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Itchin' and Hopin'

by The Rose (rosarocaminis@yahoo.com)

Obi-Wan frowned and resisted the urge to scratch the small but persistant itch on his butt. It wasn't like he could scratch it anyway, he reasoned, not with Qui-Gon spooned so tightly behind him, one heavy arm draped across him and trapping both of his. Any effort to move would likely awaken his Master, and Force knew Qui-Gon needed sleep after yesterday's endless Council session.

I'll ignore it, Obi-Wan told himself resolutely. Yes, I'll just ignore it and it'll go away.

The itch must have overheard, because it suddenly sprouted tiny little feet and migrated into his crack.

Obi-Wan ground his teeth together, tightening his butt cheeks experimentally. Nope. That didn't do it. It still itched. With a touch of the Force, he reached out through their link, judging the depth of Qui-Gon's slumber. It was deep, and a judicial use of his talents deepened it even further. Just enough, he hoped, as he slowly began to pull his right arm out from under the larger one.

Qui-Gon shifted, mumbling something incomprehensible, and tightened his grip, drawing Obi-Wan back against his chest. the Padawan thought, as the itch experienced mitosis and split into two separate but equal halves, the first burrowing into his opening and the second crawling down his leg to settle somewhere behind his left knee. He wished his fine Force control was as perfected as his Master's as he tried to use it to soothe his itch. Nope, that didn't do it, either.

He shifted, just slightly, trying to draw his other foot up so that he could scratch at least the second itch with his big toe. His foot caught in the blanket. Force! Now what? It was really getting to be too much to bear.

More determined now than ever, he decided to try a new tact. If he couldn't free an arm to reach behind him, he'd have to try the more direct approach. He slowly began to bend his left leg, sliding it along the crumpled sheets toward his chest. There, that should do it. He still couldn't lift his arms, so instead he pushed one deeper into its prison, scrunching his body into a ball as he stretched his fingertips toward his itching knee.

Mid-thigh was as far as he could reach.

Silently cursing his luck but refusing to give up hope, he tried harder, curling up tighter until his head was completely off the pillow, his knee nearly in his face, and still his nails couldn't quite reach that infuriating itch.

If I can't get that one, he told himself, maybe I can get the other one. Checking again on the state of his Master's sleep, he pushed his hand between his legs. Oh, it was going to feel so good to finally scratch that . . .

Hmm. He couldn't reach that one either. Not to be deterred, he raised his right leg, feeling the blanket drag along his hip, glorious close to the itch but not close enough, then a tug as the blanket caught under his other knee.

Obi-Wan nearly cursed out loud.

There was movement behind him, and he froze in position, his body curled into a "u", his left knee drawn up nearly to his chin, his right leg suspended several inches off the mattress. Qui-Gon snuffled in his sleep, making little sucking, swallowing sounds in Obi-Wan's ear, and boldly slid his tree-trunk leg in between Obi-Wan's thighs, nearly trapping his hand there until he pulled it back. Skin to skin, he could feel Qui-Gon's cock firming against his ass, swelling to fill the space, and adding a whole other tickle to the ones already tormenting him.

"Sith!" he breathed, able to remain silent no longer. Now he was too hot, too, and a trickle of sweat had formed between his shoulder blades. A trickle that was, even now, slowly being drawn by gravity down the curve of his back. He pressed back into the lightly furred chest behind him, seeking to soothe this new itch or die trying. But, the chest hair tickled worse than the drop of sweat, and Qui-Gon's deep, even breathing didn't help.

Just when he was certain things couldn't possibly get any worse, they did. Qui-Gon turned his head slightly, and one of his beard hairs slipped into Obi-Wan's ear.

"Force!" he shouted, erupting from the bed like a startled roedeer. He hopped on one foot, one hand digging gratefully at the itch behind his knee, one finger swirling in the depths of his ear, the other itches still itching and demanding his immediate attention. So occupied was he with his own misery that he didn't even notice his Master awakening until the lights came up to quarter strength.

Qui-Gon lay there, his expression one of puzzled amusement, as he watched his Padawan lover going through a series of strange contortions.

"Obi-Wan?" the mild voice asked finally. "What are you doing?"

"I'm scratching, if you must know!" Obi-Wan said, blunt nails digging at the relentless itch between his butt cheeks while the other hand was trying to wipe away the trickling sweat that was even now winding its way down his spinal column.

Qui-Gon merely raised an eyebrow, settling on one elbow as Obi-Wan continued. Finally, the strange dance ended, all of the itches properly put aside. "Better?" the older Jedi asked.

"Mmm. Yes. Much."

"Good." He held the covers open. "Then, come back to bed."

Obi-Wan gratefully crawled back under the blankets, giving Qui-Gon a quick kiss before turning over and pressing his back against the other's warm chest. Arms encircled him, making him feel safe and loved, and Obi-Wan felt his eyelids getting heavy again as sleep beckoned. Behind him, Qui-Gon was already fast asleep.

Surely, no one in the universe is more blessed that I am, Obi-Wan thought. He snuggled in, finding the perfect position, and let sleep draw him.

Then, his eyes snapped open as a small but persistant itch blossomed on his butt.

The End