A Glimpse of Paradise
by WriteStuff
Title: A Glimpse of Paradise
Author: WriteStuff (Writestufflee AT mindspring DOT com)
Archive: Certainly on M&A. Others please request.
Pairing: Q/O, occasionally O/Other
Category: AU, Series, PWP
Rating: Adult
Warnings: You pays yer money and yer takes yer chances. Explicit sex between two hot guys. Life-like situations and sometimes nasty surprises. No spoilers.
Disclaimer: George's Boyz, George's Universe. Not only not making money, I'm hemorrhaging it in this endeavor.
A couple of characters from the YA Jedi Apprentice series appear or are mentioned here: Bruck Chun, Obi-Wan's tormentor; and Qui-Gon's failed apprentice, Xanatos. I don't own them, either.
Notes: Gloriana's fault. Here's what she said: "Imagine the boys lying around on some hot, steamy planet where jockstraps are the only thing anyone wears,
dribbling coconut ice cream over each other's nipples, slowly sucking it off..." This is a completely self-indulgent PWP.
28th installment in The Long Shadow series, in The Warrior's Heart universe, (which can be found in the archives and in order at http://home.mindspring.com/~writestufflee/index.html). This story takes place toward the end of "Working Out the Kinks," when Obi-Wan is back in the field with Bruck as his partner.
The Long Shadow Series runs as follows, so far:
Love Letter I
The Long Shadow
If Memory Serve Me
Padawans and Lovers
The Amazing Adventures of Ass Master & Slut Boy
Love Letter II
Ships in the Night
Love Letter III
Spare the Rod
Auto da Fé
In Dreams Begin Responsibility
How It Begins Again
Ghosts of Futures Past
Love Letters IV & V
Mastering
Occult Matters
Comfort's Arms
Partners in Crime
Caress
Working Out the Kinks
Conjugal Relations
All the Kingdoms
Tools of the Trade
Love Letter VI
Sleeping Arrangements
Caught
Away
A Glimpse of Paradise
Summary: The Boyz have their first furlough in years together at a tropical resort. But there's always a serpent in Paradise.
Feedback: Any sort is a pleasure to receive if you care to give it.
"Just our luck," Qui-Gon grumbled. "The first real off-planet vacation we have together in years, and the place we choose is having the worst heat wave in a century."
He peeled off his sodden shirt and wiped the sweat from his face and neck with it, then stomped over to their luxurious little cabin's climate controls to punch up the cool air. Even in civilian clothes they were still completely overdressed for the weather. On top of that, they'd traveled on a commercial liner instead of by private transport and that always put Qui-Gon in a foul mood. As did Obi-Wan teasing him mercilessly about being spoiled and privileged. Not the best way to start a furlough.
Behind him, Obi-Wan stifled a sigh, put down their bags, and likewise began to strip. Qui-Gon would have to be jollied out of his snit. He'd been in an evil temper for tens now, and it was clear something serious was eating at him. Obi-Wan hoped this furlough would take care of it, or at least give him the opportunity to put it on the back burner. "Well, at least we won't be needing much of what we packed," Obi-Wan offered. "Have you observed our fellow guests? When they're wearing anything, it's a few strategically placed bits of cloth on a string, or something so gauzy it might as well be nothing, even on the street. At least no one's shy about skin here. Almost like being in Temple, but without the politics."
That remark earned him a reluctant snort of amusement. At least it was a start. Obi-Wan was determined nothing was going to ruin their first furlough together since before his knighting--not snits, not weather, not even the presence of his own padawan, who had already changed and disappeared into the pool in what must be some kind of record time. It had been far too long since they'd spent time together when both of them were healthy and neither had anything to do but enjoy the moment--a long string of them, one after the other.
Though Obi-Wan had enjoyed a recent 10-day furlough with Bruck and Jicky on Naboo, it seemed farther away than the halfyear it was; the intervening time had been full of some of the hardest missions in his life: hostage crises, extremely delicate negotiations, political unrest, assassinations, power plays among the various leagues, border challenges, attempted coups, weapons smuggling, piracy, hijackings, terrorism, and more. Palpatine's Republic was becoming a more and more dangerous place and the Jedi were stretched thin trying to maintain the peace. Even Qui-Gon had been sent out into the field again to cover missions younger masters would usually take, to free them up for more dangerous ones. Over the last quarter year, they'd both been on 15 straight, and separate, missions in a row, hardly passing each other on the way in or out. And Qui-Gon was literally years overdue a furlough.
It showed.
Despite or perhaps because of being recalled to field duty, Obi-Wan's former master had been more and more at odds with the Council and their decisions. He and Mace in particular had been butting heads frequently, especially over Anakin's progress and training. Through his own hard work and natural talents, the boy had managed to bring himself up to the same level as the other initiates his age and beyond, in some cases. He was showing every bit of the promise an initiate with his midichlorian count should. Against all odds, he'd also made friends and managed to shrug off the Chosen One label and teasing he was still occasionally subjected to. In Qui-Gon's mind there was no question who would be his master; the rest of the Council were less convinced that Anakin should even have one. He was nearly 13 now, and the matter would come to a head sooner rather than later.
No wonder Qui-Gon was so short-tempered lately, Obi-Wan thought. They were both ground down by the grueling schedule they'd been keeping and the emotional toll of the situations they'd been dealing with. Anakin's status was just an additional pressure. And in this matter, at least, Obi-Wan found himself agreeing with his master about the Council's opinion.
Over time, Obi-Wan had begun to change his mind about Anakin. He still felt the boy was quite dangerous, but as Anakin had learned to master himself and his abilities, his sunny disposition had won him a friend in Obi-Wan too. Qui-Gon, he was certain, would be an excellent master for a lad who still struggled with attachments, with insecurity, and with his past as a slave. If anyone could make Anakin into the knight he had the potential to be, it would be Qui-Gon. So when he and his former master had had a flaming row in which they were both arguing exactly that point, Obi-Wan had known it was time for the two of them to put in for some downtime. On that, both he and Qui-Gon had come to an easy agreement.
They'd chosen their destination carefully and Obi-Wan had even dipped into his trust to treat them both to five-star accommodations and the clothing to go with it. Qui-Gon had balked at that at first, grumbling something about inappropriate use of funds and then muttering the word "gigolo." But when Obi-Wan explained to him exactly how much money was in the trust originally set up by his own Dannoran House that had been accumulating interest literally for the last several thousand years, Qui-Gon had acquiesced gracefully. Obi-Wan had once said it would be impossible for he and Bruck together to run through the entire amount of even the annual interest on the Kenobi trust in a lifetime of profligacy, but that was more true than Qui-Gon had imagined. As Obi-Wan's former guardian, he had known of the trust and that it contained a significant amount of money, but had not bothered to find out exactly how much, leaving that to the Temple accountants. When the current balance was revealed, Qui-Gon had been forced to admit that he'd seen smaller 10-year planetary budgets. Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi was a filthy rich man, but only for as long as he remained a Jedi--that is, with no real use or desire for the money. The irony amused them both.
The resort they'd picked was lovely: tropical, sunny, with long, pleasant beaches, excellent food, art and entertainment there for the taking or just as easily ignored. Obi-Wan had booked them a guest house larger than their own suite of rooms back at temple, on a rock bluff overlooking a sandy beach in a secluded cove. A small kitchen would allow Obi-Wan to cook if he wanted to, or the main lodge of the resort would be happy to deliver any meal they desired, at any time of the day or night. Outside their door and beyond the terrace lay the first of a string of interconnected freshwater pools disguised as natural formations, one spilling into another in rushing streams and tiny waterfalls. The path to the beach itself wound downward beside the other three pools, far enough back to allow all the guests equal privacy. The landscaping was full of fragrant flowers and fruit trees that hid their cabin from the rest of the world. The site was quiet, secluded, and beautiful.
Best of all, their lightsabers were buried deep in their luggage and they'd traveled strictly as private individuals. No one but customs officials knew who and what they were; only the Council knew where to find them. They had three tens to spend as they pleased. Obi-Wan planned to get very tan, very bored, very well fed, and very well fucked. It wasn't starting off quite the way he'd planned, though it was just bad luck the weather wasn't cooperating.
Qui-Gon, meanwhile, had thrown himself sullenly into a chair, waiting for the room's climate control to bring the temperature down, unwilling to use the Force to control his own temperature, purely out of stubbornness. Honestly, Obi-Wan wondered which one of them was the Third Degree Master here. Obi-Wan's own padawan, who was nearly 13, didn't even sulk like this. Already sans shoes, socks, and shirt, Obi-Wan sauntered over to where his grumbling partner was sprawled and unfastened his own pants, slowly easing them down over his hips, his thighs, his calves, and stepping out of them. "I don't know about you, but I came prepared for a little heat," he purred, straightening up with a smirk.
