Master Apprentice Archive Ord Mantell Reunion Quick search:

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Summary: Obi and Qui-Gon have become closer than is healthy; luckily Qui meets up with Quinlan Vos, now a Master himself. completed in Vos Breakfast.

Characters: Obi-Wan Kenobi, Other Female Character, Other Male Character, Qui-Gon Jinn

Genre: Angst, Character Study, Pairings: Slash (m/m), PWP

Rating: X

This piece may contain explicit sex, violence or other heavy content.

CONTENT and/or WARNINGS: Bloodplay, Breathplay, Sex

YOU have been warned about the content of this piece. It is YOUR RESPONSIBILITY not to view material containing subjects that upset you or that are illegal for you where you live.

If you believe the author/artist did not select an appropriate warning for this piece, please contact the author.

authors note: this is a sequel to my Device trilogy, prologue to 2 Q's on a Tatooine Side Street, in my slash adventures of Quinlan Vos.

"What possessed you to even attempt to eat Phinndian food?"

"Master, I was hungry, that's all. And the food we ate when we were on Phinndi was very good."

"It was also catered, and specially suited to our digestive requirements. It was not from some vendor in an ethnic enclave."

"Then that was stupid of me, Master. I had forgotten--"

Obi-Wan interrupted himself to run into the fresher, to empty his stomach again. Qui-Gon sighed. He had not been there when his padawan made his culinary error. Chances were that some of the incompatible nutrients would work their way through his entire digestion. He waited patiently for Obi to re-emerge, his face newly scrubbed but definitely greenish.

"Was it when I sent you after those documents for the Phinndian consul?" Obi nodded. "Then there is no remedy but to let the disturbance run its course."

"Sorry, Master."

"We were going to take on the consul and his son at raquetball this evening, but I will cancel the reservation and inform them. No real harm done."

"Perhaps the three of you--"

"No, padawan. The Phinndian consul was attempting to wean his son away from the gaming tables for an evening. Unfortunately, aside from viewing the nightly lunar display, which is more the province of courtship, gambling is the most accessible activity here on Ord Mantell. Phinndian anatomy is sufficiently dissimilar to ours that the pleasure industry does not cater to them here, outside of Little Phinndi." Obi-Wan made a burping sound, with arms wrapped around himself. The wall appeared to be holding him up. His padawan wasn't going anywhere tonight. Let him appreciate the consequences of his actions fully, for once.

"So when should I expect you back from your own amusements?" said the younger man, with a wry smile.

Qui-Gon shot him a look-- the 'Obi-Wan, there is something you have forgotten to consider' look.

"What makes you think that you should expect me back?"

"What? I-- well, you know I miss your presence when you--" Obi-Wan was blushing, which brought his skin tone nearer to a blotchy normal.

"Sit, padawan." Qui-Gon indicated a place on the couch near him. Obi sat. "I know this is not the best time to discuss it, when you are unwell, but I believe you and I have become too close. We must discourage our private relationship before it devolves into an unhealthy attachment."

Obi's mouth opened and shut several times, then set into a resolute line. "I don't wish to do that, Master. I love you. I want to life- bond with you."

Qui-Gon winced at his fierce devotion. It was what he secretly wanted, too, but this was simply too soon. "Let me explain, my dear. I have noticed that your preparation for knighthood is being compromised by our relationship. By dependency, jealousy--" He saw the annoyance flickering into Obi's green eyes, but resolutely continued-- "possessiveness, diminished self-sufficiency. For the purposes of knighthood only, nothing to do with our bond. I-- we must spend time apart, in more areas of our lives, before we can be certain that ours is truly a life-bond. Padawan, I have been selfish. I have enjoyed your company too much, without regard for the consequences to you. It has held you back."

He felt the confusion mixed with outrage in his padawan's Force signature. The green eyes blazed; the strong chin lifted. "Perhaps I don't mind being held back. Perhaps I don't want to be knighted."

"Nonsense, Obi-Wan. You are gifted in all the arts of knighthood."

"Yet the Council continues to assign us to the same missions. They see no need to separate us. We should be growing closer, not separate." The green eyes were sparkling now, with tears kept in check.

"Try to approach this more rationally, padawan. Most of your age- mates are knighted already. You know that I love you as well, and am not telling you this to hurt you. And it is not as if we both haven't had other lovers before."

