Summary: Thin sleep pants and cold planets make for strange
bedfellows
Feedback -the good, the bad, the ugly -sock it to me
Disclaimer: Lucasfilm, Lucasfilm, Lucasfilm
Notes: The short version -yes I am insane.
The slightly longer version - an answer to the dress Obi-Wan
and Qui-Gon in something other than thin sleep pants challenge.
'chelle took the brain home with her -that's the only possible
reason for this.
Obi-Wan shivered and hurried through his evening routine.
Surely the universe wouldn't end if he only brushed his teeth
for 30 seconds instead of the prescribed two minutes; and if
his braid was a tad loose it would hardly bring down the Order.
As an initiate, Obi-Wan had heard padawans and knights alike
bemoan missions to Hoth. Ice plains, blizzards and ground
permanently frozen meters deep -it was always considered a
punishment to be sent on mission to the winter planet.
He wondered why no one had ever mentioned Trizel. Trizel made
Hoth look like a summer vacation destination. He speculated
that only the very worst offences merited a mission to Trizel
and wracked his brain for the crime committed by he or his
master to have warranted such harsh treatment.
The wind howled, moaning mournfully through their quarters and
Obi-Wan shivered again. He briefly contemplated washing his
face, but decided to pass -perhaps if he didn't have to break
the layer of ice that covered the washbasin...
Returning to the sleeping chamber, he nodded back toward the
room he'd just vacated. "All yours, Master."
Qui-Gon smiled and made his way to the bathroom, face serene
and calm as ever, giving no sign that the cold was affecting
him in the least. Obi-Wan wondered what his secret was.
Setting out his clothing for the morning, Obi-Wan finally
decided he could stall no longer and, with cold, stiff fingers,
he removed his clothes as quickly as he could, piling them
somewhat less than neatly on the small table by the bed. He
pulled on his thin sleep pants, the soft material cold against
his skin.
He knew his master enjoyed the way they were low-slung,
clinging to his hips and moulding the contours of his body just
so, but they were most definitely not practical in sub-zero
temperatures.
He slid quickly beneath the skins and furs that covered the
bed, wishing that standard issue pyjamas bottoms came with
standard issue pyjama *tops*. Standard issue pyjama parkas
wouldn't go amiss either.
Another gust of wind wailed through the room; Obi-Wan burrowed
further into the covers, wishing Qui-Gon was curled up behind
him, providing some much needed body heat.
Finally his master's footsteps sounded, bringing him to the
bed. "Nice evening, isn't it?" said Qui-Gon. "Seems almost
temperate tonight."
"T-t-t-temperate?" Obi-Wan decided that it was hard to sound
indignant when one's teeth were chattering.
"Perhaps a kata would help warm your blood."
"How can you stand there and sound so warm?" asked Obi-Wan,
rolling over to face his master. "By Yoda's little green balls,
what is *that*?"
Qui-Gon stood at the edge of the bed covered in.... Obi-Wan
wasn't quite sure exactly what it was that his master was
covered in, but whatever it was was keeping him warm, that much
was obvious. Qui-Gon was completely naked, other than
the...whatever it was.
"Bantha blubber."
"I beg your pardon?" Obi-Wan was seriously beginning to wonder
if someone had tampered with his hearing. Or perhaps his eyes.
Or maybe it was his master who had been tampered with.
"What I'm wearing, it's a coating of grease made from bantha
blubber -the natives swear by it -the wind just can't penetrate
it."
Obi-Wan shivered again and sunk lower into the pile of furs.
The bed dipped beneath his master's weight and Obi-Wan rolled
quickly toward the other side.
"You should try it, Padawan. Your temple issued sleep pants are
far too thin for Trizel's climate."
"I think I'll pass, Master. At least the sleep pants
aren't...slippery."
"I seem to remember the odd time that they have been," purred
Qui-Gon, a hand reaching out to slide over Obi-Wan's spine. He
looked back at his master in astonishment -surely Qui-Gon
wasn't trying to seduce him. But as his master's fingers slid
beneath the waistband of his low-riding sleep pants, Obi-Wan
could only conclude that the man was indeed trying to seduce
him.
"You're covered in goo!" he exclaimed by way of protest.
"And I can't think of a better way to spread the warmth than to
share it with you," said Qui-Gon, moving closer.
Obi-Wan scooted to the far end of the bed, clinging to the edge
and looking around the sparse room in desperation. There wasn't
anywhere else to sleep and even with the blubber coating, he
could hardly condemn his master to spending the night without
any of the furs or on the cold floor.
"I figured you might be too cold for foreplay," said Qui-Gon as
he lunged forward and deftly slipped his hand beneath the
waistband of Obi-Wan' sleep pants, taking hold of his penis,
slick hand moving warmly over the drawn up flesh. "So I
prepared myself accordingly."
Obi-Wan was 100% sure that he didn't want to be seduced, well
98% sure anyway, definitely not less than 86% at the very
least, but his body had a different idea. His penis was
beginning to grow under his master's expert encouragement and
his stomach flipped at the softly rumbled words.
