Master
Apprentice  Archive
Grumpy Old Masters
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Archive: MA and MWEB
Series: no
Categories: Q/M. Yes, this is non Q/O. First-time, PWP
Feedback: Yes, please. padawanhilary@gonwan.com
Summary: No, it's not really about the masters: Padawans Jinn and Windu can't get an even break.
Spoilers/Warnings: I'm playing with someone else's OTP.
Disclaimers: Someday I intend to use my own beloved, beautiful characters to write for fame, fortune and glory. Today is not that day.
For Yogie, who not only birthed the bunny but shoved it into my hands, gave it a name, and then promised me a day of slavery for seeing it out. And all I've got to say to that is, "Muahahahaha."
I used Master Yumas gratefully, and with permission.
/..../ thoughts and bond speak, *....* emphasis
"Hi, Mace," Qui-Gon said casually. "Get out early?"
Mace nodded. "The test was easy. I sailed through."
"Good," his friend replied, and fell silent, pretending to read through the lessons Master Yoda had assigned him on top of his regular homework. It wasn't working; he could feel those brown eyes on him.
"What is it?" he asked, looking up.
Mace was regarding him with an odd expression, as though he had something important to say. Qui-Gon waited.
He had been harboring a case of hero worship for Mace for years. It had mellowed over time, but there were certain things that he'd come to understand would never go away. It had started with a mild fascination with the fact that Mace was the only human padawan in the order without the traditional braid. Qui-Gon had learned to school himself enough not to stare, but it still intrigued him. Apparently, on Mace's homeworld, male children were shaved from birth and kept that way, and the Order had respected the deeply-rooted tradition.
The intriguing lack of braid had only been the first thing Qui-Gon had come to wonder about. Their masters were good friends, and so he and Mace spent too much time together for him not to eventually notice ripples of muscle, smooth skin, those bright, brown eyes, sharp wit, and an intensity that thrilled Qui-Gon for reasons he couldn't even fathom. He had even come to appreciate his friend's sometimes scathing temper. Eventually, slowly by the time he'd reached twenty-three and Mace had reached twenty, Qui-Gon had come to notice something more important, more gorgeous than any of those features: his feelings were reciprocated.
The only difficulty they had was that every time they reached a point at which they were ready to talk, one or the other of their masters would arrive, as if on cue, with a task or an errand. It was as though their masters didn't want them having anything other than platonic interaction, though they had never come out and said anything to that effect.
Mace cleared his throat, and Qui-Gon realized he'd been staring directly through him, remembering dozens of tunicless katas during which concentration had been nearly impossible.
"Um," Mace said, and looked at his hands. "I was wondering if maybe you would want to come back to my quarters and finish that. I have some of that complicated tea you like."
Qui-Gon's heart jumped. "All right," he heard himself saying. "I'll-- just have to let Master Yoda know where I am." He looked into those eyes and saw a great deal more than just a desire to have tea and pore over quantum math, and it turned the pit of his stomach hot with nervousness and want.
Mace sat back while Qui-Gon commed his master. They'd been flirting for months, each waiting for the other to move until the tension between them had opened up, blatantly sexual, and become awkward. Mace had decided it was time to do something about it: today, now. His patience was gone.
He listened to the exchange between Yoda and Qui-Gon, watched those bright blue eyes move from the table to the datapad to him, and smiled a little. Out of nervousness or happiness, Qui-Gon smiled back, a great beaming one that Mace knew somehow was his alone.
Qui-Gon smiled rarely, except when he was around Mace. That had been the first thing Mace had noticed, back when his attraction to his friend had grown from a mild, uncertain crush to not only full-blown lust but, indeed, love. Just the way Qui-Gon *looked* at him made his stomach flutter, but that smile-- it was nearly Mace's undoing, every time he saw it. Lately, he saw it a lot.
Now, he intended to let himself come completely undone.
"Comm you, I will, if I think of something for you to do," Yoda was saying through the hand unit, and Mace cringed inwardly. He really had hoped for uninterrupted time, but he decided he didn't want to wait any longer.
"Yes, Master," Qui-Gon said, and closed the connection. He looked at Mace with something akin to disappointment in his eyes. "That means I'm not going to have a lot of freedom."
"Never mind," Mace said, rising. "Come with me anyway. We can at least--" /Kiss till we're on fire? Stare at each other funny?/ Mace suppressed his worries. "You know. Have tea."
Qui-Gon smiled faintly. "Tea." He nodded, standing.
He took the dataslate with him, checking it out as they left, though he had the feeling he'd have little use for it.
