Shut Up And Taste It

by Helens (

Archive: you want it, it's yours

Category: Qui/Obi, humor, first time

Rating: NC-17

Summary: Obi-Wan's gourmet cooking skills and some unexpected reactions to dessert items lead to a warm encounter between master and apprentice...

Feedback: Yes -- this is (mostly) intended to be humor, though, so please, no nitpicking on minor details ("Jedi don't have stoves!" "Nobody has green peppers on Coruscant!"). Not intended to fit perfectly with canon or fanon. Other than that, go to.

Disclaimer: Lucas owns the characters; I just like to play with them.

"This is getting out of hand, Padawan."

"Stop complaining. You know you want it. Now sit down and eat it."

Qui-Gon gave Obi-Wan a slightly grumpy look as he took a seat across from his Padawan at the dinner table. He had to admit that the dinner Obi-Wan had made looked and smelled heavenly. _Still,_ he thought, _this is not exactly the ascetic fare that a Jedi is supposed to consume. It will never satisfy all the different nutritional needs we have._ "The nutritive content is..."

"Shut up and taste it, Master," Obi-Wan demanded, a slightly impudent smile hiding in the corners of his mouth.

Qui-Gon sighed. He picked up his fork, took a small bite of the nerf steak...

...and moaned aloud.

"Told you so."

"Obi-Wan, this is..."

"Excellent? Wonderful? Delicious?"

"Yes, all those things." Qui-Gon looked at his dinner plate again, this time with taste buds that demanded he taste things. Not to be polite, but to savor. He looked up at Obi-Wan. "What exactly do I have in front of me?"

"Nerf steak marinated in a light pepper sauce. Herbed couscous. And, just so you wouldn't think your plate is completely unfamiliar, steamed vegetables." The younger Jedi sniffed. "None of this was all that difficult to cook. I'm barely getting a chance to stretch my culinary muscles here. The least you could do is be grateful."

Obi-Wan had begun taking slightly unusual courses in his last year of classes, which had been his sixth year as a Padawan learner -- the two courses offered on gourmet cooking. Qui-Gon had tried, unsuccessfully, to avoid commenting unfavorably on his Padawan's course selection, but in the end, could not help asking "What in the galaxy are you ever going to need this for?"

"Diplomacy, Master," Obi-Wan had answered earnestly. "There are many cultures that consider food one of the highest art forms, where knowing the difference between a red pepper and a green pepper by taste instead of by color has changed the course of a planet's future." Qui-Gon had looked suspicious. Obi-Wan had sighed. "Because it's fun, Master."

"It's an indulgence," Qui-Gon had harrumphed.

"Perhaps. But it's not a harmful one. And besides, if I have to spend the next semester sitting through the same saber training and astrophysics courses with nothing to break up the monotony, I'll scream."

"Monotony?" Qui-Gon had choked.

"Well..." Obi-Wan had smiled. "I admit that the saber training has never seemed monotonous." A mock-glare had appeared on his face. "But I'm tired of taking the same courses year after year. The same physical training courses. The same cultural courses. I'm ready for a challenge, Master, a new challenge."

"Very well, then, Padawan." Qui-Gon had been skeptical, but in the end had decided not to say anything more about it.

But after the first semester of Obi-Wan's cooking classes ("The Art of Galactic Cuisine, Master," Obi-Wan had corrected gently), the youngling had started hinting that he could add some slightly more interesting selections to their menu at home.

"We have been eating from this same menu for the past six years, and it has fulfilled all our nutritional needs. I see no reason to alter it."

Obi-Wan had groaned. "Because boiled sparta roots every Thursday can be dreadfully boring, Master," he'd said.

"A Jedi does not seek out the exciting simply because it is exciting."

"Boredom can dull a Jedi's senses, Master."

Eventually, Qui-Gon had given in. It was a small enough price to pay to keep Obi-Wan from complaining about the boring food they shared every evening. And the smile that had lit up Obi-Wan's face when Qui-Gon had finally agreed to let his Padawan cook a meal for them had been worth a great deal.

Now, Qui-Gon was trying to figure out how to tell his apprentice that he'd been right about the value of an expertly-prepared meal made of more than just the bare necessities... without allowing the younger man to smirk too much.

"And from what culture does this particular dish find its origins?" Qui-Gon asked.

"Well..." Obi-Wan hesitated. "Mine, Master."

"I see." Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow. "So this meal has not stopped any wars, put an end to any great battles...?"

"Oh, but it has." The impudent smile returned. "It's brought peace to this apartment, anyway."

Qui-Gon laughed at that, and began trying the rest of his meal. He had to admit that, true to form, his apprentice excelled at the art of cooking. Had there ever been anything Obi-Wan couldn't do? Even the steamed vegetables were better than he'd imagined possible.

"And you enjoyed putting this meal together?" Qui-Gon asked.

"Very much." Obi-Wan's eyes twinkled. "Perhaps I could make this a weekly occurrence...? The culinary classes have ended, after all, and I wouldn't want to get out of practice. You never know when we're going to get called to the planet Bizmul and have to prove our worth by preparing a seven-course dinner before anyone will even talk to us."

"What an excellent idea, Obi-Wan."

"I'm full of them, Master."

Qui-Gon had thought Obi-Wan had been joking about the planet Bizmul. Right up until the moment, six months later, when he was summoned before the Jedi Council, along with his apprentice, and Mace Windu had given him one of those looks -- the kind that said _Let's see what you do with this one, Master Jinn._

"The representatives from Bizmul have asked for our help in a planetary trade conflict," Windu said.

//Bizmul?// Qui-Gon thought, the word traveling through his link to Obi-Wan.

//And you thought I was making it up.// The amusement fairly radiated from him.

"It won't be a particularly difficult mission," Windu continued, "except that it's Bizmullian custom to have any planetary visitors serve a seven-course meal for the representatives in order to show their respect for Bizmullian culture. Ordinarily, we have Master Klenduu go to Bizmul, but she's on a mission to Galitos at the moment." Master Klenduu was the Jedi Master who'd taught Obi-Wan's culinary courses. "However, she sent us a communiqué that says she has full confidence in her star pupil." Windu's dark eyes leveled on Obi-Wan's green ones. "That would be you, Padawan Kenobi."

"I'm honored, Master Windu."

"Master Jinn has told me that you've been keeping your culinary skills well-honed over the past six months...?"

"Yes, Master Windu."

"Are you prepared to carry out this mission?" Windu's eyes narrowed, but this time they were focused on Qui-Gon. "It may not seem like the most harrowing mission you'll ever have to perform, but it is vital to the Republic to keep the planet Bizmul happy. Bizmul is responsible for a great deal of the Republic's food supply; without them, a number of planets whose food production is limited at best -- including Coruscant -- would suffer from shortages and hunger." Windu looked at both Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon's serious faces, and his brow lifted slightly. "I trust you understand the importance of what you'll be doing?"

