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Pairing: Q/O

Rating: NC-17

Notes: Please don't get squiggy about using food

Second Note: This is a GREAT idea, Dark Angel. I can't wait to read all of them!

Obi-Wan looked up from where he was chopping vegetables to see his bondmate coming in the door. Qui-Gon looked weary. Ever since they had returned from their last mission, the Council had seen fit to give them a `rest' by assigning them to duties in the Temple. Their mission had been to teach martial arts to a large planetary army. It had long been the philosophy of the Jedi that a show of strength was often the best path to peace. Planets seldom engaged in warfare if both could be annihilated in the process. Long hours and a lot of physical exercise had combined to make them both look forward to a rest.

But the Council's idea of rest was the Jedi pair's idea of utter boredom. Obi-Wan spent his days in the Archives, cataloguing and cross referencing other Jedi knights and master's reports of their diplomatic missions. Qui-Gon spent his days teaching basic light saber techniques to groups of pre-padawan children, all of whom were full of the Force, but who lacked the ability to control their skills. Whatever Obi-Wan suffered for his isolation in the Archives was exceeded by what Qui-Gon suffered at the hands of thirty rambunctious children. Then there were the obligatory meetings. Dull drivel, petty squabbles, unimportant decisions to be made. But time consuming.

All of which had conspired to make them both bored, short tempered and irritable. Even their love making had gotten to be routine. A quick release after a short preparation. It was getting harder and harder (forgive the pun) to be enthusiastic about their couplings.

Obi-Wan put cheese and pear slices on a plate and put it on the table. There hadn't been but enough tea leaves for one cup, but Obi- Wan had let it brew longer, trying to extend it to two, but the resulting brew was weak at best. He had been too tired to go into the city, and had taken what he could find at the quartermaster's shop, ending up with persalja and gronsallat leaves, which were more than a little wilted and some carrots and yarrow root.

Qui-Gon sat down and inspected the choices before him. "Is this the best you could do?" he asked querulously.

"Hey, if you don't like my cooking, you are welcome to do it instead."

"This isn't cooking. This is just moving things from one place to another." Qui-Gon said. "Is there anything else in the kitchen."

"You can always go into the city when you get through with the brats and get whatever you're hungry for. It might be nice for a change." Obi-Wan simpered at his startled companion. "But then you can't cook at all, can you?"

"I think I could do better than this," Qui-Gon winced as he took a sip of the tea. "What else is there here?"

Obi-Wan flounced back into the kitchen and Qui-Gon could hear the cooler doors open. "Okay, there are three sticks of butter. A banana. And half a jar of olives. Hmm. Let me see. There's some ice cream in the freezer, but I expect it's a bit icy since it's been here since the last Senate election. And a bottle of vodka." The freezer door slammed shut. "You could drink your dinner. There are several bottles of wine in here. Or maybe some stale sweetrolls. You brought those back from the commissary. What was it? Four days ago? I don't know what life form has taken up residence in the left over chicken, but you're welcome to find out if you want to."

The cooler door slammed shut and cabinet doors started crashing about. "There's some peanut butter. And jam. But no bread. And a jar of bantha milk. I don't know how that got in here. And a full packet of sugar. Maybe that would sweeten you up."

Obi-Wan came back to the table and sat down, spreading his napkin daintily on his lap and taking up his fork. "If you don't like what I've laid out for you, go get yourself something else." But his hand froze in mid-air.

"Did I hear you say `laid' just now?" Qui-Gon asked in perfectly reasonable tone.

Jerking against the Force hold, Obi-Wan said "Quit it."

But Qui-Gon didn't quit. Obi-Wan tried to use his other hand to move the frozen one, but his napkin drifted up out of his lap and wrapped itself around both wrists, tying them together tight. "I don't know what in the name of Sith you think you are doing, but let me go. Now."

Qui-Gon just smiled. Obi-Wan hated that particular smile. Superior, condescending and sneaky all at the same time. Qui-Gon smirked down at his struggling mate. "What's the matter, love?" he crooned evilly.

