It Happens to Everyone

by MrsHamill (thamill@cox.rr.com)

Rating: Most definitely NC-17

Pairing: Mostly Q/O. Heh.

Archive: My site, Mom's Kitchen at www.squidge.org/~foxsden and MA I guess

Category: Humor/Parody

Spoilers: Utterly none.

Summary: Let the title guide you.

Warnings: I really don't recommend males reading this. Really, really not.

Disclaimer: I disclaim disclaimers. While not exactly daring legal action, I don't necessarily go out of my way to avoid it, either. George knows where I live.

Notes: This is the fault of the ladies -- er, the women -- er, the female beings -- of TMI Temple, but the blame really lies with that wretched long-necked-brown-bird for suggesting it. And to Gloriana for picking the fight with her in the first place, which kinda led to the suggestion. And to Hilary for pinch-hitting for Fox and for giving me the ending, much to her chagrin. And to Majilique just 'cause I love her. My husband can't believe I've written this.

"Master, it's all right. It can happen to anyone."

"It doesn't happen to me, Padawan," Qui-Gon said, thumping the pillow with unnecessary force before settling back on his bed. Qui-Gon looked to his right to see his Padawan -- his glorious and gloriously naked Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi -- settle down gracefully next to him in full lotus; a position leaving nothing -- absolutely nothing -- to the imagination. Then Qui-Gon looked southward along his own long, lean body at the limp piece of flesh that wasn't even twitching at the sight.

"Force." Qui-Gon groaned in frustration, trying and failing to release that emotion to said Force. "This is ridiculous."

"Master," Obi-Wan said again, his honeyed words simply dripping with sympathy. "I told you, it's all right. I don't mind."

"You might not mind," Qui-Gon growled, then pointedly looked at the point of their being on his bed in the first place. "But there's definitely a part of you that does mind, and I mind, and dammit, this doesn't happen to me!"

"There are other things we can do," Obi-Wan purred, running one hand gently up and down his lover's flank. "You know, you don't always have to be on top."

"But I'm the master, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said, his voice suspiciously close to a whine. "I'm the master, and the Code absolutely forbids the master to be on the bottom. You know this, Padawan."

"Master..." Obi-Wan said, his tone silken.

"Forget it, Padawan," Qui-Gon said, exasperated, throwing himself off the bed and pacing the room. "Perhaps there's an aphrodisiac I could take," he muttered to himself. "Or maybe I should see the healers... no, if I did that, it'd be all over the Temple inside a day. Can't do that."

Obi-Wan sat on his Master's huge bed and tried to ignore the persistent hard-on knocking against his abdomen. His lovely idea of a quickie -- I'm horny, you're hot, let's just rip off our tunics and go at it, Master -- was rapidly turning sour, and it was all because of a little, um, erectile dysfunction on the part of his Master. So he couldn't get it up... so what? Obi-Wan was quite certain that with a little persuasion down south, the Little Master would be bouncing around happily in no time.

But no... The Code Forbids It. "Bullocks the bleeding Code," Obi-Wan snarled to himself, and, with new resolution, stood. Qui-Gon was still pacing, still muttering, and, Obi-Wan noticed, there was still no joy in Dagobah.

Hmmm. Dagobah.

Quickly Obi-Wan went into the common room and sat at the communication center, dialing a number that was as familiar as his own. The other unit chimed for a long time, and Obi-Wan was just about to give up when it was answered by a breathless, disheveled, wrinkled green being.

"Is it, what?!" Yoda demanded, his speech even less coherent than usual. "Interrupting me, you are!" Then, as he took in Obi-Wan's state of undress, his eyes widened and he cackled. "Ah, obscene phone call this is, yes?"

"No!" Obi-Wan said quickly. "Really, Master, it isn't, I've... well, I've got a question, an important question, on, ah, homework! Yeah. I've got a homework question and I need your valuable input!"

Scowling again, Yoda said, "Wait it can. Important job I am doing now too."

As he reached to disconnect, Obi-Wan said, "But Master Yoda, it's about the code! A serious, ah, personal question about the code!"

Yoda regarded him with some suspicion, looking him up and down curiously. "Personal question it is? What personal question can you have, hmm?"

"It's about, well, about Master-Padawan relationships, actually," Obi-Wan said, biting his lip. He noticed Yoda staring avidly at those lips and immediately stopped, swallowing nervously.

Still staring at his lips, Yoda snapped, "Hurry it up, you will; ask!"

"Oh... yes. Well. The part of the Code that talks about Master-Padawan relationships..."

"Said that you have already! Make your point you will!"

"Is it true that the Master must always be on top?" Obi-Wan asked, all in a rush.

Yoda blinked at him, obviously nonplussed. After a moment, he said, incredulously, "For this you drag me away from... hmm. Know the Code you do! Recite it morning and night you do! What part of "Master on top will always be" don't you understand?"

"Well," Obi-Wan said, wincing a bit at the anger in Master Yoda's voice, "I just wondered if maybe there could be a loophole, like maybe the master could be on the bottom while being on the top or something like --"

"Loopholes there are not!" Yoda bellowed. "Wrote the damn Code myself I did! Loopholes I did not place there!"

Obi-Wan gaped. "You wrote the Code? You?"

