Halloween Treats for Grown-ups

by Merry Amelie

Title: Halloween Treats for Grown-ups
Author: Merry Amelie
Archive: MA only
Categories: Alternate Reality, Qui/Obi, Romance, Series
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Amazing what a sugar high can do to our guys.
Series: Academic Arcadia #204
A chronological list of the series with the URLs, kindly maintained by Emila, 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: Emila-Wan and Carol
Mali Wane for posting
Alex for inspiring Arcadia

Here are the Halloween Arcadias:

2003 -- Masquerade
2004 -- Hallowe'en Kata
2005 -- Happy Tatooween
2006 -- Happy Tatooween, Take Two: Undercovers
2007 -- A Jedi Halloween
2008 -- Jedi Trick or Treat (This is the story which introduced Prudence.)
2009 -- Return of the Jedi Halloween
2010 -- A Little Halloween Diplomacy
2011 -- Hallowed Light
2012 -- Halloween on the Go
2013 -- A Neighborly Halloween

This story is a companion piece to A Neighborly Halloween.

To obi1mcgregor, with thanks for her comment on A Neighborly Halloween, which inspired the first line: "I'm guessing this is the best Halloween the lads have ever had."

"Best Halloween ever!"

Ian's exclamation summed it all up for Quinn, as well. They were both still glowing from Prudence's first steps towards accepting them. She'd been a gracious presence at the party, sitting between Violet and Mrs. Chang and chatting the night away with them. When she'd left with Violet, Prudence had thanked them for inviting her.

Quinn had just shut the door after their last neighbor left for home. He turned off the porch light to signal to any potential trick-or-treaters that the candy shop was closed until next year.

They cleaned the living room together, then ventured into the guest bathroom to give it a good scrub-down. Next, they tackled the dishes, with Quinn washing and Ian drying, as usual. Fortunately, some of Violet and Prudence's cookies were still left, so they had a few happy snacks left to look forward to tomorrow.

The puppies were more than ready for bedtime, so the men cuddled them into their baskets and left the night-light on for them. They'd bought a light in the shape of C3-PO, which Artoo took an immediate shine to, though Sandy seemed a bit on the jealous side of the Force.

Now that it was almost time for bed, Ian and Quinn were glad they had kept on their tunics and leggings, which they'd worn for trick-or-treating with Lelia and Han. That made it easier to shrug out of their clothing and hit the sheets with Force-enhanced speed, which they were planning to do in a few minutes.

They had just replaced the bedding with their seasonal favorites -- the blue and green tartan sheets and comforter. The bedroom was waiting for them, but it seemed light years away at the moment.

So they threw themselves on the couch after the clean-up, not moving from their sprawl for one long, sweet minute.

Though they were tired, they gravitated together like Tatooine's suns, burning just as brightly for each other. Indeed, the moon, glinting through the drapes, was thoroughly eclipsed when Quinn got the oomph to lean down to kiss his lad.

Encouraged by Ian's little purrs of pleasure, Quinn gathered him in under his shoulder, then said, "Ah, lad, this is just where you belong." He sighed in utter contentment.

Ian sighed, too. The proximity to Quinn's armpit was worth it, he reflected ruefully, considering his otherwise ideal position. "Always," he murmured.

He ran his hand up Quinn's arm, fingers whispering his love over the age-softened cotton. He remembered when it had been crisp and cool under his fingertips and preferred it now, all thin and nubby.

Quinn rumbled his delight into russet Padawan spikes. Ian's strong, gymnast's hand stroking from wrist to shoulder, all over coarsecloth, was soothing after a very long day.

Ian could feel his husband's pleasure in every stroke and widened his petting into a massage which covered the breadth of Quinn's chest. He gazed up at Quinn, blue-green adoration in his eyes.

He then concentrated his loving attention upon his husband's stomach -- which was currently full of Violet and Prudence's treats -- over his tunics. That tender touch satisfied Quinn more than the tastiest brownie Violet had ever baked.

"Ah, you're spoiling me, little laddie," said Quinn with his irresistible lilt. He eased his way down for a candy-coated kiss, one of the perks of Halloween-night loving. What had Ian eaten recently? Something with coconut, definitely. Hmm, was he tasting an Almond Joy or a Mounds? There, that slightly bittersweet flavor. It must be a Mounds, then, with its dark-chocolate coating.

"Oh, ho! So you've already eaten one of the extra candy bars we got from Lelia, have you, now?" Quinn gave a chuckle, as rich and dark as the chocolate itself.