"But that was--- oh murglack spit." And Obi-Wan leaped up and dashed for the fresher again. The noises emanating from it seemed to indicate that the Phinndian food was making its way out in the intended direction, though not without distress.

Qui-Gon approached the fresher door. He raised his voice enough to carry through the barrier. "Certainly our ability to work together as a team does not depend upon our having sex!"

"Master, I do not want to have this conversation when I am hunched over in the fresher!" was the reply. Qui-Gon heard the ventilator fans being switched on, to drown out further argument.

He switched to communicating over their Force bond. //I love you, Obi-Wan Kenobi. I will always love you. I must be sure whether it is only padawan-love or if it is more.//

There was rather a long silence, during which he sensed Obi's slow reconciliation to the logic of what he had said. He sensed Obi replaying past incidents of his own jealous behavior, of times when he had counted on his Master to keep him out of trouble, rather than acting with caution... He felt, as they shared a twinge of mutual regret, Obi-Wan's acceptance of the new way of things.

//You know you've ruined me for all other men,// sent his padawan. Qui-Gon couldn't help but laugh aloud. //It's not funny!//

//Oh I know, I know, my dear... Well, there are always women.// At that, a tear made its way down Qui-Gon's cheek. Obi-wan would know it was for his dead lover, Tahl. He could remember how happy his master had been with her. Perhaps he was ruined for all other women.

Obi-Wan clutched at his stomach, and was glad of the door between them. His own face had been streaming with tears for some time now. Physical and emotional distress were becoming hard to tell apart. //Right, there are lots of beautiful women in the galaxy-- but not just at the moment, please!//

//Will you be out of there soon?//

//I'm afraid not.//

//Then I will take my leave. Feel better soon, love.//

"Daddy!"

Quinlan Vos turned around just in time to field the hurtling embrace of his padawan, blue head-tails flying, as she nearly knocked him off the bar stool.

She had been to the shopping levels, and had decked herself out in a number of the latest teen-age trinkets and furbelows, and smelled of some sort of confectionery.

"Aayla, honey, how many times have I told you about displays of affection like this in public?" He pried her off of himself, brushing down the front of his business suit while keeping her at arm's length with one hand. She gazed up at him with undisguised affection, right in character.

"Lots of times, Daddy."

"And about calling me dad in dives like this?"

"Oh, I forgot."

"Yes; I do not want sleazes sidling up to me and offering for you because we are not biologically related." Quin made a big production of lowering his voice and speaking to her as if she were stupid. She made an adolescent yuck face and clutched her shopping bag to her chest, looking around suspiciously. What an actress.

"I just wanted to show you what I bought just now," she pouted prettily. That was code for successful search; a plea for more funds would have been failed search. //The dealers are definitely working out of the mood jewelry shop on the seventh level//, she sent to him privately.

"No, no, don't be pulling things out in here. Go back to our quarters for the evening and show it to me later." She was now officially dismissed from the operation. //I'll tell Tholme when he gets here, and he'll send a team. All vigilance on your way back, padawan.//

"But Bibi and Mani and Jochem don't have to--"

"Bibi and Mani and Jochem have their mothers along. Now scoot." Aayla left, and Quin gave dirty looks to the other patrons who as much as glanced at her, again perfectly in character.

Once she was safely away, he sighed and returned to nursing his ale. He swore, Aayla was developing a crush on him. She went out of her way to throw herself on him like that. Sith--she was only fifteen! He wondered if Master Tholme had any advice; it hadn't come up between them, because Quin at that age was primarily concerned with avoiding all touch.

It was less than a standard hour before the heavily soiled, disguised version of Tholme stood up to the bar and demanded a shot of Corellian. He stayed at least three patrons away from his former student, who was cleverly disguised as a Kiffar. Quin's locks did not take to concealment under anything more subtle than a hood.

//Aayla says it's the mood jewelers on the seventh level. Other searches negative.,// he sent over their bond, once his former master seemed sufficiently recovered from downing the potent spirits.

This dive catered to service workers of the big amusement establishments, for the most part. As he disappeared into the shift- change crowd, Tholme sent back, //Surveillance will begin immediately. Effete looking strike team coming up. Tell Aayla good work.//

Quinlan made a show of looking around for a comrade who had not made their appointment, and got ready to leave. As he exited, he caught sight of a tall and handsome human, with long salt-and-brown hair tied back above a distinctive Jedi cloak, striding around a corner. Without a second thought, he turned to follow.

