Title: Some Comfort Here
Author: Laura McEwan
Written for Inyadreems for Jedi__Santa 2006
Category: Qui/Obi (Ben)
Archive: MA and my site only, please.
Disclaimer: These characters belong to King George, in a Galaxy, Far, Far Away. Money is no object for none exists in my wallet.
Feedback: Is a treasure.
Summary: Qui-Gon seeks some physical relief with an unknown whore.
Notes: Much thanks to Ghostwriter for her meticulous beta and much handholding. You are the best. :)
He shifted the bag over his shoulder as he peered around the corner. Dark and dank, the alleyway wasn't exactly welcoming. Wet streaks oozed down the walls to gather in murky puddles, perhaps harboring nothing he wanted to know about.
Overhead, eaves dripped the remains of the earlier rain, at times creating a curtain of water he was forced to duck through, pulling his hood forward to cloak his face.
It was a miserable night, with a chill wind blowing towards him, but his purpose and the promise it held drew him forward.
There, near the end, barely visible in the weather and night, stood who he was looking for. A lone street light illuminated the figure in tight leather pants, a tummy-baring shirt so tight around his chest it looked as if it could pop at any moment, nipples poking prominently through the thin fabric. An oversized long coat hung from his shoulders, and his eyes were rimmed in blue. He was fastidiously clean within the filthy surroundings, and signaled welcome to this Jedi tonight by wearing Qui-Gon's favorite musky scent, blown on the wind.
The whore's eyes glittered as Qui-Gon approached. "Good evening, Sir."
"Good evening yourself, boy."
"Ben." This young man was part of a group of whores who took turns catering to the Jedi who needed a release, slinking from the Temple under cover of night or false pretenses. Temple Jedi never 'took notice,' keeping their silence so their own ventures would be kept. Funds were not plentiful for such needs of the body, but the Jedi protected these young men and women in place of money, making sure they had shelter and food, coins if needed, doctors and medicines, and exacting punishment towards tricks who would abuse without permission.
This young man was new to Qui-Gon, although it had been many months since his last sojourn to this sad end of Coruscant. He found himself drawn to the nipples, small nubs pressing out from inside Ben's shirt, hard with the cold.
Ben drew a breath to raise his chest, thrusting forward slightly. "Touch if you wish, Sir."
Qui-Gon let down his bundle. A fingernail scrape, then Qui-Gon bent to cover a nipple with his mouth, sucking and tonguing without touching Ben in any other way. Ben's head fell back slightly, mouth opening in a soft gasp. He also knew better than to touch his trick; permission had not been given, and thus rocked slightly to hold his balance.
Qui-Gon moved to the other nipple, slowly circling and sucking, chuckling low in his throat at Ben's gasping.
After a tortuously long minute, Qui-Gon withdrew, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his cloak. He hoisted his bag back over his shoulder and asked, "Room?"
"This way," Ben murmured, cocking a thumb over his shoulder. Stiffly, he led the Jedi to a door only a few feet away, pushing the door open to reveal a cold space, with no fire and only one dim light. A bed piled with warm blankets was the only concession that this was a whore's room to entertain his 'guests'; other heat cost extra.
From the bag Qui-Gon produced wood, and after placing it in the cold fireplace, he waved a hand and flames burst into life, sending out welcome fingers of heat.
The firelight softened Ben's face, making him look younger than his already young years, and Qui-Gon had a moment's hesitation. "You are eighteen, yes?" It was part of the agreement with the Jedi: no children were to ever be exploited for gains, though they could be hired as house servants until they were of age to earn in a new way, should they choose.
"I'm actually twenty, Sir, even though I don't look it. Tricks who would prefer younger often choose me." He shrugged. "I don't mind it. For money, I can be whatever age they like."
"Good." Qui-Gon shed his cloak and stood before Ben, who in turn shifted the coat from his shoulders and let it slip to the floor. It was a sensual movement, not using his hands but only moving his body, and his stance was inviting. "Touch yourself, your chest," Qui-Gon asked, watching.
