Fourth and Maine

by Merry Amelie

Title: Fourth and Maine
Author: Merry Amelie
Archive: MA only
Category: Alternate Reality, Qui/Obi, Romance, Series
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Quinn and Ian celebrate the Fourth of July in Ogunquit, Maine.

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

Series: Academic Arcadia -- # 145
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, and Carol
Mali Wane for posting
My former betas: Alex, Ula, and Padawan Sue
Martha and Carolyn are tributes to characters from 'The Ghost and Mrs. Muir' TV series of the Sixties, set on the seacoast of Maine. If you're a fan, I highly recommend reading Mrs. Hamill's excellent story, The Ghost and Mr. Kenobi.

Information on Ogunquit, courtesy of Wikipedia.

Here are the yearly Academic Arcadia Fourth of July stories:
2004 -- 27) Independence Day: Let Freedom Ring
2005 -- 48) Declaration of Independence
2006 -- 81) Meditations on Freedom
2007 -- 105) An Arcadian Picnic
2008 -- 127) A Dazzling Display

For Emila-Wan

"Gorgeous!"

Ian looked out on the Maine coastline, stretching his legs after their long car ride.

"'Tis, laddie. Well worth the drive up." Quinn gave Ian's shoulder a squeeze.

The seacoast of Ogunquit, Maine faced them in all its natural beauty. They headed towards the grey-shingled cottage that was theirs for the July 4th weekend. They'd been invited over by their friend Ethan Kotter's parents, who had rented it for a month this summer.

Ethan's folks were spending the holiday with their son in New York, and hated to see the cottage go untenanted. Since it only had one bedroom, there was no room for Ethan and his fiancee Bant to stay for visits.

Luckily, that bedroom was ideal for Quinn and Ian. It took up half the cottage, with a small kitchen, living room, and bathroom making up the rest. Everything was rustic, with a shower rather than a bath, hand-painted furniture, and no television or electronics. Just the place to get away from it all.

They dropped their duffels by the bedroom door, and Ian opened the sliders to a tiny patio, with barely enough room for two Adirondack chairs, looking out to sea.

"Artoo and Sandy would've loved playing frisbee out here with us," Quinn said plaintively.

Ian hugged him close. "But they don't like spending hours in the car."

Quinn nodded into soft russet spikes. "Too true. They prefer short runs to Milkshake Micah's."

"Our puppies have good taste," Ian breathed into his ear.

"Don't know if we should be insulted, though. Did you see the beeline Sandy made for Han?" Quinn chuckled. The Changs' grandson was becoming fast friends with their pups.

Ian grinned. "We're lucky he's so good with them. Mrs. Chang says he wants to be a vet."

"Glad to hear it. He's got a natural affinity for animals." Quinn nuzzled Ian's temple.

Ian all but purred in contentment. "High praise coming from you, love."

"How 'bout a swim?" Quinn licked a droplet of sweat off Ian's brow.

"Sounds good," Ian said.

Quinn winked. "Tastes better."

They didn't unpack the duffels, respecting the Kotters' privacy by not using their dresser. So they rooted through their clothing, searching for bathing suits.

Quinn snorted. Stripping his clothes off in someone else's bedroom seemed strange, but he'd have to get used to it if he were to relax into their vacation. He marveled at Ian's insouciance as he quickly shed his clothing. He'd bought his lad's aqua trunks at a post-Father's-Day sale, and was delighted to see how well he filled them out.

Quinn was also delighted to see his laddie checking him out in his forest-green suit. That mischievous glance told him he had a lot to look forward to after their swim, as well.

The Kotters had considerately left a pile of towels by the sliders, and they snagged a few as they headed out to the patio. The beach began just after the pavers, so they didn't have far to go. The sand was coarser, the water colder than in Charlotte Amalie, but Quinn and Ian came from hardy stock.

The little bungalow colony, twenty strong, yielded only a dozen people on the beach. It had been raining when they'd driven up, but now the sun was struggling to come out for them. They threw their towels down a few feet from the shoreline and ventured in.

