Miscommunications

by KatBear

Title: Miscommunications
Author: KatBear (katbear@cox.net)
Archive: MA & QJEB
Category: PWP, First Time
Rating: NC17
Pairing: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Qui-Gon Jinn
Feedback: Appreciated.
Thanks: To the beta reader who made this a better story ( Bonny ). All mistakes are my own.
Summary: Obi-Wan is injured on a mission and Qui-Gon has to decide how to deal with what he thinks are the after-effects on the trip home.
Warnings: If male-male sex is not your thing, you shouldn't be here. Also, a bit of plot appears to have sneaked into the PWP.
Notes: See note at end of story for pertinent definitions. Story originally appeared in Con*Strict zine, July 2007.
Spoilers: None, pre-TPM.
Disclaimer: The boys belong to George Lucas, I'm just playing with them.

"Not blat!"

"Shhh, it's alright, Padawan." Qui-Gon adjusted the blanket around his shivering apprentice. "We'll be at the medical facility soon."

"Not blat!" insisted Obi-Wan, his scratchy voice trying to rise above the rumbling of the ground transport which lumbered slowly toward the nearest military base. "Red infants kirov! Tipsy augmentation!"

Qui-Gon used a Force suggestion to send his apprentice back to sleep. He held Obi-Wan's hand as he prayed to the Force that the healers would find a way to release him from the grip of the poison raging through his system.

The specimen tube moved from hand to hand around the conference table. One by one, the assembled experts would each shake their head and pass it on. Qui-Gon's hopes sank lower with each negative as his padawan lay helplessly in a nearby ward.

"Sorry I'm late. I just got the message you have an interesting bug over here." A thin humanoid with orange skin bustled in.

"Welcome, Dr. Kortan," said Dr. Wv'ork, head of the medical unit. "Yes, the younger Jedi that was helping with the wilderness area survey was bitten by a swarm of very small insectoids when a rotten tree trunk burst." He pointed to Qui-Gon. "This is the senior Jedi, Master Jinn; he managed to obtain a sample of the insectoids, but so far nobody has been able to identify them."

"Poisonous?"

"There was definitely a reaction. High fever alternating with chills, delirium and vomiting."

"That doesn't sound good. Let me take a look."

As the newcomer peered into the tube, Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow and inclined his head in Kortan's direction. Wv'ork leaned close and whispered, "Dr. Kortan is from the university; he specializes in exotic insects." Qui-Gon nodded his thanks and sat back to wait.

For several minutes there was an uncomfortable silence as the entomologist peered into the tube, scanned its contents with a magnifying glass, and muttered to himself. Finally he put the tube down, looked up and frowned.

"You are absolutely certain these are a fresh sample?"

"I gathered the sample myself, Dr. Kortan," said Qui-Gon, "and I assure you there were many of them still alive when we left."

"Ah, then in that case I simply must have the location so we can send a research team out to examine the area." The orange skin bloomed brightly. "The creatures appear to be Jourvan spiderlings, and we have long believed these to be extinct on this planet."

"The survey team was deep in the Nevelint Wilderness Park, where no one has been allowed for over a century," replied Wv'ork. "It will take you months to get permits, but we can worry about expeditions later. What about an antidote to their venom?"

"Well, that could be a problem," admitted Kortan. "No one has actually seen one of these for almost two centuries. A lot of the old records are not very clear." He looked at Wv'ork. "Didn't many of the old medical histories burn in the university library fire about twenty years ago?"

"I'm afraid so." Wv'ork shook his head. "I'm sorry, Master Jinn. We will do what we can with the generic remedies, but I can't guarantee the results."

There was a long silence in the room until eventually a young intern, who had been sitting quietly along the side of the room, timidly raised his hand. "There is one thing we can try, sir."

"I'm not listening to any of your nonsense about medicators, Javey," said Wv'ork with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"If it is a matter of life or death, then I don't see what we have to lose, sir," persisted the young man.

"What is a medicator?" asked Qui-Gon.

"Tellers of tales, mumblers of old potions," sniffed Wv'ork.

"Folk doctors and herbologists," corrected Javey.

