Archive: M_A. Anyone else, just ask.
Rated: NC-17
Categories: PWP, Romance, Humour
Summary: Qui and Obi find something more fun to do than sit in
committee meetings and read trashy novels. Sweet, cosy and
fluffy, with some mild humour.
Warnings: Cosy. Fluffy. Nice Qui-Gon.
Disclaimer: They're the intellectual property of George
Lucas.
Notes: Many thanks to Burgess for the beta and Thia for looking
it over. The M_A list is incredibly supportive for writers!
Thanks also to Pat and Alison for reading it, and the
discussion about extended metaphor sex scenes.
The bit in asterisks at the beginning should be in
italics.
Feedback: Always appreciated
"You pathetic fool." The black-clad Sith swirled his sable
cloak about him and gloated. "You thought you could foil my
plan to take over the galaxy. But nothing can stop me now! Soon
the Senate will be in my power, and the fleets of the Republic
will be at my command. And you, my interfering friend, will be
vaporized in this vat of boiling acid." The Sith's maniacal
laughter echoed in the huge chamber.
"You'll never get away with it," the handsome Sybarran pirate
replied, spitting defiance at his captor. "The Jedi will stop
you!"
He could not avoid the sight of the bubbling vat, as he was
suspended face down and naked above it. Sweat glistened on his
muscular frame. However grisly his fate, he resolved to meet it
with valour.
There was a loud creak of machinery and slowly he began to
descend toward the seething vat. The spitting acid sharply
stung his flesh.
But then, faster than the eye could follow, a white-robed
figure leapt down from above. The Sith was flung back by a wave
of Force. The shackles holding the pirate captive came free,
yet he did not fall, but, instead, felt an invisible hand lower
him gently to safety.
His white-clad rescuer turned to face the Sith, but there was
no sign of the foul creature.
"He must have escaped through the tunnels," said the
pirate.
"We'll find him eventually," said the Jedi. "You're alive and
that's the important thing. I was afraid I would be too late,"
he said softly. "Are you hurt?"
The pirate shook his head. "Only a few burns. I don't think
dangling over an acid vat will catch on as a popular
hobby."
"Here, let me," said the Jedi, laying his hands gently over
the worst of the burns that marked the smooth skin of the
pirate's well-muscled chest. A brief surge of healing force and
the burn was gone.
"What happened to your clothes?" the Jedi asked, and the
pirate grinned ruefully. He liked expensive and flamboyant
clothes, and the blue velvet surcoat had been a
favourite.
The Jedi removed his own cloak and draped it carefully over
the pirate's broad, bare shoulders.
Obi-Wan put down the book, lay back on the couch and grinned. I
wonder why the Jedi character is always in dress whites, he
wondered idly. And why does the pirate always manage to end up
naked? His grin broadened. The Jedi and the pirate were so
clearly lovers, despite the emphatic denials of the author. The
'Pirate Adventure' books were unarguably trashy, but Obi-Wan
couldn't help liking them.
He had showered after his morning of saber practice, meditated,
and then taken the opportunity to read the thoroughly frivolous
work of fiction. As was his habit when he had the chance,
Obi-Wan had not bothered to dress after showering. He liked to
meditate without clothing, feeling the currents in the air
against his skin, the Force flowing around and through him.
There seemed little need to dress when his meditations were
completed. The temperature was quite comfortable in the
quarters he shared with his master in the Temple on Coruscant,
and there was no need for modesty, since no one would enter the
rooms unannounced. Except Qui-Gon of course, but he wasn't
likely to object. Quite the reverse, in fact.
That was the only thing that was marring this relaxation time,
Obi-Wan thought - that his master couldn't share it with him.
They had returned to Coruscant for the Masters' Convocation,
held every second year - a chance for all the masters to
discuss matters of importance to the Jedi. It was virtually a
vacation for the padawans, as their masters were occupied with
the great formal convocation gatherings, and any number of
lesser meetings. The padawans looked forward to it eagerly, as
a break from their rigorous training. It was a chance to relax
and see friends who had been absent on missions. Only those
Jedi on the most vital assignments did not return for
Convocation.
