From Bad to Worse

by Vesta and Ula Luva

Title: From Bad to Worse
Author: Vesta and Ula Luva
Rating: NC-17
Categories: Q/O
Archive: M_A only
Feedback: Yes, please.

Disclaimers: We make no money at this. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan belong to George Lucas. That makes us miserable. We need to do something to make ourselves feel better...

Summary: Vesta and Ula take turns making Obi miserable.

Authors' Notes: A big thank you to our Master Rose for putting up with all our teasing and still giving us great betas in return :).

The building shook with yet another explosion; it wouldn't stand much longer. Obi-Wan needed to get out, but the deadweight of the unconscious pleasure slave pulled him down and Qui-Gon was gone, somewhere off in the smoke of the burning complex.

Obi-Wan hoisted the boy up on his shoulder, trying not to fall over when his head spun. He had taken a nasty hit when the door to the room he was in had imploded.

Great. Just dandy. There was no end to the things that had gone wrong on this mission. He had had a bad feeling about it, but Qui-Gon had basically just told him not to worry so much.

First the guards had refused to let them in, suspicious of a distributor who had brought his own slave along. And whose idea had that been? Obi-Wan had thought they should pose as business partners, but his master had claimed he was too young.

When finally allowed inside to watch the demonstration, Obi-Wan had had to grab Qui-Gon by the arm to prevent him from doing something stupid. Like trying to free the new slave prototype the moment he was revealed. Obi-Wan had guided his master's arm to the tray of drinks served by a nearby J4 droid.

The human slaver in charge, a front for Darubb the Hutt, was a salesman with a patter as smooth as synthsilk. He'd whisked the coverall off the boy with a theatrical flair.

He was pretty enough, the boy. Fine-limbed, long blond hair. It was the senator's son they had hoped to recover. The face was a tad more angular, but still easily recognized from the holo, taken on his fifteenth nameday. By all accounts he was an introverted, serious student of T'nari philosophy, which celebrated the intellect and espoused celibacy.

This feedstock, the slaver boasted, had been captured a mere tenday ago. And because of their secret process, there was no labour-intensive training! No long-term expense of raising specially modified clones! Just a fool-proof, scientific method to enhance the sexual urges and make the slaves practically insatiable, almost overnight. Then he asked for volunteers among the distributors to prove his point as the youth ran his hands over his own writhing body and licked his lips.

Obi-Wan had been forced to grab Qui-Gon's arm again, and not because his master was trying to volunteer. Luckily, the drinks droid was ambling by again, and Qui-Gon exchanged his empty glass for a full one.

Qui-Gon's reaction was to be expected. They both knew this student's new attitude was not the enthusiasm of a convert, but rather the result of genetic modifications. He had become the newest model, produced by the lab that they had been tasked to destroy.

The slave had then engaged in a rather eye-popping act, managing to take in four volunteers at once, two simultaneously in both ends. Obi-Wan had clenched both his mouth and his other opening shut and pled silently that he not be called upon to compete with the new product.

Obi-Wan rubbed up against Qui-Gon lasciviously, hoping his master looked proprietary. He could feel Qui-Gon's tension ease somewhat and Obi-Wan knew his master had released his qualms into the Force. After all the trouble they had gone through, they couldn't blow their cover so soon. The boy would have to endure. And besides, the young fellow seemed enthusiastic enough to Obi-Wan.

Enthusiastic enough that the demonstration, combined with rubbing against Qui-Gon, was having an effect on Obi-Wan. He was clad in a tantalizing little outfit consisting mostly of thin strip of synthsilk and a few feathers. A pleasure slave usually wasn't allowed to wear more. Obi-Wan's strip of synthsilk was getting rather tight and the long iridescent tika feather placed strategically in front was starting to rise.

It seemed like good cover, so Obi-Wan allowed himself to imagine they were back in their quarters and he was playing the slave in this outfit for his master. Perhaps he would writhe provocatively and lick his lips just like the boy. Qui-Gon could just rip off the outfit...