"Yes. Yes, you did," Qui-Gon agreed in a faint voice, swallowing heavily, his pique evidently, and quite suddenly, forgotten. "Wherever did you get that, Obi-Wan? I'm quite sure it's not temple issue."
Obi-Wan stood before him, feet slightly apart, wearing nothing but his jockstrap. And it was certainly not the prosaic whiteknit temple-issue supporter. It was, instead, a shiny black material that gave everything it held a slightly shimmering silhouette and left nothing to the imagination. It also sported a snap on the wide band on either side of the cup. As Obi-Wan turned and bent over to pick up his pants, Qui-Gon's gaze was riveted to the black elastic triangle that framed his monogram nestled right above the crack in the younger man's ass, into which the rest of the strap disappeared.
Obi-Wan folded his pants and set them down on the table beside Qui-Gon's chair, then stepped up to straddle his knees, still standing. "Like a closer look? It has a little built-in bonus."
"Not padding, surely?" Qui-Gon murmured, leaning forward and running his hands slowly up the back of Obi-Wan's legs from knees to buttocks, which he then cupped in his hands and began to knead. "You don't need that."
Obi-Wan smirked at the unintentional pun. "No, not padding." He opened one of the snaps and peeled away a corner of the pouch, revealing a detachable silver ring nestled around the base of his cock. As Qui-Gon watched, the latter began to fill and thicken. "Shall we break it in?" Obi-Wan whispered, leaning down and nuzzling Qui-Gon's ear and neck. "I'd like to fuck you while I'm wearing this."
"Yes," Qui-Gon replied hoarsely, trembling.
Obi-Wan put his best saunter into the short trip from the cabin's common room to the bedroom, which held a bed even larger than their own at temple, thoughtfully turned down and decadently rich in pillows. Qui-Gon followed as though he were on a leash. Once beside the bed, Obi-Wan turned around with a predatory look in his eye. "Lock the door," he said, then reached for the fastenings of Qui-Gon's pants when the older man turned back around to face him.
"How do you want me?" Qui-Gon murmured before Obi-Wan's mouth covered his own and his tongue pushed inside, making further speech impossible. He was being distracted and cajoled and knew it. But he also knew he'd been acting like an ass and this was Obi-Wan's way of rewarding his bad behavior. Perhaps he'd misbehave some more, later. Fastenings parted and the loose trousers slid down Qui-Gon's legs almost unnoticed. Agile hands slipped inside the band of his smallclothes and pushed them downward to pile on top.
"On your back, bent under me," Obi-Wan growled as Qui-Gon helped him by wriggling out of the last of his clothing and kicking it away before sliding to his knees and nuzzling the slippery, smooth cloth over Obi-Wan's genitals. He mouthed the shape of his lover's firm cock through the fabric, sending a shiver through the younger man and making him clutch at Qui-Gon's shoulders.
Qui-Gon slid his palms up the front of Obi-Wan's thighs, slipping his thumbs beneath the edges of the pouch, over the steely ring, until they reached the waistband. First one snap then the other popped, and Obi-Wan's cock sprang free as Qui-Gon peeled away the clinging cloth. The silver ring nestled in ginger curls, Obi-Wan's balls high and tight below. Framed in black, it was all so tantalizing that Qui-Gon leaned forward and would have taken him in if Obi-Wan hadn't held the older man at arm's length.
"I said, on your back. Now." This was Obstreperous Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon's favorite private Kenobi persona.
"Just one lick--"
"Later. On your back. Now." Obi-Wan repeated with a ferocious frown, and Qui-Gon went meekly, spreading himself across the expanse of soft linens. Obi-Wan chose a firm pillow and handed it to his former master, who obligingly slid it under his pelvis and drew his knees up.
Obi-Wan moved to the end of the bed and stood thoughtfully stroking himself while Qui-Gon situated himself. "We brought lube, I presume?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
Qui-Gon laughed. "As if you'd forget to pack that."
"I thought you packed it." Obi-Wan frowned harder.
"I thought--wait: you were supposed to pack it," Qui-Gon insisted. Obi-Wan's lips twitched as his frown morphed by increments into a grin that he was obviously trying desperately to quash. "Are you telling me we came all this way to fuck each other senseless for three tens and forgot the lube?" Qui-Gon said in a tone of outraged disbelief, propping himself up on his elbows.
Either Qui-Gon's words or tone burst the dam, and Obi-Wan started to laugh, snickering at first, then, unable to contain himself, sliding to his knees and burying his face in the bed linens to muffle his howls. Snarling, Qui-Gon ripped the pillow out from under his hips and sat up, his incipient erection flagging. "You are telling me precisely that, aren't you?"
Face still buried in the linens, Obi-Wan nodded, his shoulders shaking.
Qui-Gon let out a vile but half-hearted curse in Bocce and started to chuckle himself. It was time to concede this round to the universe and let it go. Surely, both Obi-Wan and Jicky had put up with quite enough from him over the last few tens; it was time to stop being such an irascible old fool and enjoy what he had while he had it. Admittedly, the last half year had been one of the more stressful of his life, but he was, after all, a third-degree Jedi Master and by this time ought to be able to release his fears and anxieties to the Force--and he could and did.
Even so, there was no escaping the fact that there was an irrevocable deadline looming, one he dreaded more than he could say. That knowledge, along with their grueling schedule for the past half year, had darkened his mood and made his temper shorter than it had been since that awful year after Xan's betrayal. It was time that stopped, at least with those he loved. He could save his rancor for where it would be most useful. He and Obi-Wan had never had a furlough together since becoming lovers and he would make the most of this one. It might be their only one together.
"Well, the wind seems to have gone out of my sails, but my offer still stands, love. Get up here and I'll take care of you."
Obi-Wan looked up, his eyes glittering with mirth and mischief. "That sounds like an acceptable alternative," he agreed. "We'll have a quickie and then go find the appropriate shop," he said while climbing up on the bed beside Qui-Gon, who rolled him over on his back then knelt at his side.
"Yes, and perhaps we can find some more appropriate clothes," Qui-Gon added, and leaned over to lick up the underside of Obi-Wan's cock. "Although I very much like what you're wearing right now."
"I thought you might," Obi-Wan said in a strangled voice as Qui-Gon's mouth closed around him.
As he'd promised, Qui-Gon made it quick but satisfying, working his lover's cock with tongue and fingers until Obi-Wan's hands were clenched in the bed's soft comforter and he was arching up to meet Qui-Gon's mouth. Qui-Gon left the ring on until the last possible minute and then slipped it off with his teeth, dragging them up to the crown, where he stopped long enough to circle Obi-Wan's cock with his thumb and forefinger before slipping off the ring, then swallowing him down again. Obi-Wan came with a deep groan, filling Qui-Gon's mouth.
Instead of swallowing, he held Obi-Wan's spunk in his own mouth and knelt over Obi-Wan to kiss his lover and let him taste himself. They traded the kiss back and forth for long, luxurious moments until only the flavor remained, then drew apart. Qui-Gon lay down next to him and traced the shape of Obi-Wan's lips with his thumb, cupping his cheek.
"Haven't done that in a while," Obi-Wan said, watching Qui-Gon with heavy-lidded eyes.
"I seem to remember you mentioning it fondly in a certain letter some time ago."
"Not complaining, just remarking." He licked his lips and smiled lazily as Qui-Gon watched him with a barely repressed shudder.
"Gods, love, you're seduction on two legs. You know that, don't you?"
"And yet, you're not hard," Obi-Wan observed, frowning.
"I'm saving myself. With great effort, I might add." Reluctantly, Qui-Gon sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. "Let's go explore a bit, shall we? And pick up a few things. I'll see if Jicky would like to come with us."
They strolled slowly into the little town that surrounded their resort, wearing as little as possible, holding hands. Had it not been so hot, Qui-Gon would have slipped his arm around Obi-Wan's shoulders, claiming this beautiful man as his own. And why not? There was no decorum to uphold here, no reputation to think of. He was on vacation with his beloved and the girl who could be their daughter if they lived a different life. It was a pleasant illusion to entertain, that he and Obi-Wan were an ordinary couple with a child they loved. So much of that illusion was true--enough of it that he clung to it stubbornly, telling himself he was living in the moment.
Obi-Wan squeezed his hand. "Relax, iji aijinn," he said. "The galaxy can do without us for a bit. Be here now. With me. With us," he added, waving to Jicky, who was halfway down the street, pursuing some interest of her own and looking back to keep a weather eye on her master.
"I thought I was," Qui-Gon protested in surprise.
"If so, you were frowning ferociously about something. I can't imagine you're that displeased with the day or the company."
"Certainly not the company." Chagrined, Qui-Gon leaned over and kissed Obi-Wan's temple, already salty with sweat.
If the locals were any indication, they were both still horribly overdressed in shorts and sleeveless shirts. "That's what we need," Obi-Wan remarked, nodding at one of the locals who was wearing nothing more than a short hip wrap in bright colors. "We'll look for some."
