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Pairing: Qui/Obi

Rating: NC-17 (barely)

Category: PWP, mild humour

Archive: MA

Disclaimer: Not mine. George's. Sniff

Feedback: All welcome, ginseng1ca@yahoo.ca

Notes: A little X-over. I tried to make it as short as I could, but found it impossible to keep to the original specified length. Sorry...

'Where in Sith's hells am I?' thought Qui-Gon Jinn, as he automatically sank into his defensive half crouch, green sabre humming comfortingly at his right ear. He was relieved to hear an answering hum behind him, secure in the knowledge that his faithful padawan guarded his back. He stared, and was most disconcerted when the twenty or so seated children in the room stared back.

"Where in Sith's hells are we, Master?" Obi-Wan Kenobi's hissed inquiry echoed his own sentiments.

"Damned if I know, Padaw..."

Qui-Gon cut short his reply when his attention was diverted by one of the children, a small, dark-haired boy, who rose from his seat and began waving a slender stick in the air. For a brief moment the Jedi master was amused by the look of determination on the boy's face, until sickly green sparks began to fly from the end of the stick. As the boy began to mutter gibberish, the sparks coalesced and came in a straight line directly towards him.

Qui-Gon barely had time to whip his sabre into position before green blade met green stream with a loud BANG!, and he deflected the attack upwards, where it blew a sizable hole in the stone ceiling with a satisfying CRUNCH!. The boy who had directed the green light towards him sat back in his seat with a jolt, his mouth wide in a startled O and his green eyes blinking owlishly behind the silly round artifacts perched on the bridge of his nose.

"HALT!"

That voice certainly had the ring of authority, and Qui-Gon turned slightly to watch a black clad figure weaving his way through the seated children.

"Put those ridiculous wands away!"

Scorn dripped in the commanding voice. Before he could stop himself, Qui-Gon found he was sheepishly extinguishing his lightsabre and clipping it to his belt. Behind him he heard the soft shwump as his padawan did the same.

"I don't know how you two managed to apparate to this location," the man in black now stood before them, his arms crossed over his chest and his dark eyes accusatory as he glared, "but I will not have you disrupting my class. Nor have I the time to deal with you myself. Follow me! Granger, you are in charge."

The last was delivered as the man in black stalked away, his back stiff and unyielding, his robes billowing dramatically.

'Damn', mused Qui-Gon wistfully. 'My robes never look that good.'

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan followed the forbidding figure out of the roomful of children and through an endless maze of corridors and stairs. After the first few minutes Qui-Gon gave up trying to memorize the route and simply trusted their guide to know where he was going. At one point Obi-Wan caught his eye, one brow raised enquiringly, but Qui-Gon simply shrugged in response.

The man in black finally halted in front of a hideous stone creature. He mumbled a couple of words, and the statue slid away, revealing a narrow spiral staircase. Once on the stair, it whisked the three of them upward, eventually coughing them out at their destination.

"Wait here!" their guide commanded imperiously, then turned and was gone down the stairs in an imposing swirl of black robes.

'Damn, but that's impressive', thought Qui-Gon enviously.

"Master," Obi-Wan whispered, in spite of the fact they were now alone. "What's a lemon sherbet?"

"How the hell should I know, padawan?"

"Well, there's no need for you to be so testy," muttered Obi-Wan, looking away from his master, scowling as he folded his arms across his chest.

"Testy? You accuse me of being testy? May I remind you, padawan, that this is all your fault?"

"My fault? My fault? And just how do you work that out?"

"Well, you were the one calculating the hyperspace jump when we ended up here. Wherever here is."

"Oh, really." Obi-Wan imbued the word with as much sarcasm as he could muster. "Is it my fault we were on our fourth mission in a row? Is it my fault my uptight, Code following Master refuses to satisfy his padawan while engaged in a mission? Is it my fault I was so Sith damned horny I lost the ability to concentrate?"

Qui-Gon blinked. "Are you telling me, padawan, you miscalculated the jump to hyperspace because you needed sex?"

"In a word, yes."

Both men stood glaring at each other, eyes flashing and chests heaving with anger, until Obi-Wan's lower lip slowly began to protrude in one of his patented pouts. It was, Qui-Gon reflected, a very tantalizing lower lip.

The Jedi master glanced about. The decoration in the brightly lit, circular room was bizarre; right down to the gaudy bird perched on a stand in one corner. It was the large wooden desk that caught Qui-Gon attention, however. It looked to be a perfect height for his present purpose.

Without any warning, Qui-Gon grasped his padawan's wrist and pulled the young man towards him. In one smooth, effortless movement he managed to swing Obi-Wan about and bend him face down upon the desk, at the same time as he unlaced his apprentice's leggings. He hadn't achieved the rank of Jedi master for nothing.

"Ooof," grunted Obi-Wan, and before he could utter any more his leggings were hanging about his knees.

"Lovely!" exclaimed Qui-Gon, as he held his wriggling padawan with one hand and lowered his own trousers with the other. A warning slap to the enticing, twitching buttocks, a generous portion of spit in one hand to lubricate his appallingly eager erection already pointing the way, and then Qui-Gon was sinking with a blissful sigh into the welcoming, tight warmth of his apprentice.

"Ooooh, er," sighed Obi-Wan, his eyes closing in ecstasy.

"Mmmm," agreed his master, loosing Obi-Wan's wrist and taking tight hold of the young man's hips, a position that enabled considerably harder thrusting.

After three months of celibacy the two men took no time at all before moaning their climaxes, and making a rather sticky mess over the lovely wooden desk. Replete, Qui-Gon lay heavily on his padawan's unresisting back.

"A-hem."

Both Jedi whipped their heads about at the inquisitive noise. A tall, ancient man with brightly coloured robes and long white hair peered at them quizzically. Flushing with embarrassment, Qui-Gon pulled his leggings up and tied them, standing heroically in front of his padawan while Obi-Wan did the same.

"Is there a problem?" The old man's hoarse voice was kindly, and there was a definite twinkle in his eye.

"Umm, we seem to be a little lost," replied Qui-Gon.

"Ah." The old man appeared to ponder this carefully and at length, before he reached into his voluminous robe, pulling forth several links of sausage. He handed them to Qui-Gon. "This might be of use."

Hesitantly the Jedi master took the sausage. He examined the links carefully, before holding them out to his padawan with a tentative hand. Obi-Wan raised one eyebrow in question, before shrugging and reaching for the sausage. As soon as he touched the other end the room was filled with a brilliant flash of light. When it faded, the white-haired old man was quite alone.

"Albus?" A tiny, pinched-faced elderly woman rushed into the room. "I heard one of the fifth-years say there were strange wizards in the school."

"Hmm. Very strange, Minerva. They're gone, however."

"Oh. Most disappointing. I should have liked to meet them."

"Mmm. I wish they could have stayed longer, too. The elder had some fascinating ideas on the proper discipline for a student. Most original. Severus might have been interested."

"Where do you think they were from? Beauxbatons? I hear the French are very progressive in such ideas."

"Perhaps. I think more likely they were exhibiting Muggle influences. Certainly their clothing was odd enough. Ah, well. No doubt we shall see them again some day. Some tea, m'dear?"

Finis