Sensing a revival of old arguments, Qui-Gon broke in. "I have found on many planets that there are lay practitioners who have retained old knowledge that modern science may have overlooked." He nodded respectfully at Wv'ork. "Since this is such an unusual and serious case, surely it wouldn't hurt to at least locate one of these persons and make inquiries, would it?"

Unwilling to face potential responsibility for the younger Jedi's death, Dr. Wv'ork capitulated with rather ill grace. Javey eagerly led Qui-Gon out the door to begin searching for a local medicator.

Pale but alert, Obi-Wan was propped up on the narrow bed. He grimaced as he downed another small dose of the thick blue liquid.

"Good, good." The short, nearly-hunchbacked old being gently patted Obi-Wan's wrist.

Qui-Gon sat on the other side of the bed, carefully watching his apprentice. Finally satisfied that the foul-smelling herbal concoctions had been working as promised, he had relaxed and tried to understand what the old man was saying. He had already found this task even more frustrating than trying to understand Master Yoda as the almost toothless being tended to whisper in sometimes-garbled meanderings.

"He should ... a com...te recover..." the wizened medicator burbled. "Yes, the boy... strong. ... side effects. Most likely ... erec... and considerable for...cation." He paused to scratch out some instructions on a gray sheet of flexidol. "You will ... to help him... oil inside," he mumbled as he pulled several containers from his large pack. Skeletal fingers hovered over a row of plasteen bottles as he looked back and forth between the Jedi several times. Finally he settled on the two largest bottles and plucked them from the row with both hands. He shuffled to Qui-Gon and thrust the bottles and instruction sheet into his hands. "Use oil...," he wheezed, coughed, "for the... ication."

Qui-Gon blinked a few times and shook his head as he reflexively grasped the heavy bottles. Surely the medicator hadn't said what Qui-Gon had thought he had heard. He held up the flexidol and squinted at the squiggly markings. When he finally looked up, the old man was shuffling out of the door.

"Wait a moment," Qui-Gon called. "About these instructions?"

The medicator paused. "Feed the boy... use the oil." He waved cheerily, then turned and shuffled out.

Qui-Gon could only stare helplessly at the disappearing figure.

A day into their journey, the two Jedi were comfortably settled into the small scout ship. Qui-Gon had gotten them safely off the planet, programmed the autopilot with the course for Coruscant and reset the ship's time to match the day/night cycle at the Temple. Obi-Wan had slept most of the time, but was now sufficiently recovered to join Qui-Gon for latemeal in the small area that served as galley, dining room and common room combined.

Qui-Gon sat at the table watching his apprentice wolf down a second helping of stew. He fingered the sheet of flexidol yet again, but after studying it all day, the instructions were no clearer. Under other circumstances he would have jumped at this potential opportunity, but not when his attentions might only be needed due to the poison and might actually not be at all welcome.

"Padawan, we need to talk." Qui-Gon cleared his throat as Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow in query. "About, umm, the side effects... and the treatment."

"Of course, Master." Obi-Wan took a large bite of bread. "What would you like to discuss?"

Qui-Gon hesitated a moment. "Perhaps we should start by discussing what you're actually feeling now?"

"Right now, I'm very hungry." Obi-Wan grinned, but his expression quickly turned more serious. "Other than that, well... still rather weak, I suppose. And I have started to notice some occasional itching sensations in quite a few places." He cocked his head quizzically. "Is there something in particular that is worrying you, Master?"

"Some of the medicator's instructions were not very clear," said Qui-Gon. He cleared his throat. "I was just wondering if you were feeling any reactions of a... sexual nature." He clasped his fingers together and rested his hands on the table in front of him.

Obi-Wan stared at his master for a very long moment, his face a study in determined neutrality, before quietly asking, "You did say 'sexual', Master?"

Qui-Gon winced a bit at the sudden emptiness he had felt in his head as Obi-Wan abruptly locked off the training bond. He nodded, then unclasped his fingers long enough to thrust the sheet of flexidol across the table. "I could have been mistaken, of course. Perhaps you will have better luck deciphering this," he muttered, a touch of red coloring his cheeks. He put his hands back together and stared fixedly at a point on the far wall.

A small breath escaped between his parted lips as Obi-Wan stared at Qui-Gon a bit longer. Finally he pursed his lips without speaking and turned his attention to studying the scribbled instructions.

