The Man in the Grey Flannel Pajamas

by Merry Amelie

Title: The Man in the Grey Flannel Pajamas
Author: Merry Amelie
Archive: MA only
Category: Alternate Reality, Qui/Obi, Romance, Series
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Pajama party.

Series: Academic Arcadia -- # 165
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

To Mali

Sue's tender manip

Ian grinned up at Quinn when he saw the green light shining over the garage before they'd even reached their corner.

The professors were ambling home from the Alder Run train station in the cool October twilight. Ian wore faded jeans under the new dusty blue corduroy jacket Quinn had given him, saying that it matched his eyes, while Quinn looked dashing in his cream jacket and tie. When they crossed the street onto their block, they automatically reached for each other's fingers. Hand in hand, they strolled up the sidewalk, kicking up leaves just for the fun of it, like a pair of mischievous schoolboys. Mr. Jefferson, one of their retired neighbors, was walking his pup Buddy and waved to them from across the street. They waved back with a smile, looking forward to seeing their own puppies soon.

They felt pleasantly tired after a Saturday out with their friends in New York City. They'd spent the afternoon enjoying the Roman mosaics exhibition at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, then at one of their favorite Italian eateries on Fifth Avenue, Lucca's Ristorante, which they had discovered with Kathy and Monty.

Their company could not have been more congenial -- four fellow professors they'd met at Luke-Loves, the university's LGBT organization -- Theresa and Alison from the law school and Marty and Tim from the department of nuclear medicine. The three couples talked shop in a back booth over their tagliarini, vitello, and gelato, in an animated conversation which went on for hours.

Even the generous cappuccinos at the restaurant, over which they discussed their counseling work with students, were not enough to overcome their drowsiness after a long day on the go. But there was a new urgency to their advising recently, what with the epidemic of anti-gay bullying sweeping the nation. These days, the professors were lucky if they got home from school by 8 o'clock at night, after scrambling to complete three sets of duties: teaching, mentoring, and meetings.

All this, and they still made a point of being available by phone 24 hours a day. Indeed, the conversation was interrupted a couple of times by their charges, as well as Case, with his customary heavy hand on the cell phone buttons.

Thoughts of these weighty matters were sidetracked by the yipping of their puppies. Tails wagging, Artoo and Sandy greeted them at the door. A few minutes of puppy cuddles later, Quinn let them out into the backyard, while he and Ian washed and replenished their food and water bowls. Then Ian opened the kitchen door and grinned when paws clattered on the linoleum before the pups settled into their baskets for the evening with the night-light on.

At moments like these, when he just wanted to crawl into bed, Quinn was grateful they had two bathrooms so they could wash at the same time. He headed up the hall, leaving Ian the master bathroom, with his ever-present courtliness. Forcing himself to brush his teeth for Ian's sake, Quinn cleaned up fast then, looking forward to feeling his lad's strong arms and legs wrapped around him beneath the covers.

Luckily, that morning Quinn had finally replaced their summer quilt with their green and blue plaid comforter. In the chilliness of the evening, his bare feet absorbing the iciness of the tiles, he couldn't wait to be covered with its pillowy warmth. As he walked into the bedroom, his feet sank into the thick pile of the carpet with delight. He found his grey flannel pajamas in the bottom drawer of the dresser and put them on quickly, against the chill. When he saw Ian in the mirror, he answered his laddie's grin with a broad smile of his own before turning around to hug him. A droplet of water glistened on Ian's temple; unable to resist the temptation, Quinn licked it off with a lingering sweep of his tongue.

Both of them said, "Mmmm" at the same time, then chuckled at their synchronicity.

Ian was clad only in jeans, his damp chest gleaming in the soft light of the lamp on Quinn's nightstand.

"Ah, laddie, it's best to dry thoroughly on these nippy October nights." Quinn nipped Ian's nose in playful emphasis, then ran the sleeve of his flannel pajamas over his herven's (husband's) chest.

Ian let out a surprised hum and quickly got into it, pressing eagerly into Quinn's light sweeps of the flannel.

"Like that, d'ya, now?" Quinn teased, caressing his sleeve along Ian's stomach.

"Niiiice." Ian's purr was as soft as the flannel whispering over him.

Quinn smiled at his young hedonist, then hugged Ian with both sleeves surrounding him in warmth and spreading it over his back.

"Just what I needed," Ian whispered, wiggling his fingers under Quinn's pajama top in his eagerness to touch his husband's skin.

Quinn's eyes crinkled at the beloved touch, which warmed him more than flannel ever could. He angled his face down to give his laddie the first kiss of the night. Ah, talk about warmth! It felt more like August than October now. He pressed his love into Ian's plush lips, then beyond, delving into his lad's succulent mouth, made even more so by the peppermint of his toothpaste and the barest hint of the rich coffee flavor from his cappuccino earlier.

