Disclaimer: Lucas owns all, except my imagination. Don't sue;
I'm not making any money off this.
Feedback: Please, any sort.
It was a dream, Obi-Wan told himself fervently. It had to be a
dream. There was no way that his--
ohthatfeltnice
--Master would, voluntarily and unasked, come to his bed in the
middle of the night and start--
--start--
"Ohhhh," Obi-Wan moaned, unable to stop himself. This isn't
reality, he told himself sternly; but parts of his anatomy
weren't listening.
Mid-lick, Qui-Gon raised his head. "Problem, Padawan?" he asked
mildly.
"You're, ah." Obi-Wan faltered, stopping himself from saying
something too obvious. Qui-Gon waited, though, as patient as he
ever was, and Obi-Wan searched for more words. "Is this a
dream, Master?"
Qui-Gon breathed out gently, sending a ruffle of air across
Obi-Wan's chest. "It is reality. All is reality, even dreams,
until you awaken."
"Helpful." Obi-Wan's head fell back against the pillow with a
thump. It had to be a dream; there was no way this would be
happening. No way. Sure, he'd wanted it enough, and he would
give anything to have this happen in real life, but his Master
would never--
--would never--
--and Qui-Gon's head was down again; his tongue was teasing one
of Obi-Wan's nipples, his beard rough against Obi-Wan's skin,
and one of his hands was--
--thiscan'tbehappening, but nice, so nice--
Obi-Wan lifted his hips, arching to allow Qui-Gon better
access. The hand stroked gently down, along Obi-Wan's spine,
down, caressing the skin and sending hot tingling waves of
pleasure rushing to his groin.
"Oh, don't stop, don't stop, please, don't stop." He knew he
was babbling, but didn't care, not when Qui-Gon was
there and doing that and, oh, why was he leaving?
But he wasn't leaving; just pulling back, sitting up, letting
his hands run soothingly down Obi-Wan's trembling legs.
"So," Qui-Gon said. "Is this a dream, then, do you think?"
"Must be." Obi-Wan regained control of his body. "There's no
way that you would know, otherwise..."
"Unless I felt the same way?"
Obi-Wan blinked a few times, and then whimpered, discarding
thought for need. "Kiss me, kiss me," he begged, reaching for
Qui-Gon. And the man reached back, twining his broad hand in
Obi-Wan's smaller one, bending to meet mouth with mouth.
Sweet hot pressure, soothing and stimulating at the same time.
Obi-Wan was dimly aware that Qui-Gon was cradling the back of
his head, but all he cared about was the warmth that ran from
his mouth to his groin. Every nerve seemed alive.
Force, but he liked this dream.
"More," he moaned when the kiss ended; but Qui-Gon shook his
head, smiling a little, and brushed his fingers lightly against
Obi-Wan's cheek.
"Padawan, my own, now is not the time for more."
"Oh," Obi-Wan said, trying to control his disappointment. "But
it's a dream..."
Qui-Gon's smile spread to his eyes. "Wait a while, my Padawan.
When you are a Knight, if you still dream in this way, come to
me. We will finish what we have started."
If it was a dream, he could lose nothing; so Obi-Wan stretched
up his his hand to rest against Qui-Gon's cheek. "I love you,
Master."
"And I you-- Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon turned his head and pressed a
kiss against Obi-Wan's palm.
And then the dream shifted, as dreams did, though none of the
night was as exciting.
"Did you sleep well, Padawan?" Qui-Gon asked, as he did every
morning.
"Yes." Obi-Wan took a big swallow of the waiting glass of cold
emarr juice, and looked up at his Master through his lashes. "I
had a rather...illuminating dream, though."
"Is that so?"
"Mmm-hmm."
Qui-Gon smiled gently. "Well, then. When you are a Knight, if
you still dream that way, come to me and I will help you figure
out the meaning."
Obi-Wan, startled, blinked up at Qui-Gon, who simply smiled in
his enigmatic-Master way and said nothing.
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