"Yes, they look comfortable and breezy," Qui-Gon agreed. "Not to mention providing easy access."
"Because, of course, you're imagining wearing nothing beneath them," Obi-Wan smirked.
"You have another preference?" Qui-Gon inquired.
"Not with you around," Obi-Wan snorted.
Obi-Wan had dispensed with shoes entirely on the packed sand streets, but Qui-Gon was wearing woven slip-ons, since his feet were not as combat hardened. Jicky was also barefoot and as nearly naked as the other younglings around them. Almost thirteen now, she had grown a bit taller and begun to fill out from undersized youngling to small-boned but definitely female adolescent. The two-piece bathing suit she wore provided the minimum coverage for her nascent curves, though with her short hair she still looked more boyish than her peers. For once, she seemed grateful for the padawan buzz that kept the hair off her neck.
They found a vendor selling hip wraps and something longer that would fit Jicky from armpits to thighs, if she wanted it. She decided she did. Obi-Wan bought three for each of them. "One to wear, one to wash, and a spare," he explained, seeming guilty at the extravagance. In truth, it was a pittance, and he had bargained skillfully as the locals expected. Amused, Qui-Gon took the packages from him and touched his lips to stop further justifications. A further brief hunt led them to a pharmacy which stocked a reasonable substitute for their usual lube, which Qui-Gon tucked among their packages with a lascivious leer delivered behind Jicky's back.
They wandered the central market, looking at the tourist arts and crafts, until thirst drove them into a shady, open-sided cantina. The waitron brought them deceptively sweet alcoholic drinks and Jicky watched with barely hidden amusement and then growing horror as her masters got hilariously tipsy and progressively more flirtatious with one another until Master Obi-Wan actually--no, he wasn't going to--he was! he did!--slithered over onto Master Qui-Gon's lap, right there in public. It was almost more than Jicky could bear. While her masters' public demonstrations of affection were no longer as gross as they'd once seemed, this was still downright embarrassing.
"I'm going back to the pool if you're going to get all mushy," Jicky huffed.
"Fine, Padawan" Obi-Wan, agreed blithely with a wink aimed at his own master. "We'll be along for dinner."
"Interesting diversion tactics," Qui-Gon murmured into his beloved's ear, tempted even in public to nibble it.
"I learned my unorthodoxy from a certain roguish master," Obi-Wan replied as he started to return to his own chair. Qui-Gon snugged him tighter and Obi-Wan, surprised, didn't struggle, but instead settled back into place and reached for his drink. "I don't think I've ever sat on your lap in public before. Have I?"
"Not since--hmmm, not since my recovery on Naboo."
"That was hardly public," Obi-Wan objected, slipping his other arm around Qui-Gon's neck and taking a sip of his drink.
"Public enough that Mace caught you at it."
"Caught me? I wasn't exactly in that alone, My Master," Obi-Wan replied archly.
Qui-Gon laughed. "No, I seem to remember having to convince you to stay put then, too. You're just as wriggly now."
"And you're just as irresistible," Obi-Wan murmured against his lips before kissing him.
Obi-Wan wasn't sure which was more intoxicating: the drinks or being so publicly demonstrative with the man he loved. He hadn't realized how much he craved this until actually presented with that freedom. Their Jedi personas demanded so much reserve and dignity that Obi-Wan's playfulness rarely surfaced except in private, with his lover and his padawan and a few select friends. Outside the confines of that small circle, even in temple, he'd earned the epithet his peers had bestowed on him: the Uptight Knight. He knew Qui-Gon loved that hidden side of him and had always been afraid of stifling it as his master, and later, that Obi-Wan would stifle it himself. He'd encouraged Obi-Wan's friendship with the much less inhibited Bruck and Quinlan Vos for that reason. Now, with a padawan, Obi-Wan paradoxically had discovered he cared far less about his own dignity than he used to. Perhaps it was a symptom of finally having grown into himself and found his own confidence.
He looked around the cantina, which was slowly filling up in this, the hottest part of the day. Though he was the only one actually sitting on anyone's lap, there were a number of couples expressing equal amounts of affection around them. The resort seemed to be a popular honeymoon choice.
Qui-Gon chuckled. "We're going to be drunk on pheromones as well as alcohol if we're not careful," he observed.
"I was just thinking that," Obi-Wan replied and grinned. "There are worse fates."
"Gods, yes," Qui-Gon said fervently, and kissed him. "But few better ones." He leaned over and, apparently unable to stop himself, nipped Obi-Wan's ear. "If you were wearing one of those hip wraps," he whispered, "I could make you come right here and no one but us would be the wiser."
Obi-Wan shivered, a slow, sly grin spreading across his face. "You think my control is that good? I'm flattered. Let's make a date and try it, shall we?"
"A date," Qui-Gon said in a thoughtful tone. "I don't believe I've ever had one of those with you."
"No, I don't believe we have, love. I don't know that I've ever dated anyone."
"Surely you dated when you were a padawan? I know you played the field before we were lovers."
Obi-Wan waved that away. "I don't know that I'd call that dating. 'Exploration' if we're being polite. 'Sport fucking' if we're not. But not dating. Did you and Mace date?"
"Not really. I think the closest I've come is with Tahl. I was courting her, in a fashion."
Obi-Wan gave him a sad smile and cupped his cheek. "I know you still miss her."
"I do," Qui-Gon acknowledged. "But now I cannot imagine being with anyone but you." He leaned forward and captured Obi-Wan's lips again and they kissed, long and tenderly, oblivious to the room around them and its other occupants, who were likewise absorbed in themselves.
"Well, if we like, this can be one long date," Obi-Wan offered when they finally moved apart.
"Yes, I'd like that," Qui-Gon agreed. "What would you like to do for the rest of the day?"
"Fancy a swim? And then perhaps dinner at the lodge? Shall we just laze about today?"
"Sounds perfect, love," Qui-Gon said.
They finished their drinks, paid the tab and sauntered out into the sun again, which hit them like the blast from an engine.
"I don't know about you, but first thing tomorrow I'm losing this beard," Obi-Wan said, scratching at it.
"I'm tempted to join you in the barbering and go back to a padawan buzz myself."
Obi-Wan looked at him aghast. "Not all that wonderful hair, Qui! Please? I could stand the beard going, but not your hair."
Qui-Gon reached over and ran his fingers through Obi-Wan's much shorter but still sweat-damp mop. "All right, love. I'll suffer it for you. If you promise to braid it for me."
"Done. And we should get some sun screen. Your nose is turning a bit pink already and I'll look like some boiled crustacean if I'm not careful. Jicky too. Makes me wish I had Bruck's complexion. He just turns the color of strong tea under this kind of sun."
"I'm sure you turn a delectable food-related color that only makes you tastier," Qui-Gon leered.
"Glutton," Obi-Wan said with a fond smile.
"For you? Yes. Always," Qui-Gon agreed.
They headed back to join Jicky in their pool after stopping for sun screen at a shop that sold swim wear. Neither of them had brought any, accustomed to using the Temple's facilities without them and simply stripping out of their clothes or swimming in them when necessary. But Jicky was going through a self-conscious phase with her changing body and Qui-Gon advised letting her wear what she liked in the pool until she felt comfortable with herself again. In deference, he thought perhaps it was a good idea if they copied her. While Obi-Wan was buying sun screen, Qui-Gon found a pair of brightly flowered trunks for himself and a tight thong for Obi-Wan that differed from his jockstrap only in color and absence of snaps and ring. This was a bright turquoise instead of black.
Obi-Wan gave him an amused look. "So it's all right for my ass to hang out, but not yours?"
"No one but you thinks my hairy arse is decorative, love. Yours, however, will only add to the scenery when it's gotten a bit of color."
Obi-Wan just shook his head and paid for their respective gear.
True to form, Jicky had already acquired some new acquaintances on her way home, and the pool contained rather more teenagers than Qui-Gon or Obi-Wan wanted to share it with at that moment. Instead, they changed into their swimming togs, slathered on the sun screen (and made sure Jicky did too) and headed down to the beach instead, where they both had a long, leisurely swim in the warm waters and watched the sun begin to set from towels on the sand. It was uncomfortably perfect.
"I keep waiting for something to happen, for something to go wrong," Obi-Wan murmured, propped up on his elbows and looking at the waves, almost hypnotized.
"So do I," Qui-Gon agreed. "A sure sign we needed this. It's going to take a few days to stand down from the kind of high alert we've been on, though. I envy Jicky that."
"When did we lose that ability to just, just--" Obi-Wan waved his hand to indicate his lack of ability to explain.
"Live in the moment?" Qui-Gon responded in a wry tone. "There's always a time in one's training when it occurs to one that we're the only thing that stands between order and chaos for many people. I think after that, it becomes a struggle to live in the moment, if one has any sense of responsibility, as we both do. Let Jicky enjoy it while she can. It will come soon enough."
