Christmas at Arbor Lodge

by Merry Amelie

Title: Christmas at Arbor Lodge
Author: Merry Amelie
Archive: MA only
Category: Alternate Reality, Qui/Obi, Romance, Series
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Holiday warmth.

I'm posting Arcadia and Q/O drabbles to TPM 100.

Series: Academic Arcadia -- # 117
A chronological list of the series with the URLs can be found under the header 'Academic Arcadia' at the Master Apprentice ML.

My MA story page is here.

Feedback: Is treasured at MerryAmelie@aol.com.
Disclaimer: Mr. Lucas owns everything Star Wars. I'm not making any money.

For
My beta team: Nerowill, Emila-Wan, Carol, and Padawan Sue
Mali Wane for posting
My former betas: Alex and Ula

Their previous trip to Arbor Lodge can be found here.

For Laura

Ian flopped down on the king-size bed. "Good to be back."

Quinn grinned as he gazed at the feast spread out before him. "Just what I've been waiting for."

The men had just arrived at Arbor Lodge, fresh from a Christmas Eve party at the Mastersons', the first time they'd hosted the blended families. Today was the anniversary of Quinn's reconciliation with his folks, when they had driven 50 miles to Padua for a hug from their son.

Quinn had been cheerful all day; no more separate parties and separate lives to juggle. He sprawled beside Ian, both of them fully clothed save for their Williamsburg boots. Quinn got on an elbow and cupped Ian's neck, gazing into fathomless grey eyes.

"Merry Christmas, laddie mine." Quinn kissed Ian's smile.

"Merry Christmas, love." Ian nibbled a corner of his husband's mouth.

"Want your present now?" Quinn pressed his thigh into Ian's nascent erection.

"Oh, yeah." Ian pushed back against Quinn's steady pressure, hardening fast and taking Quinn with him.

Quinn's fingers burrowed under Ian's pullover, sliding over beloved skin. Heat rose to meet his hand as his fingertips grazed eager flesh, Ian's delicious sounds spurring him on.

"C'mon!" Ian implored, pulling Quinn completely on top of him, already too turned on to wait for his husband to undress him. He thrilled at the feel of Quinn, even through two pairs of jeans and boxer briefs.

Quinn hardened further as Ian rubbed against him with a groan. "Gonna drive y'wild now, laddie. Wanna hear y'shout." He captured Ian's mouth and drove his tongue inside, just as he drove his hips against Ian's, his solid bulk preventing Ian from bucking him off.

Ian's rubbing became frantic. His jeans chafed against his inner thighs with every thrust, but he hardly felt it. He worked his hands under Quinn's clothing to grip his rear with sweaty fingers. Quinn couldn't do the same; his own weight was pressing Ian into the mattress, and his big hands couldn't fit beneath the denim.

By now, it didn't matter. Ian was so excited by Quinn's kisses and thrusts that he was gasping with every breath. "Please, Quinn, please!"

Ian's pleas were hard-wired into Quinn's brain, as they had been for the past four and a half years. He somehow wiggled his hand between their jeans and palmed Ian's shaft hard. That was all it took. Ian did shout as he fell apart under him. Quinn's hand felt wet, despite thick denim, and he used it to squeeze himself to orgasm.

Quinn dropped onto Ian with a shuddering gasp, hearing Ian's echoing gasp remotely. After a few gulping breaths, he managed to roll to the side and ended up under Ian's wing.

Ian petted him into a purring heap. He finally unzipped Quinn and eased him out of his jeans and underwear, then did the same for himself. He threw the clothing over the side of the bed. "I love you, melamin (my husband)."

"Love you, too." Quinn reached for the tissues and wiped away the worst of the mess, then sent them overboard, not caring where they landed. He stretched groggily and went back to his prized position under Ian's arm.

They fell asleep to the crackle of the fire.

Quinn looked out the window on his way back from the shower, putting a hand on the sill to stop himself from stumbling over the sex-scented pile of clothing on the floor. He saw that the lakes where they had swum and waterskied were now skating rinks, while air conditioning had given way to the vents blowing warm air on his face. The once-ornamental fireplace had become the flickering center of their room.