"Prepared?"
"The blubber grease is...everywhere."
Obi-Wan moaned as his penis jerked within Qui-Gon's grasp.
Definitely interested, despite the cold. Despite the *blubber*.
Qui-Gon drew back, chuckling as Obi-Wan's hips tilted toward
him, a soft whimper of protest coming from the so far
un-greased padawan. "You'd best take those off, if you want to
save them," Qui-Gon suggested, pointing at Obi-Wan's sleep
pants, which were currently tented over his hard length.
Obi-Wan looked down at his thin, worn, comfortable sleep pants
and back to his master, covered in the greasy goo. He
contemplated the cold, the quartermaster's ribald jokes he'd
had to suffer through the last time his sleep pants had needed
replacing, his current erection and the fact that Qui-Gon had
greased himself...everywhere.
The wind howled again, like a wild animal caught in a trap and
suddenly the bantha blubber didn't seem like such a bad option
and being buried deep inside his master's body was never a bad
thing.
He shimmied out of his sleep pants, tossing them over the side
of the bed. Qui-Gon came toward him, and Obi-Wan held up his
hand. Frowning, Qui-Gon backed off again with a sigh.
"I haven't changed my mind," said Obi-Wan, "just please turn
off the light."
Qui-Gon looked affronted and Obi-Wan wondered how he managed to
do so covered in bantha grease. He was of the opinion that even
masterly dignity could not survive this *apparel* and yet
somehow his master's did. Nonetheless his master doused the
light as requested before moving back to Obi-Wan and taking his
mouth in a deep kiss.
Obi-Wan wondered briefly if he should mention the smell, but
decided that asking for something to hold his nose closed would
break the mood, such as it was.
Qui-Gon ended the kiss, or perhaps it was his own shivering
that pulled their mouths apart. In any case Qui-Gon rubbed
himself against Obi-Wan, spreading the blubber over his
padawan's body. Obi-Wan made a face, but dutifully turned to
rub his backside along his master's front.
They shifted together, bodies sliding easily, coming to a stop
with Qui-Gon on his hands and knees in front of Obi-Wan.
Obi-Wan slid his length into the heat of his master's body,
moaning happily.
He was covered in bantha blubber, smelled like bantha poodoo,
but at least he was warm now, the grease holding in his body
heat and his master's body was like a fire around his shaft.
He began to thrust, hands moving to Qui-Gon's hips for
leverage. Unfortunately he was thwarted by the grease that
covered not only his master, but himself as well now. Every
time he managed to get a decent grip on his master's hips, his
subsequent lunge forward would slide his hands right off.
Obi-Wan added frustration to his mental list of complaints
against Trizel.
Settling for circling Qui-Gon's penis with his hand, Obi-Wan
let his master's rocking motions carry most of the momentum of
their rhythm. Into his hand and back onto his shaft, Qui-Gon
humped faster and faster and Obi-Wan could feel his orgasm
building despite the inclement conditions.
Qui-Gon howled as his orgasm overtook him. The muscles
clenching along Obi-Wan's erection and the hot liquid that
poured over his hand pushed Obi-Wan into his own orgasm and he
fell forward over his master's body.
Pulling out and sliding down to the mattress, Obi-Wan
acknowledged that he was well and truly coated in the
disgusting grease. But he was at least warm.
He could feel Qui-Gon rummaging next to the bed and he turned,
reaching out to wrap his hand around his master's arm. Mindful
of the earlier lesson involving his master's hips, his own
hands and the bantha blubber, he tugged very gently.
"Come cuddle, Master."
"In a moment, I just need - ah, there we go." There was the
sound of cloth against skin and then his master was handing him
something soft.
"What's this?" asked Obi-Wan, the cloth was thin and soft and
quite familiar and horrified realisation slowly dawned.
"You know how I feel about post activity clean-up, Padawan."
"Post activity clean-up?" Obi-Wan knew he was shouting, but he
couldn't quite figure out how to lower the tone of his voice.
"You're covered in grease, you insisted on getting me covered
in grease too, and now you're concerned about a little bit of
spunk?"
"Really, Obi-Wan, I don't know where you padawans pick up your
language."
Obi-Wan sputtered helplessly, waving his thin, and now grease
and come-covered, sleep pants in the air. The wind chose that
moment to scream once more through the room, it's icy fingers
finding every bit of his skin that wasn't blubber-protected.
With a resigned sigh, Obi-Wan threw his ex-sleep pants to the
end of the bed and huddled miserably under the furs.
Qui-Gon arms came around him and they slid easily into a spoon
position. Obi-Wan could only hope that the grease wouldn't set,
thereby gluing them together.
He fell asleep concocting ways to convince or coerce -he wasn't
feeling particularly picky- his master into visiting the
quartermaster to replace the ruined sleep pants. He would
rather sleep in the nude for the rest of his life than have to
go and explain this one himself.
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