Not dropping his eyes from Qui-Gon, Ben slowly dragged one hand up his body, the friction tugging at his shirt until his fingers found a nipple. He rolled it between his fingers and the damp cloth, slid his palm across it, then back to tweaking, doing the same with his other hand and nipple. He shifted his legs slightly to allow a bit more room for his cock, already tight against the crotch of his pants from the earlier mouthing. Qui-Gon's eyes darted from hands to face and back again, his own hands slowly working to free himself from the bulk of his Jedi tunics.
Having been given no further instructions, Ben continued his self-manipulation, his tongue occasionally stroking out to wet his lips, drying out from his increasing soft pants.
Qui-Gon, tunics now down to only his undershirt, his nipples prominent as Ben's had been outside, whispered, "Now mine. Your mouth. Don't stop touching yourself."
Ben stepped forward and only had to bend slightly to reach one. As his hands were otherwise occupied, he widened his stance for balance. From his higher vantage point, Qui-Gon's could see the curve of Ben's back sloping down to his slender hips, the roundness of his ass sheathed in leather, tightening now and then with the shifting of Ben's body.
Ben's tongue was talented for certain, circling and pressing, his mouth sucking and finally gently nipping at the swelling beneath the damp fabric. Qui-Gon gasped, cupped one large hand behind Ben's head and guided it to the other side. After a few moments he stepped back. Ben, ever obedient, was still massaging himself.
"You may drop your hands now."
Ben did so, perhaps a bit reluctantly, his fingers slowly trailing away. He stood, waiting still, but his eyes were restless, wanting more, wanting to give more. His lips were slightly swollen from their work, and he licked at them again, inviting.
Qui-Gon suppressed a groan. This boy was so beautiful, and eager. He moved forward, taking Ben's hands and raising his arms out to either side. He pressed their fronts together, thrusting against Ben a few times first, twin bulges making contact even from behind their sheaths of leather and linen. From side to side they moved, opposing to better rub, creating a small, slow dance of rising sexual excitement.
Qui-Gon could feel the slow burning build in his balls, and stepped back. He dropped Ben's hands and reached for his own shirt, pulling it over his head and tossing it onto his pile of clothes. He walked to the fire, staring for a few moments at it, enjoying the caress of heat on his exposed skin. He turned to look over his shoulder. "Come," he beckoned, drawing Ben to stand in front of him, back to front. "How often do you get a fire in here?"
"Not often, Sir," Ben replied quietly. "I thank you."
Qui-Gon's hands had slipped around Ben's collarbone, fingers finding the collar of his shirt. "Feel the warmth, then." He slowly began to tear the shirt, thread by thread, fabric easily separating to expose a smooth chest and reddened nipples, now so pointed from stimulation that Qui-Gon believed they could cast their own shadows. Torn down the center, the shirt hung on Ben's shoulders, giving access to Qui-Gon's hands to roam freely, as they did. Callused palms circled the over-sensitized nubs, then slid down to rub against Ben's stomach, one finger dipping beneath his waistband just a touch.
Ben's only sounds were made by his breathing, made loud in the tiny, quiet room with small gasps, pants and one small moan when Qui-Gon nuzzled into his neck, his beard scraping and tickling. Qui-Gon's cock pressed against Ben's ass and he wriggled once, another invitation.
"Mmm..." Qui-Gon hummed against Ben's neck, eliciting goose bumps. His hands stole to Ben's pants, unfastening and unzipping, then turned Ben to face him as he slid the pants slowly down Ben's ass, caressing it as he did. He knelt, pushing the leather to the floor, smoothing his palms over strong legs, helping Ben lift one foot and then the other out of the pants, removing soft leather shoes and finally the torn shirt to leave Ben wholly unclothed and bathed in firelight.
