Our Little Green Friends

by Tem-ve H'syan

Title: Our Little Green Friends
Author: Some Other Bugger (tem-ve@gmx.de)
Pairing: Q/O
Rating: NC-17
Summary: At a remote retreat, retired Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn comes across a rather unusual combination of sex partners.
Notes: The blame for this one lies squarely with The Emu for describing a recent trip to the beach in very sensual detail, thereby giving me the bunny, and then insisting the Some Other Bugger write it. May the sea anemones suck your sensitive bits for years to come, 'Mu. This one's for you.
Warnings: Occasional silliness. Also, probably not recommended for people with a tentacle squick.

"Qui-Gon?"

Uncharacteristic silence greeted Obi-Wan as he entered their quarters. A quick check revealed that the robe that would normally hang beside his own at the back of the door was gone, and the comm terminal did not have any fresh messages on it. Neither did any of the other objects Qui-Gon would be likely to leave messages on - in the course of their years together, these had come to include pretty much anything that could be flattened into a writing surface, from food wrappers to plates to individual wilted leaves of the small jungle Qui-Gon liked to keep in the 'fresher, claiming it liked the warmth and moisture.

Actually, this would be a good opportunity to get some fresh air into the place.

Not that he minded the faint scent of Qui-Gon that hung about the pair of small rooms they had called their own for the last couple of years. Far from it - and really, Qui-Gon had never complained about the cold draft of outside air that all but scoured the walls the moment he opened the window. But there had been something in the man's posture, something in how his bones seemed to move closer together, a minute tightening of his features that told Obi-Wan he found the chill far more unpleasant than he was letting on.

His mind made up, Obi-Wan dropped his armful of data readers and demonstration materials on a chair, threw his robe over another, stretched luxuriantly, shuddered delicately at the audible pops in some of his joints, and was just about to stride toward the window to do the dirty deed when the door rumbled open and Qui-Gon entered.

"Why do I have a strange sense of foreboding, as if you were just about to do something truly reprehensible?" the Master demanded, the crinkles around his eyes belying the earnest tone of his voice. "Young people these days." He laid a hand on Obi-Wan's head, making as if to ruffle the still-short hair, then stilled when Obi-Wan moved closer for a brief kiss, lips and beards barely touching, noses avoiding each other blindly through long years of practice.

"I was only going to get us some more air to breathe," Obi-Wan murmured against his lover's skin. "Thought I'd make use of your unscheduled absence and get it over with without having you shivering at me."

"All right, all right." Qui-Gon waved a large hand dismissively in the apparently not-fresh-enough air. "I'll keep my robe on, then. Do what you must." A pause. "And it wasn't so much unscheduled as unexpectedly early. Councillor Arsu really takes pride in getting everything done in time for her evening mudbath." Qui-Gon's faint lopsided smile made Obi-Wan's lips twitch in answer. Combined with the fact that his eyebrows had just risen up at least half an inch, he realised he must look rather stupid.

"You got summoned?"

"Not so much summoned as dragged into the nearest free chamber, but yes. The dread presentation is over. I have now officially been retired from active field duty."

Watching Obi-Wan's expression intently, the Master brushed back a section of his still-thick grey mane to reveal an earlobe freshly pierced and decorated with a small oblong piece of metal.

"I am now officially an elder," he said softly. "And Arsu, bless her mudbathing soul, made sure that that would not equal having me mope around the Temple full-time. I sincerely hope you can free up a tenday or two in your teaching schedule, because I would dearly love to take you."

Obi-Wan blinked slowly. It was almost certainly inappropriate to take that last bit as an offer to have sex there and then, regardless of the fact that the sight of Qui-Gon's flesh pierced with a crudely elegant piece of metal left him more than a little warmed. Never mind that the place currently occupied by said piece of metal (an unusual pale greyish bronze tone somewhere between the colour of Qui-Gon's skin and his hair) was one of his favourite places in the galaxy, warm and Qui-Gon-scented that it was.

"You. they sent you away?"

"Not quite," Qui-Gon smirked. "But we do have free transport rights, traveller class, to anywhere in the galaxy. And back, of course. Wouldn't want to deprive the Padawans of their favourite teacher."

