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Pairing: Q/O

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: none. This is as fluffy as Tem-ve PWPs will ever get :)

Series: Masters Leandra and Raina's "50 Ways to Screw Your Lover" challenge... here we go again!!

Notes: clearing out one's wardrobe can be inspiring. I had no idea I had the item described in this fic, even though mine is pale yellow.

It was not exactly late when I came home from a friendly heads-together with Padawan Lae and her recently-Knighted brother – and yet my Master wasn't there to greet me, in his usual early-evening spot on the low couch in the common room, his too-long legs sprawled all over the table in front of it, a slightly self-conscious smile flitting across his face... no, he wasn't here. Hadn't been there. When I came home.

That was almost twenty minutes ago. For almost twenty minutes, I've been standing here, transfixed.

Staring at my Master.

He is kneeling on the floor in his usual meditation pose, knees slightly apart, sitting back on his heels, hands resting easily on his massive thighs. His eyes are closed, his mouth open slightly, breath flowing in and out slowly, silently. His hair is unbound, streaming over his shoulders like snakes, like he's washed it and let it dry just like that, without a thought of combing, my thoughtless Master, lost in the Living Force.

Or it might still be wet – it's hard to tell through the veil.

He's covered from head to toe by the most delicate translucent material, draped casually over his kneeling form and flowing to the floor where it pools in soft greyish blue folds. And nothing else. The outline is perfect – a mountain of serenity if you will. His own little space. But how little space is left under that veil, shrinking into awkward nooks and folds next to Qui-Gon's easy, heavy-limbed grace.

It clings to him, resting softly against his bare skin, silently caressing the back of his shoulders, the bridge of his nose, the swell of his buttocks, the arches of his feet. It conceals nothing, not the little dark hairs on his forearms, not the lighter skin of his lower abdomen, softer now with age, but stretched over muscles he keeps in relentlessly good shape. Not the tiny nipples with their surprisingly large and dark aureoles that always taste too good to let go, of skin and salt and warmth and the wonder that is my Qui-Gon...

I could stand here and stare for the rest of my life. Or I could touch. And my hands have made the decision for me as I feel the cool smoothness of the veil over his face... his lips are like a brand, the heat a shock to my hungry fingertips. Throbbing with life. It feels otherworldly, that thin barrier of veil concealing and heightening the sensation of my lover's skin. Tingling against my fingertips. I can only imagine how it must feel for him, to be caressed through the filmy fabric. I can only imagine, for he's not showing any reaction at all.

About time I did something about that.

My hands are everywhere, and I wish they could be everywhere at the same time... the warmth of his own blunt fingertips where they rest against his hard thighs. The slight dampness on his back where his hair still hasn't quite dried. The eyelids, fluttering ever so slightly as if he was surfacing from a deep dream. The smoothly rounded muscles of his upper arms, so good to hold on to as I really can't resist the way his nipples pout at me through the veil, and I kiss them, taste the warmth of his skin through the coolness of the fabric, press my lips to the warm little nubs and flick my tongue across the moist satiny nipples, blowing cool gentle breaths through the translucent veil as it clings to his skin and watching the little brown nubs rise ever so slightly. Oh, I take a good long time trying to decide which of the two little beauties deserves more of my attention... they are just too delicious, and I nibble and lick to my heart's content, nuzzling against the firm warm chest, rubbing my face into the cool filmy veil and the delicious body it so barely covers. I hear his heart thudding heavily when I do that. And I feel his breath coming faster now. Oh yes, someone is definitely awake now. Even if he's not letting on.

With a teasing grin that's all for myself, I blow one last icy breath on those cute nipples and nuzzle and nibble my way down, following the faint line of hair down his taut stomach. Oh – yes. Yes, somebody is definitely awake. Awake and hardening.

Slowly, as if his eyes could snap open any time now, I crouch down and lower my head between his legs until my face rests against his groin, cradled between those beautiful strong thighs, pressed up against his rising cock, separated only by the sheer veil that paints his skin a shade of blue. I place a tender, almost reverent kiss on the head of his cock, and it twitches a little. And then some more as the puff of breath I'd let out in amusement chills the moistened sensitive skin. Oh, this sounds good. Too good.

Trailing both hands up the insides of his thighs, I grasp the shaft firmly in one fist, cupping his balls in the other. Oh, silky. I can feel the pulse of blood in his still-rising cock, the head peeking out of my grasp, darkening the veil with a small drop of fluid. I lick it off, thoroughly. Just little licks, small kisses, delicate swipes of tongue against the silky flesh in my grasp, until the thin bluish material is plastered against the head of his cock, leaving nothing to the imagination. I flex my fingers, squeezing the hard shaft and tightening my hold on his balls, gloriously heavy and hot in my hand, lick the slit of his cock with just the tip of my tongue, tiny tiny licks barely moving downwards to where he is most sensitive, teasing, tickling licks to his veiled flesh.

His moan is most gratifying, and my pleased chuckle sends a shudder through his whole body as my breath chills his wet tip. Oh he is so beautiful like that, resurfacing from the depths of meditation to find himself enveloped in physical lust, and it's almost like he opens up, like a savage flower, and he's fully there in an instant, thrusting into my fist with a ragged moan, seeking my mouth, seeking release. His hands are still resting against his thighs, but his fingernails are white from digging into his own flesh. Holding on.

Holding on, I kiss the very tip of his cock, slowly opening my mouth to swallow the head, swirling my tongue around the moist fabric clinging so tightly to his warm engorged flesh. Slowly, ever so slowly I increase the suction, keeping a tight hold on his balls, keeping them from drawing up, just a little longer, a little more...

My vision goes blue as I find my face wrapped in the filmy veil, Qui-Gon's hands hard at the back of my head, pushing me down on that hard throbbing cock and it's taut, the fabric stretched around my head and the firm moistened flesh filling my mouth, the barrier of veil barely there as he fucks my mouth relentlessly, the brute strength of his hands holding me captive, face wrapped in the veil, pressed against his groin, gagged with the sheer glorious throbbing flesh that is my Master's cock. I moan, and the sound escapes as a muffled groan, desperately needy and undignified and earth-shatteringly horny. He rams his hardness into my mouth once more, and a deep moan from above announces his release moments before his thick salty come begins to seep through the clinging fabric, onto my tongue. I lap it up greedily, licking him clean until only a faint stain of wetness on the material around his groin betrays what transpired through the veil.

When he pushes me away just a tiny bit, I instinctively know it is to lift the veil and draw me under it. Tangled in translucent blue folds, wrapped up in my masterly lover's hands and arms and legs, I feel truly held, owned and loved.

I feel like I have just come home.

---The End---

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