Ian waited for a wave, then dove in, with Quinn following him at a safe distance. They spluttered to the surface, grateful for the full immersion. Powerful swimmers, they launched into the Australian crawl as they streaked across the inlet. They went full out, despite the swells of the ocean, with no swimming pool walls or clumps of people to deter them.

After their fiercely fought races, they sat on the shore, letting the cool water lap up their legs. The sun lost its battle with the clouds, so they shook the sand from their towels and dried off as they walked inside.

Since the stall shower in the bathroom couldn't fit both of them, Quinn let Ian go first, while he brushed his teeth and used the facilities. By the time Quinn finished washing, Ian was already dressed for dinner, in a blue polo shirt and cream Dockers. He chose Dockers, too, under a spruce-green shirt.

On the drive up, they'd seen an appealing dockside restaurant they decided to try tonight. It was about a mile up the beach, so they got a bit more exercise before their meal as they strolled hand in hand. There was a slight drizzle, but not enough to bother with the umbrellas they'd left in the Audi. Walking on sand was a good way to tone their calves, which Ian in particular appreciated, what with his gymnastics season over. Few people were on the beach at this hour, but a dune buggy rumbled past them, and they exchanged waves with the driver.

When they got to the Harbor Light restaurant, they could see that their first impression was right. The interior was lit by ship's lanterns, the booths made of rough-hewn wood, crafted to resemble driftwood. It was relatively empty for a holiday weekend, the weather probably keeping people away. Their bay window actually looked out upon the bay as the sun lingered over the water, and they savored the long days of July.

Their server Martha was a plump, elderly woman who brightened when she found out that they were English professors. She turned out to have a granddaughter studying at the local college, who would be interested in Luke's grad program in linguistics. Quinn obligingly jotted down Case's office number for her.

Then they got down to the pleasures of dining. Clam chowder, lobster tails, and blueberry pie all came highly recommended by Martha, and the men were canny enough to take her advice. Biscuits with a dab of whipped butter started them off right, and just got them hungrier for the meal ahead.

Quinn said, "Eth's been telling me about this place for years, and I'm glad we finally had a chance to come."

Ian nodded. "Especially now that Maine has marriage equality. A pleasure to spend our vacation money here."

"Speaking of which, we're in an artists' colony now. Lelia would love to play with a wooden lighthouse or a little clipper ship." Quinn sipped his water.

"I'd like to play with a model ship, too," Ian said with a twinkle. "Maybe Martha can recommend some good shops."

When she brought their chowder, Martha used her order pad to write down the names and numbers of a few craftsmen. "And be sure to visit the village, boys."

"If it rains tomorrow morning, let's go check these out." Ian stirred his soup to cool it, rather than blowing on a spoonful, in deference to Quinn's libido.

Giving Ian a grateful smile, Quinn poured in a packet of oyster crackers.

Ian hummed in delight. "Delicious! There are actually more clams than potatoes."

Quinn dipped his spoon in. "I can tell we're in Maine, lad."

The rain picked up while they were eating, making the soup even more of a comfort food. Raindrops pelted into the ocean and streaked the windows, prismatic in the flicker of lanterns.

Martha came over with their lobster tails, and they could instantly see the Maine difference -- these were huge. They gamely dug in, and discovered that size does matter: the lobster meat was incomparable. Slowing their pace to savor every bite, they managed to make it last until the rain had let up.

Quinn said, "Remember that kid who wanted credit for 101? I found out this morning that it's only a three-credit course, so we can't accept it."

Ian rolled his eyes. "Why don't they read the guidelines or ask us before enrolling?"

"Then they wouldn't need advisors, now would they, lad?" Quinn's rich chuckle made Ian grin.

They caught the tangy scent of the blueberry pie before it reached the table.

"Mmm. Usually, I'd leave the crust, but this looks too good." Ian put his fork in as he spoke.

Quinn nodded. "A swim in the mornin' ought to take care of this."

They thanked Martha when she brought the check, and Ian settled the bill.

"I hope your granddaughter chooses Luke. I'm sure she'll be a pleasure to teach," Quinn said.

The men went out into the misty night, fortified with good food and better company. They ambled back since they were still digesting, hand in hand once more on their home stretch of beach.