"Yes, it will," Obi-Wan said sadly.
They stayed until it was nearly dark, then wound their way up the path, lit now by soft lanterns, to their own cabin, towels slung around their necks, Qui-Gon admiring the beacon of Obi-Wan's arse cheeks ahead of him. Jicky and her new friends had already vacated the pool and she was inside alone sprawled on the couch in her new wrap, engaged in her favorite dry activity: reading.
"Hullo, Masters," she chirped. "Enjoy your swim?"
"We did, Padawan," Obi-Wan acknowledged. "And you?"
"Yep, thanks. Made some new friends, too. I'm starving though. I ordered us some fruit. Is that okay? I mean, I know you're spending a lot of credits on us already and I don't want to be wasteful."
"That's fine, Padawan. Just leave room for dinner. And I'd like to meet your friends at some point. Soon. Shall we eat at the lodge this evening? Or order in?" He left the decision to Qui-Gon and his padawan, who decided to walk up to the lodge.
Apparently no one dressed formally here, ever, even for what Qui-Gon would have expected to be a formal dining room. It was, but the customs on this world seemed extremely casual as far as dress went, perhaps in response to the weather, since most of the structures were open-sided. Hip wraps and gauze shirts abounded, where there were any shirts at all. Most of the diners were barefoot as well. The lodge's dining room had only walls of doors that opened onto a terrace and effectively made it a covered terrace itself. The breeze blowing across it was pleasant after the day's heat, and the food, which was both simple and beautifully presented, had Obi-Wan making noises of appreciation and wondering about recipes. Afterwards, they moved onto the terrace itself for aperitifs and dessert, excusing Jicky so they could linger over them without sensing her impatience to be back with her book.
They spoke about inconsequential things, remarking on the food, on what they'd seen that day, on the journey itself, on what they might do tomorrow. Qui-Gon apologized for his bad behavior and Obi-Wan glossed over it forgivingly. They watched the blinking lights of tiny flying insects dance among the flowers that had opened in the darkness, filling the air with perfume. Qui-Gon could feel the tension draining slowly from his shoulders and neck as he sat with Obi-Wan beside him, his belly pleasantly full, the liqueur giving him a pleasant glow, and nowhere to be for twenty-some more days. He sighed happily.
Obi-Wan echoed him. "I was just thinking that," he said, amusement in his voice. "I feel I've been stretched, shaken out, pummeled, and dropped from a great height. Splat."
Qui-Gon chuckled. "Only because you have been. Both of us have. I'm feeling rather boneless and amoeba-like myself. It's quite nice. Especially being here with you." He reached across the table and touched Obi-Wan's hand, where it rested on his glass. Obi-Wan, in turn, let the glass go and turned his palm upwards to take Qui-Gon's hand in his own.
"Yes. I can't think of anything better right now."
They stayed until most of the other guests had left, then Obi-Wan signed the chit and they strolled arm in arm slowly back to their cabin through the warm, fragrant air.
"It seems ridiculous, but all I want to do is fall asleep in your arms tonight," Obi-Wan half-laughed as they stood on the threshold before going in.
Qui-Gon reached over and brushed the hair away from Obi-Wan's forehead, then leaned over and kissed him there.
"After all that fuss about the lube, too. But I know what you mean. I haven't felt this kind of peace in a long time. I hate to spoil it with rambunctious sex."
Obi-Wan snorted. "That does make it sound absurd, doesn't it?"
"I'm quite serious, though. But perhaps this wouldn't be amiss," he said, and leaned down for a kiss. Obi-Wan turned his face up and their lips met. The kiss was slow and gentle, unhurried and undemanding, full of affection and trust rather than desire and heat. It seemed quite natural to cap it with the three words that were more often understood than said, and they did so at the same time, then laughed softly and went in to bed.
Obi-Wan slept late, stretching beneath the covers as he opened his eyes. The bed beside him was empty, as he'd expected it to be, Qui-Gon long about his day already. Jicky too, probably. Wondering how he'd gotten saddled with not just one but two morning people, he climbed out of bed and, slipping on a pair of shorts, padded out of the bedroom.
Qui-Gon he found lounging on the terrace overlooking their pool, a tray of teas, a carafe of hot water and an insulated bucket of ice on the table beside him. Jicky was nowhere to be seen, but his master was reading a flimsie and nursing a cool glass of something that looked like his usual cha on ice, his feet propped on another chair. Obi-Wan leaned over and kissed him, noting the loose braid Qui-Gon had wound his hair into.
"I'll fix that for you later," Obi-Wan said, touching the thick rope of bronze threaded with grey. "After I feed and mow my face." He dropped into a chair across from Qui-Gon, fixed himself some tea, and sat back to enjoy the returning consciousness brought by the first few sips.
"Where's Jicky?" he asked when he felt sufficiently awake to form the question and comprehend the answer. He took a piece of fruit from the bowl Qui-Gon had fetched from inside and began to peel it.
"At the beach with some of her new friends. I've met them, and suitably intimidated them."
"Thank you for saving me the trouble. You do it so effortlessly," Obi-Wan said, grinning around the rim of his cup. "Do they know we're Jedi?"
"Yes. What other explanation is there for that haircut? Poor girl."
"Hmmpf. I never got any sympathy for it from you. What are you reading?" Obi-Wan went on before that part of their history could come up for further discussion.
"The entertainment schedule. It arrived with the tea tray. Have a look and see if anything interests you. There are first-run holos, concerts, galleries, other things. I've marked the things I thought might be amusing or interesting. Shall I order up breakfast?"
"Please," Obi-Wan replied, scanning the list. He had a strange sense of urgency he couldn't quite shake, as though he'd gotten a late start to the day and had many things to do, which was patently absurd. He put the list aside and the sense of pressure dissipated. "You choose first," he said, when Qui-Gon returned to the table. "I orchestrated yesterday. It's your turn. The only thing I'd like to do at some point is visit the food market. The kitchen here is quite nice. I wouldn't mind making a meal or two for us."
"Then let's do that this morning. Later, I'd like a long walk or run on the beach with you and Jicky, if she'd like to come, lunch, and a nap. You can see how ambitious I am. Perhaps a holo tonight? We hardly ever see one."
"That would be nice. We could neck in the balcony."
"And have Jicky sit behind us and kick our chairs," Qui-Gon added with a mischievous smile.
"All those things we never experienced as children."
"Or adults, for that matter. What sort of holo? Or do you care?'
"Anything but action or political intrigue, please. I've enough of that in real life."
"Quite," Qui-Gon agreed. "I'll find us a comedy that looks good, then."
"Perfect."
Breakfast appeared with a butler and a covered repulsor cart. Qui-Gon had ordered them hotcakes, juice and smoked breakfast meat, a ridiculous indulgence. Obi-Wan savored every bite. Feeling absurdly guilty, he left the dishes for the staff to take away and went inside to shower, coming out clean-shaven and wearing one of the new hip wraps, which was indeed breezy and much cooler. Finding Qui-Gon still in his chair on the terrace, he took out the loose braid and put in a tighter one woven close to his scalp that tucked most of his hair off his neck. "I can do multiples tonight, if you'd like," he offered when he was done.
"This should be fine, love. It's already cooler. Give me a kiss with that bare face."
Obi-Wan leaned over and let himself be delightfully nuzzled. Afterwards, they strolled into town once again, both wearing nothing more than hip wraps and sun screen.
The market was intriguing, full of local tropical fruits, seafood, staples, and spices. Obi-Wan quizzed the vendors about how best to cook everything and bought enough for both dinner and lunch. Qui-Gon, who had always thought of cooking as a chore, watched in amusement at Obi-Wan's pleasure. But lunch was wonderful and filling and, as he always did, Obi-Wan treated its preparation as a meditation, doing everything with close attention and sitting down to the table with his lover and his padawan wearing a serene smile Qui-Gon had not seen in too long.
"Master, don't take this wrong way," Jicky said, halfway through the meal, "But why are you cooking? I thought we were on vacation?"
"That's what vacation is, Padawan," Obi-Wan replied, pausing with his utensil in the air. "The opportunity to do things you enjoy doing. I enjoy cooking, and feeding the people I love. That's why I wanted accommodations with a kitchen."
"I guess that works out well for Master Qui-Gon and me since we both like eating what you cook," Jicky returned with an impish grin that looked very much like her master's.
Qui-Gon smiled and took another bite himself. "I'd happily eat your master's cooking every day." And plan to get as much of it as I can, while I can.
"So what are you going to do that you don't get a chance to, Master Qui-Gon?" Jicky asked curiously.
Fuck your master into the mattress every night, was Qui-Gon's first thought, one he shielded quite heavily while not daring to look in Obi-Wan's direction. "Like you, I have some reading I'd like to catch up on, and some writing I'd like to do. But I'd also like to spend a day or two fishing."