The slave screamed. Obi-Wan's eyes snapped back to the demonstration, and he reflexively cupped his hands protectively over his own groin. The tika feather drooped precipitously.

The slaver had moved on to the next phase of the demonstration. "Lab-product," he announced proudly. "Made to last, able to take enormous amounts of pain without permanent damage." And the slave had squealed pitifully as the slaver continued to demonstrate the acts he could be submitted to without getting damaged, all the while continuing his spiel, "We all know your best customers -- the ones willing to pay the most --like a little spirit in the meat. A nice struggle makes it more fun."

This time it was Obi-Wan who needed to be held back. He was nearly as young, almost as nude, and he felt phantom pains as the various piercings on the slave's genitals were twisted and pulled viciously. Qui-Gon had grabbed him close and allowed his large hands to range over his flesh.

The demonstration had wrapped up quickly after that, and the slaver had fielded questions from the small audience, related to volume, cost, and schedule.

Obi-Wan had hated staying behind in the demo room as the distributors were taken on a tour of the facilities. Of course it made sense that a personal pleasure slave would not be needed, but splitting up had not been part of the plan. Now with the blow to his head, Obi-Wan couldn't even sense his master. He hoped fervently the bond static was due to his own concussion.

Qui-Gon must have found an opportunity to plant the explosives hidden in his belt, but why hadn't he waited to set them off? Another thing gone wrong on this Sith-spawned mission.

Taken unawares by the explosion, Obi-Wan hadn't protected himself or the senator's son from the impact. The heavy door had struck them both glancingly on the head. Now the lad they were rescuing was dead to the world and his own hold on consciousness was tenuous.

Of course, they were both much better off than the guard. He had been left behind to watch the two pleasure slaves as the distributors had set off on their tour. He had taken his orders literally. Dutifully, he had posted himself directly in front of the door. Less dutifully, he had levelled his blaster at them and commanded a private performance.

The boy, apparently fully recovered from his mistreatment, had fixed his attention on Obi-Wan. As Obi-Wan remained immobilized, wondering what to do, the youth reached over, plucked off the tika feather and used it to stroke Obi-Wan's nipples.

"My master won't like this!" Obi-Wan had blurted out but the guard only laughed and the feather drifted lower. "He'll have me beaten!" Obi-Wan yelled as a smooth warm hand followed the feather. The guard laughed louder. "He'll have you beaten!" he hastened to add to the guard as the hand slipped under his strip of synthsilk.

Thus Obi-Wan had been rather distracted. The guard never got a chance to respond, and if he had, the sound would have been lost, for at that moment the door crushed him to the accompaniment of a loud explosion.

Obi-Wan circumvented the guard's body, careful to avoid slipping in the puddle of blood. He stepped through the now-empty doorway. He was torn, needing to choose a direction. To the right was the known exit and relative safety. Straight ahead was the lab... and Qui-Gon. Smoke was billowing out of the latter.

Every fibre in his body screamed at him to dump his burden and run after Qui-Gon. But he crushed the need. He had, after all, gotten his hands on the very subject they were looking for and the mission came first. Qui-Gon would have to take care of himself. He needed to save the boy first -- he wasn't even sure if he had enough strength to do that. Gritting his teeth, he began to slowly walk towards the exit.

He wished he could delude himself into thinking that insuring his master's safety was his paramount duty. If he had any doubts, the thought of trying to explain to Qui-Gon why he'd gotten rid of the boy and tossed the mission out the window banished them. That act would render him uncounted hours on his knees. Not the way he really wanted to, but meditating over selfish purposes.

Taking a firmer grip on the boy, Obi-Wan followed the light to the exit. He stepped carefully over the rubble on the ground. If he could get to the ship, he could put the slave away and go looking for Qui-Gon.