Qui-Gon Jinn! The thrill of the chase crept over him, and he began to breathe more deeply. He desired this man, and here he was, alone, without the ever-present sidekick. His work for the day was concluded; there was nothing to stop him.

Quin was dressed as a moderately successful merchant on vacation, his hair rather severely tied back in order to appear more middle- aged. Quick, why would a Kiffar merchant approach a Jedi?

Qui-Gon had stopped to look at a display of--women's underthings? Why not? He stopped, too.

"Why would a Jedi want one of those?" he inquired idly of Qui's reflection in the transparisteel barrier. Qui looked up. He was definitely pleased to see him. Good.

"A Jedi would want it for the same reason as any other being, " replied Qui-Gon, with a smile.

"Well, I bought one of those for my wife, and she didn't like it. She said it chafed." //Where the hell can we go so I can rip those robes off you?// he sent privately. He knew Qui-Gon could hear him, just like the other time on Ragoon VI.

//Your place?//

//Coruscant Grand Hotel, eleven seven oh five.//

"I will bear that in mind," said Qui-Gon, as he turned away. And winked. Quinlan nearly fainted. Like an adolescent, for crying out loud. Gods, how he wanted that man. He compelled himself to look at the display for a few more seconds before leaving in the opposite direction. And doubling back at the next bend in the street.

He began to shadow Qui-Gon again, herding him in the direction of their meeting. His heart pounded in his ears. Sith, Obi-Wan's master had seen him at his worst, his most out of control, doing things to Obi that he was not proud of. And yet he had encouraged him to dream of this thing they were about to do--

"Be knighted soon, Quinlan Vos," he had said, and kissed him. Now he was afraid to close his eyes for a nanosecond, for fear of losing him in the crowd.

And he knew that Qui-Gon was aware of his eyes upon him. He must have gotten very used to it, when they were at that conference on Ragoon VI. Quin had spent days staring at that rugged profile, the immaculate goatee, the silky cascade of brown and silver over the mountainous shoulders--

--which were now passing through the portal of the Coruscant Grand Hotel. This was truly happening. At last.

They took separate elevators to the eleventh level. Quin was waiting when Qui-Gon emerged from his, dark eyes burning, nostrils flared beneath the yellow stripe, chest heaving under the conservative suit. He turned abruptly, led the way to a door, keyed it open. They went in.

Before it even clicked shut, Quin grabbed the older man by the robes and crushed their mouths together. Passion long delayed rendered their contact galvanic. Sparks seemed to leap off their teeth, their lips slipped about in shock, their tongues curled around one another with the surfaces of those tongues too tender to bear. Qui-Gon had wrapped his massive arms around him and was squeezing the breath out of him and saying "aaaah"--

With a geart deal of effort, Quin drew a breath. Qui-Gon let up on him enough for him to complete it, but Quin's feet were still a bit above the carpeting. He drew back enough to meet Qui-Gon's eyes, blinking and amazed at that kiss. His knuckles were still embedded in the Jedi robes.

Qui-Gon smiled. "That was good," he said.

Quin's response was to kiss him again. This time he went for plunder. He sent his tongue to every crevice of the mouth of Qui-Gon and whatever he found, he consumed. The throat of Qui-Gon was soon making "aah" sounds again. This time, as Quin retreated, he caught at the lips as he went by, pulling at them with his teeth. In response the tongue of Qui-Gon followed, as if to pry the teeth away.

Then Qui's tongue was licking him, lapping at his mouth and cheeks, laving the stubble that had crept back over his merchant persona, following his head back, bending him over backward in those strong arms, and he found he had to clutch at Qui-Gon's neck in order not to fall. It was Quin's turn to moan. The huge hardness of Qui-Gon was smashed right beneath his own hardness, parting the legs of the damned flimsy suit he had on.

He wrapped one leg around Qui-Gon's, trying to get him to bend at the knees. Ponderously, like a kneeling dewback, Qui-Gon sank down, still tasting Quin, laying Quin on the floor beneath him.