Obi-Wan was halfway to making a dismissive gesture, for all that he knew it would get him nowhere, and Qui-Gon would easily be able to quote at least a handful of Padawans and their recent comments on Knight Kenobi's attention-capturing skills.

Halfway through the gesture, his hand decided otherwise and settled in Qui-Gon's hair, giving the grey strands an affectionate little tug.

"Thifarie, right?"

Qui-Gon nodded gravely, the broad smile on his features making him look far younger than his seventy-four standard years.

Thifarie. Obi-Wan, for all that he hated flying, almost looked forward to spending the two days aboard the hyperspace ship to get there, if only to see what this fabled world of Qui-Gon's tales was really like. Qui-Gon had spent a sabbatical there as a young Knight, and if the tales of his agemates were to be believed, had returned as a near-magical creature, wholly in touch with the Living Force, all but singing with vibrant life energy, and visibly reluctant to undergo such mundane routines as filing written reports, communicating long-distance or maintaining a semi-respectable haircut.

Qui-Gon hadn't been back in all the intervening years, devoting himself to the Order and the service of the Light to the point of nearly dying several times, and Obi-Wan privately suspected that it was his special connection to the Living Force, forged in his retreat on Thifarie, that had kept him alive on at least one of those occasions.

Never mind that it made him a force to be reckoned with in bed, still not quite faded away even at his advanced age. Obi-Wan shivered delicately, and caught a mildly concerned look from pale blue eyes. Qui-Gon had drawn his robe tightly about himself to ward off the artificial desert-night climate of long-distance transports, and Obi-Wan was still debating whether to give in and do the same, giving up the appearance of the Jedi in his prime, when a long, brown-robed arm made that decision for him and enfolded him in a comfortable, warm embrace.

Qui-Gon had shed his clothes pretty much the moment they had parked their rented speeder and set their packs aside. He hadn't even waited until he was behind closed doors, leaving Obi-Wan gaping in the. well, he would have called it a street under normal circumstances, except that there were indeed no neighbouring houses this far into the hills.

Their accommodation looked like it hadn't been inhabited in a long time -though that could be deceptive given the organic, earth-toned feel of the thing. The walls looked like they had been made of packed earth, with layers of pebbles thrown in more for decoration than stability. How they had managed not to collapse in the moist climate was anyone's guess. Maybe the Living Force held them up.

Even Obi-Wan sensed the exuberant thickness of the Living Force in this place. With a sigh, he resigned himself to carrying their packs inside - and Qui-Gon's clothes, which the Master had left flung over the speeder's back seat before wandering off into the greenery - before he himself could get a decent look around.

The inside of the house consisted of one large room with a wide wooden pallet, a longish trestle table on one side, an open fireplace, and a couple of big wooden trunks set in one corner of it. Obi-Wan hoped that they contained bedding and some sort of cooking or eating implements. At least they would double as chairs if necessary. Shaking his head at his ingrained practicality, Obi-Wan dropped their packs on top of one of the trunks and flung his robe on the pallet. He was here on holiday. To relax, and possibly pick up some practical hints about the Living Force. On impulse, he took off his belt and outer tunic as well. It was rather warm here, and this was their private space after all, for the duration of their stay.

Peering out of the back door into the mild daylight that appeared unnaturally bright next to the dimness of the room, Obi-Wan decided he might as well go in search of his wayward ex-Master.

The search proved short - Qui-Gon was easy enough to spot among the riot of green that must once have been the house's garden and now resembled a three-dimensional maze of vines, branches, sabre-shaped leaves and thick pads of moss apparently intent on ignoring the laws of gravity. Qui-Gon's Force signature was all but indistinguishable among the messy growth, but his pale skin was still easy enough to spot, a long slender streak of man apparently resting in the intimate embrace of a patch of vines with glossy triangular leaves. He had his eyes closed, his arms and legs stretched out, and his fingers buried in the thick foliage. He looked genuinely happy; and Obi-Wan suspected that the vines were happy too, considering how decorously and beautifully they acquiesced to having a thin but still pretty heavy human draped on top of them.