Obi-Wan started to rise, but found that he could not. It was as if a very heavy weight had been placed in his lap. Qui-Gon rose slowly, knowing Obi-Wan was watching his every move, and, taking his napkin with him, went behind Obi-Wan's chair. He tied the napkin carefully across Obi-Wan's eyes, blinding him completely.

"What the fuck. Let me go, you . . ."

Qui-Gon carefully removed the fork from Obi-Wan's hand. "I don't think you need a weapon. Or do you?" His voice was utterly calm, but Obi-Wan knew that tone of voice and it didn't bode well. It was the tone of voice that Qui-Gon used during diplomatic negotiations right before he lowered the proverbial boom.

Ob-Wan wriggled against the bonds, but to no avail. He often resented Qui-Gon's superior mastery of the finer uses of the Force, and this was one of them. "This isn't funny," he insisted. "What are you going to do? Leave me here blindfolded and tied up while you go to a diner in the city? You could have just said you wanted to go out and I'd have gone with you." There was no answer. "Let me go. Please."

Obi-Wan could feel that Qui-Gon had moved. He could hear the cooler and cabinet doors opening and closing in the kitchen. Then Obi-Wan felt a warm hand under his chin, lifting it up. "Open wide, my love," he was instructed.

"What are you. . .." but his words were stopped by the flow of wine into his mouth. He sputtered, half swallowing and half spitting. "I said quit it." Obi-Wan could hear the whine in his voice and he hated it. He hated it that Qui-Gon could get to him like this.

"Oh, my dear, we're going to have some dinner together." Qui-Gon's tone of voice hadn't changed. He could have been talking to one of his students. "A nice dinner. Just the two of us. Like every other bonded couple on a weekday night. Tired from our labors." The mouth of the bottle was pressed against Obi-Wan's lips, and Qui-Gon forced his head back until the mouth opened. Obi-Wan was ready this time, and he swallowed quickly as the liquid flowed into his mouth. "Yes, tired. Nothing like the comforts of home. The thrill of another uninterrupted evening alone." Another bottle, this one much colder. Vodka poured into Obi-Wan's mouth, syrupy from the freezer, burning its way down his gullet as he was forced to swallow.

When he could catch his breath, Obi-Wan seethed "This isn't funny Qui- Gon."

"Oh, but it is, my love," Qui-Gon said. "Open wide."

"Kiss my. . .." but Obi-Wan's words were stifled when something sweet and soppy was stuffed into his mouth. The sweet rolls. Dunked in wine. Surprisingly, it didn't taste all that bad after all. He obediently chewed and swallowed. Obi-Wan's mind was rushing, trying to think up an appropriate revenge.

//Nope. Not gonna work, love,// he heard projected into his thoughts. The chair he was sitting in was abruptly pulled back from the table. A warm wet tongue caressed the rim of his ear, dipping lazily into the canal, thrusting in and out. If he hadn't been so furious, that would have felt really good. The tongue moved down his chin and back up to the other ear, which was given the same treatment. Obi-Wan felt a moan rising in the back of his throat, but he wouldn't give Qui-Gon the satisfaction. He caught the moan, and made his breathing even back out.

"Ah, you liked that. Didn't you, my little one?" Qui-Gon was crooning into the ear as he nibbled on the lobe. The tongue drifted across Obi-Wan's lips, but he drew his own tight, denying the tongue entrance. "Oh, that's not nice," Qui-Gon said, still using that reasonable teacher voice. "Shame on you."

Fingers were pulling at the fastenings to his tunics. Obi-Wan tried to wriggle away, but he only succeeded in helping the fingers even more, so he sat still. Cool air brushed across his chest. Fingers brushed across his nipples. He could stop a moan, but he couldn't stop his flesh from reacting to the touch, and the nipples rose in response to the delicate touch. Then that warm wet mouth was suckling on one, drawing it in and tickling it with the tip of the tongue. Repeatedly. Obi-Wan wanted to push his chest forward into that mouth, but, again, he refused to let his body take over.