"See yourself," Qui-Gon murmured, pointing near the fire. A taller shadow-Ben stood against the wall, dark cock jutting away and up. "You are so beautiful." Ben smiled and pushed his cock down with his finger. It bobbed back up, bouncing in shadow. They both chuckled.
"My boots, please," Qui-Gon asked, sitting on the edge of the bed, and Ben immediately knelt to work the buckles, his cock occasionally bumping his stomach as he bent. Qui-Gon watched with one hand on Ben's shoulder as the boy tugged the boots off and set them to the side. "Now unfasten me." Ben's fingers trembled only slightly, finding the ties that allowed the front fly to fall open. "Touch me through there." As Ben did, Qui-Gon's cock worked free, falling through the opening into Ben's willing hand. Qui-Gon leaned back on his hands, shifting to allow his pants to slide down. "Do as you will, Ben, but only with your mouth."
Ben gave him a hungry, smiling glance before snaking out his tongue. Soft, wet, barely-there licks scattered the underside, down to the base where Ben chose to gently suck at each ball. Qui-Gon held himself as still as possible, but once Ben licked back up and began to kiss the pink head, his arms began to shake. "Gods," he breathed, thrusting only slightly. After a moment, he pushed Ben back and stood, kicking his boots and pants off, before once again cupping Ben's head and drawing him forward. "You may hold me if you need."
Ben's hands immediately reached around to grasp strong buttocks as Qui-Gon's fingers twined into his hair, gripping, pulling, pushing. Ben stole a glance at the shadows, watching in fascination as Qui-Gon's shadow-cock appeared and disappeared from his own shadow. Qui-Gon, watching him, looked as well, and held Ben's head close, cock stuffed fully into his mouth, to see how they looked so completely connected in shadow form. Ben sucked and swirled his tongue around his cock until Qui-Gon began to thrust.
Beneath Ben's hands Qui-Gon's buttocks clenched and released as he pumped, but now there was a slight tremor. Releasing with one hand, Ben instead cupped Qui-Gon's balls, gently rolling and squeezing as he sucked, rocking back and forth as Qui-Gon's thrusts grew faster. Testicles drew up and tight, and Ben's mouth flooded with warm come, Qui-Gon's cock pulsing madly against his tongue.
It was too much at once; Ben swallowed best he could but he had to pull away. He caught the last of it in his hand while stroking Qui-Gon's cock as if to milk it empty. Shaking and sweating, Qui-Gon collapsed splayed onto the bed, both feet on the floor, knees fallen wide, and his cock, still stiff but softening, pointing to the ceiling.
Through his heavy breathing, he heard Ben ask, "May I?" Qui-Gon bent his neck to see. Ben was still on his knees, offering out his cupped hand, fluid beginning to seep through his fingers.
"What is it you wish?"
"To touch you."
Qui-Gon dropped his head down again. "As you will."
Ben dipped a fingertip into the come, then leaning on one elbow, reached to paint patterns onto Qui-Gon's stomach and up to his nipples, circling them each slowly as Qui-Gon gasped. Ben then began at the bottom, with a quick swipe to Qui-Gon's cock first, to follow the path he'd painted with his tongue, lapping it all up, climbing onto the bed and straddling him, sucking at each nipple until they were thoroughly cleaned. Once done, he sat up and waited for further direction.
Qui-Gon had relaxed into the bed, enjoying the warm sensations of a body against his, hot tongue just as talented against his torso as it had been against his cock. When Ben sat up, he slid his hands up to Ben's hips. For a few moments they gazed at each other, Qui-Gon sweating and Ben flushed. Ben's cock stood proudly yet, one drop of fluid oozing down the underside. Qui-Gon watched as it made its slow way down to finally disappear into a finely trimmed mass of curling red hair.
He slid his hands beneath Ben's buttocks to shift him to a more comfortable position when his fingers encountered something slick. Further probing proved that Ben's opening was oiled, ready for any penetration.
"Is that what usually happens, your tricks take you?"
Ben nodded. "Sometimes all they want is to be sucked off, but I like to be ready if they wish to fuck me, Sir."
