Author's Notes: Well, it is midnight where I live, which makes
it my birthday and I am now an old lady of twenty-five. Yup,
buy me a cane and make me some oatmeal, I'm old. Therefore, I
decided that I must share a fic as a gift to all the M_A
people. This is just a silly little romp, everyone, so enjoy!
Summary: Obi-Wan doesn't think Qui-Gon listens enough, so he
does a little something to change that.
Disclaimer: A Long Time Ago in a Galaxy Far Far Away, George
Lucas created Star Wars. And he looked at it and saw that it
was good. And all was right in the world. But then, we saw that
Obi-Wan doth look upon Qui-Gon with lust, and that Mr. Lucas
was not likely to include that in the next movie, so we said
screw it and wrote it ourselves, even though we do not make any
money off of this. And all was right with the world.
It was like swimming through thick liquid, his limbs felt
heavy and clumsy as his mind slowly surfaced. Mouth cottony
dry, Qui-Gon struggled to swallow around the thickness of his
tongue.
"Drink this, it'll help." A familiar voice and gentle hands
lifted his chin. Qui-Gon felt the rim of a cup pressed to his
lips. Not bothering to open his eyes he drank the cool liquid
gratefully, not recognizing the taste but enjoying it
regardless. The sensation of floating was fading away and he
released it regretfully, he hadn't felt like this since he'd
drunk a quart of Y'loin brandy when he was a padawan and, ah,
weren't those the days...
There was a sharp jab of pain in his head from drinking the
cold liquid too quickly and he winced, lifting a hand to rub
the ache away...
...only to discover that his hands wouldn't move.
That got his eyes opened quickly and he blinked in the almost
painfully bright light, focusing enough to see Obi-Wan crouched
in front of him, still holding the cup.
"Here you need to drink more, this will help counter the
effects." Obi- Wan lifted the cup to Qui-Gon's mouth again and
he drank without thought, empting the cup.
"There, that should be enough," Obi-Wan said cheerfully,
moving to the small kitchen nook to rinse the cup and put it
away.
"Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon was frankly confused and still disoriented
from, well, whatever had hit him. He tried to move again and
couldn't, his hands and feet simply refused to cooperate.
Blinking he looked down at himself. Still wearing his sleep
pants and tunic, in his bare feet, he was sitting in one of the
chairs in his quarters. No, he saw, taking a second, startled
look, he was -tied- to one of the chairs in his quarters, his
feet were fastened to the chair legs and his arms were
apparently tied behind him.
Obi-Wan had walked back over to him and was just standing
there, watching and Qui-Gon's confusion made a quick trip into
annoyance. "Obi-Wan, what is going on?"
"It was in your tea."
Qui-Gon stared at his apprentice for a long moment before
saying most intelligently, "Huh?"
"It was in your tea," Obi-Wan repeated patiently, kneeling
down and checking the restraints at Qui-Gon's feet. He'd tied
them hurriedly but they seemed to be tight enough without
cutting off circulation. The straps themselves were
velvety-soft and even if Qui-Gon struggled he couldn't do more
than mildly chafe his skin. Glancing up at the Qui-Gon in
question, he had to hold back a smirk at his master's obvious
confusion. "The somnifre," he said aloud. "It was in your tea."
Memory was returning to Qui-Gon slowly. Yes, he had been
drinking tea, sitting at the table while Obi-Wan prepared
breakfast. And then the world had seemed to tip on its side
and...somnifre. "What was somnifre doing in my tea?" he blurted
out, still feeling as if he'd blundered into the middle of a
conversation. Somnifre was a sedative, not generally harmful
but certainly not an ingredient in any of Qui-Gon's preferred
teas. Not that he knew of anyway.
"I put it there," Obi-Wan admitted. At Qui-Gon's astonished
look he said defensively, "Well, how else was I supposed to get
you tied to the chair?"