It was an art, the ability to look pitiful and harmless while carrying an unconscious person. But Obi-Wan managed it. Almost no one gave him a second look. At the one point Obi-Wan had a gun pointed at him by a diligent guard, he acted hysterical, even conjuring up real tears. That distracted the guard enough to allow Obi-Wan to kick him square in the bollocks and make a run for it.

He reached their ship without further problems and was immediately faced with the next one. What to do with the boy? Obi-Wan could vividly imagine what would happen if he woke up alone in an empty, strange ship.

He tied the boy to a chair. Cruel, but efficient. Obi-Wan shook his head. All he wanted was to go home, drink some cha, and get shagged through the mattress. Was it too much to ask for? He would get his wish though, as soon as he and Qui-Gon got home. Worry wormed its way through him. He had irrationally hoped to find Qui-Gon had somehow gotten to the ship before him.

He retrieved his lightsaber from the cache, and as he stood back up, his head spun again. Not good. He rubbed his hand through his hair and looked at it. Not a lot of blood, but that didn't mean there wasn't serious damage. Maybe he should wait here for Qui-Gon? Surely that's what his master would want him to do. Obi-Wan knew he wasn't in great shape, but Qui-Gon might be hurt or even unconscious. He refused to admit a worse possibility. If only his bond weren't messed up!

Not sure it was the right thing to do, but certain he couldn't just sit on his duff, Obi-Wan secured the ship and headed back to the complex.

A cluster of guards was now milling about the entrance. If he'd been healthy, he could have taken them all. As it was, he had to hope they would just let him back inside. That meant he had to conceal his lightsaber. Looking down, he realized there was only one option.

It didn't look exactly natural tucked under the strip of synthsilk, but it was the best he could do. He'd have to avoid letting them get a good look at it. Holding up his hands, he ran towards the guards shouting, "Help!"

He reached the nearest one and stepped close, making it hard to see his crotch. "My master's still in there." Obi-Wan pointed at the building. "You have to let me inside!"

The guard looked at him, starting to smile, and for a moment Obi-Wan thought he would be allowed to pass. But the smile transformed into a leer, and the guard countered, "No; you have to let me inside!"

With that, he plunged his hand under the synthsilk. He immediately pulled it back out, holding the saber, crying out, "What the...?"

Praying quickly that none of the guards had ever seen a lightsaber up close, Obi-Wan drawled in a suggestive tone, "That's my ummm... toy. You know... for playing games." The guard looked at the switch. "It vibrates," Obi-Wan added, still hoping against hope.

"Hang on a minute!" One of the older guards came over and snatched it away, stepping back. "This isn't a dildo. It's a fucking... "

Obi-Wan thrust out his arm to call his saber. At the same time, a few of the brighter guards caught on, and shot at him. His lightsaber was still in mid-flight when Obi-Wan had to leap up in an aerial flip to avoid the blaster fire.

One of the bolts nicked his saber and it clattered to the rubble. None of the shots hit Obi-Wan, but none of them had to. Dizzy as a gyrbird, instead of landing neatly on his feet, he belly-flopped onto the ground. The older guard pressed his blaster to Obi-Wan's temple, while all the others trained theirs on him from a distance.

"Well, that was a good show!" The guard laughed, as he yanked Obi-Wan to his feet. One of the other guards collected his damaged lightsaber and he was frog-marched inside, with several blasters aimed at him.

The smoke had cleared somewhat. He was taken down the same corridor that led to the lab, but they branched off and he was prodded through an inconspicuous doorway. Inside was a cushioned pit, the sort favored by Hutts, and Darubb lounged there, as if nothing had happened to disturb his peace. He was holding Qui-Gon's belt, and toying with the small electro-shiv his master had carried concealed.

There was also room for a portable energy-field cage, the kind sometimes used to transport slaves in the field. Qui-Gon stood in there, and even through the flickering glare, Obi-Wan could see his expression fall when he recognized his apprentice.