Uncomfortable with the continued silence and the heavy block his padawan had left on his end of the bond, Qui-Gon spoke again. "You do realize that I will help you in whatever way you require." He paused. "If you wish for help, of course. I wouldn't want to do anything that makes you uncomfortable."

Obi-Wan's eyes lit up with an odd gleam at Qui-Gon's words. He continued to look down at the flexidol, however, until he put his finger on one line. "I think I understand your difficulty, Master," he said softly. "The predicted symptoms are rather difficult to read, aren't they?" He picked up the sheet and brought it close to his face. The tip of his tongue stuck out of the corner of his mouth as he closely perused the words again. He mumbled to himself, "This part is about rushes... or maybe rashes... itching, right... oily skunk? That must be skin, something about skin and oil... lord? Or look? No, that's got to be food... " After several minutes he put the sheet down on the table. He tilted his head as he looked at Qui-Gon, a half-smile on his lips. "Well, now I understand your concern, Master. Most of it seems straightforward, but I do have to admit that this last bit does look very much like 'fornication' to me. And applying oil to help with the fornication." The half-smile turned to a leering grin. "The medicator did have a rather pleased look on his face when he picked out the largest bottles to hand to you."

Qui-Gon cleared his throat. "I meant what I said about helping you if your recovery actually does somehow involve a... well, a sexual issue, but I was also serious about not doing anything with which you are not comfortable." His tone was gruff, but his fingers had tightened until the knuckles were almost white.

Impulsively Obi-Wan stood up and went to stand behind Qui-Gon, wrapping his arms around him and giving him a tight hug. "Master, I know you would never hurt me," he murmured, "and I don't want to ever hurt you." He gave a small chuckle. "This is pretty ironic, actually. Under other circumstances I would have welcomed an excuse to have sex with you." He rested his chin on his master's shoulder.

Qui-Gon flushed as he licked his lips. He stared forward, his breathing hitching from the warmth of the body at his back as he took in the words he had just heard. He took a deep breath, turned his head to face his apprentice. "So would I," he whispered.

Obi-Wan smiled gently. "Well, now that that's settled, why don't we just wait and see what develops before we try to make any decisions?" He brushed a chaste kiss across Qui-Gon's lips, then stood and left for the control room. His hips swayed and he whistled a happy little bit of tune that Qui-Gon didn't recognize.

Qui-Gon sat for a long time, head bowed, as he tried to sort out his emotions, trying to decide if he was letting his own long-standing lust for his apprentice affect either his judgment or his duty to his apprentice. It seemed to him that Obi-Wan was not bothered by the situation, quite the opposite in fact, but despite Obi-Wan's final optimistic parting words, in the end he was not at all certain what had been settled and could not help feeling a nagging anxiety about the days to come. He sighed and retreated to the small sleeping cabin to meditate.

A vague click wakened Qui-Gon from the light doze into which he had finally fallen. The atmosphere between master and apprentice had been strained as they prepared to sleep. Obi-Wan had surreptitiously attempted to scratch several spots on his chest and thighs, yanking his hand away when he caught Qui-Gon watching him. In the close quarters of the small ship there was only one cabin and bunk; Obi-Wan had wordlessly opted to take his blanket and cloak and stretch out on the floor. Qui-Gon lay in the bunk and tried to ignore his apprentice's restless rustlings. About an hour later Obi-Wan had left the cabin, muttering about food. After his return both men eventually nodded off.

Qui-Gon rolled onto his side and looked around the cabin, trying to figure out what had wakened him. He noted that Obi-Wan's place was now empty and decided that his apprentice must be the source of the noises he heard coming from the fresher. He punched up his pillow, moved from his side to his back, adjusted his sleeping pants, then rolled to his other side. There was a vague undercurrent of discomfort over the bond that kept him from drifting off again. Several long restless minutes later, he was still awake when a loud thump from the fresher piqued his curiosity. He walked across the room and knocked on the door.

"Obi-Wan? Are you alright?"

The sudden stillness was in sharp contrast to the spike of anxiety that jolted over the bond.

Qui-Gon's fist was poised to knock again when the door opened, revealing Obi-Wan just inside the fresher with only a towel wrapped around his middle.

"I'm sorry, Master," Obi-Wan said. "I didn't mean to disturb you."