Astonishment melted into incredulity. Qui-Gon's mouth worked
silently as he struggled for an answer to that question. This
situation had crossed the borders of strange and into the realm
of the truly bizarre. "I...I don't know how to answer that,
Obi-Wan," he said finally. There, he'd kept his voice calm and
even and he would just find out what was really going on and
then maybe the world would get back on its axis.
"Perhaps I could answer that if I knew why I was tied to a
chair in the first place!" Qui-Gon exploded, tugging vainly on
his restraints. And considering how close he was to strangling
the young man kneeling at his feet it was probably better that
he was tied-up, otherwise he'd have to explain to the Council
why he'd killed his padawan. Still, perhaps this could be
considered extenuating circumstances. A quick explanation, a
little paperwork...
Obi-Wan calmly watched him struggle in the chair until Qui-Gon
finally gave up and slumped back, glaring at his padawan and
fuming silently. He took a deep breath, let it out and then
said, as calmly as he could. "All right then, Obi-Wan, perhaps
you'd care to explain?"
Obi-Wan shrugged. "I wanted to talk to you."
Qui-Gon blinked. Could somnifre affect the hearing? "You
cannot possibly be serious."
"I assure you I am."
That gave Qui-Gon a pause, and he hesitated a long moment,
trying to think of how to form his words. Speaking in a voice
usually reserved for the criminally insane, he said, slowly,
"Obi-Wan, I'm right here, all the time. I live with you for
Force's sake! If you want to talk to me...I mean, there is no
need to resort to these measures just to talk to me."
Obi-Wan was shaking his head before Qui-Gon finished. "Ah, but
that is where you're wrong. I can -talk- to you certainly." He
shifted to his feet, stretching and groaning softly as his
joints popped before he continued, meeting Qui-Gon's gaze with
is own. "I can talk, but you don't listen. You just nod and
smile in all the proper places and don't hear a word I say.
These," he said, gesturing at Qui-Gon's restraints, "Are to
make sure you hear me."
"Obi-Wan, that's ridiculous."
"It is," Obi-Wan said agreeably. "But I'm willing to forgive
you."
In that moment Qui-Gon decided that he had had more than
enough extreme oddity for this morning. Time to end this. He
closed his eyes, reaching for the Force and concentrating on
the bindings, only to feel the energy slip away from him.
Startled, he reached again and again it evaded him, like water
seeping from his cupped hands. Annoyance shifted into shock as
he opened his eyes to see Obi-Wan smiling at him. "What have
you done?"
Shaking his head, Obi-Wan said, "Now, Master, you trained me
better than that." He touched a small box that was sitting on a
nearby table and with a dawning sense of horror Qui-Gon
recognized it. "It's a Force inhibitor," Obi-Wan told him
unnecessarily. "And I called in more favors than I care to
think about getting it. Of course, it means that I can't use
the Force either but I think that is only fair."
He grinned again, in a way that didn't make Qui-Gon feel any
better. Not one bit. "Don't worry, Master. I have this all
plotted out," Obi- Wan said cheerfully, "I picked today because
you don't have any appointments and I even put a message in
your file that you're spending the day on deep meditation and
aren't to be disturbed for anything less than a full-fledged
attack on the temple by flesh-eating ewoks."
Qui-Gon wasn't certain if he should laugh or cry, even as he
grudgingly admired Obi-Wan's attention to detail. His padawan
was still standing in front of him, rocking on his heels and
grinning, obviously well pleased with himself and Qui-Gon had
to fight the sudden urge to laugh. This was all so ridiculous
that even tied to a chair he could see the humor in it. Looking
down at the floor he struggled to compose himself enough to
look at his padawan again.
Obi-Wan was waiting expectantly and Qui-Gon sighed. May as
well get this over with. "Well," Qui-Gon said finally, "What
did you want to talk about?"
To his surprise, Obi-Wan's expression shifted. His smile
faltered a bit and he actually looked decidedly uncomfortable.
"Well, that's complicated," he hedged, focusing his attention
on the ceiling.