But as soon as he was released, Quin sprang up again, to make good his promise of removing the Jedi clothing. Qui-Gon let him. It felt as if he were unwrapping a name-day present-- cloak up and over, belt unclasped and clanking down, tunics apart-- and Quin was halted by the wealth of chest hairs revealed, had to rub his face in them. And while he was thus distracted, Qui reached behind him and pulled the suit jacket and stretch tunic directly upwards. He let his arms fly up to release them to wherever they were going.

His arms came back down upon Qui-Gon's shoulders. The master's skin was incredibly smooth as he eased the tunics away. He simply had to taste it. And as he did so, he could feel the massive hands working to unclasp his hair. He slipped his arms around to pull the shoulders, the everything else, closer.

Quin's hips were beginning to pulse forwards, his buttocks to tighten spasmodically, as he knelt there enjoying this feast. Qui- Gon's hands, having set Quin's hair loose, moved to peel down his leggings. His massive organ sprang free. A fragrance of him sprang out as well, which Quin stopped to inhale.

He looked down. Qui-Gon's hands had deciphered the clumsy fastenings of his suit pants, and their organs were crossed, like weapons in a duel. He let them slap against each other.

"Hmmm....shall I take you now, Master Jinn?"

"Certainly not. I am the senior Master here," answered Qui-Gon, with a comical smirk.

"Well, you're not my Master, " Quin pointed out, immediately catching his fellow master in an arm-lock. With a yell, Qui-Gon threw himself on Quin, attempting to unbalance him.

They wrestled thus for a good while, kicking off their boots along the way, splitting Quin's hated suit trousers right in half, until at last Quinlan was pinned. Flat on his back, hands in that silky hair, he was being kissed as that massive battering ram prodded at his entrance.

When the kiss ended, he grabbed one of Qui-Gon's hands and put it into his mouth. Two fingers he licked and laved and lubricated, while Qui-Gon moaned appreciatively. Then he raised his knees, grasping them, holding himself open. Qui-Gon knelt, removing the fingers from Quin's mouth slowly, appreciating.

There was no surrender in the burning eyes. He was making a gift of himself. Sweat beaded the taut reddish body. His red cock twitched against the yellow tattoo below his navel. He was splendid.

Qui-Gon took the moist fingers and slid them in. One gasp, one momentary drifting closed of the fierce eyes, one look of-- gratitide. Yes, he wanted this. Qui moved his fingers, acquainting himself with the younger man's interior, making space for himself, as the muscles of Quin clenched and unclenched around them.

He would have been amazed to know what the fingers were telling Quin. Psychometric ability told what other times these fingers had been so engaged. There were not very many other times. All but one had been with Obi-Wan. He suddenly wanted to cry, at the long lonely times there had been in between.

Then with great deliberation, the fingers were removed and replaced with Qui-Gon himself. Quin felt like a landscape beneath a thundercloud. And then, with one full thrust, the storm hit.

Neither of the men took it slowly. Quin's arms flew up to brace himself upon Qui-Gon's hovering torso, levering his own body upward to attack range of Qui-Gon's mouth, even as Qui arched backward in the throes of his galloping thrusts. His hands dug in hard, his mouth locked on, his rump moved accross the carpeting. He felt his back hit some piece of furniture and anchor them as they bucked at each other. The hand of Qui-Gon was upon him, stroking at him, as his mouth fell free of Qui-Gon's and landed upon his shoulders again- -

--and before he could bite down, hold on, the bliss overtook him and his mouth opened to scream it, but he panicked as he remembered Aayla in the next room , so he screamed into his own fist.

And the massive man between his legs trembled as if he were in a groundquake, so that it shook Quin too, and groaned and spent himself. It was like a soothing unguent upon Quin's insides. Then Master Qui-Gon Jinn slid down Quin's slick body, to rest his head upon his smooth chest.

That chest still heaved, because of their exertions. Slowly the breathing stilled. Qui-Gon heard the heart beating within, took comfort from it. It suddenly occured to him that it was the wrong heartbeat, not the one that he wanted to be hearing as they lay after love.

Quin's eyes were open, and he was toying with a strand of Qui-Gon's hair. The other hand, with its unwrapped fingertips, rested gently upon his back. It was reading him.

"You love him, don't you?"

Qui-Gon didn't move. He let the hands stroke his hair, touch his back, just a little longer.