"Are you alright?" Qui-Gon asked again as he stepped back.

"The itching was getting worse, so I hoped a shower might help." Obi-Wan shook his head. "I had forgotten how little water a ship this size carries, so I ended up with just the sonics." He tightened the towel as he stepped out. "I'm afraid that didn't help much, so I thought I'd try some of that oil. I was just putting it on when you knocked."

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Well, it seems to be working where I put it on my legs and chest." Obi-Wan paused, looked away, then cleared his throat. "There is a nasty spot on my back that I can't reach, though. If you really wouldn't mind..."

"Of course not. Why don't you lie on the bunk and I'll take care of it."

"Thank you, Master." Obi-Wan stretched out face down on top of the blankets, scooting to the back so Qui-Gon could sit along the front edge. His arms were by his side.

Qui-Gon sat on the bunk next to his apprentice, stretching his legs. He put a little of the medicator's oil in the palm of his right hand, then set the bottle down on the floor. As he tentatively began rubbing just below Obi-Wan's neck he could feel tension in the taut muscles.

"Lower would be nice, please," mumbled the padawan.

The oil spread in a thin layer as Qui-Gon moved his hand between Obi-Wan's shoulder blades and began massaging in a circular motion.

"Oh yes, right there." With a grateful sigh Obi-Wan relaxed under his master's gentle ministrations. "Aaahhhh... perfect."

For several minutes Qui-Gon continued his efforts, gradually slowing as his padawan's murmurs of appreciation died away. He let his hand rest motionless on the warm slick skin as Obi-Wan dropped off to sleep. Very carefully, he got off the bunk and retrieved their cloaks. He covered his apprentice first, then with a sigh he wrapped himself in his own robe and stretched out along the edge of the bunk, trying to get some rest.

"Aarggh!"

A shrill cry and a sharp elbow in his gut roused Qui-Gon from his sleep. A warm body briefly tangled with his own until both of them tumbled over the edge of the bunk. Qui-Gon grunted as he hit the floor, instinctively clutching the other body to him. A knee hit his thigh perilously close to his private parts as a fist pushed against his chest. Qui-Gon let go and tried to roll away, but banged into the base of the bunk. He shook his head to clear it, then sat up.

"Get them off!" Obi-Wan stood in the center of the cabin, hopping and shifting frantically from foot to foot, scratching and slapping at every part of his body he could reach. "Get them off!"

"Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon jumped to his feet. "What's wrong?"

"Get them off!" Obi-Wan yelled. He twisted around, trying to reach his back. The motion loosened the towel around his hips and it fell to the floor. "They're crawling all over me."

Qui-Gon grabbed his apprentice by the upper arms to hold him still. "Obi-Wan. I don't see anything on you." He shook the young man to get his attention. "Tell me what's wrong."

"Master?" Obi-Wan's wild eyes focused on Qui-Gon. "Help me, Master. I can feel them everywhere."

"What is it you feel?"

"Insects, Master. Tiny little feet, crawling on my skin..." Obi-Wan shuddered, "under my skin."

"We will try the oil. It worked for the itching so it should work for this." He released his apprentice. "Stay there."

"Yes, Master." Obi-Wan's skin flinched and quivered as he stood in misery. "Please hurry."

Qui-Gon knelt down by the bunk to retrieve the bottle of oil. When he turned back, he was struck by the sight of his apprentice's naked body, especially the erection that jutted from his groin and jiggled enticingly as the young man squirmed and fidgeted. Qui-Gon swallowed hard, then resolutely moved forward.

"You work on your front and I'll get your back," said Qui-Gon, keeping his eyes up. "It doesn't seem to take very much." He poured some oil into Obi-Wan's hands, then into his own. He set the bottle on the table, then began spreading the oil across Obi-Wan's shoulders, lightly rubbing it in.

Obi-Wan eagerly began working the oil into his skin, rapidly covering his face, neck and chest.

"Ahhhh, that is much better," Obi-Wan sighed. He quickly finished both arms, then reached over to get another handful of oil before starting on his stomach. "It would be good if you could move lower and faster, Master."

"Of course." Qui-Gon had covered all of his padawan's back and sides, but paused to get more oil before continuing. He concentrated on thinking pure thoughts as he tentatively began applying oil to the tempting posterior. That was also the moment that Obi-Wan chose to lean forward to reach the front of his lower legs, said maneuver resulting in his master suddenly having a very solid handful of arse.