Qui-Gon leaned forward until his bonds stopped him, his
curiosity piqued in spite of himself. What could Obi-Wan be
determined to speak to him about that he tied Qui-Gon to a
-chair- to make him listen. Definitely a must hear story. How
bad could it be? Perhaps he'd tied Qui-Gon to the chair out of
fear that his master would kill him when he found out what his
padawan had done?
"Well," Obi-Wan began and Qui-Gon focused his attention on the
younger man, determined not to miss this. "You remember a few
months ago, I came to you and told you that
I...lovedyouandIwantedyou?" A deep blush stained Obi-Wan's
cheeks. Qui-Gon stared at him in astonishment, and was actually
faintly disappointed.
"That's all?" he blurted out before he could stop himself.
"That's what this is all about?" At Obi-Wan's expression he
hastily amended his words. "I mean, I thought that we had
settled that. It's simply isn't appropriate..."
"No, Master, you settled it," Obi-Wan said very softly and
something in his voice made Qui-Gon pause. "You settled it and
expected me to turn my emotions off like they were a switch, on
your say so." There was an undercurrent of pain to those words,
a hint of bitterness and Qui-Gon felt a faint curl of his own
pain, that he had hurt Obi-Wan and hadn't even realized it.
"And I nodded and smiled like the good little Padawan that I
am," Obi- Wan continued, a faint gleam in his eyes now. "And
then I immediately started plotting something like this."
Obi-Wan bit back a smile at the expression on Qui-Gon's face.
The older man was gaping at him as if he'd sprouted another
head.
He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind Qui-Gon's
ear, fighting another smile as older man's eyes widened. It
made his master look much younger than he actually was, gray
hair notwithstanding and this time Obi-Wan gave into the urge
to smile, his grin widening as Qui-Gon's apprehension upped
another notch. This, he decided, could be very interesting
indeed.
*************************************************
He was going to kill himself.
If Qui-Gon had ever considered how it would feel to be tied to
a chair, which, admittedly, he hadn't, he never would have
thought the word he would use would be boring.
Boring and irritating, he amended. His arms ached and so did
his legs; he'd long ago abandoned Jedi stoicism and settled
into all but squirming in his chair in an effort to keep his
circulation going.
Add in the fact that his hair kept falling forward into his
face and efforts at shaking it back continued to be a dismal
failure made this experience one he would rather not repeat.
And his nose itched.
Yes, suicide was starting to seem more and more alluring.
Or better yet, he could kill Obi-Wan.
Now that idea had a certain appeal. Obi-Wan was sprawled
across another chair, his feet dangling over the arm, oblivious
to the threat to his mortality that was sitting only a few feet
away, although perhaps he should have known better.
They had been sitting here, completely silent, for what
Qui-Gon swore was at least a standard decade but which the
obviously broken chronometer on the wall stated was a little
more than an hour.
Obi-Wan was staring up at the ceiling, oddly serene for a soon
to be dead man. He was only wearing a pair of pants and oddly,
his boots, which should have looked strange but was actually
somewhat appealing.
Qui-Gon blinked. Appealing? Where had that come from? The
somnifre must still be affecting him, he decided. But, Force,
if it wasn't true. Obi- Wan's bare chest was all smooth skin
and taut muscle, all exposed to Qui-Gon's suddenly interested
eyes. Actually, Obi-Wan was quite beautiful, he...
Was dragging one booted foot across the floor and making what
was quite possibly the most annoying sound that Qui-Gon had
ever had the dubious privilege of hearing.
His padawan was apparently still lost in thought, and deaf as
well, Qui-Gon thought sourly as Obi-Wan did it again. And
again, until insanity was looming a lot closer than suicide and
thoughts of murder swarmed over Qui-Gon again.
"Obi-Wan!" he said sharply, his voice loud in the quiet room
and he startled Obi-Wan so much that the younger man almost
fell out of his chair. A muffled snicker earned Qui-Gon a glare
and he stifled his laughter and tried again.