"I'm afraid so." He raised himself up off the younger man, sat cross- legged, as if about to meditate. He was obviously trying to master himself.

Quin lay where he was, weighing what to say next, not coming up with anything, just waiting.

"I got too close, Quin. It's my fault. It's holding him back now."

"That is pure crap. Neither one of you can be at fault; we're talking about a life-bond, aren't we?"

'I'm afraid so. But it's too soon for that. And he said-- Obi-Wan said he would refuse to be knighted! I had to --" the noble face crumpled. and was hidden by one large hand. Gentle sniffling sounds leaked out.

Quinlan stayed where he was. What a mess these two were in. He could shake Obi-Wan for being such a dunderhead, for hurting this fine man, but then again, that wouldn't help anything.

No, the more he thought about it, the best thing he could do was exactly what he was doing anyway.

"Qui."

Qui-Gon lowered his hand, uncrumpled his blue, blue eyes enough to look down at the tableau of Quinlan Vos, night-dark hair spread against the chair, hips turned to one side, golden yellow tattoos against the reddish skin, dark whiskers shadowing the full red lips.

"Stop blubbering and kiss me."

That was worth a chuckle. Qui-Gon stretched out next to Quin on the floor by the chair, his belly on the carpeting. Quin rolled him over so that they were facing one another. Qui-Gon caught up one of his hands, kissed the unwrapped fingertips. Quin shivered and gently pulled the hand away.

"You know, I worry about Aayla."

"She's getting a bit too cuddly?"

"Precisely. What do I do?" Qui-Gon laughed.

"I would say, in light of my past history with my padawans, that you are asking exactly the wrong person."

"I don't know about that-- you weren't life-bonded with Xanatos, were you?"

"Oh, no. He was in love with me, though. When I kept away from him, it made things worse. He started doing things he knew would hurt me, as well as himself."

"Then it wasn't love anymore."

"I think it could have remained love, if I had handled it differently, Quin. But I still don't know what I should have done instead. I can tell you what not to do, though. Don't treat her like I did poor Xani."

"Which is--?"

"I withdrew emotionally. Our padawan bond suffered. He used to try to compel me with the bond, so I nearly shut it down completely." Quin's eyes widened in shock at that. He couldn't imagine such a thing. And he'd always been able to communicate with Aayla; it was how he had found her as a baby.

"No danger of that, Qui."

"All right, then. I believe that if you continue to love her, the Force will sort out the details. No better advice from me than that."

"Well, we both know that Obi-Wan has it in him to be a knight, so then the Force will sort out you two, as well, eh?" Quin's fingers were in that silky hair again. Qui-Gon turned his face and kissed them again. Quin snatched them away and grabbed double fistfuls of that hair, drawing that face to his.

His rough tongue began to tenderize Qui-Gon's lips, even as the pull on his hair was increased. He was applying his entire body to Qui- Gon's like a poultice. One leg wrapped around Qui's body, the heel knocking against his behind.

Qui-Gon grabbed his own handful of Quin's hair, pulling Quin back, so he could speak.

"Is this pity sex?"

"You bet it is," replied Master Vos, diving at his mouth again. Qui decided to accept charity for a change.

Aayla was busy dreaming about her handsome knight-master, who had carried her away to be a Jedi with him forever in the stars, when the pleasure started leaking through her bond with him. It had happened before, of course; it was what her dreams were woven of. He was with someone-- that way. He didn't care about a kid like her-- that way. But maybe someday...Perhaps she could be more like what he enjoyed. Cautiously, she sent her awareness toward her master along their bond. And received a great shock.

He was with a man! Oh no. Siri Tachi she could hope to compete with, but not a huge burly man. Better quit being silly over him. He loved her only as his padawan, clearly. She sighed and hugged herself, violet eyes moist. There were lots of other Jedi in the galaxy. She would find the right one, someday.

The same leakage was reaching Obi-Wan through his bond with Qui-Gon Jinn. He was perfectly aware of who was making love to his dear master. Certainly he should be relieved. Quin was a known quantity, not some anonymous hired slut. Much better than it could have been. If only he didn't hurt all over. He would follow that bond accross Ord Mantell, burst in on them, and ravish them both-- oh who was he kidding? He'd kick Quin in the teeth, pry his spy fingers off his property... he had it bad. And it was a mercy he was too sick to make a move, until he could actually carry out his good and loving intentions instead.