"Fegt," gasped Qui-Gon, nearly biting his tongue. He couldn't resist squeezing the twin globes, the firm flesh that had fueled so many of his fantasies yielding nicely to his grip. He could feel sweat popping out on his forehead from the flush that swept over his body.

"Is something wrong, Master?" Obi-Wan craned his head around to peer up while his hands stretched to spread the soothing oil over his calves and ankles.

"Uh... no, no, things are fine." Somehow Qui-Gon managed to get the words out despite his fascination with the muscles moving under his fingers as his apprentice leaned further down. He tried to suppress a groan as his sleep pants became distended by the growing bulge at his groin. When Obi-Wan clenched his buttocks, Qui-Gon belatedly remembered he was supposed to be spreading oil over the pale skin and got back to work. He bit his lip as one thumb slipped down along his apprentice's crack and quickly moved his hands to glide down Obi-Wan's hips and the backs of his thighs.

Obi- Wan cleared his throat as he partially straightened, his hands on his thighs. "Master?"

"Yes, Padawan?" Qui-Gon's heavy breathing made it a little hard to hear as the movement of his hands down Obi-Wan's legs brought his face closer to his apprentice's nether regions.

"Did you mean what you said earlier, Master?" Obi-Wan's voice was strained. "I mean, about doing whatever was necessary?"

"Of course, Padawan," Qui-Gon answered. He dropped his hands and straightened as Obi-Wan squirmed, his buttocks clenching and unclenching. He could feel distress leaking heavily over their bond. "What's wrong? Is the oil not working?"

"It works perfectly, but only where it is applied."

Qui-Gon had to stop and think about that for a few seconds, but another glance down at his apprentice's moving rear brought enlightenment. "Oh." He took a deep breath. "Is it bad?"

"It feels like there are tiny little feet and stingers on my skin and inside me. It's driving me crazy, and it's even worse now that the rest of me has been oiled." Obi-Wan turned around to face his master. His right hand was still spreading oil over his erect cock and his balls. "Please, Master, I want you... I need you inside me." He quivered in place. "Please make it stop."

Qui-Gon swallowed hard and could not resist the plea in Obi-Wan's eyes. With a small whimper of surrender he clawed at the ties of his sleep pants. He said roughly, "Lean against the bunk."

With a grateful smile, Obi-Wan turned and hastened to obey. He leaned forward over the edge of the bunk, bracing himself on one forearm as his other hand continued to work oil into his genitals.

Qui-Gon grabbed the bottle of oil as he stepped out of his sleep pants, kicking them out of the way. He poured oil into Obi-Wan's crack and began working one finger into the small opening.

"Yes, oh, that's good," breathed Obi-Wan.

"Are you sure this is what you want, Obi-Wan?" A last twinge of masterly conscience made Qui-Gon pause.

"Yes!" Obi-Wan cried out, "Force take it, don't stop now!" He wiggled his hips impatiently.

"Alright, alright," Qui-Gon said as he quickly resumed his preparations, swirling two fingers around. With the other hand he drizzled oil along his straining cock, then awkwardly closed the bottle one-handed before tossing it onto the bunk.

"Please, hurry!" Obi-Wan pleaded.

"Try to relax." Qui-Gon grabbed his erection and placed the tip against the entrance. "I'm going to enter you now."

"Oh, for... stop talking and do it!" Obi-Wan shoved backward as Qui-Gon pushed in.

Two yells split the air as both men froze.

"Force! Are you alright, Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon's cock was almost halfway into the small channel, which was spasming painfully around it. He leaned forward, his hands on Obi-Wan's hips.

"Fuck you are big!" Obi-Wan panted, his head down. "Just give me a second." He took several deep breaths, blowing out forcefully. "Ahh, that's better." He tentatively moved backwards.

Qui-Gon rubbed small circles at the base of Obi-Wan's back as the spasming slowly quieted, releasing some of the intense pressure on his trapped organ. He heaved his own sigh of relief, shook his head to clear the sweat from his eyes and slowly pushed forward. He grabbed Obi-Wan's hips again to pull himself forward the last few inches until flesh met flesh with a small smack. Qui-Gon paused with a grunt of satisfaction, savoring the tight heat enveloping his cock.