"Never imagined you'd find out this way," Ian mock-grumbled, his shining eyes giving his real good humor away. "Besides, I thought I was doing her a favor -- one less candy bar to give her a sugar overload when she's trying to get to sleep tonight."

"So altruistic, m'lad," Quinn said as he pressed the pad of his forefinger into Ian's inviting dimple. "By that logic, I should've mind-whammied Mrs. Chang for Violet's last marshmallow ghostie, instead of letting her gobble it up."

"Yet somehow, you let her have the last one," teased Ian. "You're a true model of Jedi compassion and asceticism, my love."

"Obviously." Quinn chuckled, tickled by the irony of their chat, when the both of them were dressed in their patented tunics and leggings.

As if reading his mind, Ian resumed his petting over Quinn's coarsecloth, this time tracing the vee of the tunics at the neckline. Occasionally, he let his forefinger graze a tiny bit of skin along the edge, as if by accident. But the twinkle in Ian's eyes made clear to Quinn that it was deliciously deliberate.

Just the feel of that fingertip was enough to make Quinn shiver, when all of the ghosties and ghoulies of Halloween had not succeeded. Here, in their own private haunts, it was a different story, however.

Ian slowly danced around the vee-neckline, taking a grand tour of his husband's chest. He felt Quinn's shivers on the pad of his finger and grinned in delight.

He replaced his forefinger with his lips and went over the same route, enjoying the taste of clean skin with a hint of sweat under his mouth. And was it his imagination, or was Quinn's shivering becoming a little more pronounced about now?

Quinn was unraveling under Ian's tender lips, even before his lad had a chance to unwrap his linens.

Ian looked up at him, his face impossibly close and getting closer. "Like it?"

"Love it," said Quinn, voice gone to gravel.

"Good," Ian breathed and continued his ministrations. He started to burrow under Quinn's tunics with the tip of his nose.

This stopped just short of tickling Quinn, as he felt the warmth of Ian's breath caress him, just as his hand was doing to his right nipple over soft fabric, the cotton a caress of its own.

It was clear Ian knew how to play him like the clarinet he'd played in his high school marching band in Padua. As Benny Hill would have said, 'Hard stick, soft lips, say no more.'

And now that he thought about it, Quinn realized that he was indeed at 'the sticking point'; his lad's attentions to his chest were having a rousing effect on his cock.

And somehow Ian knew it, even though they were not snugged up against each other that way yet. Quinn could see the glint in his laddie's eyes that meant he had calibrated the effect of the slightest caress and was doing the math as he grinned up at him.

When Quinn saw the expression on Ian's face, he just had to pounce. He leaned down for a kiss. Ah, heavenly! He could feel his own warmth on his lad's nose, see his own rising excitement mirrored in Ian's eyes.

"Enjoying yourself, laddie?" Quinn rumbled.

"Oh, yeah," said Ian. This time, he kissed Quinn. He still could taste a residual bit of coconut from his own 'borrowed' Mounds bar, a welcome reminder of their earlier kissing. But the "Mmmmmm" sound he made was most assuredly not from the taste of the coconut alone.

Quinn couldn't resist swooping in after Ian made that enticing sound; he captured those lips which had first captured his imagination on their long-ago train ride to Massachusetts. He knew his lad relished a bit of aggression in their lovemaking from time to time.

And Quinn was feeling particularly aggressive at the moment, with his cock trying to rip its way out of his boxer-briefs. He took his herven's hand and put it on his erection. Even through layers of clothing, he felt a jolt when Ian started to pet him.

"Please! Please!" Quinn's voice was nearer to a whimper than Ian had ever heard it. It was almost impossible to untie Quinn's leggings with the way he was thrashing around under Ian's hand, but Ian had been in similar situations before and somehow managed to unlace them.

Quinn's cock had already forced its way free of its pouch, so it was ready and waiting for Ian's fingers. It was already drizzled with pre-come and gleaming. Ian knew Quinn could not last long, but he wanted to give him as much pleasure as possible. He wrapped his hand as far as it would go around the shaft and held on for the ride.

Quinn bucked and strained under him, but Ian did not relinquish his grip. He felt a familiar jolt of adrenaline, almost the same as he got from swinging the high bar. His fingers slid over the burning skin, instinctively hitting a couple of hot spots and creating others as he moved.

