui-Gon considered this carefully before answering. "That depends. Are we talking about Mace Windu, or everyone else?"