"Oh fucking Force!" Obi-Wan whimpered, trying to move his hips. "It still itches... please move, for Force sake."

With a small guilty start, Qui-Gon remembered the reason his cock was buried in his apprentice's arse. "Sorry," he muttered as he pulled back. He quickly set up a smooth rhythm, moving in and out as Obi-Wan aggressively pushed back to meet his thrusts. Even knowing why he was there could not diminish the physical pleasure; his blood was soon roaring in his ears as sweat trickled down his face and chest.

"So good... yes... faster," moaned Obi-Wan as he was shoved up against the bunk.

Qui-Gon was vaguely aware of Obi-Wan's pleas and the rapid motion of Obi-Wan's arm moving under his belly. He quickened his pace, his hips jerking as he grunted with the force of his exertions. Suddenly the pressure around his cock tightened as Obi-Wan cried out. The extra pressure sent Qui-Gon over the edge and his cock pulsed, releasing semen to mix with the oil. He thrust hard, once, twice, his head back, eyes closed as he gasped for breath. With a final moan, he was emptied. Time seemed to stop for a long moment.

Qui-Gon returned to awareness with a small shudder. His knees started to buckle as he fell forward, pushing himself and Obi-Wan onto the bunk. He had just enough strength left to gather Obi-Wan to him and pull a sheet over them before he drifted into sleep.

Qui-Gon yawned and stretched, his extended length filling the bunk. He blinked muzzily as he pushed the covers down to his waist. He felt drenched in the warm afterglow of a most incredible dream. He licked his lips while one hand roamed slowly over his chest and belly. A tuneless hum rumbled in his chest as he contemplated the remarkably realistic fantasy: the realization of his long-held secret lust. He even felt like he had obtained physical release and was certain that the faint scent of musk tickled his nostrils. He closed his eyes, a contented smile gracing his lips.

"Good morning, Master." Obi-Wan's cheery greeting disrupted Qui-Gon's reverie.

"Hmm?" Qui-Gon started, then turned to lean up on one elbow. "Good morning, Padawan."

"I was hungry again, so I took the liberty of letting you sleep a bit longer," Obi-Wan said as he deposited a tray on the edge of the bunk. "I've checked the automatic pilot, showered, and brought firstmeal."

"Thank you, Padawan." Qui-Gon sat up, taking care not to upset the tray, then took the steaming mug of tea offered by his apprentice and sipped.

"The ship is on schedule and running well, so we should be home in three days." Obi-Wan dragged over their lone chair and sat down before helping himself to a piece of ship biscuit smeared with jam.

"How are you feeling today?" Qui-Gon asked.

"Aside from the hunger, quite well Master. No itching so far today."

There was a companionable silence for several minutes as the two men ate. Qui-Gon looked up to see his apprentice staring at him.

"Is something wrong, Padawan?"

"No, Master. I just wanted to thank you for helping me." Obi-Wan hesitated. "I hope you're not having second thoughts."

"Second thoughts?" Qui-Gon mulled that over for a moment. "Why would I be having... " He swallowed hard as realization dawned. "That wasn't a dream at all, was it?"

"Dream?" Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. "I don't know about any dream, Master, but we did have sex. Well, sort of, anyway." A dismayed expression settled on his face. "Was is that horrible that you thought you dreamed the whole thing?"

"No, no, it wasn't horrible at all. I have to confess, though, I've been lusting after you in my sleep for so long I must have thought it was another dream when I woke up." Qui-Gon could feel his cheeks burning as he diverted his attention to pouring another cup of tea. "I probably should be the one asking you if you had second thoughts. I do remember you seemed to be in pain when I first..." Qui-Gon stared harder at the mug in his hands, reluctant to utter the words. "What I mean to say, was that if I hurt you, perhaps we should try to find another way to get the oil where it needs to go."

Obi-Wan leaned over and placed his hands over Qui-Gon's. "Master, please look at me."

Qui-Gon sighed as he faced the reality of what had happened between them. He raised his head.