"Fishing? Really?" Jicky looked intrigued. "On a boat?"
Obi-Wan snorted. "To each his own," he murmured and took another bite.
"Yes, on a boat. It's been a long time since I've had a chance to go deep-sea fishing. Would you like to come, Padawan? Your master is thoroughly uninterested in the activity."
"Yeah, I'd like that, Master. Thanks!" Jicky enthused, and Qui-Gon recalled what a pleasure it was to have a padawan to whom so much was a new experience. He looked forward to that with Anakin's training.
They put off their run on the beach until early evening when it was cooler, lazing about and napping in the afternoon with their respective reading: Jicky the latest installment of an historical pirate saga, Obi-Wan one of the lighter Jedi philosophy tomes, and Qui-Gon one of a stack of cheap and trashy detective novels he tended to blow through by the ten. Obi-Wan and Jicky spent a good deal of the time in the pool when they weren't napping or reading. Qui-Gon made arrangements for he and Jicky to go out on a charter boat later in their stay and pointed out to Obi-Wan that there were a large variety of sailing vessels available for rent, from sailboards to sloops. Maybe they would take one out and Jicky could learn to sail. Obi-Wan wanted to try one of the sailboards himself and Jicky seconded the notion. That evening, they ate an early dinner and strolled off to watch the holo they'd picked, which had Qui-Gon chuckling through most of it, and Obi-Wan whooping with laughter in places. Jicky shot them worried looks, as though wondering if someone had swapped out her masters for strangers when she wasn't looking.
On the way home, they debated stopping off for drinks at one of the cantinas, and decided instead to go to the lodge and sit on the terrace again. They'd passed several appealing restaurants and nightclubs on the way and made plans to spend a night or two exploring those as well. But the comedy holo had left both of them cheerful and relaxed and quiet drinks on the lodge terrace, close to home, seemed an excellent way to wind down the day. Jicky, uninterested in drinks, peeled off at their cabin, leaving the two men to continue on alone.
"Are you bored?" Obi-Wan asked as they were waiting for their order.
Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow. "Why would I be bored? I have you and Jicky for company, good food, and a number of simple pleasures I rarely get to enjoy in peace, and best of all, no one demanding anything of me. I think the question might better be, are you bored?"
Their drinks came, and Obi-Wan used the opportunity to consider Qui-Gon's answer, and his question. "Restless, rather," he said finally, after taking a sip. Nothing fruity tonight, it was instead good Corellian brandy, the kind they rarely treated themselves to. "I can't seem to relax. I keep thinking I've something to do, somewhere to be, that I'm missing something. I thought perhaps it was because you're anxious about something."
"Bleeding through the bond, you mean?" Qui-Gon sighed and looked away. "Yes. Well. Probably."
Obi-Wan reached across the table and covered Qui-Gon's huge mit with his own smaller hand, curling his fingers around the rough palm. "What's on your mind, Qui? Or is it something you can't share?"
"Something I'd rather not think about," Qui-Gon replied, skirting the issue of whether he could talk about it or not. That was enough of a clue for Obi-Wan.
"Ah," he said. "Well, I may have the cure for that. At least a temporary one."
"Oh?" Qui-Gon responded, checking for a leer, and surprised when there was none.
"I suggest a little role play--not necessarily the kind you're thinking of, either," Obi-Wan hastened to add with a knowing smirk, "though that could certainly be part of it."
"Go on," Qui-Gon said, intrigued now.
"If you were not a Jedi, what might you have been, do you think?"
Qui-Gon considered it for a moment. "I would probably be managing the ranch estates on Dannora, I imagine. Settled down with a family. Children largely grown by this time." It was a pleasant picture to put himself in: riding out with Ton Bai each day, living close to that beautiful, rolling land his family had owned for generations. "And you?"
"At my age? Oh, I should probably be a horribly spoiled playboy, with too much money and not enough purpose," Obi-Wan replied airily. "Flitting about from party to party, ruining reputations across the galaxy, including my own. I'd have come into my own money by now and be running through it as fast as I could, with a sycophantic entourage. Imagine a group of us like Quin and Bruck on the loose with loads of credits."
"Force help us," Qui-Gon shuddered in mock horror. "But your family is well known for their philanthropic works, Obi-Wan," he said doubtfully. "I think they would have instilled that in you, had you grown up among them."
"Yes, but I would be the bad seed. Every family's got one."
"You?" Qui-Gon said incredulously. "The Perfect Padawan? The Uptight Knight?"
Obi-Wan cast him an annoyed look. "Work with me, Qui. I said 'role play.'"
Qui-Gon threw up his hands, laughing. "All right, all right. Spin your tale then. Where would we have met? Or would we? Have we just met? A chance encounter? What are we doing here?"
"I'm escaping my boring and greedy entourage, and my familial duties," Obi-Wan replied promptly, giving Qui-Gon an evil grin. "And you . . . you . . ." he went on thoughtfully. "Jicky is your . . . niece. Orphaned."
"Poor lass," Qui-Gon interjected sympathetically.
"You're here on vacation with her because . . . you're newly divorced yourself. It was a, an arranged marriage, not a love match, when you were young and under your family's thumb, but you both wanted out of it when your parents were gone. She left you for some flighty artist."
"So Jicky could just as well be my daughter."
"If you like."
"I do. Not as tragic. I can stand the thought of the divorce but not the orphaning."
Obi-Wan touched his face. "You're so tender-hearted, love."
"Is that what attracts you to me, initially?"
"No, it's your physique. That magnificent, graceful body so scantily clothed here. I've been watching you run on the beach and thinking I'd like to lick ice cream off your nipples."
Qui-Gon laughed again, and squirmed a little in his chair. "How shallow of you," he replied, amused and aroused by Obi-Wan's suggestion.
"Ah, but I have hidden depths that only you can discover," Obi-Wan riposted.
"That sounds like more work than it's worth, if you're such a spoiled brat."
"I'm great in bed though."
Qui-Gon hooted. "Yes, you are. You know what I'd find very pleasant, if you're trying to distract me?"
"What, iji aijinn? Tell me," Obi-Wan said gently.
"I like the role play idea," Qui-Gon began, seeming hesitant.
Obi-Wan squeezed his hand. "But?"
"I like our established relationship. I'd like to just be a couple with you. Not two Jedi, not former master and former apprentice, not young rascal and his old gigolo who've just met. Just two committed lovers with a child."
In the soft shadows, Obi-Wan's answering smile was warm, his eyes alight with pleasure. "I like the sound of being part of a committed couple with you. I like it very much. You know, it's not far from our anniversary. Nearly ten years we've been lovers. That's a nice round number. A good excuse to celebrate like this."
"Yes," Qui-Gon agreed. "Let's make it an early anniversary celebration, then."
"May I indulge you? And spoil you? Will you let me do that?"
"My rich playboy lover? If it makes you happy," Qui-Gon acquiesced with an amused smile.
"It does, my handsome rancher. I'd like to give us both something to remember when we're away from each other. A little glimpse of paradise to keep us warm on cold nights, when I'm off at charity galas and you're out on the prairie with your beasts and ranch hands."
It was a struggle to keep the sadness at the thought of separation from his expression, but Qui-Gon managed and nodded agreement. "Yes," he said. "Exactly."
"What delights can I offer you this evening?"
"You can, after we have finished this marvelous brandy and obtained a sufficient glow--meaning not too much--take me home and make love to me."
Obi-Wan squeezed his hand. "That, sir, will cost me nothing at all, and be a very great pleasure."
"For both of us, I hope." Qui-Gon smiled.
They took their time finishing the brandy, exchanging small caresses and smiles, and walked hand in hand back to the cabin. Jicky had retired to her room already and though the light was on, her silence indicated she was probably reading. Then they heard the quiet beeps and muted blasterfire and hoots of the gaming unit, which guaranteed Jicky's absorption for the rest of the evening.
"Well, that takes care of our girl for the night," Obi-Wan murmured, then leaned up and kissed his partner tenderly, his hands landing lightly on Qui-Gon's waist and then slowly stroking upward over bare skin as they both settled into it. They made it a leisurely exploration, touching and tasting as they moved gradually toward their own bedroom, one slow step at a time, like a stop-motion waltz. By the time they'd reached the door, the warm glow they had on was from far more than the brandy.
"Would you like to finish what we started yesterday?" Obi-Wan inquired. "Or did you have something else in mind?"
"Let's see what develops, shall we? I'm feeling very mellow at the moment."
"Me too," Obi-Wan agreed as he closed and locked their bedroom door behind them. "One thing about these hip wraps: they take most of the fun out of undressing each other."
"But they make such a delicious picture when they're on," Qui-Gon countered. "Let me unwrap you."
"With pleasure," Obi-Wan replied with a grin.
