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Pairing: Qui-Gon/Obi-Wan

Category: PWP

Rating: NC-17

Archive: m_a

Feedback: are you kidding? Of course!

Disclaimer: The boys belong to George Lucas. Sadly, he makes all the money there is to be made out of them.

Thanks: to the Emu for her patient kind assistance and to Sharkie. I'm learning, guys, just bear with me here.

Qui-Gon returned to the quarters and dropped his pack on the floor. "I'm home. Obi-Wan?"

There was no response. He looked into the two bedrooms and fresher, but the quarters were empty. Qui-Gon was not exactly irritated, just a little put out. His bond-mate had checked with him earlier today to confirm his time of arrival and had assured Qui-Gon that he would be home.

In the kitchen, Qui-Gon brewed himself a cup of tea, added sugar and milk, taking a sip to test the temperature. Too hot. He blew across the top, and started back into the common room with his mug. As he was walking out of the kitchen, he saw a note on the table. "Sorry. Had to run take care of something. Be home soon."

Qui-Gon wondered what would take his beloved away from quarters when they had spent the previous three weeks apart. Not that the three weeks before his departure had been any thrill, but he still expected to find his mate home, waiting for him. He debated whether to unpack or stretch out on the sofa, and opted for the tea and his datapad. Might as well get a start on his report, and the laundry could wait for later. His bones needed a rest after hours of confinement on the transport.

A couple of hours later, the report was finished. He had made more than a good start but there was still no sign Obi-Wan. It was uncharacteristic of his love to not com him if he was going to be late. Looking out the window, Qui-Gon saw that it was now full dark. The data pad indicated that it was already past tenth hour.

A few weeks before he left on this last mission, he and Obi-Wan had had a stupid little argument and both of them had carried the grudge. When he approached his lover with a sweet kiss, he was told that it wasn't a good time. He retaliated. When Obi-Wan had snuggled up behind him in bed, pressing a full erection between the cheeks of his arse, he had said he was tired and needed sleep. Qui- Gon had felt bad about rebuffing Obi-Wan, and the next evening, as they sat on the sofa watching a holovid, he had tried to take his hand in his own, playing with the fingers lightly. Obi-Wan had snatched his hand back without a word. The night before he left on the mission, Obi-Wan had started to say something as they got ready for bed, but Qui-Gon had turned his back, and Obi-Wan had simply climbed silently into his side of the bed.

After six weeks, Qui-Gon couldn't even remember what had started this impasse. No, that wasn't right. He didn't want to remember. Obi- Wan had said something about his name day coming up, and Qui-Gon had not wanted to be reminded that he was getting older. He didn't appreciate the teasing. Obi-Wan, so many years his junior, hadn't understood, and had kept teasing, calling him and "old man" and saying things like "well, at least you can still perform," indicating that if he could accomplish that at a similar age, he would be grateful to the Force. Qui-Gon knew it was silly of him, but his feelings had been hurt.

This was what Qui-Gon got for bonding to a much younger man. He had been warned. He couldn't ever say he hadn't. Before their bonding ceremony, he had been teased unmercifully, especially by Master Yoda, who took great delight in his discomfort. "Keep up with the youngster, you think you can? Hmmmm?" Qui-Gon had hated the look in those little green-gold eyes, but the twitch in the ears was even worse. It had been hard enough for him to make the decision to bond with his former padawan, a man half his age, without feeling like the whole Temple was wondering about his sexual prowess as well. It wasn't as if he wasn't fully aware of his difficulties in keeping up with his younger mate. A few hours in the sublevels was enough to wear him out, while Obi-Wan could go on all night.

Bonding ceremony. Oh, Sith. He'd forgotten. The anniversary of their bonding ceremony was a ten before his naming day. Three days ago. He hadn't remembered. He hadn't even commed home that day because he was wrapping up the negotiations and had been busy. No wonder Obi-Wan wasn't home. This was his personal form of revenge.