"Obi-Wan, if you went through all this trouble to talk to me,
perhaps you should be, oh, I don't know, talking?"
Obi-Wan tilted his head, looking interested. "Really? What do
you want me to say?"
Closing his eyes, Qui-Gon counted to ten in three languages
before he attempted to speak again. "Look, you're the one who
wanted to talk. All I wanted was breakfast and perhaps to read
the morning reports. Instead, I am tied to a chair, haven't
eaten a thing, I'm tired, I'm annoyed and my nose itches and I
can't even itch it!" His voice had risen on each word until he
was shouting, and then Qui-Gon snapped his mouth shut, glaring
at his wayward apprentice.
The young man's lips twitched and Qui-Gon swore that if he
laughed, if he so much as giggled, then he would find a way to
kill him. If it took twenty years, if he had to turn to the
Dark Side, if he had to join a band of Tusken raiders and eat
gruilin worms he would do it. And then he could die happy.
Obi-Wan was spared from an ignominious death by the sheer
grace of being able to control his laughter. Instead, he stood
and walked over to Qui-Gon. A touch of apprehension went
through the older man as he was reminded forcibly of how
vulnerable he really was but all Obi-Wan did was scratch his
nose.
"Thank you," Qui-Gon mumbled ungraciously. Obi-Wan didn't move
away though, just crossed his arms and sighed.
"All right then. I suppose we'll have to do this eventually,"
Obi-Wan sighed again, rubbing his temples as if he had a
headache. Qui-Gon's lips twisted slightly, he could relate to
that. "All right, why don't you want to be my lover?" Obi-Wan
said finally. "And don't try to tell me you don't want me
either," he snapped, cutting off Qui-Gon's automatic response
before turning away to pace around the room. "I mean, if I
believed for even an instant that you didn't love me or want me
then I never would have done this. So don't lie to me."
Pleadingly, and Obi-Wan stopped pacing and instead knelt again
at Qui-Gon's feet, eyes searching his master's face. "I just
want you to be honest so don't deny how you feel. I already
know."
Wetting his lips, Qui-Gon hesitated, words lost to him for a
moment. He heard every word that Obi-Wan had said but somehow
they seemed less important than how beautiful Obi-Wan was, so
close that Qui-Gon could smell the clean scent of his skin,
could see the blue flecks in the younger man's gray eyes.
He blinked as he realized Obi-Wan was still waiting and he
frantically tried to remember the question. "Uh...it's...it
just...brings tension to the teaching relationship," he said
weakly. Obi-Wan's expression said very clearly that this was
not what he was looking for so Qui-Gon tried again. "There are
several issues to consider, the, er, the tension issue,
the..uh," He faltered, desperately scouring his thoughts, "The
respect issue," he said finally, triumphantly. "Just, well.."
Qui-Gon shrugged somewhat helplessly. "Lots of issues."
Obi-Wan's eyebrows had climbed up his forehead until they
seemed in danger of leaving his head altogether. "I see," he
said slowly, nodding. "Yes, I do see. And you think pushing me
into doing -this-," he gestured vaguely at Qui-Gon and at the
universe in general. "This is better?" he finished, somewhat
incredulously.
"Well, I suppose not."
Rolling his eyes, Obi-Wan slumped backwards to sprawl on the
floor. His voice floated up, "That's what I always liked about
you, Master. Very strong in your opinions."
Helplessly, Qui-Gon shrugged again. "What should I say? I'm
improvising here. Getting tied to a chair by my love-stuck
padawan is a new experience for me."
Obi-Wan snorted, shifting back to his knees in front of
Qui-Gon. "Point taken and really, that's good to hear. I'd hate
to think this was a common thing for you. You know how I like
to be different."
Pursing his lips, Obi-Wan leaned back until he was sitting on
the floor, legs crossed. "Well," he said, "You've stated your
reasons why we shouldn't be lovers. In a proper debate this
would be time for my rebuttal."
Qui-Gon's mouth went strangely dry at that. "Oh?"