After a few tries, Ian succeeded in kissing Quinn, despite his constant motion. He pushed his tongue inside his husband's mouth, knowing that Quinn was hungry for this when he was ready to come. He tried to coordinate his tongue thrusts with his strokes and was rewarded by Quinn's continuous tremors.

Quinn eagerly suckled on his tongue, then began to pant as his orgasm hit. He cried out as he came in rushes into Ian's hand, which he could feel petting him through the last spasms. He loved the feel of Ian cleaning him up with the edge of his tunic, even though his skin was a bit sensitive now.

As soon as he could move again, Quinn gathered his lad in once more for a thank-you kiss, since he was still hoarse from his shouts. He noticed with satisfaction that Ian had a patch of pre-come on his leggings now.

Keeping that enticing fact in mind, Quinn pushed him down on the couch after their kiss. He lifted Ian's legs, which were spread out over his own, so he could get up to kneel on the carpet, scrambling to grab a pillow to cradle his head.

Quinn smiled when Ian shifted over and raised his head to make it easier for him to maneuver. When he put the pillow under Ian, Quinn heard a crackling sound; he reached beneath it and chuckled when he found a candy wrapper left over from the party. Throwing it on the floor, in an uncharacteristic 'Oscar Madison' moment, he leaned straight back into his place by Ian's side.

Ian reveled in this sudden change of perspective and flashed Quinn a sultry smile. Somehow, their private Halloween celebration was proving to be even more entertaining than the block party earlier, he mused.

Quinn reached down to run his finger over Ian's cheek, a well-traveled pathway he'd cherished for years.

Ian closed his eyes in bliss under his husband's caress, so familiar, so tantalizing. He felt Quinn's lips ghost over his face, starting at his forehead, down to his nose and cheeks, then onto his dimple, which he knew Quinn could never resist.

"Love you, laddie," said Quinn, his breath another caress on Ian's face.

Ian whispered, "Tha gaol agam ort." (I love you.)

Quinn tenderly unwrapped enough of Ian's tunics to reach skin warm from their exertions. He massaged his lad's chest and stomach, just as Ian had done earlier for him. "Hope that feels as good as it did to me," he said with a wink.

"Your hands could do anything to me, and I'd like it." Ian picked up the hand closest to him to nuzzle it.

"Would you, now?" Quinn said softly. He took that as a cue to be more provocative in his lovemaking. With Ian's tunics already flaring open, the ties on his leggings were easily undone, even though Quinn's hands were a little unsteady by this point.

Ian lifted his hips so Quinn could pull his leggings down, and the result was a heather-grey pouch inches from Quinn's nose. Tantalizing! His lad's unique scent, as always, was a total turn-on for Quinn. His nose took a bumpy ride over the beloved terrain of Ian's cock, which was getting harder by the second, wrapped in cotton.

Ian flexed his hips, craving more, more, more. And Quinn was quick to give it to him, taking his cock out of its pouch so he could suckle and touch it. They both knew that wet was what they needed, and Quinn chose the direct approach -- he took Ian into his mouth completely and ran his tongue all over his shaft.

Now it was Quinn's turn to say, "Mmmmm." Then he released him, with a reluctance Ian could feel. As soon as Quinn wrapped his hand around him, Ian let out a gasp.

Quinn reveled in sliding his hand up and down the shaft, enjoying each sound, little and big, Ian made for him. Now Ian was wet and becoming wetter by the second, what with his pre-come blending with Quinn's saliva. Quinn leaned down to kiss the tip and was startled, and gratified, when Ian started to spurt. He swallowed as much as he could and wiped away the rest with Ian's tunic.

Ian flopped back on the couch, utterly boneless. An enchanting grin graced his face, one that deepened when green eyes met blue. "You're magic," he murmured, his voice still rough around the edges from his moans and shouts.

Quinn loved seeing his husband this way -- russet spikes of hair glued to his forehead by sweat; wide nose flaring further for much-needed air; body totally relaxed from head to toe.

When his breathing returned to normal, Ian asked, "Up for Round Two yet, handsome?"

"Not right now, love, but tomorrow mornin's another story," said Quinn with a wink.

"So you're tired, too?" Ian asked.

"More like exhausted. Seems as if I've been awake for a week." A yawn nicely punctuated Quinn's sentence.

"Let's go to bed, then." Ian sat up and slid off the couch, offering his hand to Quinn.

As Ian pulled him up, Quinn couldn't resist repeating Ian's earlier exclamation, "Best Halloween ever!"

And indeed it was.