Leather Goods

by Merry Amelie

Title: Leather Goods
Author: Merry Amelie
Archive: MA only
Category: Alternate Reality, Qui/Obi, Romance, Series, PWP
Rating: NC-17
Summary: A winning pair of leather slacks.

Series: Academic Arcadia -- # 184
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 Helen G., who gave me this scintillating story idea

A related Arcadia -- Good Jeans

"You guys have all the luck!" Case hooted, patting Quinn on the shoulder.

The professors were in Evan's living room on Saturday night, watching the Luke Skyhawks play against the Darthmouth Maulers in the last college football game of the regular season. But Quinn felt like he was back at their bachelor party at the New York City bar, 'A Galaxy Too Far', what with the way their friends were teasing them over their latest good fortune -- winning this year's Departmental charity raffle.

"And here I thought it would be just another gift card for Barnes and Noble," Quinn mock-grumbled.

"Yeah, right. And instead you lucky sods get a gift certificate to Naughty Niceties, that new Internet erotica site!" said Evan, green with envy to the tips of his ears.

"You must've been good boys this year." Ethan said drolly, then sighed. "Y'know, Bant and I could've made good use of that."

"I'll bet, Eth!" chortled Case. "So could we all, but I never win anything."

"What about the time you won that free umbrella at the campus bookstore?" asked Ian with a cheeky grin.

Case groaned. "You call that a prize?"

They all dissolved into laughter and missed the next play.

Quinn had given the $100 card to Ian, knowing that his husband would return the gift a thousand-fold with his choice of treat from Naughty Niceties.

Ian still managed to surprise him.

A whisper of movement made Quinn look up from his lecture notes on Dryden, as he sat in his office late on Thursday night. Ian strutted towards him, sexier than the wettest dream Quinn had ever had. He was wearing a juicy grin and cream leather slacks that clung to him the way Quinn did when he was about to come, and nothing in between.

"I can see that I've truly won the sweepstakes, laddie mine." Quinn's voice was lilting and low.

"You flatter me, my love," said Ian, cocking his right hip.

"And you spoil me." Quinn licked his lips, dry despite the cappuccino he'd just finished.

"I try," Ian said slyly, blithely ignoring Master Yodama's old aphorism. He opened the top button of his slacks with a flourish.

Quinn tried to say something, but words evaporated in the face of the incredible sight in front of him. Ian's bare chest gleamed in the light of the desk lamp, his gymnast's musculature shown to best advantage, while his legs were encased in buttery smooth decadence.

"Hey, handsome. Wanna play?" Ian purred.

Quinn's brain was the next thing to evaporate.

Ian straddled his lap, making Quinn thankful for their foresight in investing in a sturdy desk chair. He seemed to know just where to press into Quinn's already formidable erection, as if he could tell the exact state of Quinn's arousal. And he probably could, after more than eight years of happy experience.

Quinn ran his hand along creamy leather-clad thighs, fingertips whispering over taut muscle and smooth grain. He felt a satisfying quiver beneath his fingers, revealing how much Ian was enjoying himself. When his laddie popped open another button, Quinn had to close his eyes for a moment, to regain a semblance of control.

His lad was in constant motion, his amazing hips taking him exactly where Quinn needed him to be. Leather against denim -- smooth cream rubbing into rough blue -- each rub more urgent, more likely to create sparks.

"Enjoying yourself, ma herven?" Ian whispered into his ear, then licked a droplet of sweat off the side of his neck.

Quinn shivered into his laddie; Ian excelled in rhetorical questions, but he had a feeling that this response was exactly what his husband had wanted, to take him to a place where even language had become a luxury. He could feel the warmth of Ian's bare chest through the fabric of his shirt, cotton fluttering over his nipples with each breath, as his lad melted into him.

Deep, devoted kisses thrilled through Quinn, his fingers tangling in coppery softness. Ian's hands were running along his arms and shoulders, but he hardly paid attention, most of his concentration on Ian's sweet lips and the luscious pleasures just behind them.

Adding an even more tantalizing touch, Ian must have been chewing on berry-flavored gum earlier that night, since he tasted exactly like their delicious lube. Quinn didn't think he'd last long enough to make proper use of the lube, though, not with this flurry of stimulation. His nightstand, the top drawer holding that all-important tube, might as well have been in a galaxy far, far away.