"Of course, Master Windu." Qui-Gon could feel his apprentice's amusement as if it were fingertips tickling the base of his spine. "I have full confidence in my apprentice, having been gifted with his culinary talents over the past six months. He will do us proud."

"Good. The transport from Bizmul will arrive in two days. May the Force be with you."

"And also with you." Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan bowed at the waist, and turned to leave.

"One more thing," Windu called out. Obi-Wan turned, and Qui-Gon looked over his shoulder. "The greeting..."

"Yes, Master, I'm fully aware of the greeting," Obi-Wan answered. "It will be prepared when the transport arrives."

"Excellent. Good luck, Padawan Kenobi."

"Thank you, Master Windu."

"So what's this greeting Mace asked about?" Qui-Gon asked, once they were out of the Council chambers. Obi-Wan had pulled a data pad off his utility belt and was thumbing through what appeared to be a list of recipes.

"The traditional greeting to representatives of the planet Bizmul, even if they're only transport captains, involves an offering of a light dessert. Master Klenduu usually made Rikoolian tarts. If I may say so, though, I believe her recipe needed a bit of improvement. I've been experimenting with it in my free time, and I think I've come up with something even better."

"Is this really the time for experimentation, Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon asked. "Master Klenduu has been dealing with the Bizmullians for how long...?"

"Twenty years."

"And they've been pleased with her recipes so far?"

"Certainly, Master. But with all due respect, I believe this is definitely the time for experimentation."

"How so?"

"Well, the Bizmullians are familiar with Master Klenduu's recipes already. I could certainly replicate them -- but that would prove nothing to them, other than the fact that I can follow a recipe. Even you could do that, Master."

"'Even' me, eh? Then it must be simplicity incarnate," Qui-Gon harrumphed.

Obi-Wan looked up with a startled expression in his eyes. "I meant no offense, Master, but..."

"But my skills with a lightsaber far outmatch my skills with a whisk? I'm aware of that, my young apprentice. No offense was taken."

"Yes, well... In any event, the Bizmullians are looking for more than mere adequacy in a kitchen. Food is their passion, their planetary art. Though they would probably be satisfied with someone who can follow a recipe, I believe they would be more inclined to trust us and respect us if we can prove that we respect their feelings on food enough to present them with something extraordinary."

Qui-Gon nodded. "In this, I bow to your experience, my Padawan. I trust your judgment. Do whatever you feel is appropriate."

"I think I'm going to need to spend the next few days practicing, Master. Do you think you can put up with my efforts?" Obi-Wan's eyes sparkled. "If not, there's always the cafeteria, with its single-cell protein and traditional Jedi fare..."

The idea of passing up two days of Obi-Wan's cooking for single-cell protein or traditional Jedi food made Qui-Gon's stomach rumble in protest. He hoped Obi-Wan hadn't heard it. "I don't believe that will be necessary," he said, trying to sound dispassionate. "It is, after all, my duty to oversee your training -- I, too, will face the wrath of Bizmul if your cooking is not up to their standards." It was a weak excuse, but it was the best he could come up with on short notice. Obi-Wan, wisely, said nothing... only smiled.

"Master?" Obi-Wan called from the kitchen. "I'm going to need some supplies. Can you get a message to the Galactic Foods Market and see if they'll send these things over?"

"What things?" Qui-Gon asked. He walked into the kitchen, where Obi-Wan stood in only a light, short-sleeved undertunic, trousers, and an apron. The kitchen was much warmer than the rest of the apartment, and had been since Obi-Wan had started practicing the meals he'd be making for the Bizmullians. The stove had been going non-stop, it seemed, and the oven had been empty only a few minutes out of the last day. Obi-Wan had, in fact, stayed up all night cooking, something Qui-Gon had not approved of, but Obi-Wan had insisted. _It needs to be right,_ he'd said, meaning, of course, _it needs to be perfect._ Qui-Gon knew he wasn't going to win this fight, so he'd gone to sleep and dreamt of food. Breakfast had been a sampling of several different light desserts, all of which had nearly made him cry with ecstasy. His skin had actually started tingling after he'd tasted Obi-Wan's amaretto chocolate pudding.

"You're no help," Obi-Wan had sniffed. "You like everything."

"Or perhaps you're simply more than good enough to satisfy anyone."

"Hmf. I think I'm going to need a second opinion."

Before long, the apartment had begun filling with apprentices, some of whom had taken Obi-Wan's culinary courses with him, others who merely wanted to see the young, virile knight-to-be with an apron on. The door had been left open to accommodate the number of curious Jedi, and the smells drifting down the hall had attracted even more. However, Obi-Wan had insisted that everyone stay out of the kitchen until and unless he called for them. He'd brought out tray after tray of delicious desserts, and some samples of the seven-course meal he planned to prepare upon their arrival on Bizmul. People had, in fact, gotten to see Obi-Wan wearing an apron. But the kitchen was his domain, and no one dared go in uninvited.

Now that Qui-Gon was in the kitchen, he looked around. There were ingredients everywhere. The kitchen really was quite a mess. It would take a cleaning droid hours to make sure everything was put back in its proper place. Luckily, they'd be off on Bizmul for a week, which would give the droid ample time. He hoped.

Obi-Wan was gesturing toward the kitchen table. "My datapad has a list. Can you see that it gets there? I don't really have time to leave..."

Qui-Gon could sense Obi-Wan's nervousness now that he was finally in the same room with his apprentice again, for more than a few seconds at a time. He walked over to Obi-Wan and put his big hands on his apprentice's shoulders. "Relax, Padawan. I think you may be trying too hard."

"I don't want to let anyone down."

"Who are you worried about disappointing?"

"Master Windu. Master Klenduu." //You,// he thought, the barest trace of it escaping through the bond.

"Obi-Wan, you have never disappointed me."

"That's not true, Master, and you know it."

Qui-Gon sighed and tried to let a feeling of relaxation flow from his hands to Obi-Wan. "You have certainly never disappointed me in the kitchen, then."

Obi-Wan laughed. "Thank you, Master."

As the relaxation between them deepened, Obi-Wan leaned into Qui-Gon, the tension seeping out of his shoulders. Qui-Gon slid his hands down Obi-Wan's arms and cradled his very tense, very tired, very nervous apprentice into a warm embrace. Obi-Wan let out a contented sigh. //Your presence is very soothing, Master.//

//I do my best, Obi-Wan.//

Soothing, though, was not the first word that came to mind for Qui-Gon. The smells of the kitchen were distractingly sensual... possibly because he'd subsisted for so long on so-called "boring Jedi fare." There was some kind of warm, liquid chocolate bubbling on the stove, which was making him burn with curiosity about what that was going to be. A topping, possibly? The only thing in the room more distracting than the smell of chocolate was the flour-dusted chef in his arms. Qui-Gon was beginning to realize that he was holding a warm, young, healthy male, just beginning to reach the prime of his life. Obi-Wan's body was firm from years of rigorous physical training, his muscles lean and well-defined. It had been a long time since Qui-Gon had given in to the sensual indulgence of holding another man or woman in his arms this way. Perhaps Obi-Wan's cooking was a bad influence on him after all.