The mouth continued it's journey down the center of Obi-Wan's chest while fingers were untying his leggings. It fixed on the tip of the penis, freed as the leggings were pushed down, the tongue lightly lapping at the slit. The penis was betraying its owner by responding, by quickly filling and standing erect. "That's better," Qui-Gon crooned. "See? Much better."

Obi-Wan felt strong broad hands under his arms as he was pulled up out of the chair. His leggings fell down to his knees and his bare bottom was lifted onto what felt like the edge of the table. Yup, it was the table. He could hear Qui-Gon pushing the few dishes and utensils away.

"Why Obi-Wan! No panties?" Qui-Gon teased. His boots and the leggings were pulled off his feet. Obi-Wan knew he should have worn undergarments today, but he hadn't gotten to the laundry and he'd worn his last clean pair the day before. And it felt better not to anyway. He certainly hadn't expected that anyone would ever know.

Obi-Wan decided that Qui-Gon might release him if he thought he was cooperating. "Come on, big boy," he purred. "What's next? Let me strip you down."

Qui-Gon laughed. "What, and untie you. Nice try."

Obi-Wan growled. A hand in the center of his chest pushed his back down onto the table top, his legs hanging over the edge. He couldn't see it, but he was sure that his traitorous penis was standing straight up. A cold wet hand enclosed it. Obi-Wan hissed.

"Just a little ice cream, love. Won't matter that it's a bit old." The cold stuff was smeared all over his groin. And a tongue started to lap it up. First out of the curls at the base of the shaft. Then off the smooth leathery scrotum. The tongue dipped behind the scrotum, strong hands holding his legs apart. The tongue teased around his tight entrance and Obi-Wan gasped. Involuntarily, his hips thrust toward the tongue.

Qui-Gon chuckled. "Not yet. You gotta ask, first. Politely."

"Hrrumph!" was all Obi-Wan could say. Then the tongue started on the hard shaft. Long slow licks from base to tip. About the time Obi-Wan thought that the wonderful warm mouth would engulf him, the tongue left him and he felt himself turned over onto his stomach. What now, he thought.

He could feel the cheeks of his ass being spread apart. "No, Qui- Gon. Don't," he tried to say, but he couldn't move and could barely get out his whispered protest. Something small and round was pressed into his anus. Something cold. He could feel it just inside himself. Then the mouth was there. Licking at his entrance, sucking on the tight muscle ring, the hands pulling him open, exposing him. Whatever had been put in was sucked back out.

"Mmmm. Kenobi flavoured olives." Qui-Gon munched and swallowed. Another small round thing was pressed into him. "Want one?" Qui-Gon asked, but before Obi-Wan could answer, the mouth was there again, sucking, teasing, probing, pulling, until the olive had been sucked back out. Then the mouth left him again, and he could tell that Qui- Gon was chewing, savoring the salty treat.

"Please. . ." Obi-Wan almost moaned.

"Please, what?" Qui-Gon asked, but again, another olive went into Obi-Wan and this time, the tongue probed deeply to push it in further, and the mouth sucked harder to pull it back out. It was maddening. Blissfully maddening. Obi-Wan felt the hands leave his ass, and about the time he was ready to cave in and beg for more, a breath brushed across his cheek and soft tender lips sought entrance to his mouth. He opened his lips to the seeking tongue, and felt an olive passed quickly into his mouth. He was chewing on it before he knew what he was doing. Not bad.

"Do you want some wine to wash it down?" Qui-Gon asked. Obi-Wan nodded, and felt himself lifted and supported with one strong arm while the bottle was put to his lips. He drank deeply and swallowed gratefully. He hadn't realized that he'd gotten a lump in his throat. He was gently lowered back to the table and the hands stroked his back softly, sweetly.

"Please, what?" Qui-Gon asked again, but this time his voice was husky, not the teasing playful tone from before.

"Please fuck me," Obi-Wan whispered.

"But I haven't used the peanut butter and jam yet. And I'm still hungry."

"Please," Obi-Wan implored. "Oh, gods, please."

"Are you sure?" Obi-Wan felt fingers at his entrance. Slicked with oil. No, he'd bet money it was the butter.

