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Title: A Little Halloween Diplomacy
Author: Merry Amelie
Archive: MA only
Category: Alternate Reality, Qui/Obi, Romance, Series
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Quinn's mastery of diplomacy is unsurpassed.
Series: Academic Arcadia -- # 166
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
Related stories:
The Perfect Gift
In and Out of Jedi Robes
Here are our lads' yearly Halloween stories:
2003 -- Masquerade
2004 -- Hallowe'en Kata
2005 -- Happy Tatooween
2006 -- Happy Tatooween, Take Two: Undercovers
2007 -- A Jedi Halloween
2008 -- Jedi Trick or Treat
2009 -- Return of the Jedi Halloween (my favorite)
To Nerowill
Master Qui-Gon Jinn, the greatest Jedi negotiator of all time, had his hands full at the moment, literally.
Princess Leia was crying into his shoulder from her perch in his arms. He was lucky he was Council-ready, with multiple layers of tunics under the chocolate-brown cloak on his long frame, or his skin would have been soaked a few minutes ago. He was also lucky his cloak *was* chocolate brown -- it hid the candy stains Lelia's tiny fingers were pressing into it so lovingly.
The Jack o' lantern picture that Lelia had drawn for her uncles laughed at him sardonically from its position by the piano. Although Quinn had just put him on the wall that afternoon, Jack already felt free to get involved in their family matters. Quinn could have sworn he'd winked at him, as well, but it was probably just a trick of the Halloween light.
"Han just ate the last Milky Way, Uncle Qui," Lelia sobbed.
Quinn petted her dirty blonde hair gently. It was darkening as she grew up and would probably be a beautiful shade of brown by the time she became a young woman.
"How many did you eat before that, honey?" Quinn did his formidable best to suppress a chuckle.
She hid her wet little face in a fold of his cloak. "Two, but they were the tiny ones."
"And do you know how many Han had?" Quinn asked.
Lelia's voice dropped to a whisper. "No, I didn't see."
Han volunteered, "I'm sorry, Lelia. That was my fourth."
Delighted that Han had apologized, as well as told the truth without prompting, Quinn struck a balance between praise and chiding. "Thank you for your honesty, Han. Sounds like you've had more than enough candy already."
Han had the grace to look repentant. "I'm sorry, Professor Qui, I was being greedy."
"Can you think of a way to make it up to Lelia?" Quinn prodded gently.
Han emptied out his pumpkin and looked through the scattered contents on the carpet. "I'll give her some of my Reese's Pieces."
Quinn smiled encouragingly. "And..."
Han dropped his eyes; he could tell he was in the hands of a top negotiator. "Raisinets, too."
"Is that okay with you, honey?" Quinn petted Lelia's back tenderly.
Lelia peeked out from her uncle's cloak and rubbed her eyes. "Yes, Uncle Qui. Thanks, Han." She scrambled down from her perch on Quinn to give Han a hug.
Quinn oversaw the transfer of candy packets, then knelt to be nearer the children's height as he ruffled their hair. "You've got to learn to share your treats, little ones."
They nodded sheepishly at Quinn, knowing he was right. His and her chocolate-covered mouths said it all.
"You kids have had enough candy for today. Wouldn't want to get a tummyache." Quinn patted Lelia's stomach. "How about saving the rest for your school lunches this week?" he suggested.
The kids nodded again, as the tense diplomatic situation was resolved with a little Jedi magic.
Lelia's parents and three sets of grandparents, honorary and related, looked on with indulgent approval.
Quinn's smile signaled his shift in gears. He and Ian had planned some more fun for the children, including a family screening of the first Harry Potter movie. "Now let's help Uncle Ian with the Pumpkin Patch Punch, shall we?"
"Yay!" the youngsters shouted in unison, all squabbles forgiven and forgotten. They followed Quinn into the kitchen, where he threw his cloak on the back of a chair.
Ian was at the counter, resplendent in his Padawan Kenobi linens, looking far more delicious to Quinn's eyes than all the Halloween candy in their home combined. Much to his husband's pleasure, Ian had gone the extra klick this year and done the full Jedi: braid, spikes, and all. Quinn himself had not, thanks to Ian's thoughtfulness -- his lad still remembered many a rash caused by the fake beard and moustache irritating Quinn's skin, not to mention his own, and had argued successfully against them.