Qui-Gon's big hands found the tuck in the cloth and pulled it out, then began unwinding it from Obi-Wan's hips as they looked into each other's eyes. They studied one another as though it were their first time, Qui-Gon taking in the small lines the past ten years had drawn at the corners of Obi-Wan's eyes, Obi-Wan noticing the silver creeping into Qui-Gon's beard and at his temples. As Obi-Wan's wrap dropped to the floor, he reached up to cup Qui-Gon's face in his palms, thumbs stroking the broad cheeks. "You are so beautiful to me," he murmured and leaned up to press his mouth against Qui-Gon's. This kiss was both tender and playful, the two of them nipping and licking at each other, leaving small passion marks on sensitive skin. Obi-Wan's hands slid down Qui-Gon's chest to undo his lover's wrap and then the two of them were naked, pressed against one another, cocks bumping lubriciously.
Obi-Wan shuddered as though an electric shock had gone through him and Qui-Gon walked him backwards to their bed and carefully lowered him onto it, then knelt between his legs, on the floor. Obi-Wan propped himself up on his elbows and raised an eyebrow. "Do you have plans?" he asked.
Qui-Gon leaned down and licked up the underside of Obi-Wan's cock where it lay against his belly. "For this?" he asked. "Oh, yes. I always have plans for that. Do you have a specific request?"
"I do, actually. I'd like to switch places and have you turn over, if you're agreeable."
Qui-Gon cocked his head to one side, making the thick braid fall over his shoulder. "I believe I can accommodate you."
"Oh, I know you can," Obi-Wan said. "And you'll like it, I promise."
In short order they'd swapped positions, and Qui-Gon, still kneeling on the floor but bent over the side of the bed now, hugged a pillow as Obi-Wan made a detour to the fresher before scooting back between Qui-Gon's knees. He shivered as one of Obi-Wan's hands ghosted up his thighs, over the skin of his back, tracing old scars and the furrow of his spine. "Beautiful man," Obi-Wan murmured and began to kiss his way down the same path. Qui-Gon's mouth filled with the taste of sweet tea as love flooded their bond. Obi-Wan peppered his skin with kisses and nips and slowly worked his way downward, his tongue finally slithering down Qui-Gon's spine and circling just above the crack in his ass. The anticipation of where that tongue might go next made him tremble.
"Do you want this?" Obi-Wan asked quietly and went back to circling his tongue.
"Yes," Qui-Gon heard himself say in a squeezed, hoarse voice. "Yes, please."
Obi-Wan chuckled and gripped Qui-Gon's ass, spreading his cheeks. "Since you asked so nicely."
He felt a warm, wet cloth gently clean him, and then Obi-Wan's tongue slid down his crack and over his opening and Qui-Gon shuddered and moaned.
"Oh gods, kosai! I'd forgotten how good that is!"
The only reply he got was more of same and better. Qui-Gon let his head fall to the mattress and gave himself up to the exquisiteness of Obi-Wan's tongue stroking that bundle of nerve endings until he was shaking and desperate to be fucked. And just when he was about to beg for it, Obi-Wan drew back and he felt a slick finger pierce him, probing for his prostate and finding it almost immediately. One shock of pleasure after another shot up his spine and through his limbs, leaving them watery and squeezing his voice into guttural groans. He was ready now, but Obi-Wan continued to finger-fuck him and he was bucking and quivering and too inarticulate to protest. Nor did he really want to. Everything he'd ever taught the younger man about sex was coming back to haunt him now in the most pleasurable way possible as Obi-Wan drove him slowly to the brink of coming, then squeezed the base of his cock to prevent it and started again.
And finally, just before Qui-Gon thought he might have a stroke and die of anticipation or frustration, Obi-Wan pushed inside, filling him, warm hands stroking his body as he moved in and out in a languorous rhythm that kept Qui-Gon pleasantly, if frustratingly, on edge. Obi-Wan murmured filthy endearments and continued to pet him, gradually progressing to pinches and slaps until Qui-Gon was pushing back against him in a broken, desperate rhythm, demanding more.
Obi-Wan leaned back then and grabbed his hips in a brutal grip and drove into him hard and fast, while Qui-Gon struggled to get his hand between the mattress and his cock to work himself. By the time he managed, Obi-Wan's thrusts and his own frantic bucking had left him only a touch away from coming. As his hand curled around himself, he spilled over that edge with a shout and a shudder, sparks slowly falling to earth behind his eyelids, and Obi-Wan after him with two more arrhythmic thrusts and a keening cry.
Panting, he felt Obi-Wan lean against and then on him, both of them slick with sweat. Obi-Wan's cock, softening, slipped from him, along with a drizzle of spunk. He sighed and leaned back, and cleaned them both up tenderly, still panting. A few minutes later they were settled in bed together, wrapped in each other's arms. They lay with Obi-Wan's head tucked under Qui-Gon's chin, legs entangled, as they had since their first night together. Dimly, as sleep overtook him, Qui-Gon wondered again at how well they fit, how right they were. Not anything as trite as two halves of a whole, but two wholes making something greater than just themselves. How lucky he was to have found this and known it even for a short time, let alone the nearly ten years he'd been granted. Tears pricked at his eyes and he nuzzled into Obi-Wan's soft, sweat-dampened hair, pulled him close, and slept.
But not for long. He woke to heat in his groin and Obi-Wan's tongue traveling up the length of his cock to explain it. He was sprawled on his back, Obi-Wan once again kneeling between his legs, this time offering his master's thesis on fellatio.
"Little gods, your mouth could wake the dead, love," Qui-Gon murmured. "You're doing a fine job on me. If your padawan doesn't win you a mastership, this certainly would."
Obi-Wan leaned back and grinned. "But I'd have to blow Mace to get it. And I'd much rather blow you."
"By all means, don't let me--ah! Oh gods . . . ." Qui-Gon's voice trailed off as Obi-Wan's tongue swirled around the head of his cock and then started to do . .. other things. Things he was sure he'd never taught Obi-Wan. In very short order, he was hard again.
"I presume you have plans," Qui-Gon panted.
"I thought I might take you for a ride. Interested?"
"Only if it's hard and fast."
"I think I can accommodate you," Obi-Wan smirked, and held out the lube. "Would you like to do the honors?"
"My pleasure," Qui-Gon replied, taking the lube with an answering leer. He glanced at the bottle, realizing it was not what they'd bought yesterday, but rather what they used at home.
"Found the lube, I see," Qui-Gon commented as Obi-Wan turned around and straddled Qui-Gon's hips, bending over.
"Never lost it," Obi-Wan replied, his expression hidden but his voice full of mirth.
"You little devil," Qui-Gon muttered, amused, and slapped one side of the two hemispheres he'd been presented with. Obi-Wan laughed. "Even me up, dammit," he demanded, and Qui-Gon slapped the other side, then ran his hands over the younger man's lower back and ass, already turning golden from a mere two days in the sun, where it wasn't pinkening from the slaps. Coating a finger, he traced it down the crack and pushed slowly inside, watching the muscle flower open and his finger disappear. He curled it downward and chuckled as Obi-Wan gasped and clenched down around him, then rubbed lightly over the spot, making Obi-Wan whine.
"Harder, please--" It was Obi-Wan's turn to sound strangled. "Oh gods, Qui! I love your h-hands--Oh! Oh . . ." ending in a deep groan. Qui-Gon could see Obi-Wan's arms trembling. To know he could still give this much pleasure to someone he loved after so many years was as good as watching his lover respond.
He added another finger when Obi-Wan seemed ready and gently teased him open. After a few minutes, Obi-Wan reached back and grabbed his wrist. "Qui, stop. Stop. I'm going to be a puddle of goo here. Enough."
Qui-Gon removed his fingers and wiped them clean. Obi-Wan looked back over his shoulder. "Which view do you prefer?"
"I want to see your face, love," Qui-Gon said softly.
"Much as you love my ass," Obi-Wan added with a smirk.
"I've had a good view of it already this evening," Qui-Gon agreed, answering the smirk with his own. "I want to watch your face when I'm inside you."
"As you wish, my love." Obi-Wan duly turned around and, still straddling Qui-Gon's hips, rose up over them on his knees.
Qui-Gon couldn't help himself. He reached out to glide the flat of his hand down Obi-Wan's torso, over his sternum, a finger dipping into his navel along the way then tracing down the line of red hair that led to the ginger bush below and the thick cock rising from it. His hand closed around it and gave it a quick stroke, then let go and cupped Obi-Wan's balls instead, rolling them in their sac and squeezing just a little.
Obi-Wan hissed and stiffened, throwing his head back and exposing his throat.
"Too soon?" Qui-Gon asked, opening his hand.
Obi-Wan's hand dropped and curled around Qui-Gon's fingers, urging him to close them again. "No, not at all. That's delicious. A little harder." Qui-Gon obliged and watched with hunger as Obi-Wan shuddered. "Oh gods, Qui. Have I mentioned how much I love your hands? Whatever you do with them," he groaned, the muscles in his thighs trembling.