Mace palmed the door closed and turned to face Qui-Gon. "So."
"So." Qui-Gon stared openly. There didn't seem to be much point in couching it now; he wanted Mace, had wanted him a long time. Still, he heard himself saying, "Want me to make the tea?"
Mace moved toward him. "If you like."
"Sure. Because--it gets kind of tricky, with the heat needing to be so precise." He stepped forward, right into Mace, entranced. He put his hands on Mace's shoulders and leaned forward.
"Right," Mace muttered before their lips met, smooth and warm, and then their tongues were wrapped around each other, exploring slickly. Qui-Gon let a groan escape from his throat. Mace smelled warm and sweet. The reserve that Master Yoda was constantly reminding him to hang onto was sliding away in sheets. He cupped the nape of Mace's neck where the padawan braid wasn't and stroked the perfectly soft skin there, every sense snared between the satin skin under his hand and the satin tongue in his mouth. Desire exploded in him as he realized he was kissing his best friend, his beautiful, loyal, dependable, hotheaded best friend, and it made him groan again.
Mace pulled back and studied him, his breathing quick. He ran his tongue over his bottom lip and said, "That was-- worth waiting for."
Qui-Gon could only nod, sure that his voice, like everything else, had disappeared into that kiss. Before he could think again, he buried his hands in Mace's tunics, tugging him close, and Mace was kissing him again. Mace's hands combed through Qui-Gon's spiky hair, stroking. Their breathing grew labored as the kiss intensified, becoming more fiery as their need expanded. Mace was hard, terribly so, but resisted the urge to press forward against Qui-Gon's body, afraid it might cost him the moment.
Then Qui-Gon pulled back, staring, mindful of the fact that Master Yoda could comm at any second. He opened his mouth to speak, but there was too much to say for him to say it quickly, so he didn't bother. Mace cupped his cheek and stroked it, and Qui-Gon tilted his head, leaning into the touch.
Qui-Gon's commlink went off, startling them both. They jumped apart guiltily, then chuckled, embarrassed.
"Yes, Master?" Qui-Gon said, and he closed his eyes as he realized his voice was unmistakably shaky.
"Thought of something, I have. Assigned you, I did, the Serenity Meditation. Complete it, did you?"
Qui-Gon swallowed. "N-no, Master, I-- well, there were the quantum maths--"
"Excuses!" Yoda barked. "Tolerate them, I will not. Do the Serenity Meditation now, you will."
Heart falling, Qui-Gon nodded glumly. "Yes, Master. I'll be home in a moment."
"Need to come home, you do not. At Padawan Windu's quarters, are you? Do the meditation there, you shall. Check on you I will, through the bond. Release you for the day I shall, when attained serenity you have." There was a pause, and then Yoda added, "For putting off the meditation, do it upside down you will." The connection was terminated from Yoda's side.
Qui-Gon sighed, puzzled, bothered, and bitterly disappointed. He looked at Mace apologetically and told him, "I should have explained that this isn't an ideal place for me to try to find serenity."
Mace chuckled to cover his own disappointment. "He would only have told you, 'End up in ideal situations you will not, when a knight you become."
Smiling in spite of himself, Qui-Gon retorted, "That's a fair imitation. I'll be sure *not* to tell him you can do that, or I may never be allowed to see you again."
Mace's eyes went solemn, and before he could help himself, he put his hand on Qui-Gon's cheek again. "That would be bad."
Qui-Gon sighed, wanting so badly to kiss Mace again that it was almost unbearable. He knew, though, that if he did, he'd never complete this assignment, and then he'd end up with beaten shins and an even heavier meditation tomorrow. Probably levitating on the ceiling or with some such amendment.
He pointed out the plasteel door to the balcony. "I'll just borrow that for a little while, all right? The faster I get through this, the faster we can..." He faltered, embarrassed.
"Have tea," Mace broke in, quietly. Qui-Gon nodded, smiling faintly, and moved out onto the balcony, trailing reluctance behind him. He slid the plasteel door closed behind him.
Mace watched him go, suppressing a sigh. He tried not to look as Qui-Gon folded himself over, linked his hands behind his head and upended himself effortlessly, booted feet in the air. He found himself staring, though, as Qui-Gon's tunics gapped downward over a smooth expanse of stomach, tense with the effort of perfect balance.
It was almost too easy.
Mace focused a little, drew on the Force, and sent a tendril of it right through the window to poke Qui-Gon's stomach. He heard a muffled curse as Qui-Gon doubled over suddenly, tucking his legs downward and laughing involuntarily, completely off-balance.