Well, at least he'd found Qui-Gon.

One of the guards brought Darubb the lightsaber. The others herded Obi-Wan into the cage, temporarily breaching one of the energy fields for him to slip through.

Qui-Gon quizzed him urgently, "Are you all right?" in a whisper.

"Just a knock on the head," Obi-Wan replied softly. "Are you?"

"Fine. For the moment."

"Hwaa, haa, haa, haaa..." The rumbling laughter erupted from deep inside the Hutt. "A pair of mighty Jedi, indeed! Good! You shall last longer that way."

"Too bad the distributors have all left," he continued softly, for a Hutt. "I would give them another demonstration -- of what I do to people who cross me!" he continued with the usual bellow, looking straight at Qui-Gon. "My guards will have to suffice for an audience."

"You've destroyed my lab. So, I'll have to be... creative. A blaster is too inelegant. But this shiv... and a lightsaber," he said, fingering the weapons. "Now we have possibilities..." A small spark flew from the saber but Darubb didn't notice. He was too occupied chuckling at the captive Jedi and teasing them.

Turning to Obi-Wan he added, "But here's a nice piece of young flesh. I wouldn't want to waste that -- not in my business."

"I lost my prototype because of you; you will make a fine replacement. In fact, I had been planning on an improved model... one that could accommodate certain non-humanoid species. I shall look forward to test-driving you myself!"

The Hutt stuck out his fleshy tongue and circled his lips, leaving a trail of slime. Obi-Wan was certain he'd never felt sicker in his life, and it wasn't because of the blow to his head.

"Until we can rebuild enough of my lab, I'll have to find another way to amuse myself," he said, tapping the lightsaber against the side of the pit. Another small spark flew unnoticed by anyone except the Jedi.

Qui-Gon silently cleared his throat. Obi-Wan leaned closer.

"It's broken, isn't it?" Qui-Gon's whisper was barely audible.

His master couldn't mean to berate him for letting his saber get damaged right now, could he? They could deal with his carelessness with weaponry when they got out. If they got out. Obi-Wan stifled a sigh; this didn't look good.

"What do you think will happen when he turns it on?"

Laughter tinted Qui-Gon's voice. Obi-Wan couldn't help but stare at his master. Had the man lost it completely? He didn't understand where Qui-Gon was going with this. There would be an explosion, but too small to kill a Hutt. At the most it would seriously piss it off, not that he wasn't mad enough already. Obi-Wan jumped slightly when Qui-Gon actually giggled. That was worrying; Qui-Gon didn't giggle. He could chuckle, and laugh heartily, but not giggle.

Obi-Wan kept staring at Qui-Gon. A happy smile graced the big man's face now. This got worse by the second. His master was about to be dissected for the Hutt's amusement and Qui-Gon looked like he was about to receive the treat of the week. The blue eyes twinkled at him and Obi-Wan desperately tried to figure out what Qui-Gon could mean.

"I didn't use all the charges," Qui-Gon explained helpfully.

And then it dawned on him. If the Hutt was still near the belt when he turned on the saber, even one charge would be enough to blow him into bite-sized chunks. Obi-Wan was suddenly delighted to be inside an energy-field cage and hoped it wouldn't fail too early.

Darubb turned on the electro-shiv and chuckled, holding it aloft and examining it appreciatively as the quiet hum filled the room. No one watched the Jedi slowly inch to the back of the cage. Qui-Gon raised the hood on his merchant's cloak. It didn't require a genius to figure out how messy an exploding Hutt would be.

"You don't like him very much, do you, Master?" Obi-Wan flashed a grin at Qui-Gon. "What happened to Jedi do not seek revenge?"

The laughing blue eyes lost their shimmer and turned to steel. "It got lost when he described what he would save you for."

The Hutt put down the shiv and picked up the saber. Obi-Wan literally held his breath as the creature pawed the switch.