Arbor Lodge had been waiting for their return.

"Wanna eat?" Ian said, hungry all over again. Clean and ready to go in a fresh pair of jeans and a turtleneck, he combed his hair by the dresser.

"Sounds good." Quinn snagged Ian around the waist. "Just one thing first." He kissed Ian with gusto, loving the way his lad melted into his arms.

They headed out the door, Quinn's arm firmly around Ian's shoulders. The dining room offered a much-different view than last summer's. The night forest was now frosted with snow upon a bed of white, which dazzled their eyes until their mulled cider came.

They ordered steaks and mashed potatoes for dinner, and got a start on the warm sourdough rolls.

Relaxing into the cushions, Ian gave Quinn a lazy smile. "Glad we came back here. Pity to miss it in season."

Quinn swirled the cider in his mug, cinnamon and nutmeg chasing each other around in circles. "So true. Didn't seem much like a ski lodge last time we were here."

"Hard to imagine swimming out there now. We'd have to join the Polar Bear Club." Ian chuckled.

"Well, maybe only you..." Quinn's teasing was interrupted when one of the servers from their last visit grinned at them in passing.

"Hey, guys! Nice to see you back again."

"Hello, Becky. Happy Holidays!" Quinn gave her a friendly wave.

Quinn's diplomatic skills always impressed Ian. His husband had last seen the waitress a year and a half ago, yet still remembered her name.

Their entrees came, and the men dug in with just a little less gusto than they'd shown in their bedroom. The mashed potatoes were finished with buttermilk, adding a succulent tart taste. Ian swiped a few mushrooms from Quinn's gravy, making sure his husband saw him each time.

"Y've got a yen for mushrooms, now, do you, my dear Brandybuck?"

Ian grinned as he recognized Quinn's reference to their last visit, when they'd playfully introduced themselves to each other as 'Ian Brandybuck' and 'Quinn Burrows'. "What else would I crave, my fine Master Burrows? Or should I say Master Goodbody?"

Only Ian noticed Quinn's faint flush in the candlelight. "I'm not the only Goodbody here, laddie," Quinn whispered. He changed the subject before his body could react to Ian's teasing.

"Let's try one of the trails tomorrow. Can't be any worse at it than I was at Echo Lodge." Quinn sipped the last of his cider, glad it had cooled off.

"Don't know about that," Ian drawled with a wink, "but let's try anyway." He smiled when Quinn winked back. "Though you know what Master Yodama has to say on the subject..."

Their meals were once again included in the price of the vacation, so Ian left a tip and they ambled out to the greatroom of the lodge to enjoy the caroling. A Christmas tree, fresh from the forest outside, presided over the room from its stand by the central window. Blue and green lights winked at them from deep within its boughs. The room managed to be cozy, despite its size, with two large fireplaces and an abundance of over-stuffed couches sitting on plush rugs. It was even more crowded than the restaurant, and many of the guests were singing along with the carolers.

They made straight for the only unoccupied couch, where Quinn wrapped an arm around Ian, as if dinner had only interrupted their embrace. Quinn couldn't resist singing along to Christmas in Killarney, his childhood lilt returning, and Ian couldn't resist joining him.

Quinn was yawning by the time the carolers left, so they decided to head upstairs to bed. Ian started their fire going as Quinn walked to the bathroom, then he took his turn. He put the "Do not disturb" magnet on their door, while Quinn closed the drapes. They didn't need flannel pajamas tonight; the fleece comforter would surround them with warmth. Bundled under the covers, they snugged in close for the night.

A languorous stretch, and Ian was awake for the day. Glancing at the clock, 10 am already, he was glad they were on vacation. Quinn was snoring on his chest, stuttering slightly when Ian stretched, then returning to his deep rhythm.

Being Quinn's pillow was a lovely way to start the day. Warm air blowing on his nipple, silky hair teasing his underarm, broken nose looking rakish from this angle -- what could be better?