"Quit!" Qui-Gon yelled through the clear door. Mace quit only long enough to allow Qui-Gon to get his balance again. He felt the Force deepening and pooling around his friend as he sought his center, and then he took a more subtle approach. Concentrating hard, he closed his eyes and saw Qui-Gon in his mind's eye. Using his hands, he directed the Force in an entirely different way.
Qui-Gon felt the redirection before he could brace against it or even move. It slid, flat and warm, up his torso-- which, if he'd been upright, would have been *down* his torso-- and straight to his groin. He hissed in a breath and sought to ignore it, but it was very difficult to focus when the very energy around him was being used on him this way. The invisible hand cupped him and stroked delicately, and he opened his eyes and glared through the door, hearing Mace's barely-restrained snickers. At Qui-Gon's heavy look, Mace's amusement turned to remorse at the depth of his friend's discomfort.
/Playing around, you are,/ Yoda's voice muttered in Qui-Gon's head suddenly. /Serious this is. Stop goofing off, you will, or harder will the assignment be the next time!/
/Master, I--/ Qui-Gon gritted his teeth and fought his body's reaction to the gentle caresses Mace had sent. He wanted to say that he wasn't exactly being given much of a chance, but there was no discreet way to say, 'My best friend is using the Force to turn me into one great walking erection.'
/I will complete the exercise, I promise./
/Promise nothing! Do. Worthless and silly are promises. Actions only are meaningful./
Qui-Gon felt his master retreat from his mind and couldn't help but sigh. His head was beginning to ache, his forearms were cold against the balcony floor, and he hadn't even attained his center yet.
Thankfully, Mace had stopped tormenting him, though he had to admit he missed the attention in a strange way. It didn't seem fair, really; Qui-Gon was only now getting a chance to be with Mace, only today had Mace confirmed, proven even, that his feelings were the same-- and here was Qui-Gon, standing on his head on the balcony, trying to be serene in the Force with a flagging erection and Mace looking mournfully at him through the window.
Closing his eyes again, Qui-Gon centered. It came more readily this time; he was able to relax into the Force more easily. Just as he was about to begin Master Yoda's serenity litany, the sound of the sliding plasteel door made him crash back into himself.
But Mace didn't seem to be coming out here to mess with him further; immediately he bent over, braced his head with his forearms, and stood upside down.
Qui-Gon tried not to think, but his concentration was broken again. What was Mace doing? He wondered if Master Yoda had contacted Master Yumas and now *both* padawans were in trouble. Breathing deeply, Qui-Gon sought once more to ground himself.
Mace felt badly for teasing Qui-Gon when it was already clear that he had to complete this assignment. He had a feeling his friend was already in trouble; prolonging this would only make things worse on him. So he tried to center, wondering how his friend could stand still long enough to get any kind of quiet in his mind with the blood rushing down to his head and the noises of Coruscanti traffic buzzing by.
Qui-Gon was definitely something else. He could be a staunch, studious padawan one moment and then laughing with Mace the next. The intimidating blue gaze and calm, even temper made him seem so distant, almost unreachable at times. That was why Mace had been so pleasantly surprised to see those inscrutable eyes trained on him so often, and why the smiles had always meant so much.
Qui-Gon Jinn was definitely his master's padawan: he had the same grasp of the Living Force, the same ability to cloak his emotions, but Yoda seemed determined to make this padawan everything that he wasn't. Yoda's irascibility, his raucous sense of humor, and his tendency toward corporal punishment had all but been forbidden in his padawan. It amazed Mace at times, and he noticed that perhaps it made him admire Qui-Gon as well. He was exactly everything his master wanted him to be, though that had little to do with the fact that he was exactly everything Mace wanted, too.
Mace listened closely for Qui-Gon's breathing, noting with satisfaction that he seemed to have attained a state of calm, if not the complete serenity that Master Yoda was after. Mace decided to try to follow him, quietly.
It took Qui-Gon a moment to realize what his friend was doing. He wasn't being punished: he was willingly standing on his head because Qui-Gon was doing it. Then Qui-Gon felt the shift in the Force around them.
Mace centered himself and pulled the energy up around him and Qui-Gon like a blanket. He was bound, now, to help his friend find that serenity, not only to make up for prodding him, but because he knew it meant so much to Qui-Gon to please his master. Many other padawans would have simply taken the punishment that Yoda would dole out later, especially when given a choice between fulfilling a months-old fantasy and upside-down meditation. That was yet another thing that Mace adored about Qui-Gon: he was dedicated. Rebellious sometimes, but dedicated.