He reached behind and beneath himself and held Qui-Gon's cock against his opening and sank slowly onto it, Qui-Gon shuddering in bliss as he was enveloped, forgetting everything but the sensations of being held in his lover's body. He wanted to remember this, to be able to relive it, and tried to fix it in his mind: their smell, the feel of Obi-Wan's thighs clasping his hips, how they fit together; the arch of Obi-Wan's eyebrows, the light turning his hair a fiery gold, his eyes to green.
Then Obi-Wan began to move and it was even better. Qui-Gon's eyes fluttered closed for a moment, then opened again to find Obi-Wan watching him intently, even as he worked himself. It was a struggle to keep his eyes open, but well worth the effort to watch Obi-Wan rising and falling above him, and the slow flush of arousal creeping up his chest and neck to his face. Qui-Gon stroked his hand down Obi-Wan's chest again, tracing a trickle of sweat. "Beautiful. So beautiful."
They let the burn build slowly until neither of them could stand it any longer, until Obi-Wan pinned him down by his wrists and rode him into orgasm, his groin and then his head going up in flames and Obi-Wan following a moment later. Head lolling, he looked up at Obi-Wan leaning over him, hands still clasped around Qui-Gon's wrists, gasping, head hanging in exhausted bliss. Qui-Gon freed himself and reached up to pull Obi-Wan down to him, feeling himself slip from Obi-Wan's body. He wrapped his arms around the younger man and held him close, welcoming the weight and warmth.
"Oh gods, Qui," Obi-Wan panted. "It's always so good with you. There's no one like you. I'm so lucky to have you."
Qui-Gon kissed his hair. "Or you, love. There won't ever be. You're all I'm ever going to want, especially at my advanced age. But you--"
Petulantly, Obi-Wan pushed himself out of Qui-Gon's arms and stared down at him, brows drawn together in a ferocious frown. "Don't start. There's no one else. No matter who else I'm ever with, there's no comparison. You're the only one I ever feel this way with. The only one I ever will. Don't spoil this by talking about the future that might not be. Focus on the here and now."
Qui-Gon chuckled ruefully and just barely managed not to say Yes, Master. Instead, he said, "I feel very spoiled already."
"Oh, just you wait," Obi-Wan murmured, settled down against him again, yawned, and slid into sleep.
Given free rein, Obi-Wan did not exactly pull out all the stops. Neither of them were particularly self-indulgent, but a series of small luxuries--food or drink or other sybaritic pleasures--made their appearances daily, and whatever activity Qui-Gon desired was made available. Not that Obi-Wan deprived himself or Jicky, either, taking up the role of rich playboy with more aptitude than Qui-Gon had suspected he had. He and Jicky tried the sailboards and were equally delighted with them but they went sailing just as often with Qui-Gon. Jicky became proficient in both activities in very short order, and came to love being on the water almost as much as she loved being in it. Her fishing trip with Qui-Gon was equally successful and she came back babbling excitedly about the one that had slipped from her lure at the last moment. Since they were catching and releasing, it didn't quite matter, but Obi-Wan found it amusing that it only took one fishing trip to make her start telling fish stories, complete with arm measurements that grew with each telling. Qui-Gon, by his own account, landed something that resembled a young leviathan after a battle of several hours and heart-stopping air-borne leaps that could have sunk their boat if the trajectories had intersected. He was glowing with as much pleasure and delight as Jicky in the telling. Obi-Wan basked in the joy it gave him to see that glow.
Qui-Gon and Jicky took to having an early morning swim together, either in the pool or down at the beach, coming back just about the time Jicky's master padded, yawning, out of bed. Obi-Wan joined them once or twice, but was more likely to be found in the water in the afternoon, cooling off there rather than inside, as the heat wave refused to break, and joining his master in an early evening run on the beach.
In the sun, they all turned lovely shades of brown, Obi-Wan's skin with a golden undertone that matched the accentuated blonde highlights in his hair, Qui-Gon a ruddier brown that brought out faint reddish highlights he had had when younger. Jicky, hardly ever inside, turned nut-brown, her hair lightening almost to blonde. Best of all, the lines of stress and worry on her masters' faces gradually smoothed out and disappeared. They laughed more easily, smiled most of the time, and were as mellow as she'd ever seen either of them. Both of them had been lean to the point of thinness on arrival, but though none of them neglected katas or exercise, the two men at least filled out a little and Qui-Gon, to his consternation, showed the beginnings of "furniture disease": "My chest is falling into my drawers," he said wryly, patting the tiny mound of flesh at his waist. "Only to be expected at my age, I suppose. Especially with all these wonderful meals."
They ate extremely well, sampling each of the resort's restaurants before settling on a couple of favorites, and made a habit of going to the lodge's terrace for a nightcap in the evenings. The weather cooled a bit one evening after a day of thunderstorms, and the three of them headed out to one of the more exclusive restaurants at the resort, dressed rather more fully than they had been in some time. Jicky wore one of the more colorful wraps her master had bought her, and the two men wore loose, thin shirts and loose trousers. Or in Obi-Wan's case, rather tight trousers that accentuated his ass.
Dinner was, in a word, exquisite, though it consisted of a series of mere mouthfuls of flavors. Qui-Gon voted it one of the best meals he'd had in his life, only in part because of the company. Even Jicky seemed to enjoy lingering after it, hoping something else might magically appear and sighing over the tiny dessert as though it were a tragic first love.
"I'll never eat anything like that again, will I?" she moaned.
Obi-Wan laughed. "You might be surprised, Padawan. If we end up on the diplomatic circuit there are still some incredible meals ahead of you."
"And some incredibly awful ones," Qui-Gon added. "But it seems blasphemous to speak of them in the company of anything this amazing. Thank you, love."
"Don't thank me," Obi-Wan snorted. "This was pure, unadulterated self-indulgence. You just happened to be along for the ride. Little gods that was good! I can only think of one thing that might compare," he said, glancing significantly in Qui-Gon's direction.
Jicky sniffed. "Don't you two get ever tired?"
Her master and Qui-Gon exchanged smirks. Obi-Wan erupted into outright laughter and Qui-Gon chuckled. "Not very often," Obi-Wan replied.
"Cue the padawan's exit," Jicky said, rolling her eyes. Despite the ick factor, it was good to see her masters so relaxed and so blatantly happy. She knew it wouldn't last, but she would have this memory for a long time. She watched Master Obi-Wan reach over and trace his thumb over Master Qui-Gon's lips and Master Qui-Gon turn his face into Master Obi-Wan's palm and kiss it. It sent a strange little tingle through her, followed by an upwelling of happiness that was only partially coming through the bond. They really love each other, she thought, as though it were a new realization.
They strolled back to their cabin hand in hand, Obi-Wan reaching out for Jicky's hand as well, pulling her in against him so he could put his arm around her shoulders. She slipped her arm around his waist and leaned against him with a little sigh, thinking she'd never felt so content or so happy herself.
Jicky headed indoors when they reached their cabin, while her masters settled on the terrace in the dark. Obi-Wan didn't wait for an invitation, but straddled Qui-Gon's lap as soon as the door closed behind them. He cupped Qui-Gon's face in his hands and dipped in for what quickly became a searing kiss. Qui-Gon opened his mouth to Obi-Wan's insistent tongue and found himself mercilessly penetrated. He groaned, his hands finding Obi-Wan's ass and pulling him tight; he was already hard. Qui-Gon's cock responded in kind until he was truly uncomfortable and panting. Meanwhile, Obi-Wan continued to ravage his mouth. Reluctantly and a little desperately, Qui-Gon pulled away.
"Let's take this inside," he growled, "before I push you down on the grass and fuck you right here."
Obi-Wan slithered from his lap and stood up. "Promises, promises," he purred and turned away, looking over his shoulder with hooded eyes as he sauntered to the door. "You never did get me off in the cantina. You'll have to make up for it now."
Qui-Gon followed Obi-Wan into their cabin's bedroom in a haze of lust. Their kiss had left his mouth bruised and swollen and his groin throbbing. Now, he watched Obi-Wan's hips swaying in that maddening, come-fuck-me slink he exaggerated when he wanted sex. It was in full overdrive mode now. His bulky erection had tightened the already tight trousers he wore, so Qui-Gon was treated to the sight of cloth stretched over the pert, muscular ass he knew and loved so well. He watched it hungrily as Obi-Wan presented it by crawling up onto the bed on his hands and knees. He looked over his shoulder, eyes heavy-lidded.
"How do you want me?" he asked, voice a half-octave lower than normal. For good measure, he wriggled.
Qui-Gon closed his eyes and bit his lip. Force, give me strength, he thought. It was all he could do not to come in his pants, or to yank Obi-Wan's trousers down and shove his cock into that tight little hole and come in there. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly then opened his eyes again.