Qui-Gon's cock twitched and began to harden again at Ben's casual profanity. "And do you fuck them?" he asked, breathless.
Ben shook his head no. "Never, Sir. I've fucked friends, other whores who needed it, but never a trick."
"Not even a woman?"
Ben ducked his head. "I've never had a woman ask for me. They usually like the bigger men."
Qui-Gon reached and touched Ben's cock, steely beneath the smooth skin. "I think you're fair big, Ben."
"Shh. I know what you meant." Qui-Gon smiled, and then rolled Ben to lie beside him on the bed. "Have you any more of the oil you used?"
"Y-yes, it's here in the table." Ben reached into the small drawer to bring out a dark blue vial. He offered it to Qui-Gon, but Qui-Gon refused it. Instead, he shifted himself around on the bed until he lay opposite Ben, knees bent and splayed wide.
"Prepare me as you prepared yourself."
Ben's eyes widened but he obeyed, pulling the cork from the bottle with a soft *pop*. Placing the cork on the table, he tugged a pillow from behind him and Qui-Gon obligingly tilted his pelvis upward to allow Ben to place the pillow beneath his hips.
Pouring a small amount onto his fingers, Ben stroked softly around Qui-Gon's puckered opening before sliding one finger in. Qui-Gon's eyes fell closed and he breathed sharply.
"I'm sorry," Ben said, withdrawing his finger. "I hurt you."
"No, no," Qui-Gon's eyes reopened and he shook his head. "Not at all. Please continue. Perhaps up to three fingers?"
Ben didn't answer, but gave a half-nod and returned to his task. He was careful and slow, turning his fingers while drawing them in and out, furtively watching Qui-Gon's expressions change with the motions.
After a few minutes Qui-Gon stopped him with a strained voice. "That's good, very good." His cock was rampantly hard again, and he wanted more. He pulled his legs up and shifted to lie on his side. "Ben, please suck me again." He helped pull Ben's legs up towards his own head as Ben slid down to accommodate the command. "Touch me however you like or need." As Ben once more set his tongue to work, one hand on Qui-Gon's hip, Qui-Gon returned the favor by licking at Ben's cock as well.
The space of the room filled with the scent of sweat rising from the men, and the wet sounds of sucking and licking, punctuated by the occasional moan. Hands roamed freely, fingertips teasing at oiled holes, the pumping of heads increasing in speed until all at once, Qui-Gon tore himself away from Ben and brought himself to his knees.
"In me. I need you inside me, now, Ben. Now!"
Ben scrambled to his knees behind Qui-Gon. Qui-Gon's head hung low, his breathing ragged and harsh.
Ben grasped his cock and guided it to Qui-Gon's body, to the hole he'd prepared so carefully earlier. As he pushed inside, slowly, Qui-Gon began to moan, dropping his head and shoulders to the bed, sliding his knees to the side to widen himself.
Ben moaned himself, one hand stroking Qui-Gon's back as his eyes slid closed. So very, very tight, and hot. Another few moments and he found himself pressed against Qui-Gon's ass, his cock fully sheathed. He rested his hands on Qui-Gon's hips.
"Ben?" Qui-Gon's voice was very low, nearly a whisper.
"Fuck me. I want you to fuck me very hard. Can you do that for me, please, Ben?"
He moved, pulling out with torturously slow speed. Back in again, then out, each stroke faster than the one before, until his body slapped against Qui-Gon's, ball sacs swinging against each other, a sensation all its own, haloing the tight slide of cock and ass.
He pounded into Qui-Gon, remembering through a sexually charged haze to reach around and pump Qui-Gon's cock, but Qui-Gon pushed his hand away, a muttered "no" amid the groans.
And all at once, Ben's body seized and his cock pulsed inside Qui-Gon, in such a release that he cried out wordlessly, a wail that echoed off the bare walls, his body jerking from the power of the pleasure until the shocks and spasms wore away and he held himself limply against Qui-Gon's body, shaking.