He began to pull away, but sensed more than a bit of protest from Obi-Wan, who reached up and slid his hands over Qui-Gon's, holding him lightly but firmly in the embrace. //Don't go yet,// Obi-Wan thought. //I've been nervous, and you're very comforting. You make me feel so safe.//

Comforting? Safe? _What do you expect, old fool? You're more than twice his age, and he probably thinks of you as a father figure._ Reality came back to Qui-Gon with a jolt, and the beginnings of desire were choked off as suddenly as they'd hit him. "I'm glad you take such comfort in my presence," he said aloud, working very hard to keep the slight bitterness out of his voice. "I feel the same way with you. Centered."

"Good." Obi-Wan let out a contented sigh, making Qui-Gon wonder who else had heard that particular note in his exhalation, and under what circumstances. "All right. I think I can get back to work. As long as you can get me what I need."

Still his Padawan made no move to extricate himself from Qui-Gon's arms, and when Qui-Gon loosened his grip the slightest bit, Obi-Wan held him tighter for a split-second before allowing the embrace to dissolve. The younger man turned immediately back to the stove, keeping his back to Qui-Gon. He gestured back toward the table. "Galactic Foods Market should have everything on the list. But if they don't, ask Gichi or Oin," two of his former classmates, "and they should be able to figure out where find anything you can't find there."

"I am at your service," Qui-Gon said. His fingers trembled slightly as he picked up Obi-Wan's datapad, and he left the kitchen. Obi-Wan let out a long, slow breath, and set his mind back to the task at hand.

"Representatives Setta and Darnin of the planet Bizmul, the Jedi bid you welcome, and hope you have had a safe journey." Obi-Wan inclined his head to the two transport pilots, and extended the silver tray with his chosen dessert for them to sample.

The Bizmullians were not precisely what Qui-Gon had expected. On a planet where food was considered the highest form of art, he'd wondered if the Bizmullians were going to be as obese as the Hutt, or some form of non-humanoid with multiple stomachs. Instead, the Bizmullians were humanoid, and although neither pilot would be considered slender, they were certainly attractive enough. Setta, the younger pilot, a female who looked to be about Obi-Wan's age, was better described as voluptuous than overweight, and Darnin, the older pilot, a male nearly as tall as Qui-Gon, was solidly built and quite graceful on his feet. The Bizmullian pilots were both smiling with what seemed to be sincere pleasure at seeing the Jedi. The smiles were infectious; Qui-Gon had to struggle to keep from grinning himself.

Obi-Wan had no such struggle; he was nervous enough that he probably hadn't noticed the way Setta was looking at him. She took one of the bite-sized chocolate cream creations, a spiral of soft, pale chocolate inside a tiny dark chocolate shell -- a mousse, Obi-Wan had called it -- and the tip of her pink tongue reached out to sample the flavor. Her eyes widened. "You made this?" she asked.

Darnin, now intrigued, took one of the small mousses and, not attempting to be delicate, licked a portion of the cream off the top. His eyes looked Obi-Wan over with new admiration. "How wonderful," he said. "You're even better than Klenduu Gire. I'm going to look forward to having you on my ship. Perhaps you'll share the recipe?"

"Of course," Obi-Wan assured him. He turned to Qui-Gon. "Would you care to try a chocolate mousse, Master?"

Qui-Gon had spent the last night dreaming of Obi-Wan's chocolate desserts. He tried not to appear too eager, but after the reactions from the Bizmullian pilots, he was sure the mousse would be divine. He took one. "Thank you, Obi-Wan."

"You're welcome."

The rest of the mousses were taken by the younger pilot, who carried them into the ship. The older pilot, having finished his mousse and taken a handkerchief out of his pocket to wipe any remaining chocolate off his fingers, offered to take the Jedi's travel bag for them. Few enough things were required for most missions that Obi-Wan usually only packed one bag for the two of them; Qui-Gon, who hadn't packed his own bag in years, had wondered in amazement how Obi-Wan had gotten everything to fit in one bag. But he'd wanted to let Obi-Wan sleep as much as possible -- the poor man had finally, after an insistent near-argument from Qui-Gon, agreed to stop cooking and go to sleep -- and so he'd done his best to pack everything. It had required a bit of a Force-assisted shove to get the bag to close.

"Are you going to taste it, or did you just take it to be polite?" Obi-Wan asked innocently. Qui-Gon looked at the chocolate delicacy in his hand. The last thing he'd wanted was to have a very un-Jedi-like reaction in front of the Bizmullians, although on reflection, he imagined that they wouldn't be the least bit offended by a show of appreciation for food -- they had both made their approval obvious. The last of his self-control gone, he bit into the chocolate as they followed the pilots into the ship.

He was so intent on the experience of tasting the chocolate that he barely noticed anything about the ship. He followed Obi-Wan dutifully to their quarters -- small but very comfortable quarters. He sat down on one of the beds as Obi-Wan nodded politely to the pilots. The pilots left the room, thanking Obi-Wan again for the mousses, and told the Jedi they'd be taking off as soon as they performed all the pre-flight procedures. Qui-Gon noticed none of it. His mind was on the chocolate mousse. It was the most decadent, sensual pleasure he'd experienced in twenty years, and he wanted to savor every moment of it. He didn't notice Obi-Wan watching him as he licked the last bits of chocolate off his fingertips, and only slowly came back to reality as the ship took off and headed off-planet. After a few moments, he met Obi-Wan's very amused eyes.

"What?" he asked.

"You have chocolate in your beard, Master."

_Well, why don't you come sit in my lap and lick it off, then?_ he thought. Color rushed to his cheeks, and Obi-Wan's face turned concerned. _Oh, Force, did I say that aloud?_ He thought not. Looking for an excuse to break eye contact with Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon looked around the room for the first time. There were two relatively large beds with only about two feet between them, to create a hall leading off to the bathroom, a desk to the left of the door, at the foot of the beds, and a counter with a tiny stove and sink as well as cabinets above and below. Qui-Gon thought he could reasonably assume that the cabinets were well-stocked with materials for dinner. He looked down at the bed on which he was sitting. It was firm enough to be supportive, but still managed to feel cushy, and its covers were made of a velvety material so soft and smooth it made his Jedi robes seem scratchy by comparison.

"I believe the Bizmullians are a bit more fond of comfort than most people," Obi-Wan said, as he watched Qui-Gon take in their quarters.

