JAOA - Sleepless

by Gail Riordan (wander@dnai.com)

Characters-Rating: Q/O - NC-17

Series: JAOA - shortly before the events of Breathing Room

Category: AU, Drama, HC

Summary: Smut, MMoM-style

Warnings: Shmoop

Spoilers: Not really - possibly for the series.

Archive: m_a, SWAL, WWOMB and JAOA - anybody else just ask.

Feedback: YES please! It keeps the plot bunnies fed and healthy.

Notes: Many thanks to Black Rose for letting me play.

Many thankyous and chocolate Jedi to Lori, who asked for JAOA happy/schmoopy fic. This one is for you.

[This is telepathy] and /these are thoughts/.

Disclaimer: George Lucas is god and owns everything... except this weird permutation which is just for fun and I doubt he'd want it. All JAOA-specific things belong to Black Rose.

JAOA Page: http://digitalmidnight.net/garden/jaoa.html

JAOA - Sleepless - MMoM ficlet
Year of the Republic 24,983
Gail Riordan, 2002
wander@dnai.com

Obi-Wan Kenobi lay, sleepless and solitary. The big sleeping couch was too big for only one. The sheets were comfortless without Qui-Gon to warm them. Weariness pressed on him, weighing his limbs. Sleepless, solitary, and disinclined to move.

Temporarily solitary. Temporarily alone. Qui-Gon was only a thought away, his Force-presence gaining strength daily, even though his physical form was still lying in a med-bed, fragile and immobile, closely monitored and maintained in the medical center. The healers promised that the neural block would be removed soon. Within the week. Then Qui-Gon would at least be able to feel Obi-Wan's hand on his own.

[I miss your hands.]

Warmth filled Obi-Wan, the wistful resonance of his Master-and-lover's mental voice banishing the lonely chill. Qui-Gon was awake too, sleepless in the depths of night. A long pulse of love and longing washed between them.

[Do you want me to get dressed and come down?] He would, if his Master wanted him to, med-center regulations or no.

[No, no. You need your rest.]

[Yes, Master.] His body was certainly glad enough to stay where it was. With the mental connection between them open, the couch was suddenly more comfortable, the smoothness of the sheets a warm caress. Under Qui-Gon's words he could sense appreciation and remembrance of that body, both clothed and otherwise.

Almost to his surprise, Obi-Wan felt the warmth increase rather than dissipate as he noticed it, pooling low, a tingling heat that began to gather in his groin.

[I miss your touch,] Qui-Gon continued, a smile growing in his thought, banishing the wistfulness. [I miss touching you.] The faint sense-memory continued to thread through the words, a heady counterpoint.

[I miss you touching me, too.] Obi-Wan stretched, moving languorously in the wide space, enjoying it for both of them. He hadn't felt aroused in ... longer than he cared to think. He arched his hips up against the weight of the covers, letting the connection between them deepen, flattening his shields.

Qui-Gon chuckled, a rich vibration that went directly to his groin, sending shivers through him.

[Would you ... I'd ....] Obi-Wan's thoughts tumbled, words tripping over themselves. He wanted to be with Qui-Gon, wanted to enjoy this moment of arousal and togetherness, physical and in the Force, wanted ....

[Touch yourself, love. Let me be with you in your pleasure.]

Obi-Wan could feel his cheeks heat and his flesh harden further. Inarticulate affirmation passed between them as he closed his eyes and gave himself up to sensation and the Moment.

Heat and the prickle of short, crisp curls greeted his fingertips, the thud of his heartbeat kissing his palm as he began to make love to himself. He reveled in the warmth of Qui-Gon's attention and the slick slide of skin on skin. His other hand found those places that he most wanted touched by his lover's hand: breastbone and aureole, the long line of his throat, the sensitive juncture of hip and thigh. The hand dipped lower, and his breath quickened, quiet, needy sounds floating in the silence. The hard, glorious ache built as he moved, cupped and squeezed and slid, writhing in the sheets, arching into the snug channel of his own broad hand. Tighter. Faster. Harder.

[Qui-Gon!] He muffled his cry against the pillow as he came, curled around his frantic hands, aftershocks sending tremors of delight through every part of him.

[Obi-Wan. Beloved.] A ghost-touch of Force whispered against his cheek.

Obi-Wan relaxed into the embrace of the covers, the support of the mattress. Drowsiness began to creep up on him as his heartbeat slowed, his ragged breath eased. [Love you.]

[Always. In all ways.] The sense of Qui-Gon's own joy in his delight glimmered in his mind, a blue twinkle and a soft, sated smile. [Sleep now. Rest.]

They might be separated, solitary, but that was temporary. They were together in every way that mattered.

(... To next stage ...)