"Qui-Gon, you are a good man and have always been a good master to me. I know that even this latest task you have undertaken out of your love and concern for me." Obi-Wan increased the pressure of his hands. "I am not a boy any longer, though, and I have long had desires for you as well. You did not really hurt me, but if it truly bothers you to have a physical relationship, we can try to find some other way to get through this." He gently pried one of Qui-Gon's hands loose from the mug and placed a chaste kiss on the palm. "I would not want to do anything to cause you distress, Master."

"Obi-Wan..." Qui-Gon's throat tightened. He set aside the mug to draw his apprentice up next to the bunk and wrapped an arm around him in a tight hug. "I can't deny that I enjoyed the experience, and this is something that we will need to discuss later. But it is my duty and privilege to take care of you, my Padawan. If you need me, you must let me know."

"Yes, Master. I will."

"For now, it is high time I was up and about." Qui-Gon held his apprentice at arm's length, one hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder. "As a wise young man reminded me not too long ago, let us take things as they come and see what develops."

Obi-Wan smiled as he said softly, "Yes, Master."

Two days later Qui-Gon finished his turn in the control room and headed for the small common room. He walked slowly as he thought about the five additional attacks his apprentice had suffered the past few days. The severity seemed to be decreasing, but of the two original bottles they had less than a quarter of a bottle of oil left. He was hoping it would be enough since nothing else seemed to work. He paused in the doorway and smiled fondly. Obi-Wan was at the table dressed in leggings and a loose tunic, a mug of tea at his elbow, intently studying the flexidol with the treatment instructions.

"Good evening, Padawan. How are you feeling?"

With a sudden start, Obi-Wan knocked over the mug and reached wildly to recover it. Fortunately it was almost empty, so there was little spillage for the apprentice to mop up. "Sorry, Master. I didn't realize you were there," he said as he retrieved a cloth from a cabinet and cleaned the table.

"No, I'm sorry. I should not have startled you." Qui-Gon fetched two fresh mugs of tea and placed them on the table.

"It's alright, Master. And I'm feeling much better today."

"Good." As he sat down, Qui-Gon noticed Obi-Wan almost surreptitiously tuck the flexidol away into a pocket. "We're right on schedule and should arrive at Coruscant near the middle of the next morning cycle."

"That is a good thing, Master." Obi-Wan took a sip of tea. "I'm afraid I've consumed far more than my fair share of our provisions on this trip, even with the extra supplies we packed. I've checked all of the storage areas; after what we had for latemeal, we only have a few containers of soup, one small box of crackers, half a jar of veria jam and six tea packets. We do have our box of emergency ration bars, of course, and there is plenty of potable water left."

"You did what was needful for your recovery, Padawan," Qui-Gon said soothingly. "You had lost a significant amount of weight initially, so I certainly don't begrudge the extra food you needed." He smiled. "Besides, the medicator did order you to eat a lot."

"Among other things, of course." Obi-Wan's smile was a bit strained. He stood up abruptly. "Thank you for the tea, Master, but I think perhaps I would like to turn in early tonight if you don't mind."

"Of course," Qui-Gon said. "Actually, that sounds like a good idea for both of us. I'll do the final checks in the control room after I finish my tea."

"Thank you, Master." Obi-Wan washed out his mug and returned it to a cabinet. He nodded in his master's direction before he left.

"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon called softly just as his apprentice reached the doorway.

"Yes, Master?"

"I am very glad that you are recovering so well, Padawan." Qui-Gon hesitated a moment. "Now that we are almost finished with this, though, I think it would be best to talk about our relationship. We can speak in the morning when we are both rested."

"As you wish, Master." Obi-Wan bowed respectfully before leaving.

Qui-Gon sat silently for quite a while, occasionally taking a sip of his cooling tea. He still wasn't entirely certain how he planned to discuss the results of this trip with his apprentice. Their series of rapid physical couplings, while apparently necessary and, at least from his side, very enjoyable, were not exactly the sort of romantic long-term liaison he had often conjured up in his imagination. Obi-Wan had been an eager, almost frantic, participant; given the circumstances, he supposed that was understandable. Outside of their encounters though, Obi-Wan had not been willing to discuss the situation openly. In fact, Qui-Gon was having much more difficulty than usual trying to determine just what his apprentice was thinking about the whole business. He sighed as he drained the last of his cold tea. Whatever his personal desires for a continuing physical relationship, he knew he would have to let the final decision rest with his padawan. He just wasn't looking forward to the conversation they needed to have, and decided it was a good thing they would be able to get it over with in the morning before they landed on Coruscant.