"At least I'll actually fit on my bed," Qui-Gon said, grinning. There had been many transports where it had been all but impossible for him to get comfortable, and this was a very welcome change. _And there'd be plenty of room for two in either of these beds,_ he thought. He winced at himself. _Force, I hope I didn't say that aloud._ "Perhaps I'd better clean my beard," he said, heading for the bathroom.

Obi-Wan looked at the closed bathroom door after Qui-Gon had gone through it. _How odd,_ he thought. _He certainly seemed to enjoy the chocolate, but I've never seen him look quite that distracted. I wonder if he's having a reaction of some kind?_

In the bathroom, Qui-Gon had washed the chocolate out of his beard only to be confronted with an entirely different problem. He looked down at the bulge in his trousers and sighed. _Well, I certainly can't go out there like this,_ he thought. _Considering as I nearly propositioned my apprentice twice while I was out there, I think it may be time to take matters... into hand, so to speak._

The bathroom was as surprisingly comfortable as the bedroom, and Qui-Gon was pleasantly surprised to notice that the shower was tall enough that he wouldn't have to stoop to be able to get water above chest height. He took his robe off, letting it puddle on the floor, and turned on the water to let it warm up as he disrobed.

Obi-Wan heard the shower turn on from the other room and frowned. //I thought the chocolate was only in your beard, Master,// he sent.

Qui-Gon groaned as his apprentice's thoughts hit him. He was under a spray of delightfully warm water, and had gotten his hands slippery with soap. He'd just been reaching for his nearly-painful erection when he heard Obi-Wan's voice in his head.

//I'm fine, Padawan,// he sent back. He slid his hands down his chest, feeling the warm, slick soap and the hot water running over his back. His hands went lower, and he took his erection in one hand, gently cupping his testicles with the other.

//Are you having an allergic reaction of some kind? Do you need help?//

//Obi-Wan, please.//

//Sorry, Master.//

Qui-Gon's hand was moving faster now, the soap remaining smooth and slippery as he stood in the shower, the tension building as he drew nearer to his release. He added just a little more pressure near the head of his penis as a phrase from nearly six months ago came flooding back to his mind:

_Shut up and taste it, Master._

He imagined his mouth closing over Obi-Wan's hard cock, the way the younger man would gasp out loud, smaller hands burrowing into his long hair and encouraging him to taste more, always more, as much as he could handle... his tongue moving over every inch of Obi-Wan's cock... the slight pulsing movement as Obi-Wan came, and the way it would taste when he let go in Qui-Gon's mouth...

The release came, and Qui-Gon grunted, trying to stifle the sound as much as possible, not knowing how thin or thick the walls were. His seed spilled over his hand, and he shuddered convulsively, letting out a very soft moan. _Force, that felt good,_ he thought. _Much better than meditation._ It had been a long time since he'd sought that kind of release; then again, it had been a long time since he'd needed to. He slowly became aware of sensations other than the feelings between his legs. The water felt very good, and the soap smelled wonderful -- a faint, light, musky scent with a hint of vanilla and the barest touch of cinnamon. He quickly finished his shower and turned the water off, then hit the button for microvibe. The vibration shook the water off his body in a fraction of a second. It was far faster and easier to manage in this small space than drying off with a towel, although big, fluffy towels were available. _And they look soft. These people seem to love sensation._

Obi-Wan had heard Qui-Gon's grunt, and the soft moan that followed. His eyes widened, and he felt his body reacting with great interest. _Is that what he was up to? No wonder he didn't want me asking about it._ Trying not to think about it too much, he pulled the datapad out of his pocket and went over the recipe list again. He'd transmitted the needed ingredients to the Bizmullians when he'd finalized the menu, and they had assured him that everything he needed would be provided, including cooking tools. That was a lucky thing, since having to pack their tools would have required another two suitcases. Obi-Wan also figured that he'd be working with the best available kitchen gadgets on Bizmul, and was looking forward to it. It was difficult to create art in a kitchen designed for sustenance. In the bathroom, Qui-Gon got dressed quickly, and pulled his still-slightly-damp hair into a loose ponytail. Checking his reflection in the mirror to make sure he wasn't flushed, he nodded approval to himself, picked up his robe in one hand and his boots in the other, and opened the bathroom door.

Obi-Wan smelled vanilla, cinnamon, and something else that was uniquely Qui-Gon. His stomach did a slow roll-over as he turned to look at the older man. _Force, he's beautiful,_ Obi-Wan thought. "Did you..." His voice cracked slightly, and he cleared his throat. "Did you enjoy your shower, Master?"

The expression on Qui-Gon's face made Obi-Wan wish he hadn't asked. In all honesty, he'd forgotten that he already knew Qui-Gon had indeed enjoyed his shower -- all he could think of was the scent permeating the room, and his very tall, long-haired, broad-shouldered, narrow-hipped master... _Oh, Force,_ he thought, trying not to panic. He'd thought his crush on Qui-Gon had all but disappeared over the last year or so. He felt sixteen again, desperately horny and dying to bury his cock into the nearest willing participant.

"The shower is as comfortable as the rest of the quarters," Qui-Gon answered, a slightly gruff tone in his voice. "The water was very warm, the spray was firm, and the showerhead was taller than I am."

The blood was slowly draining out of Obi-Wan's face and directly into his lap. "That sounds nice," he managed, thinking about water running down over his naked Master, and that delicious-smelling soap that Qui-Gon would have slicked between his palms and used between his legs. Imagining the way it would have smelled and tasted to be able to rinse his Master clean and take him into the warm, wet cavity of his mouth. _Think of something else,_ Obi-Wan thought hurriedly. _Something that isn't the least bit sensual._ He was desperately glad for the voluminous folds of his robes, which were more than adequate to hide his body's reactions. "You smell fabulous," he found himself saying. _Oh, I am in so much trouble..._

"It's the soap." Qui-Gon sniffed experimentally at himself and smiled. "Why is it you've never made a dessert with cinnamon and vanilla? It does smell good."

_Can I have you for dessert, Master?_ Obi-Wan coughed. "Chocolate is generally more popular. Personally, I don't care for it as much as most people. I do... like... vanilla and cinnamon... quite a bit." He struggled to keep his voice from cracking.

"Perhaps you'll have to try something of the sort when we get home. Although I'm rather fond of all the various chocolate things you've made recently."

"Thank you, Master."

"Are you feeling all right, Obi-Wan? You look a little flushed. Are you too warm?"

_Yes, Master, I'm so hot I think I'm going to explode. And if I take my robe off, it'll become all too obvious why, so I think I'd rather sweat, thank you._ "No, Master, I'm quite comfortable."