Ian's sweet sounds drew Quinn further in, teasing his lad's tongue with soft suckles, then nudging the tip of his own tongue along the inside of Ian's cheek. Doubly glad he'd brushed his teeth now, he licked his way across the gumline, in one of Ian's favorite caresses.

Ian sighed into Quinn's loving licks: just what he needed to soothe him down after their jam-packed day. His husband had an instinct for taking care of him and vice versa. He ran his hands up and down Quinn's sides, savoring the path between flannel and flesh.

Another tender kiss, then Quinn leaned his forehead into Ian's for a long moment. He gazed into glittering green irises, which became his whole world at this close range. "Ah, lad, you're waking me up, now." Quinn's crinkles said more than his words, especially to Ian's knowing eyes.

"So you don't feel like going to sleep anymore?" Ian asked slyly, giving his herven's waistline a squeeze.

Quinn's chuckle matched Ian's tone. "Whaddya think, laddie mine?" He reached for Ian's right hand and put it on his flannel-coated erection.

"Guess that would be a no," Ian purred as he skimmed his fingers up and down Quinn's shaft, which was clearly awakening under his touch. That beautiful cock just kept hardening further against his hand. He was delighted that his husband was playing along with him in every sense of the word.

And Quinn removed all doubt when he scooped up his laughing lad and dropped him on the bed. They both were laughing by now; Ian's irrepressible laugh had a way of making Quinn join in.

Covering Ian with warm flannel and warmer flesh, Quinn could feel laughter rumbling through their chests and stomachs, only subsiding when they settled in for a kiss. Now that they were completely at ease, their kisses were even more lingering and deep.

Flannel skimmed intimately over Ian's chest in an added caress, as he shivered in appreciation: half tickled, half turned on.

Flannel rubbed over Ian's rough jeans, nubs catching on denim, as he shivered in desire: half in heaven, half in limbo.

The grey flannel pajama top and bottom worked together to arouse Ian all the more, and Quinn couldn't miss the hard evidence right before his eyes. The bulge in his husband's faded jeans was just begging to be released, as well as begging him for release.

Quinn rolled to the side, still pressing into Ian everyplace he could, so he would be able to reach for Ian's zipper without blocking it himself. His big hand fumbled over the pull in his excitement, and it took him an agonizing moment to get ahold of the slick metal tab.

"C'mon, c'mon!" Ian almost shouted, wishing he'd had the sense to strip off his jeans beforehand.

Wishing no such thing, Quinn smiled as Ian panted into his chin, breath fluttering over the whiskers on his jawline. He eased the zipper down, relieved to see Ian's grey boxer briefs peeking out at him, instead of vulnerable ginger hairs. Luckily, their day out with friends had virtually ensured Ian would wear underwear. Quinn pulled briefs and jeans off together, then threw them off to the side.

Ian's cock fairly leapt at Quinn, finding a home in his hand, its heft just made for that huge paw. He trembled when he felt his husband's fingers start to move over him.

Quinn smiled at the effect he was having on his lad: arousal made Ian's cock hot to the touch; pre-come and sweat made it glisten; friction made it pulse in his hand. His own cock was pulsing to the same beat in his pajamas, drizzling pre-come into cottony flannel.

Quinn pushed his erection into Ian's thigh, feeling it burst through the snaps of his pajama bottoms. He shuddered into his herven as both of them gasped at the contact. His hand tightened reflexively on Ian's cock, and he was glad of his firm grip when his lad's gymnastic hips arched up high in response.

"Kiss me!" Ian half-begged, half-ordered, as he reached out blindly for his husband.

Quinn couldn't comply fast enough. He dove for Ian's mouth and kissed him, love coursing through him, as life-giving as oxygen, Ian's saliva his own private nectar. It was hard to concentrate on keeping his hand moving over Ian's erection, when he was so close to coming himself.

Ian grunted out his orgasm into Quinn's thirsty mouth, while his semen pumped into his husband's big fist. Before he had recovered enough to lend a helping hand, Ian's gasps increased when Quinn slathered his own cock with Ian's come, still hot from his body. His aftershocks intensified with every one of Quinn's guttural groans.

Fingers rough over his aching flesh, Quinn locked eyes with Ian as he came onto Ian's cock and testicles, replenishing the semen he'd used to coat himself. He fell back onto the bed, utterly exhausted.

"All played out, huh?" Ian drawled as he snuggled into his husband's side.

"Mmm-hmm," Quinn mustered in response, too tired for further wordplay or loveplay at the moment.

The sheets were wet and creased, the flannel was wet and charcoal grey, the men were wet and happy.

And the next thing they knew, they were falling asleep anyway.