Thanks to the energy field, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan were perhaps the only beings in history to see a Hutt explode and live to tell about it. The blast took out all the guards standing in the room. The field generator also went down after protecting them from harm, but not before everything landed.

And land it did. The energy field had protected them from the first load of flying chunks, but then it gave up and disappeared. They were left standing in a rain of slime. More like a downpour, Obi-Wan thought bitterly to himself, quick and drenching. Covering his head with his arms hadn't helped. The glop slid in between the cracks, coating his hair and face as thoroughly as the rest of his body. Obi-Wan cursed his near nakedness, wishing for a hazmat suit.

He threw a glance at Qui-Gon, who stood calmly unmoving. His cloak was soaked, but his face remained relatively clean. And to tear matters, the man was still smiling. What little patience Obi-Wan had left, vanished.

"You're smiling," he said icily and shook himself like a bantha, trying to get rid of some of the slime covering him, "This entire mission has gone to Sith hells and you're smiling. What is there to smile about?"

Qui-Gon didn't answer; he just hummed a little and scooped a dab of wayward goo off his face. The smile grew wider.

"Qui-Gon, please! Say something. And stop smiling."

"Did you see that? Kaboom!" Glee was practically oozing from Qui-Gon. "But you smell," he continued, "and you're all messy. What have I said about keeping yourself groomed, Padawan?"

Obi-Wan stood speechless. Smell? Grooming? "Have you hit your head, Master? Or did Darubb do something to you I should know about? And we really need to get out of here. Now!"

"Now, now, Padawan. Calm down. There is no need to get all excited. No, I haven't hit my head, but it's buzzing nicely. Makes me feel sort of... warm. And happy. But you're right, we should get going. I have this strong feeling we have forgotten something important in all this commotion."

The eerie smile didn't leave his face and Obi-Wan had to tamp down a strong urge just to smack him. But he was worried too; this was definitely not normal, not to mention the giggles. And what did he think they had forgotten? Obi-Wan sighed and grabbed Qui-Gon's hand since the man hadn't moved in spite of his words.

They made their way carefully through the pit. The corridor outside was empty, only wisps of smoke straying through it. They met no one on the way out; the few guards who hadn't actually been blown up had seemingly vaporized. Even the yard outside was abandoned, completely silent. The word must have gotten around that the boss had gone down and the Jedi were on the loose. Loyalty was not the most prominent characteristic among the mercs in a Hutt's service. Most likely they had grabbed anything close at hand and made a run for it.

Just outside the ship Qui-Gon stopped. He rubbed his eyebrows for a moment. And then he nailed Obi-Wan to the ground with his best you'd better be able to explain this look. "The boy. Where's the boy, Obi-Wan?"

The Master was back at full force. Time to explain then. "He's in the ship. He was knocked senseless and I had to get rid of him. I tied him to a chair inside and then I..."

"You did what? You tied him? Force help you if he's been hurt." The smile had finally vanished from Qui-Gon's face, replaced with a grim scowl. He looked downright furious and Obi-Wan almost ducked.

Obi-Wan called on all his training to remain serene in the face of his master's erratic behaviour.

It must be the drinks, he thought to himself. They must have been doped. He felt relieved that he had solved the mystery of his master's odd behaviour. Drunken, drugged people with mood swings he could handle. Obi-Wan took a deep breath and walked after Qui-Gon who had managed to get the hatch open and disappeared into the ship.

He heard a muffled shout and a "Be quiet, boy, I'm not going to hurt you," as he entered. The slave was obviously awake now, and Qui-Gon tugged at the ropes, ineptly attempting to release him from the chair.

That was not a good idea, if someone cared to ask Obi-Wan. To have a well-programmed pleasure slave roaming freely about the ship with available manflesh to tempt him was not an optimal situation. If the boy had been detoxed or genetically un-manipulated or whatever was needed to do to get him back to his normal self, Obi-Wan would have cut the ropes himself.