Qui-Gon paced the small quarters. On the one hand, he ought to apologize for forgetting to com Obi-Wan on their anniversary. On the other hand, Obi-Wan could have commed him. Obi-Wan shouldn't have made such a big deal out of his upcoming naming day, because he knew (or should have known) that Qui-Gon was sensitive on the subject. Their age disparity had been a topic of all their conversations leading up to the decision to undergo the bonding ceremony.

But then Qui-Gon knew he shouldn't have taken such offense – Obi-Wan meant no harm. He was young and to someone that age, the sensitivities of middle-age were beyond his grasp. But to Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan's relative youth was no excuse. If Obi-Wan had paid any attention to the signals through the bond, he would have backed off. He just wasn't listening. And after the argument, he couldn't listen, because he'd raised his shields. So Qui-Gon had raised his in return. Qui-Gon had been torturing himself with these thoughts for the past weeks. Experienced negotiator that he was, he kept coming back to trying to figure out a way to end the stalemate. They were both being childish about this, but who should be the one to take the first step? It was hard for him to acknowledge, even to himself, that even though he knew it was petty, he had his pride to consider. His very un-Jedi-like pride when it came to Obi-Wan.

But pride comes with its own punishments. Six weeks without any sex. If it was hard on an old man, he could imagine how hard it had been on his younger mate. Wrong thinking, Qui-Gon corrected himself. Obi-Wan had asked for it.

This mental debate had persisted for over an hour now; it was almost twelfth hour. And still no word from Obi-Wan.

"He's torturing me," Qui-Gon thought. He tried to feel through the bond, but there was just a firm black wall. Obi-Wan's shields were so high that he wouldn't even be able to tell that Qui-Gon was trying to reach him. "Well, the Force take him, I'm going to bed."

Qui-Gon had thought to pleasure himself that night, since it appeared he wasn't going to get any satisfaction from his mate, but when he touched himself, he felt no desire to continue. He couldn't get his anger and irritation with his mate off his mind and his attempts to give himself some pleasurable relief only exacerbated his frustration.

After an hour of tossing and turning alone in the cold bed, Qui-Gon gave up and sat up on the side. He tried another mental probe. Nothing. Now he was starting to get worried. A touch of fear began to creep into his mind. What if Obi-Wan had gone into the sub- levels? If he wasn't getting his sexual release from his bond-mate, would he seek it elsewhere? Other than missions, it was unusual for them to go more than a day or two without some form of mutual release. Six weeks. It was now the dead of night. Even if he had sought another partner, Obi-Wan would have made it home in time that Qui-Gon wouldn't have suspected.

Unless, of course, Obi-Wan wanted him to be jealous. "Was that the game?" Qui-Gon wondered. "Get me all hot and bothered so I would be the one to apologize. Force take him, it's his fault, not mine."

After another half hour of pacing the quarters, his mind going through all possibilities, Qui-Gon finally had to admit to himself that he was more worried than mad. It was very uncharacteristic of Obi-Wan to not give him any notice of where he had gone, and even more uncharacteristic of him not to at least let him know how much later he was going to be. And, despite their recent animosities, this level of shielding was most uncommon.

Despite the lateness of the hour, Qui-Gon decided to call Bant. If anyone knew where Obi-Wan had gone, she would be the one. He commed through, and got a very sleepy lady on the other end. No, she didn't know why Obi-Wan was so late. She heard him say something about going to the Mud Pie, but he should have been home by now.

"What's that?" Qui-Gon asked.

As sleepy as she was, Bant had diplomatic skills that befitted her level of training. She may have slipped and accidentally ratted on her friend. "It's just a bar. In the sublevels. You know. A place the older padawans and younger knights hang out sometimes. But I don't think he'd still be there. That is, if he ever went in the first place." Qui-Gon could tell from the tone of voice that there was much more to this, but that Bant wasn't about to tell him. He thanked her for her information and signed off. He'd just have to find out for himself.

Dressing quickly, Qui-Gon punched on his data pad and got the address for the Mud Pie. Way way down in the sublevels. No knight should have been there at this hour by himself. Those could be dangerous streets. Even well trained Jedi had been know to let their guards slip a little after a few drinks.