Qui-Gon lay beneath him, body splayed across the blankets, waiting for Ben to recover. "Lay down whenever you wish, Ben," he murmured.
With almost exaggeratedly small movements, Ben pulled his cock free of Qui-Gon's body and lay on his side, his head resting on one arm, hair plastered to his forehead. His eyeliner had become smeared somewhere during their tryst and Qui-Gon turned his body to face Ben's in order to reach and wipe it away with his thumb.
His cock lay stiff between them.
Ben's glazed eyes watched as Qui-Gon's hand slowly stroked, up, down, up, down, and then Qui-Gon asked, "I want to be inside you. Do you feel up to it?"
Ben nodded and rolled to his stomach. "Of course, Sir," he answered in a whisper. He raised his buttocks in readiness.
Qui-Gon rose to his knees and smoothed one hand over the firm ass, then pushed it gently to the bed, eliciting a stifled groan from Ben as his still-sensitive cock rubbed against the blankets. "On your back, if you please."
Ben obligingly turned, but his face was puzzled.
"Do your tricks usually take you from behind?"
"Yes, Sir. It's considered the proper way for a whore."
Qui-Gon snorted. "And do you like it that way?"
Ben blinked. "Ah..."
"You've never had it any other way."
Ben shook his head.
Qui-Gon hooked a hand beneath each of Ben's knees, lifting and spreading them. "Tonight, you will. And I really cannot wait any longer."
With one sure move, Qui-Gon slid his throbbing cock inside Ben and pumped, his only recognition of the gasps of pain from Ben was a soothing rub to his chest. It wasn't long before Ben began to move in rhythm with Qui-Gon, lifting himself as he could to meet every thrust, his own cock once again hardening. Qui-Gon took it in hand, leaning in over Ben as Ben's legs bounced against him. With the change in angle, Ben's gasps became moans. "There. Oh. Oh. Uh....AH!" Writhing beneath Qui-Gon's body, Ben cried out for the second time that night. A whore, in pleasure.
But Qui-Gon believed himself to always be a generous lover and as Ben came into his hand, he willingly followed, spurting into the clenching chasm that held him so tightly.
And Qui-Gon felt, as his thoughts recollected, that there had been a hunger in Ben's eyes that night as he waited outside the door, a hunger for something different, perhaps something special.
He hoped he'd fed it.
Pulling free, he tugged Ben until he could spoon himself behind the panting boy, pulling him close and drawing a blanket over the both of them, watching the flames and feeling Ben relax further against him.
"You're welcome. Sleep."
Ben sighed, knowing better than to argue, and why should he? The Jedi were always right. He snuggled in closer, tucked his arm beneath his head and dozed off.
Qui-Gon felt the beat of Ben's heart beneath his hand as he rested his cheek on the boy's head. In his previous trysts with the Jedi whores, he'd never before felt as comfortable with any of them as he had with Ben tonight. Ben's touch had had meaning behind it, unlike the others who touched out of necessity. He'd wanted to pleasure Qui-Gon, both in obedience and in sex, had warmed him with his eyes and voice as much as his body.
Ben would have made a good apprentice, eager and willing to learn.
With that thought, Qui-Gon fell asleep to the crackle of the fire and the rhythm of Ben's breathing. His dreams, as his dreams often did, were filled with images of faded memories, of looking over a hopeful group of initiates, of saying no once again, of past apprentices turned to the dark.
Light crept in through the window and Ben opened his eyes. Qui-Gon was gone; wood had been left behind, along with a coin for food. His hand stole to the imprint in the bed where Qui-Gon's body had been, still warm.
Ben closed his eyes and wished, wished for his previous life, where he had been Obi-Wan; for another time when once, he'd had a chance; when once, Qui-Gon had looked at him and then through him, dashing his hopes.
Fruitless wishes, he knew, but he wished all the same.
"Goodbye, Master," he whispered.