He laid a hand on Qui-Gon's arm. "Master, I think it would be best to leave him tied up for the moment," he said reasonably. "We need to get off this rock now, and we don't have an extra harness. Being tied up is the next best thing."

Using the same hand, he gently but firmly steered Qui-Gon into the co-pilot's seat. Then, Obi-Wan buckled up the Jedi master as if he were a toddler on his first trip into space.

He plunked down into the pilot's seat and fastened his own harness. Their return course had already been pre-programmed, but he always took ships off planet manually. Besides, there was still some possibility he'd have to take evasive manoeuvres before entering hyperspace.

Luck held with him on that front at least, and the lift-off was completely uneventful. Once free of the gravity well, he aligned the ship's trajectory, shot smoothly into hyperspace, and engaged the autopilot.

Almost in the same motion, he popped open his harness and shot out of his chair. He looked at the still-captive senator's son, who glared back at him in return.

If Qui-Gon was so concerned about the boy, let him untie the ex-slave from the chair. That would give him first dibs at the shower. He walked around the chair and headed straight to the fresher. Once inside, he stripped off the remains of his slave costume, which had provided no barrier at all to the Huttslime.

Too bad the ship wasn't outfitted with a real water shower. Well, a sonic would be better than nothing.

It turned out to be the same as nothing. When Obi-Wan pushed the switch, he didn't hear the hum he expected. Praying that sonic technology had gotten much quieter, he stuck his arm under the beam. But it remained covered in green slime, now starting to crust over.

He snapped open the console next to the shower and fiddled with the mechanism. It didn't take him too long to realize the resonator was blown... completely fused. It needed a replacement part --and not being critical, there wouldn't be a spare on board. Sith! Carrying an extra person on the two-man ship, they wouldn't be able to spare enough drinking water for him to rinse off. His only consolation was that Qui-Gon had also been caught in the Hutt guts downpour. Though Qui-Gon had been wearing something much more substantial.

Obi-Wan glanced at the gooey synthsilk and feathers. No way was he ever wearing that again. He'd have to find a spare outfit.

When he emerged from the fresher, he saw that his master had indeed already untied the boy and the ex-slave was putting his freedom to good use. Qui-Gon's robe was gone, and with it, all signs of the Hutt's innards. Those merchant's robes must be slime-proof.

That alone might have made Obi-Wan envious, but in addition, the boy was obviously trying to get Qui-Gon out of the rest of his clothes as well, and it didn't look to Obi-Wan like his master was putting up enough of a fight. The slave was kneeling in front of Qui-Gon, his hands unfastening the Jedi's belt.

The last of Obi-Wan's patience went into the Force with a bang. Enough was enough.

"Can't fend off that boy, Master? Has he gotten under your defences? Oh, I'm sorry, it must be really tough to stand up against a fighter of that calibre." Obi-Wan crossed his arms over his chest in a valiant attempt to not grab whatever reachable and hit the both of them. He hoped he didn't look as ridiculous as he felt, naked and slime-covered.

There was no reaction to his outburst. Absolutely none. Except that Qui-Gon began stroking the boy behind the ear and cooing at him, like one would with a pet. Obi-Wan grabbed his master by the arm; he had to break them apart somehow. The boy didn't seem inclined to let go, though. He clung more determinedly to Qui-Gon's trousers and batted at Obi-Wan's legs to make him go away.

As Obi-Wan stepped close, Qui-Gon grimaced at him. "Oh, for the love of...! I can't believe how bad you smell!" he exclaimed.

His eyes were still slightly glazed over but there was certainly nothing wrong with his aim. With more speed and coordination than Obi-Wan thought he currently possessed, Qui-Gon twisted Obi-Wan's arms behind his back.