Ian gazed down at Quinn, a hungry grin on his face. Quinn knew his lad revelled in having the high ground, finally being taller than he, by virtue of his position. Now he could feel his relish, in the form of an erection which would put duranium to shame. His laddie eased open the third button on his leather slacks. A hint of russet hair, barely visible in the dim light and accompanying shadows, made Quinn's mouth water.

Then his lad moved his hands up to Quinn's shirt and started to open his buttons, one by one, giving a kiss to each newly exposed inch of Quinn's chest, not to mention the occasional impetuous lick, as he slid further back on Quinn's thighs. Finally, he tried to pull the shirt out from Quinn's jeans, but his weight was blocking the tail from completely coming free.

Ian began laughing and Quinn couldn't resist his own chuckles at their dilemma. His big hands wrapped around his husband's waist to lift him slightly, allowing Ian to pull out the recalcitrant shirttail, drizzled with pre-come. Then his mischievous laddie used his advantage to take off the entire shirt, heavy with sweat, as well as Quinn's more intimate fluids, and throw it on the desk, where it became the strangest bookmark a Dryden critique had ever known. Never let it be said that Quinn's lectures were dry.

Quinn saw the gleam in his lad's eye when he realized the whole expanse of his chest was now available for a late-night snack. An exuberance of suckles, nips, and licks followed, while Quinn's groans just got deeper and deeper. Ian locked eyes with him, pausing with his hand over the button of his jeans.

"Please!" Quinn ground out, and was rewarded by quick fingers opening the button.

"What have we here? Is this all for me?" Ian crooned. "You've been waiting so patiently for your prize."

"You're my prize, Ian. Fuck the raffle!" said Quinn in a voice so guttural it was nearly incomprehensible. Fortunately, he knew Ian understood him anyway. He was a master linguist, after all.

Ian's chuckle fluttered the hairs on his chest. "What a waste that would be."

Quinn hardly registered the teasing words; along with Ian's teasing touches, it was all getting to be too much for him to take. And when Ian's fingers kept moving lower, undoing button after button, it was almost Quinn's undoing, as well, even without a direct touch from his lad.

The occasional brush of Ian's fingertips over the pouch of his underwear was making Quinn shake. "Touch me!" he forced out.

Agile fingers dove into the pouch, now darkened to variegated grey and charcoal by droplets of pre-come. Ian released Quinn's erection from its ever-tightening confines. Quinn groaned when he felt the eagerness in Ian's rough grip on his cock, just the way he liked it. He gasped when his lad ran his fingertip in a circle where his foreskin met the glans.

Ian brought his finger to his lips and sucked greedily, and Quinn was turned on even more by seeing his laddie savoring his taste. He leaned forward to lick that finger, as well, and had the satisfaction of hearing Ian moan for him.

"We taste so good together, laddie mine," Quinn rumbled, and suckled Ian's fingertip.

"A delicious combination," Ian agreed, green eyes dancing.

"And it'll be even tastier after we come," said Quinn, crinkled blue eyes sparkling into his lad's.

"Well, then, what are we waiting for?" Ian asked impishly. So saying, he started to pet Quinn's patient cock once more, just the way Quinn liked it -- a bit wild and woolly, with lots of thumb action.

This made it tougher for Quinn to concentrate on Ian, but try he did. He opened the last of Ian's buttons, the stiffness of the new leather making it more difficult for his thick fingers to undo them. His reward was certainly worth it, though. Ian wasn't wearing any underwear, of course; boxer-briefs would not have fit under the skin-tight leather. This made it easier for Quinn to grab the rarin'-to-come cock practically jumping into his hand.

Quinn tried to keep his strokes in time with Ian's, grinning in delight as they effortlessly fell into the perfect rhythm together. He looked into his laddie's eyes while pleasuring him, while being pleasured himself. Slowing his hand by force of will, hoping to make it last, his grin deepened when Ian did the same.

It was already too late, however. Both of them had been too excited for too long. Ian's come splashed Quinn's hand and stomach just seconds before his own erupted. They shuddered through the pulses, Ian finally coming to rest against Quinn's shoulder, totally spent.

"Whoever said 'Charity begins at home' was right on the mark," Ian drawled teasingly, when he was able to speak again.

Quinn had believed himself all groaned out during the course of their lovemaking but managed one more, just to see Ian's sweet smile.