Ian couldn't resist a quiet, "Hello, Master" after he'd greeted the children. The look of delight on Quinn's face said more than words to his beloved apprentice.
Two smiling little faces and a very big one gazed at the Padawan as he poured juice over the spices in the punch bowl, taking special care to keep his braid from getting wet. "Enjoying the party, kids?"
"Yes, Uncle Wan," -- "Yes, Professor Ian," they said in unison.
Ian stirred the punch clockwise, thinking of another Master -- a certain mysterious Potions Master from Hogwarts. "How 'bout having the first taste? You can tell me if it needs more cinnamon." He ladled it into cups and handed them around with a grin. His grin deepened when their chorus of "mmmms" after sipping gave him his answer.
Quinn gallantly picked up the bowl and carried it to the living room, then placed it on the coffee table. Han took a stack of cups in, while Lelia gave out napkins with a royal flourish.
After she finished her second cup of punch, Lelia sat down on Kathy's lap, next to Han, who had squeezed in beside his grandparents and Ginny. Ian and Quinn lounged on the carpet near Monty and Jo, while Keith and John were drowsing in the easy chairs.
When Artoo trotted by, complete with straw hat Lelia had borrowed from her teddy bear to adorn him with, Ian took pity on him and rescued him from the little girl's idea of a costume. He chuckled while gently inching the chin strap over his snout, then scratched Artoo's ears to thank him for putting up with the hat for so long.
Ginny popped in the Harry Potter DVD to entertain the kids. Soon, they were lost in another fantasy world of wizards and magic, besides Tatooine.
Much to Ian's approval, Lelia would spring up every time the doorbell rang and give out candy, then resume her prized position on her mom's lap. And Han made sure everyone had their fill of punch.
When Lelia started yawning, Kathy said, "We'd better get going. She's been up since six o'clock this morning." She kissed one of Lelia's buns. "Reminds me of Christmastime."
Lots of hugs and kisses later, Quinn and Ian waved at the cars of their departing guests. They went back inside to wash the dishes, interrupted every so often by late trick-or-treaters.
House tidied, puppies fed, boots off -- Ian sighed in contentment at another happy Halloween with their family.
"Time to close up shop for the night." Quinn turned off the porch light, then bolted the door.
Ian flipped the blinds closed and joined his herven on the couch, in his own prized position under Quinn's arm. Ah, they had time for a Sunday night cuddle, after all. "Don't know what you said to the kids, but I've never seen them so well-behaved before."
Quinn chuckled. "Just a little Milky Way diplomacy."
"They certainly came to the right place for it." Ian's eyes shone green with adoration.
"Ah, laddie. You honor me." Quinn kissed him, the spice of their connection totally eclipsing the spice of the cider.
Ian melted like chocolate under his husband's kiss. "Mmmm. Who needs Halloween candy?"
Quinn ran his forefinger along the vee of Ian's tunics, then dipped it under the linen to touch warm skin. "These tunics make it easy to love you."
"Yeah, none of those pesky buttons to undo," Ian murmured, grinning as he remembered many a night after an aikido class, when they had taken advantage of their easily unwrappable outfits to get a head start on their private session. He began his own exploration, nuzzling into Quinn's chest.
Ian's words breezed over Quinn's chest hairs, feeling even better than the Halloween breeze beforehand. His braid brushed over crisp tunics, giving a tantalizing hint of what it would do to sensitive skin. His body pressed into Quinn, warm and strong against his side.
Quinn did the only thing he could do -- hug his lad tighter to him. He picked up the braid and used the brush to paint masterstrokes along Ian's forehead, relishing the purrs he evoked. Ah, the way Obi-Wan, er, Ian, was looking at him...
He smiled at the blissful blue-green of the eyes gazing into his own. Sliding the braid down Ian's temple, he let it kiss an apple-ripe cheek, and flirt across the nose to the other one. Then down to that irresistible cleft in the beloved chin.
There was something about his Master using his own braid to pleasure him, Ian mused, so real it had become. He submerged himself in the fantasy, which felt more and more right as it went on.
Ian grinned when the brush of the braid got caught in his night-time stubble, dragging over his skin, even as it gently tugged on it. Somehow, the pulling made it feel even better, like the tug of a hairbrush through Padawan spikes.