Mace let the Force around them be colored with his affection for Qui-Gon, and then he let it be colored again with his desire.
Qui-Gon felt the shift and struggled to damp down his body's response. But then the energy shifted again, and it felt like patience-- it surprised him, coming from Mace. Mace was not the most patient of individuals. And yet here it was: the patience borne of years of friendship, friendship that would always be there no matter what happened, or didn't happen, between them. Qui-Gon let it sink into him, let it bear his consciousness. What they had sought and longed for had waited so long, it could continue to wait another hour, or two, or a week, or a year. The solidity and reality of their friendship and love for one another would withstand it.
It was then that Qui-Gon realized the love for what it was. Warm and content, it had grown so slowly out of the friendship that it had blindsided them both. His chest filled with it, and he knew Mace felt it, too. Though it wasn't the deep, emotionless serenity that normally came with meditation, it was serenity nonetheless. Perfect calm. Utter peace. And relaxed, easy patience.
"Done, they are," Yoda muttered, moving a holochess figure with a flick of the Force. "Go the way I intended it to, it did not."
Master Yumas twitched his ears. "Good for each other, Qui-Gon and Mace are. Owe me ten dactaris, you do, hm, yes. Told you I did, that my padawan would have to help yours." He smirked, studying the holochess board, then added, "Teach yours to follow the rules, mine can."
Yoda snorted and pulled money from a pouch, tossing it across the table. "Teach yours to calm his temper, mine can."
They glared at each other a moment, ears level. Yoda finally acquiesced and grunted, "Your move, it is."
/Released, you are. Go, go./
The sudden bark of his master's voice in his consciousness roused Qui-Gon abruptly. Puzzled at the tone, he nevertheless folded his legs down and righted himself. Mace did the same, apparently having been given the same directive.
They looked at each other a moment, and then Qui-Gon, in a completely uncharacteristic moment of impulse, pulled Mace to him and hugged him. Mace was so startled that he faltered a bit before he hugged back, warmed. He turned his face into Qui-Gon's neck and inhaled, relishing the soft prickle of short padawan hair behind his friend's ear. Qui-Gon tilted his head encouragingly, and it was a natural progression for Mace to brush his lips against the sensitive skin behind Qui-Gon's ear, just at the base of the padawan braid. He felt Qui-Gon's shiver, and, encouraged, kissed softly down the warm neck to the edge of the tunic.
Qui-Gon pulled back, staring at Mace a moment, then leaned forward again.
The kiss was a sweet, easy caress. Mace knew they had time now, and the urgency they had experienced before had been drained out by the Serenity Meditation, leaving behind only slow, affectionate desire. Their mouths slid together languidly, tasting, tongues slipping around each other experimentally.
"I don't want to do this on the balcony," Mace whispered against Qui-Gon's mouth, and Qui-Gon smiled. He pulled back and wound his fingers through Mace's, studying their twined hands a moment, relishing the contrast in their skin and the sameness in their hearts. He backed toward the door, pulling Mace along, smiling gently.
"I've wanted this," Qui-Gon said, completely unnecessarily. They moved through the common room, into Mace's room, eyes never leaving each other.
"I know," Mace said. "I knew the moment you first smiled at me like that."
Qui-Gon smiled. "Like what?"
Mace kissed him again, slowly, tracing the fading smile with his tongue. "That. That smile. The one I get that no one else does." He pulled back and led the other padawan into his bedroom, already tugging at his belt. They undressed quietly, the desire growing palpably between them as layers of tunics were removed, boots unbuckled, leggings slid down and discarded.
They stood facing each other, suddenly unsure now that they were naked. Qui-Gon's heart was racing. Mace had always been beautiful, but now he was even more so for the love and desire radiating from him. His body was smooth and muscular, the dark skin flawless under Qui-Gon's stare. He was hard, and Qui-Gon's erection pulsed at the sight. Everything about Mace was proud, and Qui-Gon felt almost helpless as his friend stepped forward and trailed a hand down his chest.
Mace sighed, closing his eyes, sliding his hand around Qui-Gon's waist to stroke the small of his back. Lean, hard muscle, soft skin, barely restrained tension. The urgency was returning, hovering under the surface, almost darting back and forth between them.