Obi-Wan took a minute to admire the peaceful, if slightly odd, scene. Seventy-four years. He had never seen those coming, nor had he ever really noticed them leaving their marks on Qui-Gon. True, his hair had gone a little greyer with each passing year, and the short beard was almost completely white now, but under the softened and wrinkled skin there were still the same big bones and the same tough muscles. Leaner now and less defined, and the hairs on his shins and forearms gone white, but what he had lost in strength, he had managed to make up for in experience, to the point that his later fighting style seemed to be mocking the younger Jedi with its abbreviated, economical movements. Still, what had been apt to impress in the salle was no longer sufficient to grant his safety in open combat, and Qui-Gon had been forced to admit that when a lesser opponent had left him badly injured on that mission to Eisan. Time was simply taking its toll on those heavy bones, and Obi-Wan murmured a quiet word of gratitude to the Force that while his old Master's joints may be creaking, his senses had remained as acute as ever. As had his ability to reduce Obi-Wan to a whimpering, moaning wreck with a few well-placed touches. If anything, years of intimate familiarity with Obi-Wan's body had only enhanced his sensual skills in that respect -

"Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon's voice was warm and quiet, as if woken from a much-needed nap. "Come here."

Hesitantly, Obi-Wan picked his way across roots and vines to where Qui-Gon was laboriously levering himself upright.

"I bet you've been wondering," Qui-Gon continued softly as his hands busied themselves with Obi-Wan's tunic, "about the sanitary facilities in this place. Not to say 'worrying', my cleanly Padawan." The smirk mingled with a genuinely affectionate smile as Qui-Gon slid the tunic off Obi-Wan's shoulders and proceeded to unlace his leggings. "Correct?"

"Well," Obi-Wan stalled, then decided to save Qui-Gon the trouble of bending over to remove his boots. "I have yet to find the 'fresher, if that's what you mean."

"There isn't one," Qui-Gon replied conversationally. "Bodily wastes are used as fertiliser, as you can well imagine," a sweeping gesture encompassed the exuberant jungle-garden around them, "and the cleaning duties are lovingly performed by our little friends here."

Obi-Wan blinked and looked up from the task of unbuckling his boots, to follow Qui-Gon's hand to where it was pointing. He thought he could make out a smooth water surface through the tangle of vines, but he wasn't at all sure how that tied in with the idea of 'little friends' at all.

Not that he had much time to continue wondering. Not when Qui-Gon's hand had taken hold of his own and pulled him along behind the Master, weaving his way through plants that somehow seemed willing to make way for Qui-Gon's not inconsiderable height.

Beyond the last layer of plantlife lay a small pond half-overgrown with overhanging branches which in turn were covered in epiphytes, moss, and other strangely cheerful green things. Qui-Gon summarily grabbed hold of one of the thicker branches and stepped into the dark water. Surprisingly deep water - it swallowed Qui-Gon's legs up to mid-thigh and appeared totally opaque, a deep green so dark it was almost black in the shadow of the surrounding trees.

What unsettled Obi-Wan more than the odd colour of the water was the complete lack of ripples as Qui-Gon stepped in. And true enough, when the Master cautiously waded in deeper, the stuff - for water it clearly wasn't -clung to his skin in a thick translucent green layer.

"What are you waiting for? It's lovely and warm," Qui-Gon called out, lifting up a handful as if to illustrate. It oozed elegantly between his fingers and ran down his forearms in slow shining rivulets. "And I promise you'll enjoy the sensation."

Cautiously, Obi-Wan tested the strength of another overhanging branch and dipped a toe in the murky water. It was warm all right, and the thick texture wasn't as unpleasant as he had feared. Carefully, he lowered one foot in until he found purchase on the ground, which appeared to be made up of sand dotted with round pebbles, much like the ones the house's walls were made of. Qui-Gon's hands around his waist made sure he was all the way in much sooner than he had been planning to.

Obi-Wan had tried his best not to squeak. But the sensation assaulting his unprepared skin was just too much to keep under control. "What... Qui-Gon, what is this?"

"Algae," Qui-Gon shrugged eloquently. "Single-cell organisms that feed on sunlight. and the odd piece of dead skin."

"Skin?" Obi-Wan sounded alarmed.