"Hmm." Qui-Gon sat down on his bed, arching slightly to stretch. Obi-Wan had to stifle a whimper. As a matter of fact, this was exactly what it had been like being sixteen -- living with Qui-Gon Jinn, who was tall and handsome, healthy and active, and prone to going about half-naked all the blasted time had, at times, been torture. He'd made extensive use of the shower at home that year himself, he recalled. At the moment, a shower sounded good. A cold shower. A very cold shower.

Before he could stand up, Qui-Gon interrupted his thoughts. "I think you are going to ruin my reputation, Obi-Wan."

"Um... how's that, Master?"

"I don't think I could be happy with single-cell protein after these last few days. You've ruined boring Jedi fare for me, I think."

Obi-Wan grinned. "Well, there's always something to be said for emergency field rations." He gestured toward the tiny containers on Qui-Gon's utility belt. "They're easy enough to carry, and they are enough to live on."

"I wonder if you could manage to fill one of these with chocolate mousse," Qui-Gon pondered. He looked up at Obi-Wan's laugh.

"I'm glad you enjoyed the mousse so much, Master. It's hard for me to judge such things. I'm..." He sighed. "I'm still nervous about the dinner. If it goes well, the rest of the negotiations will be a simple matter, and I'll be able to relax." He gestured at the bed. "And given what a cabin in a basic transport vessel looks like, I can't help thinking that Bizmul is going to be a wonderful place to spend a week relaxing. But if it goes badly..."

"It won't." Qui-Gon stood up, took the one step across the room required to cross the path between beds, and sat down next to Obi-Wan. As he'd done in the kitchen the day before, he wrapped his arms around his apprentice, hoping to give him some amount of comfort and relax him a bit. He sat on one leg so as to wrap as much of himself as possible around his apprentice. Obi-Wan obediently drew close to him, only a scarce inch between their bodies now, as Qui-Gon rested his chin on Obi-Wan's shoulder. "You must trust yourself, my Obi-Wan," he said quietly. "You are smart, and strong, and capable, and you are the best cook I have ever had the good fortune to be served by."

"It's been fun serving you, Master." Obi-Wan winced, inwardly, at how that sentence might have sounded. The feel of Qui-Gon's arms around him was half comforting, half torment. Either way, though, he wasn't planning on going anywhere. Knowing how it would affected, he let his back mold to Qui-Gon's chest and let out a long breath, tension escaping from him as he took in his Master's presence. He was surrounded by that wonderful scent, which made him think of Qui-Gon topped with vanilla custard and sprinkled lightly with cinnamon...

He laughed out loud. Qui-Gon smiled. "Now what's that about?" he asked.

"Nothing, Master."

"Obviously it was something..."

"Yes, but you'd be scandalized if I told you."

_I'm already scandalized by myself, young one,_ Qui-Gon thought. _Comforting you was just an excuse to get you in my arms again, and I know it. And right at this moment, I simply don't care._ He hugged Obi-Wan a bit tighter and let out a long sigh of his own.

Obi-Wan thought his heart was going to burst through his chest. He'd barely gotten any sleep at all after the warm embrace in the kitchen the night before, and he was already so aroused it was becoming quite uncomfortable. It was all he could do to keep from turning around, shoving his Master to the bed, and devouring him. Force, but he smelled so good...

Qui-Gon had thought he wouldn't be able to react to his apprentice so soon after his release in the shower, but as he held the younger man in his arms, his body began to take notice. He shifted, trying to create a bit of space between himself and his apprentice. Obi-Wan was having none of it. He pressed back against Qui-Gon, rubbing gently against him, almost like a cat. Qui-Gon's control faltered, and his erection grew steadily. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine what he could possibly say once Obi-Wan noticed. He hoped Obi-Wan would be kind. _I know I'm too old for you, but you're really quite beautiful. I'm afraid I'm unable to help myself..._



"I think there's something I should tell you..."

Their doorbell rang before Obi-Wan could continue. Qui-Gon jumped, and drew back from his apprentice. He took a few deep breaths and shifted in an attempt to hide his now-quite-obvious erection, and Obi-Wan cleared his throat, not looking at his Master. "Come in," said the younger Jedi.

The door slid open, Darnin behind it. "Hello," he said. "I wanted to thank you again for your gift. Setta and I are about to have afternoon tea, and wondered if you'd like to join us."

"I'd love to," Obi-Wan said, the relief in his voice obvious. Qui-Gon felt his arousal flag at the sound of it.

_Fool,_ he thought. _Idiot. Of course he can't wait to get away from you. What did you think was going to happen?_

"Master Jinn?" asked Darnin.

Qui-Gon managed a smile. "Thank you, but if you don't mind, I think I'll remain here."

"Your loss," said the affable pilot. He grinned. "If you change your mind, Setta's made her cinnamon scones. I can send one back for you with Obi-Wan." Turning to the younger Jedi, Darnin pointed back to the hall. "If you'll follow me...?"

"Delighted," said Obi-Wan. He threw a glance to Qui-Gon as he left the room. Qui-Gon saw the hint of sadness in it, and felt the weight of depression sink into him as the door closed.

"Did I interrupt something?" Darnin asked, as they headed down the short hall to Setta's quarters.

"No," Obi-Wan said, thinking _Only me about to make a terrible fool of myself._ "I'm honored that you'd want to share a meal with me."

"Setta was more impressed with your chocolate than she let on. She's really pulled the stops out for you. And I can't thank you enough. Her cinnamon scones are out-of-this-world..." Looking around the ship, Darnin laughed. "In this case, literally as well as figuratively." He rang the doorbell at Setta's quarters and the door slid obediently open. The smell of cinnamon and pastry made Obi-Wan's stomach jump. The cinnamon, though, was reminding him of what he'd left in his quarters.

_I wonder what he would have said if I'd actually told him how much I wanted him,_ Obi-Wan thought. _Probably would have given me a speech on how it's perfectly normal for Padawans to think they've fallen in love with their Masters, and told me to meditate._

_Then again, he's the one who came over and wrapped those arms around me. Maybe not._

The hope was faint, but Obi-Wan was enough of an optimist to hold on to it. He followed Darnin into Setta's quarters. There were no seats here, either, but Darnin sat down on Setta's bed and gestured for Obi-Wan to take a seat next to him. Setta was at her stove, and Darnin reached under the bed to roll out a folding table.

"It's crowded, but we have all the necessities," Darnin said. Obi-Wan helped him unfold the table and lock down its wheels, and Setta brought a plate of scones and a pot of tea over. Her next trip brought cups and saucers for Darnin and Obi-Wan, and finally a cup and saucer for herself. She reached over to the cabinet for sugar and milk, and then moved the chair from her desk to the end of the table.

Darnin poured tea, and Obi-Wan reached for one of Setta's scones. "Thank you for the invitation," Obi-Wan said. "Darnin tells me your scones are outstanding."

