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Pairing: Q/O

Rating: R

Series: The 50 Ways challenge as put forth by our dear Nutters Incorporated...

Summary: Qui-Gon's in heat, and Obi-Wan's not in the mood. With a cameo appearance from an air conditioning unit and several hundred volts.

Warnings: I guess this is the first time I get to say 'Do not try this at home, kids!' and mean it :)

I am absolutely convinced my Master is part-female. Or part-alien, a pet theory I have always harboured ever since I first saw him doing impossible things for his age in the training salle all these years ago. And then, only a few minutes later, doing even more impossible things for his age in the shower.

I'm sure if they cut him open they'd find some very odd things throbbing in there, in places where they shouldn't be. Glands and stuff. Honestly, some days I'm surprised I don't get milk out of him when suckling on his nipples (and yes, he has pointed out to me numerous times that I'm sucking in the wrong place if I want to get milk out of him, a wisecrack usually accompanied by a wry chuckle, that damned irresistible crinkle of eyes and a very insistent hand grabbing the back of my head and guiding me to the Right Place).

I am absolutely convinced my Master is part-female. Because, you see, he has these... _periods_.

All right, no, so he doesn't bleed from odd orifices. But... it's the hormones, you see? He gets them, in spades. Every couple of weeks, my Master goes about as horny as a roomful of Zabraks. Which can be fun, mind, but... the rest of the time you're busy restraining him to keep him from making a spectacle of himself. It's not just highly un-Jedi-like, it's also highly un-Jinn-like, and I sometimes feel like I ought to get 'what would the Initiates say?' tattooed on the back of his hand. I mean, not that the Initiates live in a clinically sex-free environment here, but they should bloody well find out about what two people do with each other when _they're_ ready to be interested in that sort of stuff. Not when Master Jinn feels like rubbing up against his long-suffering Padawan in a corridor making noises like a bantha in heat.

I can tell he's having one of his periods again. He's been cooking. And he's been lounging around on the sofa bare-chested and with his hair undone, ostensibly reading fashion magazines. Really he's just ogling the boys.

All the boys. Including the one who's been trying to upgrade our quarters' air conditioning system for the better part of an hour in order to get it to talk to the lighting system.

Just as I've once again managed to squeeze my hand into the slot that isn't meant to be big enough for a Padawan's hand in order to grope around for the wires that attach to the controller that the slot is meant to be big enough for (and no, Force manipulation is no good if you can't actually _see_ what you're manipulating), I feel a very warm hand sneak up under my tunics to caress the bit of skin between the waistband of my leggings and the sash. And a puff of even warmer breath at the back of my neck, making the sweat-prickly hairs there stand on end.

The tentative hold I had had on at least one of the two requisite wires goes haywire, and my hand is once more stuck in the middle of nowhere. I sigh in frustration.

"Master, you are not being exactly helpful he... mmph."

Curse the size of his hands. He's holding my entire lower face in one, palm clamped securely over my mouth, and I can't even bite to get rid of him, though Force knows I would like to.

file://Master...// trying my best to project an exasperated mental voice and failing again as he starts nibbling on my earlobe, file://if you would be so kind. I'm trying to work here, and I'm sure you will appreciate the benefits one I get anywhere near where I want to.//

He chuckles, right in my ear, and it's so bloody loud I jerk and cut myself yet again on one of the numerous mystery sharp bits inside the aircon unit. Why can't they make electronics without edges? Hissing, I curl my fingers in order to try and leave as little DNA as possible inside the blasted machine... wait. Cable. Right where I wasn't looking, of course, coiled against the panel facing me...

file://Now if you could just stand clear for two seconds, Master...//

Surprisingly, he obliges. Not that he isn't still close enough to radiate extra heat on my already sweating self. But he's not touching me, doubtless for no longer than the two seconds I'd asked for.

Right. Wire. Socket. Damn, it's too short. Surely not? Come on, a little tug...