He tried to lose himself in the Force, instead of sensing the joy, that Qui-Gon was giving to someone else. And the Force reminded him, pitilessly, of all the times his poor master had been obliged to experience his escapades at second hand. What goes around comes around. Force, he had been a brat sometimes. And Force at last let him fall into a recuperating sleep.

Meanwhile, Quinlan Vos was having a wonderful time mastering a fellow master. The only complication was that Qui-Gon had discovered how extremely vulnerable he was in the fingers, and had begun to lick them at every opportunity.

He had bent Qui-Gon over the padded chair in order to enjoy his ass. He was biting at it now. He felt great satisfaction viewing the imprints of his teeth there, enjoyed lapping at the root of Qui-Gon as he forced apart those massive, fragrant legs. But in exchange for the privelege, Qui held one of his hands hostage.

He blew hot breath over Qui's opening,to make him shiver. His free hand applied saliva to the place, tickled the tightness of it. And in retaliation, Qui-Gon licked his fingers, again. Quin moaned as it traveled up his arm, straight to the root of him. The root of him could wait no longer, and he plunged into Qui-Gon.

If not for the captive hand, he would have fallen over backward at the intensity of it. Nobody had been here before him. Qui-Gon was arching backward, too, like a riding beast about to throw him off, yet he pulled Quin closer via the hand he still held. Quin grabbed a good handful of Qui-Gon's hair as it if were the reins.

Slowly they came back down. Qui-Gon was panting, as if he had been running. Quinlan pulled his hair to the side, to see his face.

"Is it good?"

Blue eyes met deep brown. Qui-Gon lowered Quin's hand down to his own shaft, and it twitched. "It is good."

So Quin moved, just a little. Qui-Gon began his groundquake trembling. And that was the end of control. He began to yank mercilessly at Qui-Gon's shaft, yelling and rocking as if charging down a battlefield. Qui-gon tried to rip the hand and arm out of the socket. Quin came, but it only served to ease his continued thrusting. Qui-Gon yelled out too, and at last released Quin's hand so that both could wrap around his waist.

Back onto the floor they fell, Quin still thrusting, kneading at Qui- Gon's sticky belly, biting at his shoulders. Qui-Gon moaned, and rolled onto his stomach, Quin still in him and still rocking and thrusting and biting and making red marks--

Red marks. Blood. Obi-Wan. Quinlan was instantly overcome with disgust at himself. This was the beast. He didn't want to be like this. He rolled away from the other man, onto his back.

"What is it, Quin? Why did you stop?" Qui-Gon had roused himself sufficiently to regard him with forthright blue eyes. He was untroubled by this-- this--

"I hate this."

"This what?"

"This part of me." The young Kiffar had rolled so that his face was completely hidden in his inky hair. Qui-Gon reached, found his chin, pulled his face around. The dark eyes were bleak and dull. He feared himself.

Qui-Gon was puzzled. He had to get to the bottom of this, and not being a Kiffar himself, he would have to ask, not touch. Though touch could soothe.

"Let us adjourn to the fresher and investigate this," he suggested. Quin did not answer, but he got up and followed.

In the small enclosure streaming with warm water, Qui-Gon sudsed down the younger man, who listlessly reciprocated, giving evidence that his discomfort was not with Qui-Gon. As the lathering compound flowed down the drain, Qui attempted banter.

"This part you mention, have I lathered it sufficiently?" Quin gamely smiled at the jest, and tried to explain.

"I discovered the beast in me, when Obi-Wan and I were fooling around with that pleasure artefact on Ragoon VI. The thing wreaked havoc on my psychometric abilities. When it was running, I felt so out of control. I could never remember to turn it off again-- Obi- Wan had to do it. And a few times I had the urge to harm him. To eat him, actually," and he turned shamed eyes to Obi's master. Who was looking speculatively at nothing, recalling the past. Then he met Quin's eyes again.

"I believe I witnessed something like that, yes."

"I was all ready to slaughter him and lick up the blood!" Quin felt a tiny bit better just confessing it, though it was still disgusting. But Qui-Gon was not echoing his sentiment.

"There is an element of predation in the sexual urge, Quinlan. Take the fact that when two are coupling, one must always submit to the other, to some extent, even if that changes back and forth throughout the entire act.