The young man nodded, a wicked smile curving his lips. "Yeah,"
he replied, softly. Leaning forward, he settled his elbows on
Qui-Gon's knees and rested his chin on his folded hands. "So, I
should show you why we should be lovers, shouldn't I?"
He stood up, moving around Qui-Gon to stand behind him, hands
resting lightly on the older man's shoulders. He started
kneading the muscles there, taut from being restrained for so
long and Qui-Gon had to stifle a moan. He let his head fall
back and rest against Obi-Wan's chest, forgetting all the
reasons why he should be protesting as strong fingers worked
out the knots in his muscles. This was unwise, this...
Hands gentling, they slid upward to tangle in Qui-Gon's hair,
massaging his scalp and this time he did moan, the headache
that he had been courting since this began finally easing.
Briefly rubbing his temples and then they slid over his face,
Obi-Wan's short nails scraping lightly through his beard.
"I can't use the Force right now." Qui-Gon jumped slightly as
Obi-Wan leaned forward to whisper into his ear, warm breath
lightly caressing the sensitive skin. "So I can't read what you
are feeling. All I have are your body's reactions to go by."
Slipping his hands under Qui-Gon's tunic, he pushed the
offending fabric aside, finding the older man's nipples and
stroking them. Qui- Gon gasped, not wanting to respond and yet
not wanting it to end. His gasps turned into a startled yelp
when the gentle touches turned into a hard pinch.
"So if you don't want something, your body will have to tell
me," Obi- Wan said softly against Qui-Gon's neck and he was
moving downward, kneeling behind Qui-Gon now with his arms
wrapped around his master's waist. They held that pose for a
long moment, Obi-Wan pressed against the back of the chair and
his hands idly stroking Qui-Gon's sides.
The older man was struggling to breath, this was such a bad a
idea, he knew that it was but somehow he could no longer
remember why. He was achingly hard, shamefully admitted to
himself that he had been since Obi-Wan first touched him. And
when Obi-Wan's hands slid lower, moving over his thighs he
arched into the touch, silently begging.
To his dismay, Obi-Wan released him completely, pulling back
and crawling around to kneel in front of him again. He rested
his hands on Qui-Gon's knees, slight smile curving his lips.
"It's very simple, Master. You told me that you don't want to
be involved with me, so all you have to do is not want me."
Before Qui-Gon could even take a breath to answer, Obi-Wan
lowered his face to Qui- Gon's lap, stealing away the Jedi's
ability to speak.
Rubbing his cheek against Qui-Gon's cloth-covered erection,
Obi-Wan's eyes drifted closed and he made a soft sound of
contentment. Bound as he was Qui-Gon could only watch, choking
on any words of protest that he might have had as Obi-Wan
nibbled down the length of his hardened shaft through his
trousers.
"Just don't want me," Obi-Wan whispered between soft nips.
"Stay cold to me, my master." Reaching up, he loosened the
drawstrings of Qui- Gon's pants, opening them.
Qui-Gon closed his eyes, not watching as his body betrayed him
and his cock all but leapt into Obi-Wan's gentle hands. He
hissed softly as his padawan stroked his disobedient flesh,
rewarding its eagerness.
"Don't want me, Qui-Gon," he whispered again, again rubbing
his cheek against his master's erection only this time it was
skin on skin and Qui-Gon gave a choked gasp, thrusting upward
helplessly.
Moving up, Obi-Wan kissed the head, his tongue darting out to
taste the clear, bitter fluid that was pooling there. "Don't
moan when I touch you, don't arch up against me."
Already disobeying the softly spoken words as Obi-Wan's mouth
closed over the very tip of his cock, Qui-Gon threw his head
back, a pained sound escaping him as Obi-Wan took him no
deeper. Instead, Obi-Wan sucked very gently, tracing the ridge
of the head with his tongue before pulling back and licking his
way down the length of the shaft.