"Think of it as an all-over scrub," Qui-Gon replied with a grin. "Dirt, grease, dead skin cells. it's all fertiliser to them. I especially recommend letting them work on your hair. There's no better way to make it shine than to have all the flaky bits eaten away."

As if to illustrate his outlandish explanation, Qui-Gon dipped under the surface of the pond and came up covered in shimmering green goo, his grey hair coated to an alarming shade of bright green. With visible pleasure, he wiped his eyes clean and smiled a green-smudged smile at his incredulous lover. "Try it," he said. "I won't make you."

"Thanks," Obi-Wan replied uncertainly. Frankly, the sensation on his legs and what was between them was quite enough to process at the moment. It really did feel as if his skin was being scrubbed by a million tiny soft brushes. Every bit of his skin. Everywhere. He could feel himself getting aroused from just the unfamiliar touches. Not that the presence of a very naked and glistening Qui-Gon was in any way detracting from that arousal.

"How... how does the stuff come off again?" Obi-Wan hazarded as he carefully took another step deeper into the green water. Qui-Gon had already crossed to the other edge of the pool and was ostensibly examining something alive on the steep pebbly shore there, meanwhile presenting Obi-Wan with a long pale green-glistening back rising out of the murky pond like some native plant. A particularly attractive one, it had to be said.

"Easy," Qui-Gon replied, still facing away from Obi-Wan. "It dries in the sun and flakes off without leaving a trace. It's considered a common courtesy to sweep the dried-up algae back into the water though, where they can recover. And if you can bear the company of our little green friends for a while longer, I recommend you come over here. These are rare, even on Thifarie."

'These' turned out to be small pale creatures that looked like plants too at first glance. Obi-Wan leaned against Qui-Gon's back, soaking up the Master's evident pleasure as he fingered a colony of the little things he had discovered on a dead branch hanging into the water. Their little appendages - tentacles, not leaves, arranged around what Obi-wan thought of as their mouths for want of a better word - squirmed and wriggled when touched, and it looked as if they were reaching out for Qui-Gon's fingertip as it brushed against them.

"Best not to get your fingertip caught in one of them," Qui-Gon murmured, all the while still teasing the delicate creatures with fleeting touches. "Not that they bite, mind. But it's really hard to pull it out again without hurting the little beasties. Such delicate things, and yet pretty good at holding on." With a smirk, Qui-Gon ceased playing with the little tentacled creatures and illustrated his point about holding on by clasping one arm around Obi-Wan's waist and pulling him in for a deep slow kiss.

Obi-Wan allowed himself to relax into it, to let go of his customary self-control and simply feel. Feel the scratch of Qui-Gon's beard against his own, feel the unfamiliar slipperiness of the pond water on his skin, on Qui-Gon's skin, sliding between them. Feel the warm hardness of Qui-Gon's hand on him and the warm softness of Qui-Gon's tongue slowly taking possession of his mouth, deepening the kiss until he felt like he was being devoured, eaten up into a gaping maw of Living Force and throbbing flesh, torn between shuddering at how good the scrubby algae felt against his hardening cock and marvelling at how the environment seemed to rejuvenate Qui-Gon to the point that he was making soft desperate grunts he had not heard, or indeed tasted, in a long time. Obi-Wan decided he liked them, and licked each one of them off Qui-Gon's tongue. Boldly, he slid a hand into his old Master's sticky hair and pulled them apart for a deep breath.

Qui-Gon was the very picture of sensual abandon, his eyes hooded, his mouth half-open on a soft gasp, his hands clawing into Obi-Wan's flesh as if he was about to go under in the throes of orgasm already. Then again, maybe he was. And Obi-Wan was not about to miss that. Slowly, relishing the slippery warm feel of Qui-Gon's flesh, he slid one hand under the surface of the water, tracing Qui-Gon's abdomen down to his groin and to the root of his cock.

Obi-Wan's eyebrows rose in approval. Truly a fine erection, that. Not that he had any chance at taking it in his mouth, half-submerged as they were, but he was sure he would be able to squeeze between Qui-Gon and the edge of the pond and give that nice hard cock a good home. but what was that?

Obi-Wan jerked his hand away in reflex and earned a petulant groan from Qui-Gon. That had been. warily, he groped for Qui-Gon's cock again.