He didn't have long to appreciate it; all too soon, sleepy eyes looked up at Ian. "Mornin', lad," Quinn rumbled, voice even deeper than usual with sleep. He kissed Ian's breath-warmed nipple, then levered himself up to kiss his lad's lips. "Best way to wake up."

"I'm definitely *up* for the day," Ian answered, letting his morning erection do his teasing for him, as he butted into Quinn's stomach.

"Mmmm. I can feel that." Quinn started nipping skin free of yesterday's clothing. While he loved frottage, other pleasures were easier to come by this way. He nuzzled the sweet flesh taut across Ian's shoulder, stopping only when Ian pulled him up for another kiss.

Ian hummed with pleasure, sharing it with Quinn when he did some licking of his own, painting his husband's lips and chin with saliva.

Quinn nibbled the prime spot behind Ian's right ear, then licked his way down his lad's neck, lips unconsciously searching for a braid to nip.

Ian closed his eyes, unconsciously yearning for the feel of a beard on his neck, but loving the brush of Quinn's morning whiskers nonetheless.

Quinn followed the trail of the phantom braid down to Ian's chest, where he mouthed tender skin, pale from lack of sun the past few months. He grinned when he felt Ian harden further against his belly.

"Qui..." Ian's voice trailed off into a groan when Quinn licked down to his hip. He lost the firm muscle of Quinn's stomach to press against, but gained that hungry mouth nearer to his shaft.

With Ian's hands flexing in his hair, Quinn let himself be coaxed over to Ian's groin. He petted through the coarse hairs, loving the way they scratched at his fingertips. Cupping Ian's right testicle in his palm, he rubbed it gently. Ian's grunts spurred him to take his shaft in hand and run his fingers over the length.

Ian leapt to life against Quinn's fingers, pushing his way into their curl. He moaned in pleasure as Quinn used his pre-come to coat him, easing the slide up and down the shaft. Shaking from the inside out, he thrust more and more erratically into Quinn's hand.

"That's it, laddie. That's it. Feel me." Quinn tightened his grip.

"Quinn!" Ian came into his husband's hand, and added a few splashes to Quinn's chest, as well. He fell back on the bed, too played out to budge.

Holding Ian's eyes, Quinn licked his fingers, then rubbed the rest into his chest hair. He lay by Ian's side, content to press kiss after kiss to his dimple, though achingly hard against his thigh.

As soon as he could move again, Ian kissed Quinn deeply and wrapped his fingers around most of his length. Quinn's groan reverberated through his mouth, prompting a delicious shiver to course through Ian.

Quinn's shaft was wet and getting wetter fast. He pushed into Ian's hand with all the passion that making love to Ian had stirred in him. When Ian started petting the edge of his foreskin in tantalizing circles, he bucked into his hand wildly.

"Oh, yeah!" Ian loved it when Quinn panted into his mouth. He miraculously held onto his bucking husband, pressing into the glans with a callused thumb. That did it.

Quinn shuddered as he came, head dropping onto Ian's shoulder. He dimly felt his lad stroking his shaft, trying to give him that extra bit of pleasure. Covering Ian's sticky hand with his own, he gave it a squeeze more eloquent than an 'I love you'.

Ian kissed his forehead, then took off a pillowcase and used it to soak up most of the semen. Pulling up the covers, he gathered a boneless Quinn into his arms. He fell asleep the way he'd woken up, with Quinn's breath on his nipple.

When next they woke, it was already past noon. Quinn spared one look at the clock and chuckled. "Can't imagine enjoying ourselves more outside, lad."

"Skiing can't compete with this," Ian agreed, giving his husband a 'Good afternoon' kiss. His stomach chose that moment to grumble, so they headed for the bathroom and cleaned up for lunch.

The tables by the picture windows were all taken, but they got a cozy little booth by the fireplace. Settling in, they read their menus as if they'd be quizzed later. Much to Quinn's delight, Irish stew was listed, one of his favorite cold-weather meals. They both ordered it, along with bowls of lemon chicken soup.

"Whaddya think of hitting the trails this afternoon?" Ian asked impishly.

Quinn pretended to think about it. "Only if I get a hot chocolate when we get back."

