Irish Cream

by Merry Amelie

Title: Irish Cream
Author: Merry Amelie
Archive: MA only
Category: Alternate Reality, Qui/Obi, Romance, Series, PWP
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Ian poaches Quinn's Aran pullover. Smart move.

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

Series: Academic Arcadia -- # 153
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

Ian's coursework

Related stories:
Lapping It Up
A Little Bit o' Heaven

And a poached t-shirt story:
Good Jeans

For Laura, our guys stay dressed throughout; for Clara and Helens, a romantic reason for our lad's love of floppy sweaters.

Ian grinned as he poached another pullover from Quinn's drawer.

He'd been doing it for years, basking in his husband's indulgent smiles, which somehow added to the warmth of the yarn. He chose a particular favorite --the cream Aran cable-knit Quinn's Aunt Kathleen had sent him to replace the one gone to tatters.

As soon as he put it on, the chill of the December evening mellowed into the feel of Quinn's arms around him. His grin deepened as he realized he'd have the real thing soon, when Quinn came back from the manuscript room of the library.

Ian had been working most of the day on his final exam. After much thought, he had honed it down to ten essay questions designed to test his students' knowledge of 19th century American literature. Three hours of Transcendentalism, Naturalism, and Romanticism were ready for them to chew on.

Ian put another log on the fire, keenly aware Quinn was braving the 17-degree weather. Hurrying into the hall when he heard the THX pull in the driveway, he was eager to warm Quinn up with his embrace.

As Quinn walked up the front path, he already felt warmer when he saw the firelight through the window, illuminating his own little bit o' heaven.

Ian opened the door with a grin, the rush of cold air no match for Quinn's sweater, no match for Quinn's smile.

As soon as Quinn saw his laddie, blue eyes crinkled in delight. Quinn was enchanted. There was something about his sweater on Ian that was innately endearing. It enhanced the little-boy quality he so loved. He was glad that Ian had something to keep him warm, even when he was not there. His eyes were drawn to the droopy sleeves, covering most of Ian's hands, and making him want to cover the rest of them with his own.

Quinn did just that, cold fingers rubbing over warm ones, and somehow making them both warmer. He pulled his lad to him, diving in for a taste of the lips that were his reward for all the hard work of the day. Ah, Ian and cappuccino, a delicious blend of flavors for him alone to drink.

Closing the door with his foot as an afterthought, Ian burrowed into Quinn's arms, pullover scratching against the rough material of his husband's coat. "Hello, handsome."

Quinn's rich chuckle rang through the living room. "Look who's talking!" He dipped his thumb into Ian's dimple and stroked it lovingly.

Ian purred at his caress and tilted his face up for another kiss.

Quinn was happy to oblige. "Mmmm. Would've gotten here sooner if I could've, just for that kiss."

"I've got much more than that in store for you," Ian drawled.

"Have you, now?" Quinn's eyes sparkled a wintry blue. He smiled as Ian unbuttoned his coat and eased the sleeves off. When Ian turned to hang it on a peg, Quinn hugged him from behind, hands completely covering his stomach.

Ian wriggled in pleasure. "I'm so happy you're home. I missed your hands. They warm me up more than anything else."

Dropping his chin onto copper hair, Quinn massaged Ian's stomach over the cable-knit, enjoying its texture. He grinned when Ian put his hands on top of his own and tucked them under the sweater.

"Feels so good," Ian murmured. He relaxed completely as thick fingers petted him into a puddle.

"Mmm-hmm," Quinn breathed in his ear. "Your tummy's smoother than cream." He smiled to himself, wondering if Ian would catch the Beorn reference.

But Ian had better things to focus on. Feeling Quinn smile into his hair, Ian squirmed around in his herven's arms until he could see his face. A kiss was as natural as breathing. Now big hands were cradling Ian's waist. He snuggled into Quinn's shirt with a happy sigh. Dancing them both towards the couch, Ian gave Quinn a gentle push onto the cushions and somehow ended up straddling his lap.

He leaned down to the newly shorter Quinn and nuzzled his cheek. "Nothing like this time of night to bring out the whiskers." Ian closed his eyes to savor them brushing over his skin.

Quinn hummed as their whiskers kissed, lips inevitably following. He felt the first stirrings of his husband's cock against his, and his own perked up instantly. A conversation deeper than words had begun.

Ian gave him a playful nudge and grinned at the enthusiastic response. "And here I thought you'd be tired."

"Y'have a way of getting me going," said Quinn with a wink.

"Glad to hear it," Ian said, flexing his hips saucily. Quinn was half-hard by now, increasing the delightful pressure on Ian's shaft. Ian could feel himself filling fast, craving the cock that pushed back ever harder against him. His kiss this time was a little longer, the new angle letting him go deep inside that gorgeous mouth. Quinn made a luscious sound that only spurred Ian on. He inched even closer to Quinn, thighs squeezing his narrow hips.

Using the extra height to his advantage, Ian lavished kisses over Quinn's face and chestnut hair, lingering on his enticing cheeks and nose.

It was nice not having to bend to get the kisses, Quinn thought. He ran his hands down Ian's arms, enjoying the feel of his own sweater covering his laddie's muscles, almost at peak mass with gymnastics season starting soon.

Then Quinn's right hand ventured a bit lower. It tried to sneak in between them, to undo Ian's jeans, but couldn't fit, what with his lad pressing into him. "Just let me..."

With what seemed like the greatest effort since winning his NCAA gold medal, Ian pulled his hips back the barest inch. Luckily, that was enough to let Quinn's hand in. Ah, he loved the feel of those fingers gliding over him.

While he had the chance, Quinn undid both zippers, used to the challenge of pulling them over unruly bulges. Ian tried to hold still, which was the only thing that made it possible. Quinn cupped Ian's saturated underwear pouch, relishing the little cry it earned him. Ian's cock had almost butted free of the pouch, and Quinn eased it out the rest of the way. He couldn't resist rubbing the glans, or the shiver it earned him.

Quinn should have taken his own penis out first; by the time he tried, it was tough to maneuver his bulk out of tight, wet quarters. He kept his touch light, a bit too turned on already, when what he really wanted was to grind off against Ian.

As soon as Quinn's hand slid out from between them, Ian started rocking into Quinn in earnest. Their cocks were skin to skin, but everything else was still clothed. That just made it more erotic for Ian. He strove for maximum contact with Quinn's shaft on each thrust. "So fuckin' good!"

Grunt and grind, grunt and grind -- their own private language, their own private body language.

Quinn bucked up into Ian's heat, pulling his lad closer with fingers digging their way into his backside. His cock slid along Ian's, feeling every beat as it pulsed in time with his own. He drove his tongue into his herven's yielding mouth as the first spurts of come flew onto Ian's cock and clothing.

Ian's wail couldn't be stopped, even by Quinn's tongue, and he followed his husband into orgasm, unable to withstand such delectable stimulation. He looked down at the mess they'd made as he sagged against Quinn. Sure enough, a strand of semen gleamed in the firelight as it began to soak into his borrowed pullover.

Ian gave a creaky chuckle. "Cream on cream."

Quinn didn't even bother to groan. "Couldn't be better," he said, licking his thumb in delight.