Qui-Gon loathed it. He had said as much to Obi-Wan, and for the
last Convocation had arranged to be on the other side of the
galaxy, negotiating the end of a civil war. More constructive,
he had said, than days of arguing and being ignored.
This year though, his master had decided that Obi-Wan should
not be denied the chance to catch up with his friends and enjoy
a break. Qui-Gon had departed early in the morning, for a
meeting about conflicts in the Deluros sector, while Obi-Wan
was free to enjoy the time as he wished. Though if he'd had his
choice, Obi-Wan would have chosen to spend it with his master.
They had been lovers for less than half a year, most of it
taken up with perilous missions, and Obi-Wan would have
welcomed the time to be with Qui-Gon. But since that was not
possible, he would content himself with a light-hearted novel
about the unlikely exploits of a Sybarran pirate.
The pirate was about to expose the Sith's plot to replace the
Supreme Chancellor with a clone when the door to his quarters
opened. Obi-Wan groped for his robe, but desisted when he saw
that it was his master returning and he was unaccompanied.
He watched as Qui-Gon took in his state of relaxation and
undress and the smile that quirked his master's lips in
response.
"There's no need to get up, Padawan," he said. "I didn't mean
to disturb you."
"Were you able to resolve the Deluros problem early?" Obi-Wan
asked, teasing a little.
Qui-Gon rolled his eyes. "Hardly. They're going to decide to
take no action, and await further developments. I walked out in
protest."
Obi-Wan smiled to himself at such a typically Qui-Gon-ish
action. No doubt he had neglected to bow on his way out.
"So," his master elaborated, "rather than remain in the meeting
and become irritable, I decided to come and check on my
padawan." He doffed his outer robe and removed his boots.
"A wise course, Master," Obi-Wan said, in his best
grave-council-member tone. "Irritation should be avoided.
Irritation leads to anger, anger leads to hate and hate leads
to the Dark Side."
"Very true, Padawan," Qui-Gon replied in kind. "I'm sure many
Jedi have turned to the Dark Side during committee meetings."
He crossed to the sofa where Obi-Wan was lying. Obi-Wan was
about to make room for him to sit, but Qui-Gon forestalled him.
"You don't have to move, Padawan," he said. Instead he lifted
Obi-Wan's legs, then seated himself, with Obi-Wan's feet
resting in his lap.
"I hope your morning has been more enjoyable than mine,"
Qui-Gon said.
"Very quiet, Master," Obi-Wan replied. "Saber practice,
meditation." He gestured at the book he had put down. "A trashy
novel."
Qui-Gon smiled. "Much better than committee meetings," He
looked at the cover of the book. "Is that a 'Pirate Adventure'?
I remember reading those when I was a padawan."
"You read them?" Obi-Wan's tone was faintly incredulous.
A laugh. "Rarely. Yoda used to confiscate them. I suspect he
only did it so he could read them himself. I'd hear him
muttering 'doing it they so are'."
Obi-Wan chuckled. Throughout the conversation he could not help
noticing that Qui-Gon had been gently stroking his foot. The
sensation was pleasant in the extreme, as his master's fingers
drifted lightly over the sensitive skin, just firmly enough not
to tickle. He gave a soft sigh of pleasure.
Qui-Gon noticed it and smiled at him, the sweet little smile
that just curved the corners of his lips and softened his eyes.
Obi-Wan loved that smile. But then, he had to admit he loved
most expressions that crossed his master's features.
Qui-Gon lifted one of Obi-Wan's feet slightly, enveloping it
within his large warm hands, massaging very gently. Obi-Wan
relaxed into the soothing feeling of it, lying back against
well-padded arm of the couch and letting his eyes drift closed.