Zap.

When I come to, there are little white spots dancing and sparkling on my Master's face. His face is also very very close to mine. I can almost see my breath moving the hairs of his beard.

It is only when I try to open my mouth to speak that I find I can't.

Not just because his mouth is firmly sealed over it. That was to be expected. But my lips won't obey me, and neither will my throat. A small inarticulate squeak is all that comes out, and my hand that would have flown up to cover my mouth in embarrassment is lying there on the ground as if it weren't mine. I can feel it, in a dim and prickly-warm sort of way, but I can't move. Oh great.

"Obi-Wan? Padawan? Can you hear me?"

Yes, Master, I can. I just can't say 'yes' at the moment. Nor can I comment on the way you appear to have stripped me of most of my tunics, ostensibly in order to feel my heartbeat. Why am I draped over your knees, Master? I sigh inwardly.

"Just hang on, Obi-Wan, just hang on. I'll get the healers here in a minute..."

Concentrate, Padawan. file://Leave... leave it, Master. I'll be all right.//

The worried face dissolves in a soft smile. "You look awfully limp to be all right, Obi..."

file://Please, no jokes, Master. I... must have had an electric shock.//

"Sure as hell you have, if the sparks were anything to go by, lad. Are you sure you're not in pain there?"

file://I'm _fine_, Master. I just can't move. It'll wear off again. I've had this... before, you know?//

"Tinkerer." Qui-Gon's long-suffering-Master expression is a tad thin, and his amusement at my predicament is clearly shining through the cracks. "So what do you suggest we do?"

file://Just give me ten minutes or so. And a blanket so I can keep warm?//

One eyebrow raised, and that smile again. Wicked.

"I think I have a better idea."

I wish I could squirm, I really do. His hand trickles down my chest like a swarm of warm ants, prickly, distant, and yet... it feels like it's on and under my skin at the same time. Light, so light touches where he brushes my tunics away, and I can't tell if it's his hair or his hand or the clothes that we're both still wearing to varying degrees. I feel like I'm being wrapped up in these dancing prickly touches, and I feel very very warm inside, waves of heat rushing against my awakening skin. My limbs feel cooked. Limp, useless. Tender. Very tender.

I see his mouth as it disappears the hollow of my throat, to feed. All I can feel is the prickly tingling warmth enveloping my entire neck, tightly, and the protest that had been in there somewhere melts into yet another pathetic little whimper. I can imagine him grinning against my skin.

His fingers paint lines of sensation all over me. The odd thing is that I don't always feel them where I see them. Or when I see them. But... he lightly drags his nails across my nipples, and all I can do is whimper. He trails the tips of his long hair along my lips, and I whimper. He slides one hand into my leggings, and I whimper some more.

Oh, fingertips. They must be his fingertips, teasing me through my underwear, tracing swirls of sensation on the thin fabric stretched over where I throb dully, warmly. I wish I could squirm. As it is, I whimper as my senses are slowly beginning to overload under the sparkly touch, the barely-there sensation through the cloth... I want to buck up and rub against his hand, want to be squeezed and rubbed and pumped hard, hard as I must be, so full of sensation, full of bubbling need bouncing off my skin from within, and I moan louder, all I can do, defenceless under his devious hand, his wonderful hand, his divine hand...

file://...Qui... need... come... pleeeease...//

And then the whole world clamps around my cock, full to bursting, squeezing hard, grabbing and pumping until I scream, a long hoarse scream, a long thick burst of seed that feels warm and tingly where it hits my awakening skin.

I am ready to go under again when his lips cover mine, infusing me with his breath, warm used air, great big puffs from Master's chest, and I find myself smiling into that greedy mouth, and it smiles back, lips nipping and teasing at mine, tip of a tongue painting wet lines all around my mouth, inside and out. My own tongue is slowly coming awake to follow his.

Just you wait, Master. Just you wait.

--- The End ---