Maybe he was out with someone else. Man? Woman? Knight? Maybe not even a Jedi. That wasn't far from the pleasure districts. Would Obi- Wan opt for anonymous sex? Was that better than an affair? Although Qui-Gon knew these ideas were silly, and that Obi-Wan had never given him any reason for concern, but he couldn't help it that he Qui-Gon let these thoughts occupy his mind as he headed for the speeder pool. After all, it had shocked a lot of their friends that a young devastatingly handsome man like Obi-Wan, who could have had any sexual partner in the Temple, would opt to bond with an old battle- scarred guy like himself.

No one was on duty at this hour, so Qui-Gon punched his code into the first speeder in the line and took off. The lower into the sublevels he got, the nastier the places looked. Dingy. Blaring music out the doors. Disreputable characters hanging out on street corners and pouring out of the pubs and bars. Unconsciously, Qui-Gon touched his side, checking on his light saber. Safety off.

Arriving at the address, Qui-Gon saw only a door with a neon sign hanging tilted on the wall above it. "The Mud Pie" blinked off and on, flashing purple to red. It was at the end of a cul de sac, and no one was around. Qui-Gon went around the block to park the speeder, locking it carefully, and headed back to the door on foot. The minute the door opened, he was almost knocked down by the noise. Hard rock music and a lot of screaming. The Gelf at the door held his hand out without a word.

"You don't want to charge me a door fee?" Qui-Gon asked, using a touch of the Force to get past, realizing that he hadn't brought any credits with him.

"I don't want to charge you a door fee," the Gelf said, waiving Qui- Gon down the dark smelly passage. Booze, urine, sweat and something else he couldn't quite place. At the end of the passage was another door, and he braced himself before opening it. He was right. The noise and the smells were even worse in here.

On the far side of the room was a bar, with tables on concentric tiers, leading down to a pit of some kind in the middle. The bar was on the upper tier, packed several beings deep. Everyone sitting at the tables was shouting, waving paper squares in their hands. Now Qui-Gon could place the smell. Quicksand. From the swamps of Naboo. Gungan territory. The pit in the middle was filled with the muddy- looking slime that would suck a being down in a fraction of a second. Several beings occupied the pit, and as one would come up for air, another would drag him back down again. And the cheers would get louder, wilder.

Qui-Gon saw an empty table near the pit and headed for it. A Gungan with large breasts prominently displayed in a bustier, her only other apparel being a very skimpy black apron with pockets heaving with credit sticks, started to block his way. Using another touch of the Force, Qui-Gon said "You want me to sit down there, near the pit."

"Here, Sir. Let meesa show you to your seat. You can sit here, near the pit," she said. Then she wandered off, shaking her head, wondering why she wanted to put a Jedi (they never tipped well, you know) at one of the best tables.

The figures in the pit continued to writhe and squirm. Qui-Gon counted four beings in there, but he couldn't tell what race or manner of beings they were for all the lumpy slime that coated their bodies. But he could tell that they were all male, and mostly aroused. When the smallest of the beings took a hit, or slid back into the slime, the crowd became enthusiastic. When he overcame one of the other beings, the crowd hissed and booed. And whenever he got near the edge of the pit and made to get out, all three of the beings would grab him and pull him back.

Qui-Gon watched the mud match for another fifteen minutes. He caught the eye of a waitress, and she approached him warily, not at all sure why a Jedi was there, much less at such a good table.

"Wha du ya want, Jedi?" she asked.

Qui-Gon bowed slightly to her. "I wish to know how long each match lasts," he said.

There was not going to be any tip out of this big guy, she could see that. Just another one of the Temple rats slumming down here and asking questions. "No match. Dey keep goin' `til someone wins."

"How does someone win?" Qui-Gon asked.

"By getting' out a da pit," she answered, in a tone of voice that indicated that any sentient being ought to have been able to figure that one out. "And dat li'le guy? Ee been hell on bidness. Ee's been in dere for hours! Ee's on de tird batch now." She gestured toward a bench on the other side of the tier, where a number of mud covered beings were stretched out or passed out, all immobile. "Ee knock dem out, dey wear out, dey give up. Dey lose. Odders go in. Ee don lose, but Ee don ween yet eeder."