To be surprised to feel his foot lifted further, and the
unmistakable warm softness of lips pressed against the arch. He
was surprised, but certainly not inclined to object - it felt
too good. Much too good. Instead he lay back and basked in the
sensations: the softness of lips tracing inside the arch of his
foot, the tickle of beard, the warmth of Qui-Gon's hands, so
large they almost engulfed his foot.
Then Qui-Gon was nibbling around his heel, ending with a gentle
bite to his instep.
A pause, and Obi-Wan opened his eyes, seeing that his master
had shifted on the sofa to face him. His much-pampered foot was
resting against Qui-Gon's shoulder, and the softness of the
fabric of his tunic was sweet against the hardened sole.
Qui-Gon was, very tenderly, massaging his little toe. Obi-Wan
wriggled his toes in sheer pleasure. He could feel it when
Qui-Gon laughed, the rumble of his chest under Obi-Wan's foot,
the soft puff of air tickling him. He loved it when he made
Qui-Gon laugh.
Obi-Wan grinned. "I didn't realise you had a foot fetish,
Master."
"I don't." Qui-Gon planted a kiss firmly on the top of his
foot. "I have an Obi-Wan fetish." Another kiss. "Although you
do have lovely feet." There was no mistaking the fondness in
his voice.
Obi-Wan basked in it, as a wet tongue swiped over his toes,
wriggling between them, then his master's warm mouth closed
over his big toe and sucked. Obi-Wan gasped, surprised at how
indecently wonderful such an absurd thing should feel.
And best of all was the fine touch of Qui-Gon's hair when it
brushed against his foot. Soft, Obi-Wan thought. Comparisons to
moth's wings and rose petals welled up in his mind, but failed
utterly to match the infinite delicacy of the sensation. Like
clouds, he thought dreamily, as though he was walking through
clouds. Completely ignoring the knowledge that clouds would be
wet and uncomfortable. Clouds seemed utterly appropriate, when
his beloved's eyes were the colour of the sky.
The first foot was replaced in Qui-Gon's lap, and the second
lifted for similar attentions, massaged softly and deftly.
"That feels so good."
"You haven't had your feet kissed before?" Qui-Gon sounded
mildly surprised.
"Well, a couple of times," Obi-Wan said. "But I was wearing
boots, so it wasn't the same."
"Boots?" A slightly raised eyebrow from his master.
"Umm, games, Master." He felt slightly embarrassed. His
experiences had been extensive and varied before he had become
Qui-Gon's lover. "You know, dominance games."
"Oh." The gentle hands had stopped their massage. A pause,
then, "Obi-Wan, you're not getting bored are you?" Qui-Gon
looked pensive. "I know I'm rather old and staid ..."
Insecurity, Obi-Wan realised with some shock. It hadn't
occurred to him that Qui-Gon might still feel insecure about
anything. His usual demeanour was serene and self-assured
almost to a fault. But Obi-Wan remembered that his master had
never expected his padawan would return his feelings. Was
painfully aware of the many knights and padawans who had
pursued Obi-Wan, the acquaintances from countless missions who
wanted him. Perhaps the fear lingered, that he would be unable
to hold Obi-Wan's affections.
This would not do. This would not do at all.
He squirmed around, so that he was kneeling close beside
Qui-Gon and reached out to cup the bearded cheeks. "You are
not old, and I am not bored," he said. No teasing
or play now, but simple conviction. "I can't imagine ever being
bored with you."
Qui-Gon still seemed uncertain. "Are you sure, Obi-Wan? I know
you've had many experiences ..."
Obi-Wan stroked his face gently. "But this is something I've
never tried before."
"What, gerontophilia?" Wry self-deprecation in his master's
voice.
"No. Love."
"Oh," a soft murmur.
Obi-Wan smiled a little, hoping to coax his master back into
humour. "I'm not going to grow bored with you. Not even if I
live to be as old as Master Yoda. But will you still love me
when I'm small and green, with eccentric syntax?"