Setta smiled at Darnin. "Funny how he never tells me these things. Thank you for the gift, earlier," Setta said. "It was... sensational."

Obi-Wan bit into the scone and sighed happily at the taste of it. The cinnamon and sugar exploded on his tongue and made him nearly moan out loud. "Amazing," he managed. "Just amazing."

"Thank you." Her eyes met his, and he noticed how dark they were. Force, she was attractive. "I'm only sorry I won't get to sample your cooking when you arrive on Bizmul. Still, it's a two-day trip. Perhaps you'll make something for me in the meantime?"

"Anything you want," Obi-Wan found himself saying.

Darnin laughed. "Watch out. The first time I tried her scones she had me promising to do..." His voice trailed off, as he blushed and grinned at himself. "Well, perhaps it's better if I don't get into the details. But I would have promised anything as long as she agreed to keep making those scones."

"Darnin exaggerates," Setta said. "Still, I'd be more than happy to let you make any promises you like." Her eyes twinkled.

Obi-Wan had been distracted by the way Darnin's fingers held his teacup. The pilot's fingers were so long and graceful. The man was nearly as tall as Qui-Gon, and also like Qui-Gon, his hair was beginning to go silver. His smile was entirely too compelling. Obi-Wan turned his attention back to his scone. _I'm going to go mad,_ he thought. _I should have taken that cold shower._ He didn't know exactly what Setta was offering, but he was reasonably sure that having an affair with a transport pilot -- either transport pilot -- was not a good idea. _Suppose I do the wrong thing and they jettison me into space?_ No, definitely not an option.

He sighed inwardly, shifted on the bed, and made small talk while wondering if he was going to go insane before making it to Bizmul.

The lights were dim when he got back to his room. He stepped inside and waited for his eyes to adjust to the light before moving. He slipped his robe off and put the small package of scones on the desk. Qui-Gon was in his bed, apparently sleeping. His Master had been known to take naps at relatively unusual times during long space flights; it helped him adjust to the new time zones of the planets he was visiting. Obi-Wan took his boots and socks off, dropped his lightsaber and utility belt on the desk next to the scones, and lay down on his own bed. The room still smelled of vanilla and cinnamon and Qui-Gon, and he felt his cock growing hard just from the smell. He grabbed one of the pillows off his bed and dropped it on top of his face, wondering if smothering himself was an option.

"What are you doing?" Qui-Gon asked, his voice low. He was still just barely in the realm of the conscious. "I can sense your distress from here."

"It's nothing." But the sound was so muffled that he heard Qui-Gon roll over to squint at him in the darkness.

"Why are you trying to smother yourself?"

"I'm just nervous." A line of Force energy yanked the pillow off Obi-Wan's face, and he sighed. "Don't worry about me, Master. I'm fine. I brought home a few of Setta's cinnamon scones."

"The scones are not what's making you try to smother yourself, I assume?"

"No, Master."

"Then what is?" There was silence for several long moments. Qui-Gon's voice grew more severe. "Padawan?"

"I'd rather not talk about it."

"Why not?"

_You'll laugh. Or you'll dismiss it. And either way, I don't know why I can't control the way I'm feeling, so why bother talking about it? It'll probably wear off when we're on planet. Or when we get back to Coruscant._

"I think I'd like to get some sleep, Master."

"I am not going to let you hide from your own fears. Or from me. Lights, twenty percent." The lights came on enough that they no longer had to squint at each other, but the room was still dim. Qui-Gon sat up in his bed and came to a kneeling position; Obi-Wan looked over and groaned mentally when he saw his Master was wearing only thin sleep-pants. "Talk to me, my Padawan. Tell me what troubles you."

Obi-Wan sighed. He sat up and swung his legs over the edge of his bed. "Master... have you ever developed an interest in someone despite knowing that it was a terrible idea?" Met with silence from the man across the room, Obi-Wan took a deep breath. He couldn't meet Qui-Gon's eyes.

"Someone on this ship?"

_Someone in this room. Oh, I see, he's trying to make it easier for me. Trying not to embarrass me. Great. Thanks._ "Yes, Master."

_I wonder which of them it is,_ Qui-Gon thought, a cold feeling of jealousy settling into his stomach. _Maybe that's why he was gone so long. What the hell do these people do at afternoon tea?_ Qui-Gon stifled a sigh. _Shut up, old man, and be supportive._ "I don't see why it's a terrible idea. Provided it won't interfere with our mission, that is."

Obi-Wan's head snapped up and his eyes went to Qui-Gon's, making Qui-Gon's breath catch in his throat. "Do you mean that?" he asked, quietly, the focus on Qui-Gon so intense it made him feel like he was going to catch fire.

"Of course."

And in the next moment, his arms were filled with a very warm, very hungry Obi-Wan Kenobi, and his world turned around.

_What the hell...?_ he thought. Obi-Wan's mouth sought his, and helpless to resist the object of his fantasies any longer, he opened his mouth and met Obi-Wan's questing tongue, rubbing his own against it, exploring the corners of his apprentice's mouth. Obi-Wan let out a soft moan and pulled back, his forehead resting against Qui-Gon's, arms around his Master, panting softly.

"I think I've spent the last five years dreaming about doing that," Obi-Wan said. "I thought you'd object. I thought you'd try to be gentle, but I always thought you wouldn't want me..."

"I didn't realize you were talking about me," Qui-Gon blurted out. He realized only a split-second afterwards that he'd said the wrong thing, as Obi-Wan was suddenly well across the room, and the sensation of horror and utter humiliation was so strong he could have cut it with his lightsaber.

"Oh, Sith. Oh. I'm so sorry, I..."

"I didn't say I was upset about it. Oh, Force, I'm doing this all wrong." Qui-Gon stood up and took the one step across the room to Obi-Wan's bed, bending over and pushing his apprentice back into the pillows. "What I meant was that I couldn't imagine that you might want me. I've spent the last two days dreaming of spreading chocolate sauce all over you and licking it up..." He left a trail of kisses down Obi-Wan's face. "...inch... by... inch."

Obi-Wan's voice was a few octaves higher than normal. "You have?" he squeaked.

"Mmm." He nuzzled Obi-Wan's neck. "Shall I join you in this wonderfully comfortable bed of yours?"

"Er... Yes, I think that's an excellent idea."

Qui-Gon stretched out full-length over Obi-Wan, and both men let out a deep sigh of contentment, of completion, as if they'd been waiting for this moment all their lives and had only just realized such things were possible. Obi-Wan's mouth found Qui-Gon's in the dim light, and Qui-Gon moaned, his lips parting as the velvet warmth of Obi-Wan's tongue slid forward again, running over Qui-Gon's lips and making the older man pant with half-desperation. With a bit of Force-assisted strength, Obi-Wan flipped Qui-Gon onto his back and began kissing a path down his chest. "You are sure about this?" Obi-Wan asked between kisses.