"What do they win," Qui-Gon asked politely.

"Nuthin." Again a look of contempt. "Dey get paid for gettin' in dere. It's deir problem ta' ged out. But dere always someone in dere wit `em. Dey beat some, more go in." She gestured to several naked beings sitting next to the collection of mud-covered beings. They were shouting and screaming with the crowd.

The smaller being, a humanoid, came up for air again and whacked one of the other three on the side of the head with a circular move. That was a move from the third kata. The man must be a Jedi, or at least have been trained to some extent. One of the other two beings came up out of the slime and grabbed the smaller one around the waist, toppling him sideways into the mud. Another jumped on both of them. Jumped is not exactly the right way to put it. In a pit of quick sand, no one could move very fast.

But the little guy was undeterred. He apparently slid out from under the two bodies. He got a grasp on the side of the pit and started to heave himself up. He looked like he had almost escaped, when one of the beings grabbed him around both calves and pulled him back in. The little guy was clawing at the side, scrambling to get out, and when his hands slipped on the slick surface, he let out a howl.

Qui-Gon went cold inside. Obi-Wan. That naked, ooze-covered creature was Obi-Wan. He watched as his mate was pulled back into the pit, two of the beings dragging on his legs and the third by an arm. A twist, a punch, and Obi-Wan was back at the side again. But not out of the pit yet, nor, if the other three beings had their way, would he be. One of them flipped him over onto his back and the other grasped at his cock. Apparently, from the sounds Obi-Wan made, he had a good grip.

This had gone on long enough. This was totally unacceptable. A Jedi mud-wrestling in the sub-levels. Qui-Gon stood, flaring his cloak out as he pulled his light saber off his belt and ignited it quickly. "Stop," he shouted. "This match is over."

Everyone in the room froze. Other than the rock music blaring out of the speakers, not a sound could be heard, except for the plopping of gook off Obi-Wan's legs and arms and back into the pit as he hauled himself out. The other three beings bellowed at the trick they thought had been played on them. They started up after the Jedi, but couldn't gain purchase quickly enough, and Obi-Wan was free.

Qui-Gon strode over to his bond-mate. He took him by the hand, powering the saber down to minimal strength. He looked around the bar, and although the patrons did not seem to be pleased that he had interrupted their entertainment, they did not look like they were prepared to take on a light saber wielding Jedi, either. Qui-Gon led Obi-Wan, naked and covered in slime, out of the bar. Obi-Wan did not resist.

They rounded the corner as Qui-Gon led the way to the speeder. Making a short snorting noise, he pulled off his cloak and laid it on the passenger seat. Obi-Wan climbed in without a word. Qui-Gon almost wished he had picked out an open speeder instead of the enclosed one. A good wind on that naked body next to him would have been the beginnings of a just dessert. Looking sideways, though, he was struck with how Obi-Wan was slumped in the seat, looking quite exhausted, although Qui-Gon could not yet see the features of his face clearly for all the muck.

"Obi. . .." he started.

"Don't," came the abrupt response. His shoulders were slumped and he rested his head back against the seat.

Qui-Gon tried to send out a short mental probe, but he was not only not allowed in, he was summarily rebuffed. This filthy creature didn't deserve his concern. He turned his attention to getting back safely to the Temple.

When he landed and coasted the speeder into its slot, Obi-Wan tried to get out the other side, but slipped and fell to the ground, sprawling inelegantly. It took several tries for him to get his feet under him, which gave Qui-Gon time to pull his cloak out of the speeder and stand over his mate, looking down in distain. He tossed the cloak toward Obi-Wan and turned on his heel, stalking out of the pool.

When he didn't hear Obi-Wan's footsteps behind him, Qui-Gon turned. Obi-Wan was padding slowly down the dark, deserted Temple corridor, his head down. Qui-Gon couldn't tell if he was exhausted or embarrassed. It didn't matter. He turned down the corridor toward the exercise halls. He'd be Sithed if he was going to clean all that goo off the carpeting in quarters. Obi-Wan followed mindlessly. Qui- Gon led the way through the exercise rooms and into the locker room showers with Obi-Wan still following.