Success. Qui-Gon smiled back. "I'd still love you, no matter
how small and green and wrinkly you were." He was encircled by
strong arms and hugged tightly. "Although the syntax would be a
trial."
Obi-Wan hugged him in return and planted a swift kiss on his
lips. Having, he hoped, reassured Qui-Gon, he moved back to his
former position on the couch with his feet in his master's lap.
"Now we've resolved that," he said, "is there any chance you'll
continue doing blissful things to my feet?"
In response, Qui-Gon lifted the neglected foot and resumed the
delicate massage. Then, like the other, it was lifted, fondled
and kissed. And, like the other, the big toe was taken in and
sucked.
Wonderful. Obi-Wan sighed in enjoyment, arousal stirring with
the thought of the lovely mouth sucking other parts of him.
His master's hands gradually moved upward, their warmth
encircled his ankle, then moved on to stroke over shin and
calf. And his mouth followed in their wake, laying down a path
of kisses. Obi-Wan felt himself gently urged to lift and bend
his leg, as Qui-Gon enveloped his knee with one hand as he
licked and teased the sensitive place behind it. Obi-Wan canted
his leg further to give his lover easier access to the spot -
an especially sensitive place for him. He lifted his other leg
and rubbed his calf against Qui-Gon's shoulder enjoying its
solid strength, as Qui-Gon continued his gentle teasing of
Obi-Wan's knee.
Then the journey was resumed, the warm hand sliding up his leg
as the lips and tongue lingered over his tender inner thigh.
Obi-Wan gasped as his master's lush hair brushed against his
cock. But instead of moving in to suck him, Qui-Gon instead
traced outward, leaving a wet trail of kisses over the line
where thigh met torso. Finally he planted a kiss on Obi-Wan's
hipbone, then Obi-Wan watched him draw back to gaze fondly down
at him.
A warm hand stroked softly over his belly. "So beautiful, my
Obi-Wan." His eyes were soft with love.
Obi-Wan reached out to cover the stroking hand with his own,
wanting the touch, the connection. His cock had filled and
risen, and it too seemed to reach for his beloved.
Qui-Gon smiled at it, wrapped a hand around and squeezed
briefly. "Patience, love."
And then he retreated, to begin again at the other ankle.
Obi-Wan sighed and relaxed into the feeling. Every individual
sensation was lovely, was exquisite, not to be ignored in the
urge to reach completion. So he let himself be washed on the
gentle waves of pleasure that flowed from Qui-Gon's tender
caresses.
But this time, as the kisses reached the apex of his inner
thigh, Qui-Gon did not move out toward his hip. Instead, he
kissed and lapped at his sac, gently engulfing each vulnerable
ball in the thrilling warmth and wetness of his mouth, as
around Obi-Wan's cock was swirled the cool luxury of his
master's dark, silvershot hair.
Qui-Gon drew back a little, and their gazes linked. The bond
with his master, always a constant warm presence in his mind,
was awash with love.
Qui-Gon's lips descended on his cock, feathering tantalizing
kisses over every inch of him, as Obi-Wan stroked the mane of
hair that flowed over his belly. And then he was taken in and
sucked, his lover's tongue teasing him, the waves of pleasure
surging through him. He drew Qui-Gon's hair aside, so he could
look down, so he could see his beloved master do this for him,
the beautiful lips surrounding him and bringing him such
pleasure. To see Qui-Gon's face, his expression - intent and
loving and happy.
He was being sucked fiercely now, the waves of feeling surging
higher, lifting him. He clutched at the unyielding bone of
Qui-Gon's skull, his only anchor as he was tossed in an ocean
of sensation. Then the wave crested and broke and he was lost,
ecstasy crashing through him in the roar of the waves.
And then the gentle ebb, the small ripples of feeling running
through him as the tide receded.