Ian wiped his forehead. "This humidity is making me sweat all over. Dibs on the first shower."

"Wish I could join you," said Quinn wistfully.

"I owe you one when we get home." Ian looked up at him with mischief in his eyes.

Quinn could see them gleaming even in the dark.

Back at the bungalow, two showers later, Quinn found his lad waiting for him in the bedroom, bare chest glinting in the setting sun. The sheet that covered him to the waist revealed the enticing outline of his hips and legs under crisp white cotton.

Quinn dove under the sheet, eager to press up against all that luscious skin. He chuckled when he saw the damp washcloth Ian had draped over the knob of the nightstand drawer. "Feeling lucky, are you?" he rumbled huskily.

"I *am* lucky," Ian murmured. "Look who's in my bed?"

Quinn got on his elbow, eyes crinkling as he leaned in for a kiss. He slid his calf over Ian's, their skin slightly slick from the shower, coarse hairs weaving naturally. He could taste the ocean on Ian's lips, despite his lad's ablutions. "Mmmm. Peppermint and salt, mixed with pure laddie." He went for a deeper kiss. "We should market it as natural Viagra."

"But you're the only one who gets to taste me," whispered Ian.

That whisper brought out Quinn's possessive streak, just as it was meant to do. He tangled his hands in Ian's hair and captured that mischievous mouth, feeling Ian's whole body melt into the kiss as he shifted more and more of his weight onto him.

Ian finally grabbed Quinn's shoulders, to pull all of his husband on top of him, unable to wait any longer. "Need ya," he growled urgently.

Gravel was smoother than Quinn's "Laddie," which turned Ian on all the more. He pushed up, trying to feel as much of Quinn as possible, relishing the play of muscle and skin over his own. His little noises blended with Quinn's, the tide a rushing counterpoint in the background.

Quinn groaned when he felt Ian surging up to meet him, his unique vitality and power stirring Quinn to the core. Skin cool from the shower became heated fast. Nothing like a little friction between lovers, he thought distractedly.

Ian ran his fingers up and down Quinn's back with possessiveness of his own, greedy to feel as much of Quinn as his hands could reach. One of the things he enjoyed about having such a tall husband was that each different position brought him new expanses of skin to touch.

"So good, lad," Quinn sighed. He nuzzled along Ian's hairline, running his nose over his tempting temple, then kissing it. He mouthed the crease between his brows and looked down into sparkling eyes. "Ah, you've started to practice next year's bar routine, I see," he said, running his hand up Ian's arm appreciatively.

"How'd y'guess?" Ian chuckled, flexing his bicep for Quinn's pleasure.

"Must be my Jedi powers," said Quinn with a wink.

Ian winked back. "You certainly are a Master," he said saucily, punctuating it with a sublime thrust of his hips.

"Allow me to show you, young Padawan," Quinn nipped at his laddie's nose, nibbled fuzzy cheeks, then jabbed a wicked tip of the tongue into Ian's dimple.

Ian moaned for him, seriously turned on by now, and started to writhe the way only he could. All that writhing pushed his cock into Quinn's for maddeningly random sizzles. "Can't get enough of you," he panted.

Quinn's grin was truly feral as he gazed down at his lad. He ran his thumbnail over Ian's jawline, feeling him shiver. His cock hardened all the more, as it always did at the gift of an excited Ian. This magnificent man was turned on by *him*. He got back on his elbow, so he could caress Ian's chest and stomach with his favorite firm touches, then pulled the sheet off as he shifted downward to be able to reach that beautiful cock with his lips.

Conscious of their borrowed sheets, Quinn knew just how to keep them clean, and took Ian into his mouth. His laddie's yelp was as satisfying as the taste of pre-come and salty skin. Eager to please, he suckled Ian in, his flavor more delicious than the dinner they'd just shared. His fingers teased at furry testicles with the firm touch Ian craved.

Ian grabbed the sheets with the steely grip he used for catching the high bar, though no one in the gym would recognize his wail, reserved only for their bedroom. "Yeah!"