Qui-Gon turned on one of the showers, holding his hand under the spray until he deemed it hot enough. He stood aside, and gestured toward his supposed lover to get in. Obi-Wan had wrapped himself in Qui-Gon's cloak, which he set aside on one of the benches in the middle of the room. He started into the shower when he slipped and fell headlong into Qui-Gon's arms. Instinctively, Qui-Gon wrapped his arms around his mate, steadying him. As Obi-Wan regained his balance, Qui-Gon looked down in disgust. From neck to knee, and shoulder to wrist, he was now covered in the stinky slime.

Obi-Wan smiled, which he immediately regretted when he saw the expression on his older mate's face. Disgust was not a strong enough word for what he saw. Qui-Gon almost pushed him away, leaning his head back and letting out a shout of frustration. He quickly unbuckled his boots, pulling them off and tossing them into a dry corner. Then his tunics came off over his head. He wadded them up and tossed them in the general direction of his boots. He untied his leggings, which fell down off his hips to his knees, growling in short bursts as he moved.

Obi-Wan reached out and touched the large soft penis that swung free with Qui-Gon's rapid movements. Qui-Gon pulled back from the gentle touch quickly. He could tell from the startled expression on Obi- Wan's face that his touch had been instinctive, and without an ulterior motive. But Qui-Gon was not ready at all to give up his rage. He stepped out of the leggings and went to the cupboard, pulling out handfuls of cloths and towels.

Obi-Wan had sat down on the end of an empty bench. He was working hard to wipe the smile off his face, but with little success. When Qui-Gon saw that smile, it infuriated him even more. When he saw the massive erection that Obi-Wan was now sporting, he was beyond fury. What was even worse was that his own body was responding to the sight. His penis was no longer soft. It was now fully erect, pointing upward. Aiming toward Obi-Wan. If Obi-Wan thought that teasing him about his ability to perform was funny, Qui-Gon would show him just how well he could perform and take the smile off that face.

Qui-Gon walked rapidly back to the bench. As he approached, Obi-Wan tried to scoot back, but only succeeded in slipping and falling backwards onto the bench. Qui-Gon didn't hesitate. He grabbed Obi- Wan's legs behind the knees, gripping tightly to avoid losing control over the slippery limbs, and pushed them back toward Obi-Wan's chest and out to the side. He couldn't see that tiny puckered entrance between those perfect cheeks for all the grey-brown goo covering Obi- Wan's body, but he knew where it was and he aimed unfailingly. He widened his legs to brace himself and entered his lover in one swift, smooth movement. No preparation. No warning.

But he immediately knew he was home. Home where he belonged. Home where he so dearly loved to be. Home in that sweet tight heat that was his bond-mate's body. The grunt that Obi-Wan gave as he was entered wasn't one of pain, it was one of total satisfaction. Whether by exhaustion or by intent, his muscles had relaxed and opened to welcome the intruder. The goo was more slippery than lubricant, and Qui-Gon could move in and out easily without concern for the tender tissues that held him. Which was a good thing, because Qui-Gon was so consumed with his need to prove himself that he was not able to slow down and savor these sensations.

Obi-Wan began moaning encouragingly. The sound spurred Qui-Gon into greater action. He pulled out until only the tip of his cock remained buried in that hot, tight home. Then, with a sure strong surge, he plunged back in, to the hilt, pushing in as deep as he could get. Over and over he repeated his slow withdrawal and his hard, fast invasion, his scrotum slapping against Obi-Wan's ass.

Obi-Wan let his arms go limp, hanging over the side of the bench, his hands dragging on the floor. He was exerting some energy to help Qui- Gon hold his legs up and open, but not much. Qui-Gon was holding almost all that weight in his hands. He pulled the legs up, bending them at the knee, forcing the thighs up beside Obi-Wan's chest, using his weight to hold them fixed. It wasn't a particularly pleasant position, but his hold was secure. It brought Obi-Wan's buttocks up off the bench and gave Qui-Gon the leverage to thrust. And thrust, and thrust and. . ..