Qui-Gon was lapping at him tenderly, licking him clean. Their
eyes met again, and Qui-Gon drew up to kiss him, to share the
bitter-salt taste of his pleasure. Obi-Wan wrapped his arms
around his master, hugging him tightly. This was the single
thing he had missed in that sea of pleasure, the feeling of
Qui-Gon's broad body against his own, Qui-Gon's steady heart
beating against his breast.
The kiss ended, eventually. "Your turn now," Obi-Wan said,
looking forward to returning the favour.
"I wish we could." Qui-Gon leaned in for another brief kiss.
"I'm sorry, Obi-Wan, but there's another Convocation gathering
this afternoon. I have to attend." Qui-Gon drew back to resume
his seat on the couch and reached for his boots.
Despite his disappointment, Obi-Wan had to fight back laughter.
"Do you mean to tell me that you just sneaked back here to make
sure I wasn't becoming sexually frustrated before going off to
your next meeting?" Mock outrage in his tone.
Qui-Gon was smiling. "Well, I hadn't actually planned on the
sex, but you looked so enticing ..."
Obi-Wan smiled back. "You should be careful, Master. I might
grow to expect such luxuries."
"It could make a very convenient excuse for leaving meetings."
Qui-Gon's eyes were twinkling wickedly. "I'm sorry to
interrupt, Master Windu, but I must go and fellate my padawan."
Obi-Wan collapsed back against the couch. Through his laughter
he said, "I don't think they'd accept that excuse, Master."
"Then I would have to explain to them that you were in danger
of becoming frustrated if I did not. And of course, frustration
leads to anger, anger leads to hate ..."
"And hate leads to the Dark Side." Obi-Wan's laughter was part
amusement and part pure happiness. When Obi-Wan was a boy, his
master had always seemed so serious. It had been a delight to
discover he had been mistaken.
He watched as Qui-Gon re-donned his socks and started fastening
his boots. He appeared to be studying the boot with some
interest. "Obi-Wan," he asked, "did you enjoy the games with
boots?"
Obi-Wan considered his answer, thinking back to that time in
his life. "Not exactly," he answered. "The person I was with
found it very exciting, though. I enjoyed that."
"Ah." Qui-Gon seemed to be considering. "If you wanted me to, I
could ..."
Obi-Wan shook his head. "No, I don't want you to do that."
"Well, that's a relief." Qui-Gon was smiling at him again as he
rose to tidy his hair. "I must confess, I don't see the
attraction. And I expect boot polish would taste revolting."
"I don't think it's done for the taste, Master," he answered,
grinning. "Although, if someone invented chocolate-flavoured
boot polish, I might reconsider."
Qui-Gon had put on his cloak and tidied his hair and again
looked the picture of a proper Jedi Master. Which showed just
how deceiving appearances could be, Obi-Wan thought.
"The Convocation should finish in time for the evening meal,"
Qui-Gon said. "I don't think the masters will want to miss
their dinner." He hesitated. "If you don't have anything else
planned, we could continue then." There was no mistaking the
hopefulness of his tone.
During Convocation, padawans spent the time socializing and
relaxing and their masters saw little of them, and Obi-Wan
realised Qui-Gon thought he might prefer to go off with his
friends. As if he would want to be anywhere else. "I don't have
anything planned, Master," he answered. "Perhaps we could play
some games." He donned a lascivious expression.
Qui-Gon quirked an eyebrow at him. "What kind of games did you
have in mind, Padawan?"
Obi-Wan glanced at his novel, discarded on the floor and
grinned. "Well, Master, I rather like the idea of you dressed
as a Sybarran pirate."
"If I remember correctly, the pirate usually ended up
undressed."
"Sounds good to me," Obi-Wan said and grinned.
Qui-Gon was smiling as he left their quarters.
After he had gone, Obi-Wan considered for a moment, then
grabbed his clothes and headed for the kitchen. Chocolate boot
polish might not have been invented, but he knew an excellent
recipe for chocolate body paint...
Qui-Gon would be back for dinner. And chocolate-coated Jedi
master would make an excellent dessert.
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