Quinn licked sloppy streaks up Ian's purpling cock, relishing the hard flesh under his tongue. His own cock ground into the sheets, will he, nil he, heedless of their owners. He forced himself to remember to hold down Ian's hips with his arm when his lad started to buck. "Easy, laddie." His hand had replaced his mouth for only a second, but Ian's guttural sounds had drawn his lips back where they belonged.

Hips pushing against Quinn's arm, Ian revelled in being restrained by his husband. "Please!"

Quinn heard the weight of desperation in Ian's plea, despite his own lust, and set about driving him even wilder. He strained to take all of him in his mouth, almost impossible with Ian's frantic thrusting.

In the midst of churning need, Ian was surrounded by perfect heat, perfect pressure. Nothing could feel so good. He pulsed into Quinn's mouth, shouting and trembling, then thudded to the bed.

Overwhelmed by his total immersion in Ian, Quinn barely managed to get a hand on his cock before he was coming into the sheet. Ian's semen flowed out of his mouth, since Quinn couldn't muster the coordination to swallow at the moment. It dripped onto Ian's leg, glistening against his tanned skin.

Quinn's head dropped down to rest on his lad's thigh, tongue meandering out to lick the errant streaks. His jaw ached, he was sweating all over...he was happy.

Ian's voice was as rusty as his hair. "Oh, Quinn! That was amazing." He stroked Quinn's shoulder tenderly. "Thank you."

Quinn turned his head to look up at him. "You're welcome, laddie." A slow smile graced his face.

Ian urged Quinn up into his arms, with a smile to match.

Quinn's leg brushed the mess he had made while suckling Ian. "We'd best take the linens to a laundromat, come Sunday mornin'." The crinkles around his eyes deepened when he grinned. "The best-laid plans..." He snagged the washcloth, needed despite his good intentions, and sopped up the semen on the sheet after cleaning himself and Ian.

Ian creaked up to get a dry towel, and laid it over the spot. He opened his arms to gather Quinn in for the night.

*****

The Kotters had graciously given them the run of their larder, so they settled down to a breakfast of cereal, raspberries, and skim milk.

"Remember when Lelia used to share her Cheerios to say she loved us?" Ian's smile was wistful.

"'Twas adorable, lad." Quinn held a Cheerio to Ian's lips and grinned as he swallowed.

"You always know just what I need." Ian nibbled at Quinn's fingers.

Just as at home, Quinn washed the dishes and Ian dried them, this time looking out to sea. Their showers followed, then they were ready to hit the town in Luke tees and shorts. They headed over to the Village district in the Audi, taking Martha's advice. The artisans she'd recommended had their shops here, too.

They soon saw why she had suggested this trip. Couples of all sorts milled around them, tourists and townfolk alike. Two men or two women together were just as common as het couples. Ian scanned Martha's list, finding the first crafts store, 'Nautical and Nice', near a fountain with leaping stone dolphins.

The shop was dimly lit and had dozens of small ships, lighthouses, and carved seabirds on display. A woman with short blonde hair sat behind a counter with the more expensive goods under glass. "Hello, gentlemen. I'm Carolyn Sawyer. My partner and I have made most everything in here. Can I help you?"

"We're looking for a gift for a five-year-old girl, if you have anything for children, ma'am," Quinn said politely.

She got up and led them over to the children's section, where sturdy toys with big pieces sat on low tables circled by small chairs, perfect for kids at play. They chose a cheerful blue and green dollhouse, shaped like a harbor light. Carolyn promised she would bundle it up carefully for them, and have it sent directly to Lelia's home in New York City.

When they left the shop, Ian squinted up at Quinn. The weak sun seemed brighter after the dusky interior, not to mention all the rain they'd had since yesterday. Next, they strolled into a candle shop, hoping to find something for the Kotters. Ian picked out a sand castle design, with wicks on each turret, which was gaily wrapped by the clerk.

Quinn was the first to scent cinnamon in the air, so he was not surprised that the village bake shop was only a few steps away, on the other side of 'Nautical and Nice'. Little tables were scattered outside the shop, and Ian chose one next to the fountain, then put the shopping bag down on a free chair. They ordered vanilla scones fresh from the oven, along with frozen cappuccinos. Quinn picked up a copy of 'The Advocate' from a nearby newsstand, and they passed it back and forth while eating.