Obi-Wan was not thrusting back. He was just lying there, mewling. Little needy sounds were coming out of him. His head tossed from side to side against the bench, smearing the gunk from his hair. "Oh, yes," he murmured, "fuck me. Please. Fuck me."

And Qui-Gon did. "Harder," Obi-Wan begged. And harder he got. "Faster," he begged. And faster, he got. Qui-Gon pounded into that limp body, willing his movements to let him vent all the anger and frustration that had built up in him to this moment. Now both men were panting, Qui-Gon with his exertions; Obi-Wan with his lust. Obi-Wan moaned, "I want to come. Oh, please. Make me come." His hand reached up and took his slick stiff penis in a fist and began jerking, pulling on himself in a rhythm more frantic than Qui- Gon's thrusting. "Make me come," he sobbed.

In a cold clear part of Qui-Gon's mind, he saw himself ravaging his mate. Obi-Wan might be consenting, but to Qui-Gon, it almost felt more like a rape. He knew that he shouldn't be behaving so callously toward Obi-Wan, but there was no way could he stop himself now. He was too close. As close as he was, though, he couldn't let go and fall over that edge, either. Up to now, his taking had been about showing Obi-Wan who was in charge. But Qui-Gon could tell that Obi- Wan wasn't seeing it that way. To Obi-Wan, it was an end to the petty resentments of the prior weeks; it was a homecoming.

Qui-Gon had no way of knowing how long he had teetered on this precipice. It was Obi-Wan that pushed him over. "Please, love me. Please, let me love you," Obi-Wan sobbed, letting his shields fall completely, too overwhelmed with need and exhaustion to waste energy maintaining them. Love washed through Qui-Gon's mind, a mind that had suffered so long without that mental caress. He could feel Obi- Wan's sensations of being entered, his urgency, lust and craving. That did it. Qui-Gon's entire body was consumed with the climax that had been six weeks in coming. He arched his back, gripping hard on the flesh of Obi-Wan's legs. Wave after wave flowed over him as he burst forth, deep inside his lover, crying out his release, which echoed against the tile walls four fold.

As the last shudder passed through him, Qui-Gon came to his senses. He had pulled back out of Obi-Wan without even realizing he had done so. Obi-Wan's legs now fell to the side of the bench, his thighs twitching, his feet slipping across the floor. But he hadn't quit moaning. He was still sobbing out the one phrase "love me" over and over again. His shaft was still rock hard, his hand still pulling and jerking on himself hard. The sight hurt Qui-Gon deep in his chest. He'd just used this dear man for his own selfish purposes with little thought to Obi-Wan's satisfaction. He had expected to be met with more anger, more resentment. But instead, Obi-Wan's response was to ask to be loved.

Qui-Gon moved to the side of the bench and pulled Obi-Wan's hand off his cock, replacing it with his own, moving slower and more gently. With his other hand, he reached between Obi-Wan's legs. The muscle was slack, stretched open, his own semen leaking out. Using three fingers, Qui-Gon pressed back into that opening, seeking that special spot. He coordinated his hands, pushing in with one while using the other to milk the cock from base to tip, then a brief instant of release from both before starting again, knowing well that these movements would push Obi-Wan to his own release. Leaning forward, he spoke softly into Obi-Wan's ear, never stopping the ministrations of his hands. "Forgive me, my dearest. Come for me."

"Yes, yes, yes," chanted Obi-Wan as his cock began pulsing, the viscous fluid mixing with the goo on his body as it spurted out. As the last waves passed through him, Obi-Wan opened his eyes and looked up into Qui-Gon's face. "I love you," he said simply. The eyelids fluttered closed again and the body went limp as he fell into a deep exhausted sleep.

Qui-Gon would have loved to kiss those sweet lips, slightly parted as Obi-Wan breathed steadily. But he'd had a mouthful of Naboo quicksand before. Whatever it's components, no life form could survive in it. It might make a great antiseptic, and, as Qui-Gon now knew, a great lubricant, but it also tasted perfectly awful. No, he would have to wait until later for his welcome home kiss.