"Qui," he whispered, lost on Coruscant.
Did Quinn answer, "Obi-Wan," or was Ian just 'Hallowcinating'?
Either way, it impelled the Padawan to kiss his husband with Jedi focus on that succulent mouth, those sparkling teeth, that luscious tongue.
Amazing how easy it was for both of them to get into the Jedi groove, especially on a day steeped in fantasy.
Ian took the braid from Quinn's relaxed fingers. "My turn," he purred. He feathered it over an enchantingly bumpy nose and, much to his satisfaction, got it to wrinkle.
Quinn's gentle laugh spurred Ian on. He teased Quinn's lips with the braid, then moved on down the chin to his neck, taking advantage of the tunics to linger over all that open terrain on his chest that was usually covered by a button-down shirt.
As he relished the slight tickle on tender skin, Quinn licked the wrist of the hand in which Ian held the braid. A stutter in the smooth motion of his husband's strokes made Quinn smile wolfishly and lick him again.
"Interrupting the artist will only get you more thoroughly loved," Ian said, tender and low.
"I think I can deal with that," Quinn murmured and kissed him unrepentantly.
As they were kissing, Ian's hands were busy unwrapping Quinn from his tunics, with his herven's eager cooperation.
"How appropos -- a Halloween gift that helps unwrap himself." Ian's sly chuckle went straight to both of their own 'packages', and he shivered as he threw the tunics aside. The vast expanse of chest revealed left him breathless, and he was not the only one.
He made it his mission to explore every inch, and there were many, of his beloved Master's torso, running the brush from one 'ah' to the next. He painted more than a few phantom coats along his inspiring canvas, then dipped down to play on his inviting stomach.
Quinn damped down his ticklish response, so he could enjoy the love behind Ian's artistry. He was in heaven: the braid circled closer and closer to his cock; Ian's breath blew warm over his goosebumped skin; his lad's erection was butting into his thigh in the most delicious way.
Finally! Ian was untying his leggings, taking care not to put any more pressure on his engorged shaft, which was trying to rip its own way out.
When Quinn was free, Ian swirled the braid around his cock and testicles in a teasing slide. He grinned at his husband's inarticulate response, relishing every grunt and moan. After a leisurely tour of heated skin, the braid started snagging more and more. Ian took it off and snorted when he held it up for inspection -- his prim and proper Obi-Wan braid had become a sex toy and looked the part, indeed. It was unraveling fast and bedraggled with pre-come, sweat, and saliva. "Talk about a brush-off!"
Quinn groaned obligingly, even though he was secretly delighted that he was in for a more hands-on approach now.
Reluctantly, Ian tossed the braid onto the end table, since it was no longer up to giving Quinn pleasure. He was thankful that this year he'd chosen a store-bought braid, rather than the treasured one, used in The Phantom Menace, which Bant had given them as a wedding present.
Ian straddled Quinn's hips, knees sinking into the sofa cushion. His eyes gleamed at the thought of using his mouth and fingers to arouse Quinn further, the way he usually did. He covered the same territory he'd conquered with the braid, dusting his meandering trails with kisses and caresses. Oh, the enticing sounds Quinn made for him!
Ian's shoulders, still a bit sore from his new high bar routine, started to stiffen up after he'd indulged Quinn's every sigh. So he finally took his erection in hand to stroke Quinn's with it.
"Ah, that's even better than the braid, laddie mine." Quinn's voice sounded rougher than seven klicks of gravel road.
The combination of soft skin over hard shaft was as irresistible as always, whether to his cock, skin, mouth, or hand. A trail of pre-come glistened over the scenic route Ian traveled, as he ventured out to decorate the testicles, as well.
Quinn shuddered into him in ecstasy, willing himself to wait until Ian's lips were on his own to come.
Somehow, Ian knew this; just as he always knew Quinn's intimate secrets. He kissed Quinn with abandon, fire playing with fire. He could feel the immiment orgasm in his husband's kiss, in the improbably bigger cock pushing into his own, even before he felt the splashes on his overheated skin. That did it for Ian, and he came as he gasped into Quinn's mouth.
After a few moments of petting each other down, Quinn picked up the debauched braid, relishing its every kink. "You make a dashing Jedi, young man. But don't you know that detachments are forbidden?"
Their laughter breezed away into the Halloween night.