"Looks like we'll be able to swim this afternoon," Ian said as he gazed out at the sky.

"We could use the exercise, lad." Quinn waved his scone at Ian.

Sparkling eyes shone up at Quinn. "Don't know about that. I think we took care of it last night."

"Can't argue with that," said Quinn with satisfaction. He covered Ian's hand with his own on the table.

They lingered over their coffee, enjoying the fresh breeze on their faces and the warmth of their joined hands. But church bells reminded them of their swim, while gathering clouds spurred them on. They wanted to spend at least half an hour in the bay before rain forced them out.

Ian drove them back to the bungalow, where they put on their suits after they'd used the facilities. They lounged on the Adirondack chairs a bit before their swim.

"I like Maine almost as much as Massachusetts," said Ian.

Quinn nodded. "High praise, indeed, laddie." The state where they'd married would always hold a unique place in their hearts.

"Ready to swim?" Ian asked.

Quinn held out his hand in answer, pulling his husband up easily. Ian ducked inside to get their towels, and they found their favorite spot on the beach. An audacious ray of sun made the water look bluer today, but it still couldn't match Quinn's eyes, at least from a certain lad's point of view.

There were more folks out today, since it looked like it wouldn't rain for a while. A beach ball sat alone on the sand, begging to be used. Quinn picked it up and they batted it back and forth, up to their knees in the water, until a little girl asked to play. Ian handed it to her gently, then grinned as she and her brother rolled it along the shore.

They swam in the ocean -- the water warmer, the waves calmer than yesterday. No races today, since there were too many people to dodge, so they just eased through the blue depths, refreshed inside by their iced coffee, outside by the water rushing over them.

About an hour later, they returned to their bungalow and took their showers, along with a good look at the clouds. With the rain holding off, they decided on a hike through the salt marsh beyond the bungalow colony. They wore jeans, sweatshirts, and sneakers as they headed out into the scrub, hearing the call of seabirds as they walked up a dirt path in the huge preserve.

Quinn pointed. "Hey, look. There's a cormorant."

They paused to watch its progress across the sky. A fine mist steamed around them as they walked deeper into the marsh. Unfortunately, they saw many spent cartridges on the ground, so they knew it was a prime hunting area. Veering back to civilization, they were grateful when their little bungalow came into view, especially when it started to drizzle.

Quinn threw Ian an Evian from the fridge and chugged his own. They changed back into shorts and tees, relieved to be out of their heavy jeans. Tired from all their exercise, they got books from their duffels and umbrellas from the Audi. Ian jury-rigged the umbrella handles into the wooden slats of the Adirondack chairs, and they settled in for a good, dry read. Quinn became absorbed by Pratt's 'The Lighthouse Keeper', which reminded him of his teenage daydreams of becoming a lighthouse keeper himself, far away from a society unfriendly to him and his natural drives. Ian finished up a re-read of London's 'The Sea Wolf'.

The scent of burgers on the grill roused them from their books. While they'd read, the sun had been struggling to come out before it set. A multi-family cook-out took advantage of the break in the clouds. Waved over by the burly man behind the grill, they were delighted to join in. Thanking their neighbor, they carried their full paper plates to one of the huge beach towels spread together like a seaside quilt. They greeted the family they sat with, and dug into the hamburgers with gusto.

Grateful that no hot dogs were on the barbecue, Quinn demolished two burgers before he was done. Ian watched him eat indulgently, relishing Quinn's big appetite almost as much as he did.

"Be sure to stay for the fireworks, right about 9 o'clock," their host Dan told them.

"Thank you. We wouldn't miss it," said Ian.

They finished their food with only a few minutes to spare before the festivities began. Quinn boxed the leftovers, while Ian helped bag the trash, then they met back on the towel. The fireworks literally started with a bang, when a beautiful red chrysanthemum bloomed over their heads. Then a white fountain flowed gracefully through the heavens. The blue and green of the Roman candles always called to Ian and Quinn, the sabers stirring their souls.

They sat with their arms around one another, as the other couples did, the blue-green light shining on their faces as they celebrated a magnificent Fourth of July together.