Qui-Gon got up slowly, his legs and knees protesting from the hard floor and vigorous exercise. He tossed the cloths into the shower, where the water still ran, soaking them. He stepped under the spray and cleaned himself. It took a lot of soap and multiple trips to rinse the cloths, but he finally had himself and Obi-Wan cleaned of all the scum, inside and out. He stood for a minute, looking down on the scrubbed pink form stretched out on the locker room bench. He reached gently into his mind, testing to see if the shields had been raised. They had not. He could feel the soft caress of his thoughts wash over Obi-Wan's sleeping mind, assuring him of his undying love.

The Temple would be waking up soon, it was shortly before dawn. And he had no clothing, nor any for his mate. His mind raced through his options but he couldn't think of any good ideas. He bundled all the laundry into a hamper, pulled on his boots and lifted his lover up into his arms, using a touch of the Force to augment his strength. He headed back to quarters, hoping against hope that no one would be up and about at this hour. As Qui-Gon passed the corridor leading to the commissary, he could hear activity in the kitchen, and pushed himself to move along quickly. Obi-Wan wasn't exactly a feather, and Qui-Gon wasn't exactly a young stud any more. But he managed to make it home before running into anyone who would have required an explanation of why he was traipsing about the temple, buck naked, holding his equally naked mate in his arms.

Qui-Gon laid Obi-Wan on the bed, turning his body from side to side to get the covers down from underneath him, then pulling them back up to tuck in around the sleeping man. Obi-Wan had barely stirred throughout the whole trip.

He returned to the common room and took up his data pad. He quickly finished the report and sent it to the Council, with a brief note that if they wished a verbal report, they should contact him, but that he planned to take the day off, unless they had plans for him to the contrary. A bit out of the ordinary protocol, but Qui-Gon figured that he could get away with it this time.

When Qui-Gon went back into the bedroom, Obi-Wan had turned slightly onto his side, and was snoring gently. He slid in behind his mate, and reached an arm under Obi-Wan's shoulders to pull him up against him. Obi-Wan stirred slightly, moving to rest his head on Qui-Gon's shoulder and wrap an arm around his waist. "Love you," he murmured.

Qui-Gon lay quietly for a few minutes, his mind whirling. Finally, he just couldn't bring himself not to ask. "Why, love," he asked softly. "Why did you do that?"

Obi-Wan answered sleepily, "For the credits. For your name day. I wanted to get you that fur rug."

"Rug?" Qui-Gon couldn't figure out what Obi-Wan was talking about.

"In the shop. On the first sublevel. You saw it and said it would be fun to make love on it."

"Oh, Sith," murmured Qui-Gon. "That was half a year ago."

"Mmm." Obi-Wan was nuzzling against Qui-Gon's chest, his soft lips brushing across a nipple. "I've been trying to save up, but I ran out of time. It was a few quick credits."

Qui-Gon was overwhelmed with remorse. All those bad thoughts, suspicions, jealousies. He felt awful.

"Don't," Obi-Wan whispered, feeling those same thoughts through the still-open bond. He lifted his face to look up at his mate, the dim light of dawn creeping through the windows. "We're both stubborn, stupid and prideful. I forgot to com you on our anniversary. So you had every right to be put out with me. I just wish you'd come a bit later. To the Pit, I mean. If you hadn't stopped the match, I would have gotten my credits and had enough to buy the rug." He sighed. "Right now I'm tired. Very tired."

Qui-Gon pulled Obi-Wan close into a hug. "Don't worry, love. I forgot, too. So we're even. When we wake up, let's go shopping. I've got a few extra credits, and I can't wait to try out the rug when we get home."

"What, old man. Twice in one day!"

Qui-Gon figured he'd better get used to the teasing. It was unlikely that Obi-Wan would quit. But two could play the same game. "Quit it, Padawan. How about we go together to the Mud Pie? If they won't give you your credits, we can earn them in the pit. Which of us do you think would climb out first?"

"We need to get your clothes back from the laundry before we go anywhere else," Obi-Wan chuckled. "I think we've done enough running around Coruscant naked for awhile. You go. You had them all intimidated. Just tell them you're there for my money. I told them my name was Mudd."

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