"Oh... yes, that feels wonderful... I... am quite sure, Obi-Wan..."

Summoning a bit more courage, Obi-Wan slid a hand down under the waistband of Qui-Gon's sleep pants and found his master's hot erection waiting for him. He wrapped his fingers around it and stroked gently, eliciting a raspy moan from Qui-Gon. Qui-Gon pushed himself up on his elbows. Obi-Wan grinned.


"Force... Yes..." Qui-Gon gasped for breath. "Harder. Faster."

Obi-Wan obliged, and began exploring Qui-Gon's chest with his other hand. Qui-Gon's skin was turning darker as a flush spread over his chest and shoulders, and he fell back against the pillows. With a controlled grunt, he put his own hand over Obi-Wan's and stopped the movement. "Wait," he whispered.

"And if I won't?" Obi-Wan smiled impishly and squeezed harder, stroked faster.

"Aaaahh. No, stop. Stop. I can't..."

"You certainly can. And I think you're about to."

Qui-Gon's hand tightened around Obi-Wan's, and urged him to move faster. A few moments later, his eyes squeezed shut and he let out a long, shuddering breath as he came. Obi-Wan grinned. He let go of Qui-Gon's weakening erection and carefully pulled the sleep pants over his hips, enjoying the sight of his Master lying flat on his back with his seed spread all over his stomach. He bent his head forward, and when the tip of his tongue touched Qui-Gon's stomach, the older man hissed.

"What are you doing?"

"Well, it's not chocolate sauce. But then, as I told you earlier, I'm not terribly fond of chocolate. This, on the other hand..." He grinned again. "This, I'm quite fond of indeed."

Qui-Gon blushed darker as he watched his apprentice clean him, thoroughly, with his warm, wet tongue. The feeling of that tongue on his stomach made his abdomen clench, and he found he couldn't take his eyes off the younger man, couldn't believe this young Knight-to-be was doing this, that he'd brought him to orgasm like that...

"Obi-Wan?" he asked. Obi-Wan paused as he was nearing the messy tip of his Master's cock.

"Yes, Master?"

"I am a very lucky man."

"I was just thinking the same thing, Master." The impish smile came back. "That you're very lucky, I mean." His mouth closed over the tip of Qui-Gon's cock, and he gasped, arousal coming back more quickly than he'd expected was possible. He was not, after all, a boy of twenty. No, the boy of twenty was sucking on him and getting him hard again; very expertly, too.

"You're... really very good at this..." Qui-Gon managed. Obi-Wan looked up.

"I do tend to excel at things I enjoy, Master."

Qui-Gon sat up, and Obi-Wan rolled onto his back. "Perhaps you wouldn't mind if I enjoyed you?"

_Mind?_ Obi-Wan thought dreamily. "I think I could endure it."

"You're wearing far too many clothes. Sit up..."

Obi-Wan sat up obediently and let Qui-Gon remove his tabard and tunics. His hands felt good against Obi-Wan's chest, and Obi-Wan wondered if the Jedi wore this many layers as a way of prolonging the joy of stripping one's new lover. All right, it was probably more for protection from the elements, but this was nice, too. He blushed as Qui-Gon removed the last of his clothing and ran a hand through the mass of reddish-gold hair on his chest. Qui-Gon pushed him back into the pillows, then rubbed his face in the thick hair over Obi-Wan's stomach. Obi-Wan sucked in a breath. "Mmm," Qui-Gon murmured. "Very nice. Very, very nice."

"I live to please, Master."

"As do I, at the moment." Qui-Gon tugged Obi-Wan's trousers and undergarments down over his legs, tossing them off the bed when he was done. He crawled back up the bed and settled himself between Obi-Wan's legs, rubbing his beard over the sensitive skin on the inside of Obi-Wan's thighs. Obi-Wan gasped, nearly shaking with lust.

"Like that?" Qui-Gon asked.

"Oh, Force, yes."

"Good..." His voice trailed off, and he kept rubbing his beard over Obi-Wan's inner thighs.

"You realize, of course... that... I'm going to have to grow a beard... just so you can see how that feels?"

Qui-Gon's heart leapt unexpectedly. _That's not the kind of thing you say to someone you're having a one-night stand with, does it? Does he expect this to continue when we're through with this mission? What exactly is he thinking?_ He flicked his tongue out, over Obi-Wan's testicles, and savored the groan and the way his Padawan's hips jerked in response. "I look forward to it," Qui-Gon said softly.


"Yes?" Qui-Gon ran his tongue along the crease from the juncture of Obi-Wan's thighs to his hip and back again. "Were you going to say something?"

"I... yes, if you'd..."

Qui-Gon moved so his face was brushing lightly against Obi-Wan's cock. He ran his tongue up beside it, not touching it, but coming so close he knew Obi-Wan could feel how warm his breath was. "Were you going to ask for something?" he asked, completely failing to hide the mirth in his voice.

"Do you know, Master, that I never took you for a tease?"

"I beg your pardon," Qui-Gon said, trying to sound stern. "I am..." He left a dozen light kisses on Obi-Wan's stomach, just above his cock. "More than happy..." He ran his tongue along the crease of Obi-Wan's leg again. "To follow through with..." And the other crease. "Anything I promise."

"Then for pity's sake, shut up and taste it!" Obi-Wan sputtered. Qui-Gon laughed, and obediently closed his mouth over his Padawan's warm, hard cock. Obi-Wan let out a gasp, and his head fell back. Qui-Gon hummed a very satisfied note, causing Obi-Wan to thrust uncontrollably. He closed his teeth over a loud yelp, barely managing to contain it.

Qui-Gon licked slowly in one smooth motion from the base of Obi-Wan's cock to the tip, then took the head into his mouth again. He swirled his tongue around it, sucking, teasing, pleasuring. "Force... but you're... good at this," Obi-Wan panted. "Too good... you're going to have to... wait a moment..."

"Nnnnn," Qui-Gon hummed, a negatory sound that sent vibrations through his mouth and made Obi-Wan squirm under him. Qui-Gon's mouth was so warm, Force take it, and he wasn't going to be able to hold back long. Not after five years of fantasizing about this, and the way his skin had been tingling all afternoon...

"Master, please..." He sat up on his elbows, panting for breath. "Please, I can't..."

Qui-Gon let Obi-Wan's cock drop from his mouth long enough to say, "You most certainly can. And I think you're about to." It made Obi-Wan laugh, but the laugh quickly turned into a moan of pleasure as Qui-Gon took his cock back into the warm, wet, velvet cavity of his mouth.