Obi-Wan didn't want to truly fight his master in this state, or in any state. And his head hadn't cleared enough to access the Force. Without an effective defence, he didn't stand a chance. Accompanied by cheering from the little slave, he was manoeuvred into the fresher and tossed inside the malfunctioning shower stall. The slam of the door -- which actually slid closed, but still --echoed in Obi-Wan's head louder than the door of a dungeon clanging shut. He almost expected to hear a big rusty key being turned, but all he heard was the faint snick of the seal activating.

Obi-Wan got up off the floor and tried to open the door. Qui-Gon must have Force-locked it because it didn't budge a millimetre. His head seemed a little clearer, but he probably couldn't undo Qui-Gon's work even without a handicap.

This could not be possible. He was locked in with his own stench. It started to get to him now, the smell. The confined space didn't help matters... no ventilation when the sonic was off. Absolutely disgusting, if anyone had cared to ask Obi-Wan, but no one did. He was left to his stinking misery. So this was how he would end, then. Kenobi's last stand, in a fresher, dying of his own stench.

To make matters worse, he itched all over now as the Huttslime dried, and he had a distinct impression that it must be corrosive; he had a burning feeling in a few intimate places. Obi-Wan allowed himself a moment to wallow in self pity.

He could hear muffled sounds from the outside. He jumped a little when something thudded against a wall. Things were getting rowdy out there.

It really hurt to have been discarded like some mere annoyance, especially when the true nuisance had free range of the ship. And normally, he wouldn't worry about Qui-Gon falling for temptation, but at the moment his master wasn't exactly in his right mind.

Obi-Wan sat back down on the floor and scratched absently at the itch on his side. At least he could try to scrape some of the dried goop off of him. It peeled away like the skin of a reptile where there wasn't much hair. Unfortunately, in places like his crotch and around his orifice, it stuck like glue.

The continued burning sensation in that area convinced him that leaving it there might be a bad idea. He called on the Force for inner strength, but it remained elusive. He reached around anyway and yanked at a small patch in his crevice. Sith that hurt! It had pulled off the hairs underneath it. He changed his mind. Surely it could wait until he reached a working shower on Coruscant.

Suddenly, the door slid open with a hiss and the slaveboy stumbled in. Qui-Gon stood behind looking even grimmer than before. "I said hands off, and I mean it!" was all Obi-Wan heard before the door closed again.

Well, at least he wouldn't have to worry that Qui-Gon would do something they'd both regret. But now he had to deal with two pains in the ass.

Any hope Obi-Wan had that the Huttslime would keep the hyper-sexed boy at bay were immediately dispelled. The youngster grimaced at the smell, but that didn't stop him from reaching for Obi-Wan's otherwise unprotected crotch area.

Obi-Wan dodged within the confines of the shower. That marked the beginning of a synchronized dance. They stared at each other and every time one of them moved, the other moved as well. They ended up circling each other in the small space until Obi-Wan couldn't take it anymore. "I'm not going to touch you. But if you don't stop reaching for me, I will scrape some of this stuff off and feed it to you. Clear?"

The slave froze. A status quo was reached and they settled back against opposite walls.

Not able to try for Obi-Wan's organ any longer, the slave contented himself with stroking his own cock. Obi-Wan considered threatening him again, but decided to let it slide. The poor boy couldn't help himself. Maybe they could both rest more easily after he jacked off.

Obi-Wan tried to ignore what was happening less than a meter away, and he more or less succeeded until he felt his abdomen showered with warm droplets as the boy let out a moan. Apparently unaffected by his orgasm, the boy was already wanking again.

Brilliant! At this rate, he'd be covered in both dried Huttslime and the boy's sperm by the time they reached home.

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to tell the boy to point that thing elsewhere when the shower door suddenly opened and Qui-Gon stuck his head in. Obi-Wan watched him take in the scene -- the creamy splash on his belly and slave boy still stroking himself. The master's eyes widened.

Just great! Now he'd hear an earful. Not like it was his fault. Who had locked the sex fiend in the shower stall with him?

"Obi-Wan", Qui-Gon said carefully, "I need to speak with you."