Grumbling, Yoda twisted up his face -- at least, Obi-Wan thought he did. It was difficult to tell. "When nine hundred years old you are, have things to your credit you will too," he said sourly. "Eight hundred years ago it was. Order getting sloppy, it was. Needed new rules, we did, to -- to better control things. Master their masters, padawans can not. Must prevail the rule of seniority, in all things, yes."

"Even in anal sex?" Obi-Wan demanded, aghast. "But Master Yoda..."

"Why questioning it now, are you?" the little troll demanded abruptly, his eyes narrowing. "Happened something has, yes? Pissed you off has Qui-Gon? My Padawan he was, teach him a lesson I can."

"NO!" Obi-Wan gasped, a visceral reaction, then he stopped and thought for a moment. "Well... actually, maybe... you see... it's really very simple..."

"Wasting time you are," Yoda growled. "Make point you shall!"

"I wanted a quickie when I got home and Qui-Gon couldn't get it up," Obi-Wan rattled off, a little rattled himself. "And he's, well, he's a bit upset about it. I thought if there was a way I could be on top..."

"Impossible that is," Yoda snapped. "Master their masters, padawans can not," he repeated. "But one person there is more senior than your master," he cackled. "Over I shall be, momentarily. Sit tight you will. Warn him you will not." Obi-Wan gulped and nodded, feeling the Suggestion behind those words.

Oh, Force.

Obi-Wan was sitting on the sofa, wearing only his robe, when Yoda stormed into the common room. One wizened claw clutched his robe shut while the other held the ubiquitous gimer stick, and there was a scowl on Yoda's face that could have stopped a clock. "Where?" he demanded, and wordlessly, Obi-Wan pointed to the bedroom.

With surprising swiftness, Yoda stumped to the door, waved it open, entered and closed it after himself. "Master! What are you doing here?" Obi-Wan heard Qui-Gon exclaim.

Not meaning to eavesdrop -- truly, wishing to avoid eavesdropping -- Obi-Wan was nonetheless forced to overhear everything. Everything. Apparently, the inner walls of quarters were rather thin, and he could only hope that the walls between quarters were not the same. Pressing pillows to his ears didn't really help.

"Remind you, I shall, of lessons? Human prostate gland lessons? Forgotten so soon you have?"

"But... Master... Oh, Force. Obi-Wan called you, didn't he? It's nothing, really, Master, just a little... I mean, it happens to everyone, doesn't it?"

"To my Padawan it does not!" Yoda thundered. "Get it up all my Padawans can do, even female ones! Or answer to me they shall!"

"I'm sure it's just something I ate..."

"Excuse this it does not! Bend over you shall, and now!"

"But MastERRRR!" The word ended on an upward shriek, and Obi-Wan found himself impressed that such a big man could reach such a high note.

"Better that is," he heard Yoda mutter, then there were some noises he truly didn't want to identify. Qui-Gon was reduced to whimpering and moaning. "Humans. Bah. Hormonal creatures you are. Spread your legs wider you will. Fun for sport you are, but no stamina you have. Nine hundred years old am I, and able to pop a boner I can, any time." There was a snapping noise that made Obi-Wan wince in sympathy, then a long, drawn-out, heartfelt moan from his Master.

"Keep your Padawan happy you must," Yoda continued, seeming oblivious to the noises his own former Padawan was making. "Nice ass he has. Good jaw muscles. Uh." Yoda's grunt was met with a sigh, then there was no more conversation for a while. Plenty of sounds... sounds Obi-Wan had no intention of categorizing, but no conversation.

Finally... finally the noises stopped, and the door opened. Yoda returned to the common room looking much as he had when he had left it, aside from what was surely supposed to be smirk on this face. Obi-Wan jumped to his feet, kept his back to the wall, and bowed perfunctorily. "Finished, I am," Yoda said, waving his gimer stick airily. "Needs you he does," he added with a cackle, then, without a backward glance, left the quarters.

Obi-Wan stood rooted to the spot, his mind churning in horror. Exactly what had gone on in that bedroom?

"Oh, Padawan," came a sultry call from said room, and Obi-Wan jumped. Slowly, reluctantly, he walked through the still-open door of the bedroom and saw his Master lying on the bed. There was no sign of blood, semen, or any other possible bodily fluid, but then again, who knew what Yoda secreted?

"I think we have unfinished business, Padawan," Qui-Gon said, displaying his long muscled frame to his apprentice and languidly stroking his impressive hard-on.

Gulping, Obi-Wan slowly drew off his robe and laid it across the chair next to the door. "Master, I'm sorry," he said, near tears, then indicated his own flaccid state. "I... after all that... I don't think..."

"Oh, that's perfectly all right, Padawan," Qui-Gon purred, gesturing him closer, patting the bed. "It happens to everyone, after all, and there are other things to do." With a weak smile, Obi-Wan sat down on the edge of the bed. "Let me show you a technique my Master taught me..."

With a sigh, Yoda made it back to his own quarters and hung up his robe on the tiny coat-rack near the door. The black leather corset gleamed in the dim light, and gratefully, he swapped his gimer stick for the riding crop.

Walking over to the large, horizontal X-frame that dominated the room, he touched the ball-gag that graced Mace Windu's mouth. "Done that is," he said, satisfied. "Now. Where were we, hmm?"

Mace didn't reply.

end (betcha yer glad for that!)