Summary: Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan get some down time on Coruscant.
Warnings: none
Spoilers: none
Feedback: Yes, please -any and all feedback is always
appreciated
Disclaimers: Lucasfilm, Lucasfilm, Lucasfilm
Notes: I wrote this back in September for a zine which is
unfortunately not going to be produced (gee that sounds
familiar this morning). This is one of my first Q/O fics. I'm
still not happy with the title.
"Goodnight, old friend."
Qui-Gon returned the farewell, watching the door slide to a
close as Mace disappeared into his quarters. Turning, Qui-Gon
let a faint smile hover on his lips as he slowly made his way
through the softly lit halls to his own rooms. It had been too
long since he'd had a chance to visit with his peers. Too long
for Obi-Wan too and Qui-Gon was glad he had been able to give
his padawan the evening to himself. Mission after mission had
fallen on their shoulders, leaving them both little time for
relaxation. Obi-Wan had been enthusiastically grateful for the
time off.
It had been short notice, but by the time he himself was on his
way out the door for a small gathering of Masters hosted by
Mace, the first of Obi-Wan's friends were arriving. Qui-Gon had
decided to make a late night of it in order to give Obi-Wan
more privacy with his friends, but he had stayed even longer
than he had planned and the halls were now deserted. He and
Mace had spent several hours after the others had left,
reminiscing and drinking cold jungle java juice, which Qui-Gon
hated but had accepted in an effort to stave off the hangover
he knew was coming.
Mace had served authentic Danoyian liquor, urging the friends
gathered in his quarters to relax. "We aren't on duty now,"
he'd dryly admonished. The potent liquor had burned down
Qui-Gon's throat, plunging into his belly and starting a warm
tingle radiating out from his abdomen. The sensation had not
been unpleasant, though it promised retribution in the morning.
Even so he'd let Mace press a second and then a third glass on
him. Several of the others had left on less than steady feet
and Qui- Gon was pleased to note that he had managed to avoid
that fate - his gait was unimpeded.
He arrived at his quarters and slid quietly into the rooms,
pleased to find that the impromptu padawan party had already
broken up. The lights were at their lowest setting and Obi-Wan
was asleep, curled up on the couch instead of in his bed, his
robe thrown over his body for warmth. Qui-Gon ignored the part
of him that was pleased that the young man hadn't taken any of
his friends to bed and sat down next to the dozing lad. A
gentle shake of Obi-Wan's shoulders had the young man blinking
sleepily up at him.
"Master," said Obi-Wan as he uncurled from his corner of the
couch.
"Padawan," replied Qui-Gon, smiling as Obi-Wan knuckled his
eyes, an old habit from his childhood he'd never quite managed
to break. They sat together silently for awhile, Obi-Wan almost
falling back to sleep before Qui-Gon broke the silence.
"Why are you still up?"
"Master Ylany picked Treena up on his way back to their
quarters from Mace's, so I thought you would be along shortly."
"Oh? You had a question for me?"
"Yes, Master." Obi-Wan pushed himself into a sitting position,
pulling his heels up underneath himself, and waited until
Qui-Gon made a sweeping motion with his hand, before
continuing. "Branshe said that Master Nargill told her that you
and Mace and Ylany used to get into all sorts of trouble."
"That isn't a question," said Qui-Gon, wondering exactly what
tale of his younger days had been paraded out for amusement.
"No, I know it's not. But she said that her Master told her
that one day Master Yoda found the three of you levitating over
the railing of the High Garden rails, trying to outdo each
other in your dives towards the ground."
{I'm going to have to have a talk with Nargill,} Qui-Gon
thought. On the other hand, he and his peers had "cut loose"
themselves this evening, telling tales about their padawans
-laughing and chortling and behaving in a manner they didn't
really want their apprentices to know about. The very thing
Obi-Wan was now staring at him in wide disbelief at the thought
of.
"You must remember that gossip is most often exaggerated,
though I do have to admit that in this case it is more accurate
than not as Master Nargill was herself a member of our
cheerleading team. I believe she got into as much trouble for
egging us on as we did for actually performing the stunt."
"You and Master Mace were diving off the High Garden and using
the Force to catch yourselves before hitting the bottom?"
Obi-Wan's eyes seemed very large, very round and very dark in
the low light. Qui-Gon imagined that this was how the young man
would look in passion and for a moment wished it was so, before
quelling his desire.
"I suppose that sums it up as well as anything will."
"I don't believe you," Obi-Wan said flat-out.
"Come now, Padawan, Jedi Masters do not lie."
"No? They don't," the young man paused, waved circles in the
air with one hand before dropping it like a stone to his thigh
and continuing, "either."
"I am not sure," Qui-Gon said slowly, "whether to be pleased or
insulted at the image you have of myself. On the one hand, I
have worked very hard at cultivating a rather serious
demeanour, on the other, surely you don't see me as old and
stodgy and joyless as that."
"You have no idea how I see you," Obi-Wan murmured
indistinctly.