They came together, bodies pressing hard from knee to chest and then again at their mouths. Qui-Gon slid his arms around Mace's neck, stroking the smooth skin of his scalp, running his fingertips around one earlobe, sliding his hand down the side of Mace's neck, unable to get enough as they kissed greedily now. Mace let out a low, growling hum and tightened his hands on Qui-Gon's back, sliding them down to his hips and around to cup the round swell of his ass, dragging his nails gently.
Qui-Gon gasped into the kiss and thrust forward. He was shuddering now, with knowledge and need-- this was Mace Windu, and he was so elated he thought he might explode. Half-frantically, he broke the kiss and pressed his mouth against his friend's neck, tasting the warm skin and feeling Mace's racing pulse under his tongue. He bit gently, swirling his tongue, and Mace made a grateful noise and tipped his head back.
Qui-Gon trailed kisses and licks and bites over Mace's throat and collarbone, pulling back to bend and draw one nipple into his mouth, sucking at it and biting, relishing the hissed gasp Mace released as he sank his hands into Qui-Gon's short hair, encouraging. Qui-Gon put his hands on Mace's hips, kissing and laving the nipple under his mouth, then trailing over to the other side, biting gently around it, then closing his mouth over it.
Mace was breathing hard now, groaning, stroking Qui-Gon's head and neck while the hot pleasure shot from his nipples to his cock. He wanted to push his hips forward, but there was nothing but air. Then Qui-Gon, Force bless him, began to move downward, kisses sliding and teeth scraping toward his erection.
"Yes," Mace breathed, then looked down when the warm, wet sensations stopped.
Qui-Gon was kneeling in front of him, looking up, those huge blue eyes heartbreakingly full of love and wonder. "Mace," he said, quietly, before he wrapped his arms around Mace's long thighs and stroked his cheek against the plane of hip there, overwhelmed with the newness of it all.
Mace was nearly crumbled by the tenderness of it. He stroked Qui-Gon's hair, brushing his knuckles against his friend's cheek. Qui-Gon turned his head then and nuzzled that dark, hot erection, stroking his cheek over the incredible smoothness of it, and Mace closed his eyes and fought for control.
Qui-Gon took the base of Mace's shaft in his hand, tracing veins and smoothness with his tongue, slowly and gently. Mace began to breathe in gasps and pants, trying not to thrust as his senses narrowed to that tongue mapping him, maddeningly slowly. When Qui-Gon swirled his tongue around the head, Mace had to struggle to remain upright as his knees nearly buckled under him.
In one fluid move, Qui-Gon engulfed as much of Mace's hardness as he could, relaxing his throat and stroking his tongue along the sensitive underside. He could hear the noise of surprise and pleasure, a half-grunted shout that mellowed to a long, low moan as Qui-Gon sucked his way back to the tip.
Mace was nearly incoherent as that mouth worked over him, too slowly but somehow perfectly. It was torturous but so intensely pleasurable that he gasped when suddenly he was sheathed in nothing but cold air. Qui-Gon rose in front of him, pressing himself against Mace's body, sliding their erections together.
"Make love to me," he whispered against Mace's neck, and Mace shuddered. "I want you."
The request was so full of need but spoken so calmly, as though Qui-Gon somehow managed to cling to the remnants of serenity even in the throes of want.
"Yes," Mace groaned, and pressed Qui-Gon to the bed. He went to his dresser to retrieve a small vial, then joined Qui-Gon. He straddled the smooth, hard thighs, simply looking down at the man a moment. Qui-Gon looked up at him with love in his eyes, but there was no impatience, only trusting expectancy. Mace stroked Qui-Gon's throat and collarbone, his fingertips seeking to memorize every curve of muscle and bone. He reached the nipples that were already hard and set the vial on Qui-Gon's stomach. Both of them smiled, but then Qui-Gon's smile disappeared under a sparkling wave of pleasure as Mace's fingers circled and lightly pinched his nipples. He pushed his hips upward, but there was nothing to thrust into; Mace was seated firmly on his legs.
Mace moved his touch down, across the ticklish ribs and stomach, then he took up the vial and opened it, drizzling some of its contents onto Qui-Gon's erection.
"Mace-- ahhh--" Qui-Gon's moan trailed off into a ragged breath as that deft hand stroked the oil over his skin, as slowly and teasingly as he had used his own mouth. Then the oil-slicked fingers were gliding over his sac, skittering lightly over the skin and then massaging softly. Qui-Gon rolled his head to one side and bit his lip, a rumbling, throaty noise pouring itself out of his throat. The fingers tucked themselves under his balls and stroked his perineum, and then Mace was rising, parting Qui-Gon's legs, and settling between them.