"Just like that," he growled. "Don't move."
"Not even a little?" Obi-Wan teased, wriggling his ass again.
"Oh gods," Qui-Gon murmured, mesmerized.
"Come . . .and . . . ge-e-e-e-t . . . it. . . ." Obi-Wan sing-songed, continuing to wiggle. "Or is it get it and come?"
Qui-Gon wasn't aware of how he closed the distance between them. Suddenly he was just there at the side of the bed, his hands on Obi-Wan's hips, fingers scrabbling for the waistband of his trousers. He didn't notice Obi-Wan reaching beneath to loosen the fastenings, but the trousers came down easily, sliding down the smooth, now-tanned hemispheres of Obi-Wan's luscious ass, framing them in a pool of dark fabric. No small clothes. The man wasn't wearing any small clothes.
And there was a plug, little flange gripped between Obi-Wan's cheeks, peeping out from between them.
"You--what--when--" Qui-Gon stammered. "Little Gods, Obi-Wan!"
His fingers dug between Obi-Wan's cheeks and closed on the flange. It was slick in his fingers and hard to get a good grip on. Obi-Wan's wriggling didn't help and his laughter was mocking. Finally, Qui-Gon managed to get his fingers clamped on it and pulled. What came out was astonishingly long and thick. Qui-Gon stopped when it was almost out, struck with a sudden desire for revenge.
"You little cocktease," he growled. "I'll fix you--"
He pushed the plug back in again at an angle guaranteed to hit Obi-Wan's prostate and watched with satisfaction as his lover shuddered and moaned, collapsing onto his elbows. "Oh gods, Qui! Do that again!"
"You liked that?" Qui-Gon reached beneath Obi-Wan and cupped his balls, squeezing a little. Obi-Wan hissed like a teakettle.
"Qui-i-I--" he whined. "Please . . ."
"Please what?" Qui-Gon said with deliberate obtuseness, the tables suddenly turned. He had Obi-Wan right where he wanted him.
"Please fuck me? Please?" Obi-Wan wheedled.
Qui-Gon rolled his lover's testicles and pulled the plug out again, then plunged it in over Obi-Wan's sweet spot. "Like that?"
"Yes!" Obi-Wan shrieked. "No! Not the plug--"
Qui-Gon pulled the plug out and worked a finger inside. "Is that what you want?" He rubbed over Obi-Wan's prostate again, making him shudder and buck.
"More!" Qui-Gon did it again. "More fingers, damn you!" Obi-Wan snarled.
Qui-Gon pushed a second finger inside the slick channel. Obi-Wan had lubed himself up thoroughly before putting the plug in. Qui-Gon found Obi-Wan's prostate again and rubbed over it, back and forth, until Obi-Wan was gasping and shaking.
"Enough?" Qui-Gon demanded, leaning over Obi-Wan and whispering the word to the back of his neck then nipping it repeatedly.
"N-no! No! Fuck me, please! I want--oh gods!--I want--want your cock!" Obi-Wan panted, writhing.
Unable to stand it anymore himself, Qui-Gon pushed his own trousers and small clothes down and plunged into Obi-Wan, who howled as though he were being speared. Qui-Gon knew this was actually a good thing. He dragged Obi-Wan back across the bed by his hips until his groin was fitted tight to Obi-Wan's ass.
Even then, he made himself go slowly, raking Obi-Wan's prostate with each thrust until the younger man was clawing at the covers, shoving himself back against Qui-Gon's prick, and making a deeply satisfying amount of noise. Finally, as Obi-Wan reached for his own cock, Qui-Gon picked up the pace. Scant moments later, Obi-Wan's back arched and his anus spasmed around Qui-Gon's cock. Both of them went over the edge at nearly the same time.
They lay together for a stunned minute or so, Qui-Gon draped over Obi-Wan's back, both catching their breath. Eventually, Qui-Gon pushed himself reluctantly upright, slipping from Obi-Wan's body. He threw himself across the bed, making it bounce, and pulled Obi-Wan up beside him, where they nestled together in a disheveled heap of unfastened and half-removed clothing. Qui-Gon brushed Obi-Wan's forehead with this lips, tasting sweat.
"Don't tell me you were walking around like that all day," he murmured into Obi-Wan's ear before biting it.
"Just since the restaurant," the younger man grinned. "What else is vacation for, but to seduce you over an expensive dinner?"
"Gods, everyone really must think you're my rent boy." Qui-Gon rolled his eyes.
"Hardly," Obi-Wan snorted, "when I'm paying the bills. You really don't mind, do you?" he asked, suddenly looking endearingly unsure of himself.
"I thought we'd already discussed this? There's no one else whose gigolo I'd rather be," Qui-Gon whispered and kissed him. Obi-Wan let him, then leaned back to look in his face.
"You're not finding it humiliating or anything? It's just that I hardly ever touch the trust and it's fun to treat you now and then."
Fun. That wasn't a word either of them used very often, especially in the last few years. And, yes, why shouldn't it be fun? They had so little of it in their lives that Qui-Gon could not possibly begrudge this to Obi-Wan. "I don't mind in the least, love. I'm deeply flattered, in fact. Though I'm not sure the trustees would approve of you buying the services of an aging Jedi Master. Nor would the Council approve of me selling them."
"To hell with them," Obi-Wan growled, rolling him over onto his back and straddling his hips. "They're not here. And I'm getting good value for my money."
Qui-Gon cupped both hands around Obi-Wan's ass and squeezed. "I shall endeavor to provide the utmost satisfaction."
"Then shut up and kiss me, rent boy."
On their last day, they strolled through the market hand in hand, utterly relaxed, watching Jicky flit from stall to stall like some nectar-sipping flyer, still delighted with every new thing she saw. At one, while Qui-Gon distracted her, her master surreptitiously bought a small clay figure she had fallen in love with and put back wistfully, slipping it into the bag he had already filled with the food he intended to cook that evening and a last bundle of bright, fragrant flowers for their rooms. "You'll spoil her," Qui-Gon warned without any real sincerity.
"The way you spoiled me with all those rocks?" Obi-Wan said with a smirk as they continued on, his eye following Jicky's progress.
"Precisely. Look what you've turned into."
Obi-Wan shot him a sly, sidelong look. "What have I turned into, Master Jinn?"
Qui-Gon leaned down and kissed him, thoroughly, right there in the middle of the market. "A beautiful man," Qui-Gon murmured in his ear. "A remarkable Jedi. Someone I'm more proud of than I should be, as your master. And someone I love rather inordinately."
Obi-Wan felt himself flush, not from heat this time, but from pleasure. He was growing used to these public displays of affection, but this one was unexpected and delightful. Qui-Gon was usually quite discreet in public, not doing much more than holding hands, as they'd done this afternoon, or the occasional peck on the cheek or forehead. Obi-Wan leaned up for another kiss and Qui-Gon obligingly supplied it, his hand settling on Obi-Wan's neck.
It stayed there when they moved apart and as they continued on through the market. The heat wave had broken, though it was still quite warm, and still too hot to walk with their arms around each other for long. But Obi-Wan was glad of Qui-Gon's hand on his shoulder and couldn't stop smiling, especially when it strayed to the nape of his neck and up into his hair. He realized after a short while that he was grinning foolishly and that other people they passed were noticing it as well and returning the smile. He looked up and found Qui-Gon smiling crookedly too, and laughed.
"We look like a couple of idiots," he remarked.
"We look like a couple of people in love," Qui-Gon corrected.
Obi-Wan did put his arm around Qui-Gon's waist then and snugged him close. "Only because we are."
"Yes," Qui-Gon agreed, kissing his temple, and draping his arm around Obi-Wan's shoulders.
They walked that way until it grew uncomfortably warm, then defaulted back to their original position, with Qui-Gon's hand drifting from Obi-Wan's shoulder to his neck in a constant caress. Obi-Wan filled with a quiet, tangible happiness. It felt so ordinary and so right to be this way, as though their role play were true and they were just a regular, civilian couple, no one special or different or important. Just themselves. It was an usual and deeply pleasant feeling, one he realized he could get used to very quickly. These last three tens were going to stand out in his mind as some of the happiest days of his life.
Jicky came rocketing back to them as they neared the edge of the market, equally alight with happiness. She took Obi-Wan's hand and walked alongside them, describing what she'd seen in great detail and with pleasure and enthusiasm. Obi-Wan's joy bubbled up inside him and spilled over into both bonds. He could tell because Qui-Gon gently squeezed his neck and ran his fingers up into Obi-Wan's hair, rubbing gently, and Jicky actually jumped up and down in place while holding her master's hand. That made all of them laugh.
He wanted to keep this moment, extend it, live in it forever, but its transience was part of what made it so valuable and so wonderful. And he knew there would be more perfect moments in other places and other times. They had a lifetime of them to look forward to.
#END#
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