"I was young once myself," Qui-Gon informed his padawan with as
much dignity as possible, deliberately ignoring the renewed
desire that Obi-Wan's ambiguous comment prompted.
"Yes, Master."
Qui-Gon could hear the "but" in Obi-Wan's voice and he remained
quiet, face impassive as he watched his apprentice try to
contain his words. Obi-Wan lasted no more than a minute before
blurting out "but you manipulated the Force for fun!"
"You seem to be implying that this is wrong."
"It isn't." It wasn't a question, but Obi-Wan didn't sound
convinced.
"I was hurting no one."
"I'm sure that Master Yoda has a maxim about how fun leads to
the dark side," said Obi-Wan. "You know fun leads to humour,
humour leads to puns, puns lead to heckling, heckling leads to
the dark side."
Qui-Gon chuckled, letting himself be distracted for a moment in
Obi-Wan's smile, before addressing the real concern behind his
padawan's joke.
"Obi-Wan, do you really believe the Force to be such a joyless
thing? Because if that is what I have taught you then I am
truly sorry."
"But Master, 'there is no emotion, only peace'. I have always
thought my emotions to be lapses."
"Emotions are not wrong, my young Padawan. It is what you do
with them that counts." He watched as Obi-Wan contemplated his
words. His padawan worried his lower lip between his teeth and
Qui-Gon had to bank down his desire once again. He decided that
it would be best if he removed himself from temptation, but
before he could stand, Obi-Wan turned smoky eyes upon him and
asked very softly;
"What about spontaneity?"
Qui-Gon's body jerked as the desire for his padawan surged
through him once more, refusing this time to be quelled. He
felt light- headed. He wasn't sure if his knees were going to
hold him up and his body trembled from the inside out.
Time seemed to slow as Obi-Wan leaned forward. Qui-Gon watched
as his padawan's eyelids slowly dropped, hiding the darkened
orbs from view. He watched as Obi-Wan's tongue came out to lick
along the red, swollen lower lip as his face moved ever closer
to Qui- Gon's.
{I should stop him,} Qui-Gon thought. Then Obi-Wan's lips were
on his and all thoughts fled his mind as time careened forward
again at a breakneck pace. Obi-Wan's first tentative touch
became firm and he was suddenly devouring Qui-Gon's lips,
pushing into his mouth and tangling with his tongue. Qui-Gon
felt the younger man's hands, hot and insistent, pulling at his
tunics, trying to burrow underneath them to reach flesh. He
realised his own hands had risen, one cupping Obi-Wan's neck,
the other raking through the short hair, Obi-Wan's thin padawan
braid wrapped possessively around his fingers.
Pushing Obi-Wan back into the couch, Qui-Gon half-reclined over
the younger man as they continued to kiss. He had never tasted
anything as sweet as Obi-Wan's tongue. With a moan, he pressed
his own tongue into Obi-Wan's mouth, hands moving down to push
the younger man's tunics aside. His hands were trembling with
his haste. He'd never felt so out of control. No doubt it was a
result of his relaxed evening with the other Masters, not to
mention one too many cups of liquor.
He froze at that.
{And is that what you are going to tell him in the morning?}
Qui- Gon asked himself, {that you were out of control? Nice.}
"Stop" he growled as he pulled away from Obi-Wan's sweet mouth.
"Stop."
"What?" Obi-Wan sounded surprised and hurt, confused. He looked
up at Qui-Gon, the hurt in his voice reflected there, replacing
the passion.
"Control, Padawan," Qui-Gon gasped as he sat back up,
straightening Obi-Wan's clothing before tending to his own.
"What? Lessons? Here, now? Do you never let go, Master? Was
Nargill's tale just that -a tale?" Obi-Wan's voice accused him,
but Qui-Gon did not relent, standing to remove himself from
temptation.
"I don't want you to believe that I did this in a loss of
control, that I let passion overwhelm me."
"I don't understand, Master" Obi-Wan said miserably, shoulders
slumping despondently.
Qui-Gon knelt down before the younger man, grasping him by the
arms and pulling him upright. One hand gripped the strong chin
and reluctant eyes looked up into his face.
"I love you, Obi-Wan."
"And I love you, too, Master," Obi-Wan replied earnestly,
though he looked more confused than ever.
"Making love is a choice, my young Padawan, not something to
fall into or do on a whim or because you are drunk or feeling
spontaneous."
"Oh." Qui-Gon could see the intelligence flash into high gear
behind Obi-Wan's intense eyes. And then he smiled and Qui-Gon
knew he was lost. "I choose to make love with you,
Master."
"And I choose you," replied Qui-Gon, smiling and slowly
bringing their lips together once again.
This time the kiss was gentle, exploratory. It whispered of
love instead of shouting out lust. Qui-Gon wrapped his arms
around Obi-Wan, drawing the younger man down to the floor with
him as the kiss deepened, lust now joining with the love. He
rolled them away from the couch, stopping when Obi-Wan was
again on top of him. He spread his legs, feeling Obi-Wan's body
slide between them, bringing their groins together and Qui-Gon
couldn't stop the small buck of his hips.