"Please," Qui-Gon moaned. "Yes, please. Mace..."
Mace poured more oil onto his fingers and teased at Qui-Gon's opening, excited at the needy movements and noises he was making. Pressing inside softly with one finger, Mace slowly circled it, drawing out a little and pressing back in, a little more deeply each time. Qui-Gon angled his hips encouragingly and spread his legs wider.
Mace withdrew and slid in again with two fingers, stroking deftly, reaching more deeply, watching Qui-Gon writhe under him. So much grace and power in that sinuous body, Mace could scarcely believe that now, today, it belonged to him. He reached inside, stroking, and found that small place that made Qui-Gon cry out and arch, gripping the bedcovers and grinding down onto Mace's hand. Mace stroked again, and again, slowly, not teasing, merely feeling, enjoying, until Qui-Gon was babbling senselessly under him and pleading for more, for release, for anything.
Qui-Gon didn't know whether to sob in disappointment or relief when a third finger entered him. He wanted Mace inside him so badly he could taste it, but then those fingers stroked again and he was arcing off the bed, nearly screaming. He began to plead in earnest then, for Mace's hand around his cock, for Mace's cock inside him, knowing it hadn't been his lover's intention to make him beg, but not caring. He wanted-- needed-- more. All of it, everything. And Mace obliged.
He pressed inside, wrapping his slippery hand around Qui-Gon's straining erection, holding very still once he had barely slipped into the body beneath his. He knew he would rather die than hurt Qui-Gon, but Qui-Gon had other ideas.
"Don't stop, don't stop. More, Mace. In. Please." Qui-Gon pumped his hips, and Mace groaned and slowly sheathed himself completely.
"Ohhhh." Qui-Gon gripped Mace's shoulders, hands working almost rhythmically in his tension. Mace began to move out, then back in again, and Qui-Gon yanked him down, kissing him madly, pinning Mace's hand between them, still wrapped around Qui-Gon's painful hardness.
Any semblance of serenity had fled. Mace almost preened. "I made you beg," he whispered, awed. "I made Qui-Gon Jinn lose control."
"Yes," Qui-Gon said hotly, grinding his hips upward. "You did. Do it again. Don't stop doing it."
Mace raised himself and began to thrust, slowly at first, but then increasing speed as Qui-Gon's eyes met his, those blue orbs burning into him, love and desperation spilling out of them, drowning him. Qui-Gon tucked his hand between their bodies and stroked himself, moaning Mace's name as he had on so many nights alone. The reality was indescribably better than the fantasy had ever been.
Qui-Gon brought his knees up and stared at Mace. "More. Harder." Mace moved faster, lost in the tight warmth, feeling the pleasure pool in his skin and gather around the pit of his stomach. Qui-Gon was stroking himself furiously now, eyes closed and mouth open as it strove to take air in, great gasping breaths ringing between them. He cried out one last time and came, gripping himself, hot fluid pulsing from him and all over his stomach and chest. Mace closed his eyes and thrust, screaming raggedly, something that had words-- but it couldn't have come from him. He was all emotion and nerves, no intellect, nothing coherent, just throbbing orgasm and hot breath, lost in the love and trust of the man under him, lost in the warm, accepting body.
Sighing, he sank downward, pulling unwillingly out, settling to one side, mindful that Qui-Gon was covered in come but unable to do anything about it at the moment. Qui-Gon pulled him close and settled into the crook of Mace's shoulder, kissing softly.
"I love you, too," Qui-Gon said, and Mace made a small noise and kissed him soundly.
After a moment, Mace said, "You have the patience and calm to be a Councilor." It was a quiet observation, a reflection as much on their lovemaking as on their friendship. He called his tunic to his hand and wiped at Qui-Gon's stomach, cleaning away the cold stickiness tenderly.
"And you have the passion and control to be a liaison Knight," Qui-Gon returned. "I can see you, wandering the galaxy with a padawan in tow, setting planets to rights and fixing things no one else can fix."
They fell silent, wondering about their futures, their *future.* Then nothing more was said as Qui-Gon tipped his head up and kissed Mace again, a slow, sweet kiss that slowly redoubled their lust again until they were panting with it.
Master Yumas turned off the holochess board. "Yes, yes. Good for each other they are."
"Hmph." Yoda hopped down out of his chair. "Ruin my padawan's calm, yours had better not."
Yumas glared. "And destroy my padawan's strength, *yours* had better not."
At impasse, they turned as one toward the door. "Time for tea it is," Yoda observed. "Gloat later, we can."
Yumas chuckled.
End.