Category: PWP, Slash, Smut, w/a wee touch of humor
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Q/O
Spoilers: None
Archive: M/A, SWAL okay, others please ask just so I can visit!
Disclaimer: These fine boyz belong to Mr. Lucas. You have it
all, George. I have nothing. Please don't sue me.
Warning: Mindless angst-free smut ahead. Yes, I'm still
in -that- mood.
Feedback: Yes, please. Or is it
"pleasepleasepleasepleasepleazzzzze?" <g> dbkate2@aol.com
Summary: Obi-Wan learns the advantages of being a good guest.
The Queen of Ovbra was plump, jolly and famous for her love of
visitors.
She greeted them with open arms and noisy kisses, thrilled to
entertain just about anyone or anything that dared cross her
enthusiastic path. She loved nothing better than to overindulge
her guests and was notorious throughout Jedi circles as the
woman who'd referred to Master Yoda as "that darling little
froggie-face" and Master Windu as "Master Whoo-Hooo!"
She was also famous for having the worst taste in all the
galaxy.
Her palace was an ornate horror of clashing reds, yellows and
blues, with huge splashes of pure gold lighting room after room
without any apparent rhyme or reason, along with "artwork" that
appeared to have been picked for its ability to blind its
unsuspecting viewer rather than any artistic merit.
Her unspoken rule of thumb? If it was too big, too expensive
and too gaudy for most creature's eyes . . . she had to have
it. In triplicate.
Obi-Wan had stifled a loud groan when he learned they'd be
returning to Ovbra. His last visit some ten years before had
gained him little besides clamp-like pinches on both cheeks, a
series of sloppy kisses on his forehead and a case of eyestrain
that had amazed the Coruscant healers to no end.
Of course, when they'd heard he'd just returned from Ovbra,
they merely shook their heads and laughed before sending him on
his way.
His Master, Qui-Gon, always fared better with Her Majesty, his
natural gravity tempering her endless enthusiasm just enough
for him to escape the worst parts of her overflowing affection.
This time had been no exception, but unfortunately, she'd just
made up for it with his hapless Padawan.
A development which, much to Obi-Wan's horror, his Master
seemed to have no intention of preventing.
The cries of "bring the dear boy here" and "is this our darling
little Obi-Wan" were still echoing in his brain along with the
first loud smacks sounding against his forehead.
She also hadn't forgotten to pinch his cheeks. Twice.
But, he'd borne it all stoically, as any good Jedi knight
should. The Queen, for whatever else she may have been, was
also the richest woman in the entire North Sector, bar none.
A fact which came in very handy when it came time to finance
new Jedi Academies.
Besides, it could have been worse, he mused. Quite a few
sovereigns had attempted to kill them in a much more direct,
less kindly, manner. More often than not as a matter of fact.
Obi-Wan tried not to miss those times.
At dinner that evening Her Majesty the Queen sang off-key,
demanded the cook be beheaded, burst into tears and recanted
her order, kicked a courtier, chased another with her scepter
and performed a slightly altered version of the T'iskjiiiurun
mating dance much to the amazement of her guests, many of whom
were ordinary Ovbratian citizens simply pulled off of the
streets to dine there at her Majesty's whim.
Obi-Wan watched the proceedings with a growing sense of
incredulity, then glared at Gui-Gon who was, as always, the
picture of serenity.
"Excellent meal," Qui-Gon said, as Her Majesty was being
carried from the room by five stout guards, still singing
loudly. "Truly one of the best I've had in years. Wouldn't you
agree, Padawan?"
Obi-Wan didn't reply. He turned back to his plate, which Her
Majesty had insisted be filled with a large helping of frozen
sweetcream, and had ordered him on the pain of her royal
displeasure to finish every bite. He dug his spoon into the
mountain of melting goo and shoved it into his mouth chewing
sullenly.
Somehow, he'd survive this nightmare, even if it killed him.
"Hush, Padawan. Walls have ears, and insulting our host's
decorating is the easiest way to find displeasure where there
was once favor." Qui-Gon's voice was grave, but his eyes were
twinkling.
Obi-Wan bit his lip and forced regret into his tone. "My
apologies, Master. You are right as always. It's just that
having to view myself from every possible angle for hours on
end won't make for pleasant dreams."
"I'm afraid I'd have to disagree with that, beloved," replied
Qui-Gon easily.
Obi-Wan felt the blush burn his cheeks and tried to ignore the
reddened reflection that was staring back at him from every
corner of the heavily mirrored room. Yes, there were mirrors
everywhere, from the floor to the ceiling and back again,
giving him the eerie sense that the room was huge and filled
with Obi-Wans, every one of them looking nauseated from having
eaten more frozen sweet cream than any human being, Jedi or
not, should be expected to ingest at one sitting.
He groaned and fell back against the bed, jumping up when the
mattress swayed beneath his weight. Winced when he realized it
was filled with silicone, and glared at the bright red santaft
sheets that were a direct insult to his senses, if not his very
manhood itself.
Was just about to complain loudly when Qui-Gon's voice echoed
from the back of the apartment. "How thoughtful. We've been
supplied with a variety of bath supplies. Spice . . . loaola .
. . Bert'de . . . sass root . . . dozens in all. Come and take
a look, Padawan."
Obi-wan sighed. "A bath is but a bath, is it not, Master?"
A chiding tone. "Padawan, when is anything as it seems?"
"Perhaps you are right," he grumbled. Resigned.
"Come. Take advantage of your host's accommodations, Padawan.
As a guest, it's the least you can do to show your
appreciation."