"So... mmm... how do I... oh, that feels so wonderful... do I taste as good as... oh... as good as my desserts?" Obi-Wan panted. Qui-Gon laughed softly, making Obi-Wan shudder as the vibrations and motion ran through Qui-Gon's throat to Obi-Wan's cock. Qui-Gon moved up again, swirling his tongue around the sensitive skin just under the head of Obi-Wan's cock, and freed his mouth to answer, replacing it for the time being with his hand.

"You are the best dessert," he informed his apprentice. "And I particularly like your..."

"Oh, Master, don't say it," Obi-Wan groaned, the pun too lewd and horrible to contemplate. He thrust against Qui-Gon's hand, sighing with delight.

"Don't say what? 'Cream filling'?" Qui-Gon licked the head of Obi-Wan's cock as his hand kept moving, and Obi-Wan made some sound halfway between a gasp and a giggle. It was adorable.

"Ahh, you said it. Now I'm going to have to be scandalized."

"Padawan Kenobi, your Master is lying between your legs, giving you what I'd like to think is some of the best head you've gotten in a while, and you're going to be scandalized now?" He squeezed the lovely hard cock in his hand, gently rotating his hand to create a light twisting sensation. Obi-Wan's eyes nearly rolled back in his head.

"Good..." he panted, "point. Talking of head...?"

"If you wouldn't keep interrupting me, I'd be able to devote a good deal more concentration to this."

"That's what I'm afraid of," Obi-Wan groaned, as Qui-Gon set to work again. The feeling of his warm tongue against his cock was too wonderful to resist for long; Obi-Wan's face contorted as he let out a loud groan and came, shuddering, with Qui-Gon's lips still wrapped around him and his tongue still caressing the underbelly of his penis. Obi-Wan lay back, eyes closed, head cradled by the softness of the pillows, his entire body weak and shaking from the climax. He felt Qui-Gon climb up next to him in bed.

"How was that?" Qui-Gon asked, the self-satisfied note all-too-obvious in his voice. Obi-Wan reached up and pulled him into his arms, nuzzling against his Master as he floated in bliss.

"Wonnnnnderful," Obi-Wan purred. "Better than I dreamed possible."


"And don't you sound smug about it, too?" Obi-Wan squeezed him tighter. "As well you should be. Force, that was amazing."

Qui-Gon thrust his hips gently against Obi-Wan's side. "Are you all tired out already? I'd have expected a young stallion like you to be able to go all night. For that matter, it isn't even night yet."

"I'm not..." Obi-Wan yawned. "Not a stallion. But I am yours for the taking."

"Are you?" Qui-Gon pressed a kiss to Obi-Wan's temple. "And how do you suggest I take you?"

Obi-Wan's eyes fluttered open. "I'm not dreaming, am I? You really are naked in this bed with me?"

Qui-Gon took Obi-Wan's hand and moved it between his legs, curling the younger man's hand around his cock. "Feels like it, doesn't it?"

"Mmm. That it does." Obi-Wan's hand began squeezing and sliding up and down Qui-Gon's cock. "In that case, I do have a few suggestions for you..."

"I am..." Qui-Gon drew in a deep breath as Obi-Wan pushed him to his back and increased the pressure. "I am completely at your disposal, my Padawan."

"Good." Obi-Wan stopped and climbed out of bed. Qui-Gon let out a soft noise of protest.

"Where are you going?"

"Not far." Which was true. Obi-Wan had only gone as far as the cabinets in the small kitchenette, and had still been tired enough to do it on all fours instead of crouching. He searched quickly through the cabinets and muttered to himself. "Let's see... I would be willing to bet that there's something in here we can make use of..."

The sight of his Padawan on all fours as he rummaged through the cabinets was too appealing to pass up. Qui-Gon came to his knees behind Obi-Wan and rubbed his cock gently against the younger man's ass. He grinned and lowered his head to the round globes, landing a bite on the right cheek and causing Obi-Wan to yelp. Obi-Wan turned around, a small bottle in his hand. "This should do nicely," he said. "Olive oil." He pressed the bottle into Qui-Gon's hand. "And if you're still at my disposal, why don't you rub some of that where you were just biting a moment ago, and then have your way with me?"

"What a brilliant suggestion." Qui-Gon's grin matched his apprentice's as the two of them climbed back into the bed. He opened the bottle and poured a bit of the golden oil into his palm. "How convenient of them to have such a neatly stocked larder..."

"I was just thinking the same thing," Obi-Wan said, as Qui-Gon slid his palm around his own cock, moving up and down gently and spreading the oil over himself. Obi-Wan got on all fours and presented his very nice ass to his Master, who looked at it with lusty approval. He leaned forward and bit the left cheek, and Obi-Wan yelped again. He looked over his shoulder. "Excuse me..."

"Well, you didn't think I was going to neglect the other one, did you?" He poured a bit more of the oil into his hand and slowly slid the tip of one finger into the cleft, gently working his way into the opening. Obi-Wan sighed, relaxing under Qui-Gon's touch. Qui-Gon used more oil and before long was able to move in and out with a gentle, regular rhythm.

"Please... Master... make love to me..." Obi-Wan pleaded. Qui-Gon chuckled softly; his Padawan was not a patient man.

_But then, neither am I,_ Qui-Gon thought. He put his hands on Obi-Wan's hips and aligned himself. As he sunk slowly into Obi-Wan's warm and very willing body, he let out a long, contented sigh. Obi-Wan pushed backwards against him, until the two were joined completely. Qui-Gon leaned forward so he could take Obi-Wan's erection in his still-slippery hand and stroke him as he moved inside him. "You feel wonderful," he said.

"I certainly do," Obi-Wan confirmed breathlessly. "Oh, Master..."

Qui-Gon lost himself in the feeling of being held so deep inside his Padawan, in the attention he was giving to Obi-Wan, making sure the younger man was feeling as much pleasure from being taken as he was from the taking; the soft velvet coverlet under his knees, the warm skin against his own, the soft sounds Obi-Wan was making, which were quickly turning to more demanding, insistent ones, the way his own heart was speeding up...

Obi-Wan cried out first, spilling his seed across Qui-Gon's hand and onto the bed. Qui-Gon found his release only moments later, burying himself in Obi-Wan with one last deep thrust. He fell forward onto Obi-Wan's back, and the two of them collapsed together. Obi-Wan let out a quiet "Oof" and then laughed.

"Am I too heavy for you?" Qui-Gon asked.


"Too bad."

The laughing started up again, jostling Qui-Gon until he admitted defeat and rolled to Obi-Wan's left. "And what's so funny?" he asked.

"I was just thinking about cinnamon."


"And vanilla custard."


"You know, Master, I'm starting to think that cinnamon may have an... unusual... effect on me."

"Really." Qui-Gon looked interested. "I shall have to get the recipe for those scones, then."



"I think this is my favorite mission yet."

Qui-Gon laughed and pulled Obi-Wan into his arms. "And it's only just beginning."