He paused there, raising his eyes to his master and found the
older man watching him raptly, eyes glazed and his face damp
with perspiration. He ran his tongue up the underside, circling
the velvety head again and Qui-Gon's eyes closed as he
struggled with himself.
"You aren't doing very well, Master," Obi-Wan said, a wicked
grin curving his lips. Then he surged downward, taking
Qui-Gon's entire shaft into his mouth as he applied himself
with earnest.
Choking on a startled scream, Qui-Gon's eyes flew open and he
struggled briefly against his bonds, his hands clenching into
fists. Obi-Wan was all but devouring him, hot wet suction
surrounding his cock and Qui-Gon arched up as best he could,
stilted thrusts upward into Obi-Wan's sweet mouth. Eyes
narrowed, Qui-Gon watched the young man kneeling at his feet,
taking him, and he wondering a bit wildly how he could have
ignored Obi-Wan's beauty for so long. And he was beautiful,
chest bare and taut muscles flexing in his shoulders as he
moved.
Gritting his teeth, Qui-Gon closed his eyes again,
concentrating on the hot wetness of Obi-Wan's mouth. Close, he
was so close and the wet heat abruptly left him, he nearly
shouted in protest. Cold air struck his wet erection and the
older man's hips thrust upward mindlessly, seeking that warm
haven.
"Do you want me to finish it?" Obi-Wan whispered and Qui-Gon
hissed at the delicate caress of Obi-Wan's breath on his aching
cock. "Do you?" Feather-light stroke of a single finger,
circling the crown and down the length of the shaft.
"Please," he whispered, hardly aware of doing so.
"I can't hear you, Master." He could feel the heat of
Obi-Wan's lips, so close but not touching.
"Please!" he gritted out, no longer caring about propriety or
any of the hundred reasons they shouldn't do this. A soft laugh
floated up to him but before he could say another word, Obi-Wan
moved and took his cock deeply into his mouth, sucking
strongly, urgently and this time he did shout, unmindful of
dignity as he thrust upward into that mouth, and gods that boy
had a mouth, his tongue darting and stroking, and Qui-Gon
shouted again, giving in to the burst of heat that surged up
his spine and coming in his padawan's wonderful sweet mouth.
Sagging back in the chair, Qui-Gon gasped raggedly, dimly
aware of gentle hands righting his clothing and fastening his
pants. With great effort, he managed to open his eyes. Obi-Wan
was still kneeling between his legs, a smug smile curving his
lips. Reddened, slightly swollen lips and for a brief moment
all Qui-Gon could do was look at them, still trembling in the
aftermath.
Shaking away his daze, Qui-Gon cleared his throat and managed
to whisper, "I believe you...won...the debate." To his
surprise, a faintly wistful look came over Obi-Wan's face.
"Did I? Did I really?" he asked softly. He shook his head and
got to his feet, walking behind Qui-Gon. The bonds on his
wrists loosened abruptly and Qui-Gon hissed softly as his blood
started circulating properly again. Rubbing his wrists, he
watched as Obi-Wan untied his ankles as well and then resumed
his kneeling position.
"I'm prepared to accept any punishment that you see fit,
Master," he said quietly, head bowed. Qui-Gon looked down at
his padawan, thinking of everything the young man had put him
through this day...and of everything that he had learned about
this man since the moment they had first met. His aggravating,
infuriating padawan who would try Master Yoda's patience, who
had tied him to a -chair- to make him listen.
And who had the most beautifully expressive eyes that Qui-Gon
had ever seen, eyes that were at this moment focused intently
on the floor. Sighing, he slipped one finger beneath Obi-Wan's
chin and tipped his head up.
"You really are annoying, do you know that?"
Obi-Wan gave him a completely unbelievable innocent look and
Qui-Gon leaned down to kiss it away, pushing the younger man
down on the floor and stretching out full length over him.
Obi-Wan murmured a complaint against Qui-Gon's lips about the
hard floor and he ignored it. Obi-Wan had wanted this, he could
deal with the floor, and if not, well, there was always the
chair...and the ties.
Archive 