He sighed and shuffled to the sanitary room. Entered, then
gaped at the facilities laid out in front of him. A bathing
basin, the size of a small pond, a row of showers each one
designed to accommodate any one of a dozen different species of
creatures. He noticed bathing accruements of every description,
including a few he didn't recognize the use for, but could
probably guess if he thought about them hard enough. Which was
something he wasn't about to do.
Well, her Majesty was open-minded if nothing else, Obi-Wan
thought grimly. Big deal.
Qui-Gon was already relaxing in the bathing pool and motioned
for Obi-Wan to undress which he did with a wryly growing sense
of enthusiasm. A bath with Qui-Gon was always a good bath, he
thought, happily shucking his formal tunic and painfully
restrictive boots aside.
Lowered himself into the warm, bubbling, oil slick water and
immediately thought that perhaps Her Looniness wasn't such a
bad egg after all. His tension dissipated, his indigestion
eased and the two warm, strong arms that enveloped him felt
wonderful.
He sighed and snuggled back against Qui-Gon's chest with a
sigh.
Laughed when he felt a soft, tickling kiss at the nape of his
neck. He tilted his head to one side to allow better access and
it was immediately taken advantage of. Squirmed beneath
Qui-Gon's warm lips and roving hands, gasping when one of them
grazed fleetingly between his legs, caressing the inside of his
thighs.
"All right," he said breathlessly, as Qui-Gon's strong hands
lifted and turned him so they were facing one another. "Maybe
all baths aren't alike."
"Mmm, hmmm," Qui-Gon agreed, before kissing him deeply.
Entwined his legs around Qui-Gon's waist and returned the kiss.
Soon, they were in the deeper end of the bathing pool, and
together, they sank beneath the warm water, still entwined . .
. still kissing.
Obi-Wan rose feeling weightless and breathless with desire, his
cock rock hard against Qui-Gon's. He pushed Qui-Gon's long
silky hair out from his eyes and kissed him again, desperately,
allowing himself to be pulled under once more, this time quite
sure he didn't care if he ever rose again.
His Master obviously had different ideas. "Bed. Now," murmured
Qui-Gon when they finally surfaced, dripping and gasping for
air.
Obi-Wan nearly groaned with frustration, but obeyed. He climbed
out, taking care not to run and slip his way out of the
cavernous tiled room. Allowed Qui-Gon to wrap him in a huge,
thick towel and enjoyed the small, licking kisses at his throat
as he was dried off.
Tried to convince Qui-Gon that the tiled floor would be quite
nice enough, but was tugged from the quarters and into the main
room without another word.
Suddenly saw himself reflected in the wall mirrors and gasped.
"I think you now can see why I say that this view always gives
me pleasant dreams," whispered Qui-Gon. "Look, Obi-Wan. Don't
say a word, just look."
And look he did. His entire body was rosy-colored, flushed with
the heat of the bath and his lips were still puffy with
Qui-Gon's kisses. Saw eyes that were half-lidded and glazed
with want, noticed erect nipples, hard and dark against the
white of his chest.
"Oh," he murmured as he was pulled back toward the bed. "Oh."
Was sat in Qui-Gon's lap and felt two strong hands pull his
legs apart. Trembled as he was exposed to the mirror's eye and
leaned back against the broad chest for support. Had to shut
his eyes against a dizzying wave of desire, against a sudden
need that was without any control whatsoever.
But the whisper in his ear was demanding. "Look, love. Open
your eyes and look."
He took a another quick look, and turned away, shaking and
suddenly shy. "Master ... Qui-Gon ... please ... I can't ..."
The voice that answered was accepting no denial. "Look,
beloved. Look and see the wondrous sight that I get to enjoy
night after night."
He opened his eyes again and took in the sight of himself on
his Master's lap, his legs spread apart and his cock hard
against his belly, rising up from light brown curls, dusky
purple and shining wet at its tip.
Felt the pressure of Qui-Gon's hardness against him and it slid
in without warning, still slick and warm from the oiled
bathwater. He opened up to it easily, and a moment later he was
writhing and moaning loudly, watching himself squirm and rise
again, only to fall back onto the cock that impaled him.
Felt his bones melt, felt whatever will that kept him tethered
to mundane reality fall away, and he became nothing but a
creature of need, crying out for release. Everywhere he looked
he saw himself and his Master, bound together, this time in
body, moving as one.
Watched Qui-Gon's hand stroke him to a dark, rampant hardness
and he became mesmerized by the sight of his own response,
intense and more erotic than he'd ever imagined.
He was beautiful. -They- were beautiful.
Together. Ever as one.
He came without warning, crying out, watching his final seconds
of release, amazed at what he saw. Heard a soft moan against
his shoulder and felt Qui-Gon's answering spasms, filling him,
at once slippery and hot.
Leaned back against his beloved's shoulder and stared into the
ceiling mirror, breathing hard. Yes, they -were- one, Qui-Gon
and he. For now and for always.
Beautifully and perfectly one.
A few hours later, Obi-Wan turned and shifted in his Master's
arms, still not used to the soft floating feeling of the
silicone mattress that swayed beneath them. He peered at the
digital time display and suddenly noticed a bottle of wine and
a note that had been somehow overlooked during the evening's
revelry.
He leaned over and carefully retrieved the note, squinting to
make out the words by the dim light of the time display.
"To my old friend, Qui-Gon Jinn and his beloved Obi-Wan. May
Joy Be Yours." Signed, Ovbrina III, Regina Domin.
A small grin crossed Obi-Wan's face as he carefully folded the
note up and replaced it next to the unopened wine. He snuggled
back in next to Qui-Gon and decided that taking advantage of
your host's accommodations -were- most certainly the best way
to show your appreciation.
And that night, he'd appreciated them very well indeed.
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