"Yes," he hissed. The fingers teased and probed, stretching and pulling. First one, then two. Twisting and scissoring inside him, pressing deeper. Struggling, Obi-Wan pulled his arms underneath his chin, still tied at the wrists. A fingertip flicked across his prostate and he bit hard on the knot to keep himself from screaming. His penis was crushed against the table, but when he tried to squirm to give himself some much needed friction, the hands held him fast.

"More, please," he begged. And his wish was granted. The fingers were back, inside him, moving in and out, moving around. Stretching him. As bad as he wanted to push hard against those teasing digits, he knew that if he did, Qui-Gon would stop. Qui-Gon was in control now, and Obi-Wan had to let him have his way.

The hands withdrew and Obi-Wan held very still, waiting, hoping that his satisfaction was close to hand. Something blunt pressed into him. Not as big as Qui-Gon's penis at all. Softer. "What. . .?" he cried out startled.

"Banana. My half." The mouth was back, sucking and pulling, until all traces of the banana had been consumed.

Obi-Wan couldn't help himself. It wasn't enough. "Oh, please, Master. I want to come," he pleaded.

"Quite polite, my hungry padawan." Sometimes, reverting to their former titles said it all. Obi-Wan felt himself being lifted off the table into Qui-Gon's arms and carried. As much as he didn't like it when Qui-Gon used his superior strength to tie him up and hold him down, he did like it when the big man held him in his arms. He could feel the bed give below him as he was laid out carefully.

"Please, untie me. I won't try to get away."

His arms were pulled over his head, and he realized that he was sideways on the bed, and that the napkin binding his wrists was now over the bedpost. "No, my love," Qui-Gon hummed into his ear, licking the rim and lobe gently. "Not yet." He could hear rustling, then Qui-Gon joined him in the bed, his warm silky body pressed up against his lover.

"Do you want to share or am I eating this meal alone?"

"Hmm?"

Qui-Gon shifted in the bed and Obi-Wan could feel the weight of Qui- Gon's body looming over him. The tip of a rampant huge erection was pressed against his lips and he willingly opened his mouth, his tongue pressing forward to push back the foreskin and tease the crown.

"You aren't going to bite me, are you?"

Obi-Wan nipped at the edge of the foreskin with his teeth. But all teasing stopped when he felt his own erection taken into Qui-Gon's mouth, hot and deep. His hips thrust forward automatically as he drew Qui-Gon's penis deeply into his own mouth. Obi-Wan didn't have much ability to move in this position, but Qui-Gon set a slow steady pace for both of them, his cock pressing in to Obi-Wan's mouth as his own mouth descended onto Obi-Wan's hungry shaft. Faster and faster they pumped until Obi-Wan came first, releasing Qui-Gon from that delicious suction as he cried out with his orgasm. Frustrated and seeking a quick completion, Qui-Gon took his own saliva slicked penis in hand, and with just a few short jerks, brought himself over the edge, spurting his release onto Obi-Wan's chest, then toppling over onto his side.

Both men lay panting with their exertions as the last waves of shudders passed through them. The napkin that bound Obi-Wan's wrists loosened and fell to the pillow as Obi-Wan's arms were released.

Qui-Gon shifted up in the bed to untie the blindfold. He wasn't sure what to expect. Anger, satisfaction? He hoped for the latter. The blue-green eyes that came open as the cloth was removed shined with love and a grin spread across that beloved face.

"Not fair," Obi-Wan teased. "You got your dinner, but mine is all over my chest." He trailed a finger through the milky fluid and brought it to his lips, his tongue sliding out sinuously to lick the fingertip. "Now it's cold and I like it hot."

"Well, there's still the peanut butter and jam in the kitchen. I expect that you'll think of some way to eat it without bread. Or maybe the other half of the banana. And I'll have time to recuperate while you do your cooking."

Obi-Wan sat up on the side of the bed, pulling off his tunics and tossing them aside. "Oh, I think I like it just fine when you pick the menu," he quipped as he headed for the kitchen.

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