Obi-Wan moaned and began to trail his tongue along Qui-Gon's
neck, hands moving to explore his face with gentle fingertip
kisses. Obi-Wan pressed down into him and Qui-Gon wished
fervently that they were wearing less clothing. He thought to
do something about it but found himself grabbing Obi-Wan's
buttocks and pressing their cloth-covered erections together
instead. Obi-Wan's explorations were brought up short by
Qui-Gon's tunic and the young man awkwardly tried to raise
himself, pushing at the cloth. Qui-Gon let him fumble for
awhile, enjoying the feel of hot hands pushing at the cloth to
get to flesh, his own hands still pressing Obi-Wan's groin to
his own.
Obi-Wan suddenly reared back, giving himself room to work in,
and pulled open Qui-Gon's sash. He somehow managed to push the
layers of Qui-Gon's tunics apart while simultaneously shrugging
off his own. Qui-Gon raised his hands to explore the newly
exposed flesh, hands travelling over rippling muscles, while
Obi-Wan worked at undoing their leggings and pushing them down
to their boots.
Obi-Wan lowered himself back onto Qui-Gon with a moan. The
older man rolled them over once more, winding up on top this
time. Obi- Wan's body was soft and hot beneath his own. His
flesh was alive with gentle shadows, thrown there by the soft
lighting. Obi-Wan's hips bucked beneath his and with a growl,
Qui-Gon began to meet their demand.
"No!" Qui-Gon froze at the cry, rising on his elbows and knees.
But Obi-Wan was pushing his body up, trying to make contact
with him again. "No," Obi-Wan repeated, more calmly this time.
"Please, not like this, I want you in me."
Qui-Gon shuddered as the meaning of Obi-Wan's words penetrated.
He ran a gentle hand down his padawan's flank.
"Are you sure, my love?" he asked.
Obi-Wan's eyes never left his as the younger man slid from
beneath him and stood, holding his hand out to Qui-Gon.
"Yes, please," he said softly as he began to walk backwards
towards Qui-Gon's chamber. Shrugging out of the tunics that
hung loosely from his shoulders, Qui-Gon followed, mesmerised
by his young lover; the sure, unfaltering steps, the concave
belly, the sway of hips, the braid snaking down from behind his
ear and swinging gently across his chest. Obi-Wan moved
steadily towards the bed where he sat and pulled his boots and
pants from his legs. He climbed into Qui-Gon's bed and placed
his head on his arms, knees raised, buttocks high in the air.
The only light in the room spilled in through the door from the
sitting room, but Qui-Gon could see Obi-Wan's enticing body
quite clearly. He stood, just staring until Obi-Wan arched his
back pushing up onto his elbows and rocking slightly.
"Qui-Gon." It wasn't quite a question or a plea, nor an order.
It was a soft, breathless wanting and it nudged Qui-Gon into
movement. He headed towards his dresser, discarding his own
boots and leggings as he went. All masterly dignity was thrown
to the winds as he fumbled through the drawers of his dresser,
looking for the small vial of oil he knew was
there...somewhere. With a growl of triumph he pulled it from
the middle drawer.
Returning to Obi-Wan's side, he slid into place behind the
younger man, pushing Obi-Wan's legs further apart with his
knees. Obi-Wan rocked back, ass nudging Qui-Gon's shaft and
both men gasped at the contact. With a deep breath, Qui-Gon
made a great effort to slow things down, to take his time, but
as he watched his finger disappear into Obi-Wan's willing body,
he was lost. Trembling, he pushed a second digit into Obi-Wan,
scissoring it rapidly.
Qui-Gon pulled out his fingers and leaned over to place a kiss
where neck met shoulder. Obi-Wan's skin gleamed palely against
the earth-brown sheet, an alabaster vessel waiting to be
filled. He turned his head, eyes gleaming up at Qui-Gon, black
with need.
"Oh my love," Qui-Gon whispered, barely able to hear his own
voice over Obi-Wan's panting. He took a deep breath to steady
himself as he pressed the head of his hardness against
Obi-Wan's opening. The rich smell of his lover's body filled
him; sweet, male musk and the earthy roll of the sandalwood
from the oil.
Obi-Wan moved again -a mute plea.
Qui-Gon pushed, his phallus breaching the tight muscle. Obi-Wan
moaned and pushed wantonly back towards him, urging him in
deeper, faster. Qui-Gon followed his urgings blindly, hands
grasping Obi- Wan's hips and bringing him back as he began to
thrust. Obi-Wan opened to him, their minds and spirits merging
along with their bodies and Qui-Gon shook under the power of
their joining. With a final thrust he cried out Obi-Wan's name,
body dropping onto the younger man's, feeling as though they
were soaring together high above the temple.
He seemed to sink slowly back into himself and he rolled over
to the side, pulling regretfully out of Obi-Wan's body. Their
limbs tangled together as they settled side by side.
"Master." His padawan's voice was rich and husky, an audible
caress.
"Yes, Obi-Wan?"
"I feel like I've been diving from the High Garden rails."
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