Yes. Tentacles.

Qui-Gon had managed to get the tip of his cock caught in one of the blasted tentacle beasts. And by the looks of it, he was enjoying it immensely.

"Qui-Gon," Obi-Wan whispered urgently. "Are you all right?"

Blue eyes turned to him. "Oh. oh yes. Don't stop what you were doing. Your hand. Good. Just can't. thrust." Qui-Gon's voice was so lust-soaked it sent shivers down Obi-Wan's spine. The creature's talents must truly be considerable. Actually, anything that could pin Qui-Gon Jinn in place without the use of heavy restraints was awe-inspiring.

And Obi-Wan had a pinned, immobile, lust-oozing Qui-Gon on his hands. Covered in slippery stuff and harnessing his remaining strength of will to the purpose of keeping his hips still. A Qui-Gon who, for once, had no option but to stay still and take it.

Obi-Wan's cock did the requisite bit of thinking before his brain had even had time to catch up.

When Obi-Wan once more slipped his hand around the root of Qui-Gon's cock, the Master groaned in deep satisfaction. When he realised that Obi-Wan had only done that to gain leverage, he groaned in even deeper satisfaction. And when Obi-Wan's cock pushed inside him, he let out a rumble so deep it shook Obi-Wan down to his toes.

"Good," he purred breathlessly. When Obi-Wan bent forward to lick the side of his neck, he went back to incoherent noises. They seemed so much more appropriate to the situation.

Obi-Wan passingly cursed his lack of height for not allowing him to nibble on Qui-Gon's recently-pierced earlobe, then concentrated on holding the older man's hips steady as he slowly pulled out, then pushed in again equally slowly, raising himself on his toes to press against Qui-Gon's prostate on each long deep stroke.

Qui-Gon was exquisite - rigid with barely controlled lust, hard all over, from his straining cock to his quivering thighs, the back heaving with hurried breaths, the hands clamped around an overhanging branch for support, and oh, the clenched tightness of his body around Obi-Wan.

"M. more."

Oh yes. His voice was the only soft thing about him. And Obi-Wan fell in, let Qui-Gon's desperate breathy moans drive him on, not to greater speed but to greater depth until he felt he would disappear completely inside his lover's greedy body, until he could only clutch blindly to Qui-Gon's hip and his cock and his immovable wonderful strength as orgasm overtook him and forced all his breath from him in a harsh groan.

The shudder running through Qui-Gon's body was the only warning he had before he found himself bowled over backwards into the dark green water with an armful of writhing Jedi Master. Evidently the little tentacle beast had been shocked into letting go when it suddenly found itself with a mouthful of Qui-Gon's seed, and while Obi-Wan did not agree with the creature's sentiment, he was more than happy to have Qui-Gon back unharmed.

Well, he was more than happy once he'd flailed his way out of the clinging water, sputtered at Qui-Gon a few times, and de-gooed his face sufficiently to attempt a kiss.

The fine tremor in Qui-Gon's thighs betrayed his exhaustion, and the warm flush on his chest and throat spoke volumes about how much he had enjoyed this unexpected encounter.

"On both ends, yes," he murmured, picking up on Obi-Wan's thoughts. "I recommend you try that some time. If you can keep still for long enough."

Obi-Wan shook his head, torn between laughter and the desire to slap his incorrigible sensualist lover and leave a pink hand-print to clash with the shimmery green goo. In the end, he settled for another sound kiss before grabbing Qui-Gon by one wrist and all but dragging him ashore.

"We need to find somewhere clean and sunny to dry off," he declared, peering around the assembled greenery. "And Force give that the rocks don't turn out to be live things as well."

"I assure you," Qui-Gon replied, still a little winded but sporting a radiant smile that looked just as good in green as it did in its natural colour, "that they're not. The only non-botanical living thing in your nearer vicinity - with the exception of the pond - is me."

Obi-Wan heaved a deep sigh, more theatrics than genuine exasperation, and certainly apt to fill his lungs with the scent of living things, the largest of which was a very naked and very pleased Qui-Gon. He grinned weakly.

"I feared as much, Master."

--- end ---