" The one who submits is consenting to act as prey. It is altruism, for the species to survive. Some species actually involve killing in the sex act, but it does not make sense usually for the one who submits to actually be killed. If that were so, the species would die out for lack of offspring, as the one who submits is usually the one impregnated."

He gave this speech without a trace of facetiousness. This was all very interesting, but what about wanting to kill your friends? Doubt was written plainly upon his face still, so Qui-Gon took him by the shoulders.

"The device was too powerful for you; it let you look into yourself too deeply. But that device is not here now. You have wisely avoided it. And I do not fear you, Quinlan. I saw what you were doing to Obi- wan, and wished to be in his place. I was hoping for it, excited by it.

Go ahead; eat me."

That caused a smile to curve that red mouth at last. Quin reached out, dug his nails into Qui-Gon's back, and started to feast.

He began with the neck, pressing his tongue against the hot pulse, sucking up a row of red bruisings, combing the dampness with his teeth out of that small beard. He left tooth patterns upon the trapezius, that was like a mountain slope. Qui-Gon had thrown his head back to facilitate it all, and had begun panting in arousal.

Quin bit at the lower lip to pull the mouth down to him, and began again to delve into that moist cavern with his tongue. The other man's tongue he made as if to chew up, for it seemed to him a great delicacy, but in the end, the saliva that sprang up around it was tastier still, so that was how he slaked his thirst.

Qui-Gon was crushing him tightly to his chest now, so Quin rose to his toes and pressed down upon the shoulders of Qui, to access his forehead. He licked each winging brow, each eyelid, bit at the nose so forceful and distinctive, then tongued his way down face and neck again. He let himself slide down the wet chest hairs, rubbing them against his nipples lasciviously on the way.

He slid with as much friction as he could, and Qui-Gon released his grip to appreciate that friction, slowly, eyes half shut, until Quin was on his knees and digging fingers into Qui-Gon's rear.

But when at last he took Qui-Gon into his mouth, he relased that hold, in order to comb at the base of Qui's organ with his fingernails, as if herding his essence toward the tip. With his rough tongue he massaged the lower surface of that magnificent length, and swallowed the tip.

He stopped to take a breath, the breeze of it over Qui-Gon's length causing him to shiver, and swallowed again. Then he withdrew, pursing his lips around the tip, rolling his eyes up to see Qui- Gon's reaction.

Qui-Gon was looking down incredulously at those dark eyes, those red lips, at himself vanishing into them. Then, as his trembling began, he fisted his hands in Quin's abundant hair and let Quin grab his buttocks and slam him down. He groaned in release, then again as Quin sucked out every last drop.

He was the one sliding now, down the fresher wall. Quin was there to catch him. He spread Qui-Gon's legs wide and impaled him again.

Again, thought the master vaguely to himself. I truly am the prey tonight.

With Qui-Gon's back against the wall, the penetration was not particularly deep. But the view-- Quin paused to enjoy the panorama of Qui-Gon Jinn spread out before him. He felt great satisfaction in running his nails over the massive thighs, so smooth and pale, surrounding him, the balls in their nest of hair above where he was docked, the spent eel of Qui's manhood curving to one side, the tapestry of grey and brown hairs around the navel, the rosy nipples, the equally rosy bite marks on the collarbone--

Nostrils flaring, he grabbed Qui-Gon by the small of the back and pulled him closer. He rocked back to sit cross-legged, the better to thrust deeper, almost directly upward. His prey gasped, and ground Quin's face into his chest. Quin latched onto a nipple and bit. Qui- Gon cried out, and Quinlan came--

And came to with Qui-Gon kneeling over him. The tang of blood was on his teeth, but Qui-Gon was kissing him anyway, into the fresher floor. The older man saw his eyes open, and pulled him to his feet, was lathering him all over again. This was so wonderful. He must be dreaming. No, he had just had his ass pinched.

"Master Jinn, would you consider sleeping here?"

"I had already decided to do that, Master Vos. I want to be here for breakfast." This he stated while wrapping his hands around very private portions of Quinlan Vos. And with gentle tugs upon those portions, he led the younger man out of the fresher and toward the bed.

Quinlan, as he drifted off, thought he would enjoy being breakfast.