Obi-Wan stepped out without a word, too weary to keep fighting. The Dark Side might have tempted him for a while when he was wallowing in misery, if he'd had access to the Force, that is. But now he was not in the mood; he just wanted to get home and take that shower.

Qui-Gon looked normal again. At least the man's eyes were not glazed over anymore, and he looked ashamed, with a pink tinge on his cheeks. Master Qui-Gon Jinn was actually blushing.

Qui-Gon studied his own boots. "I'm sorry", he said, "I really don't know what to say..." He didn't lift his eyes from the floor and the blush deepened.

Things were finally looking up... his master was clearly going to overlook whatever had happened in the shower stall. And he was apologizing for his behavior -- sweet! Obi-Wan's head even seemed a little clearer now. He felt the familiar nudge of the Force. But why did he have a bad feeling about this?

"It will be fine, Master. Let's just get back home now, and I can bite your head off when I'm not this filthy". It was a lame attempt at a joke, but he had tried anyway. "We need to sort some things out, and you need to go the healers to find out what it was they drugged you with. And I desperately need to take a shower." And they could have makeup sex afterward.

Qui-Gon cleared his throat. "Well, there is a problem, Padawan. I have just been in contact with Coruscant. They are broadcasting via the emergency transmitter now. The entire power grid on Coruscant has failed -- possibly sabotage, but they don't know yet. It will be down for at least two days. They need us and every Jedi in hailing distance to return and help keep the peace."

Every level below the surface would be thrown into darkness. Food and water needed to be rationed. There could be pandemonium. Riots and looting. All Obi-Wan could think of at that moment was that things had definitely gotten worse. No power meant no working showers.

Qui-Gon hummed and Obi-Wan stifled a groan. He knew that little sound, it usually meant that more bad news were to come. But it couldn't really get any worse than it already had, could it?

"I also spoke briefly with one of the healers about your being covered in... Hutt innards. And he... I'm not sure how to tell you this, Padawan." Qui-Gon fell silent and resumed the study of his boots again. "If you don't get it off within the next few hours it's going to grow on you --literally. The Hutt's cell structure attaches to any living surface. In this case, you."

This could not be happening! Hadn't there been enough trouble on this trip? Obi-Wan squirmed. It did burn a little more already, didn't it? "How... how much will it grow, I mean if I don't... " Obi -Wan couldn't finish the sentence. The mere thought of it made him want to puke.

"Oh, all over."

Obi-Wan stared.

Qui-Gon hummed.

"We better get to removing it then, shouldn't we?" Qui-Gon said briskly.

"Hrm, how if I may ask? There's no water here, and none will be available at the Temple if they have shut down the water reserves? Scrape it off?"

"No, scraping will just irritate it. We better hurry up now; I do think it's moving a little. But don't worry, I have an idea."

Obi-Wan did not like that sound of that. Qui-Gon usually had lots of ideas, not all of them so hot. And he did have a really bad feeling about this. His master looked far too innocent to be up to any good.

The Jedi master was known for his ability to move slowly and unnoticed. Obi-Wan didn't notice how he delicately inched closer. He didn't react until he was slammed down on the floor and Qui-Gon's weight settled on his chest. He was so startled that he didn't even think to struggle.

"Waxing, Padawan; it will be like waxing. Women do that all the time, of their own free will. Now, we just yank... "

Obi-Wan muffled the first grunt of pain, and the second. Then he started to wail; it really did hurt. Especially under his arms. And how in Sith hells had he managed to get the stuff under there? He couldn't believe anyone ever did this by choice -- he dreaded what would happen when his master turned his attention to his crotch area. But it was when Qui-Gon began pulling at the tussled, sticky mop on his head it really hit him; he would look like Mace Windu. But pale! And if his master didn't like the hairless look, they might not have sex for weeks!

Obi-Wan Kenobi screamed. Now things could not get worse.

--Fini--