"Deal," said Ian, eyes gleaming at the playful negotiations.

Their soup came, its welcome steam warming their faces. The herbed croutons were particularly good, and they made short work of them.

"I'd better check my e-mail before we leave tomorrow. One of my Chaucer students needs a make-up final, and said she'd tell me the dates she can make it." Ian dipped a garlic stick in olive oil.

Quinn nodded. "Good idea. I still don't know when the next Qualifying Committee meeting will be."

The fire was warm on Ian's back, the soup warm in his mouth, Quinn's eyes warm upon him. He was enjoying the lodge even more this time around.

Quinn smiled when he saw the soda bread that came with their entrees, perfect to sop up the gravy. He dug in as if he'd been exercising hard, and chuckled when he realized that he had indeed.

The stew disappeared almost as fast as the soup, and was just as good.

"Ready for your present when we get back?" Quinn asked.

"Sure, but it can't be better than last night's," Ian teased softly.

Quinn left the tip this time, and they headed back to their room. After a little bit of rummaging in their duffels, and a lot of boyish enthusiasm, they were ready to open their gifts. Ian's present was wrapped in midnight blue paper dotted with silver stars, Quinn's in Christmas-tree green. They tore at the wrapping paper eagerly.

"Oh, Quinn! How'd y'think to get me this?" Ian held up the first in a stack of compact discs, a haunting CD called One Cell in the Sea.

Quinn smiled knowingly. "I saw your face when we heard it at the bookstore."

Ian looked through his bounty of music. "Can't wait to play them all."

Quinn paged happily through the first chapter of the new biography of Yeats Ian had given him. "Ah, I've been wanting to read this. It may win the Pulitzer."

As always, the thank-yous were the best part of giving gifts, and this year was no exception. Dropping their presents on the dresser, they made straight for each other's arms and a Christmas kiss.

Amazing how eloquent a kiss could be. Love, delight, satisfaction, gratitude -- all flared between them in an instant.

They lingered in the embrace, savoring the moment.

Then they put on their hooded parkas and gloves, and set out to rent skis for a couple of hours. The rental shop had both snow and water skis in an incongruous display. The pro fitted them with cross-country skis, which took a little while for them to get used to, despite their experience at Echo Lodge.

They lumbered out to the nearest trail and started a gentle glide between the trees. The motion quickly became familiar again, and they settled into a relaxing rhythm. Flurries dusted their hoods as they skied, the breeze sending the wintertime blossoms flying around them willy-nilly.

The carpet of quiet surrounding them magnified even the slightest sound: the schush of their skis, the crunch of their poles digging into snowpack, the occasional chuckle at the sight of an enterprising snow hare.

They started back at about 3:30, wanting to be snug in their room by sunset. Since they were turning around anyway, they tried for a kiss. Awkward, yes, but the delicious press of lips was worth it after all their hard work.

Their legs had started to ache a bit by now, despite their excellent conditioning. Aikido and gymnastics were just too different to keep them in skiing trim. At last, they saw the lights of the ski shop between the trees.

The pro chuckled at their sighs of relief when they took off their skis. "It's harder than it looks, fellas."

Thanking her, they escaped to the fire-lit lodge and camped out by the big fireplace in the restaurant, after hanging their jackets in the cloakroom and using the facilities.

Easing into the cushions with a grateful sigh, Quinn said, "Ah, I'm too old for this, laddie."

"So am I," Ian teased, his thirtieth birthday still months away.

They ordered the hot chocolate Quinn had been craving, made even more delicious by a splash of peppermint schnapps. The chocolate moustache Ian loved made an appearance as soon as Quinn sipped his drink.

Had they been in private, Ian would've licked it off as it was begging for. Instead, he settled for watching Quinn lick it off himself, which was almost as satisfying.

By the time they finished their drinks, they were falling asleep in their seats, the schnapps helping things along. They creaked back up to their room, tugged off their boots, and flopped on the bed, the way they'd begun their vacation.

With just enough energy to pull up the comforter, Quinn nestled on Ian's chest as he fell asleep, dreaming of flurries skittering over the pines.