The cabin lights were dim when Qui-Gon quietly let himself in. He glanced toward the bunk but could only see a dark shape under the covers. He went through his nightly routine in the fresher, then left his clothes neatly draped over the chair. After checking to ensure the remaining bottle of oil was within reach, he carefully slid into the front edge of the bunk. Both Jedi had agreed it was more practical to forego sleeping clothes since Obi-Wan's attacks tended to occur suddenly and the oil was a bit messy. Unfortunately that decision didn't help Qui-Gon's peace of mind and lying next to the warm young body tended to give his cock altogether unacceptable thoughts. It was quite a while before he finally managed to drift off to sleep.

"Master?"

"Hmmm...?" Qui-Gon burrowed a bit deeper into his pillow.

"Qui-Gon."

The combination of his name and the hard object poking his hip got the Jedi master's attention. He blinked a few times and rubbed his face. "Is it time again?" he mumbled.

"It's not nearly as bad as the other attacks, but still... if you wouldn't mind..."

"Of course I don't mind." There was one part of Qui-Gon's anatomy that not only didn't mind but was eagerly trying to tell the hesitant master to get on with it RIGHT NOW, but Qui-Gon was not about to blurt out to his padawan just how badly he wanted to have him. Qui-Gon resolved to have a long talk with both of his junior partners when all this was done and slid out of the bunk.

Obi-Wan scrambled out on Qui-Gon's heels and grabbed the bottle of oil. He uncapped the bottle and poured some oil into his master's hands, then into his own before setting the bottle down. Obi-Wan began rubbing the oil into the front of his body.

In the by now familiar routine Qui-Gon moved behind his apprentice and began to apply oil from Obi-Wan's neck down to the backs of his legs, bypassing his arse on this first round. Bit by bit he let his pleasure grow during the massage. If ever there was a time to focus on the moment, it was surely this! As he straightened he noticed that Obi-Wan had finished his front side and was also straightening. He retrieved the bottle and poured a little more oil on his apprentice's arse, making sure some of it drizzled down the crack. When he put his hands on Obi-Wan's arse to begin rubbing the oil in, however, he could feel that the young man was much tenser than usual.

"Obi-Wan? Is something wrong?" His cock was screaming at him incredulously to not stop now, you idiot, but Qui-Gon clenched his jaw and pulled his hands back. There was a long agonizing silence in the room. Finally Obi-Wan turned around. A bead of sweat trickled down his right temple and his nostrils flared from his tense breathing. "I told you that it is not so bad tonight, Master." Obi-Wan's voice dropped, almost caressing each word. "I want this time to be... different."

Qui-Gon stood mesmerized by the almost feral expression in Obi-Wan's dark eyes. He was vaguely aware that his mouth was hanging open and his hands hung uselessly at his sides. He saw Obi-Wan's mouth open again but the blood pounding in his head made it impossible to hear the words. A flood of warmth shot through his body when Obi-Wan grabbed his arms and began maneuvering him around.

"Obi-Wan..." Qui-Gon said hoarsely.

Any further attempt at speech was cut off when Obi-Wan pushed Qui-Gon against the wall, pulled his head down, and began to devour his mouth. The skin-on-skin contact sent sizzles of electricity up his spine and shooting down into his arms and legs. Qui-Gon was too astonished to think, but his body had no problem reacting to the assault. He wrapped both arms around Obi-Wan and began enthusiastically returning the hard kiss. He moaned into Obi-Wan's mouth when their erections met and let Obi-Wan's hands roam freely wherever he wished.

Qui-Gon was panting hard when Obi-Wan finally pulled back. He was dizzy from trying to breathe through his nose and hot from the blood racing through his body. His cock was incredibly hard, demanding relief. A last vestige of masterly concern tugged at him, though, as he tried to speak. "Obi-Wan... what -"

Masterly concern flew out the airlock when Obi-Wan grabbed Qui-Gon, pulled him sideways and then shoved him down.

"You... bed... NOW!" growled Obi-Wan.

Qui-Gon fell back on the bunk with a whoof of displaced air. He leaned up on both elbows as Obi-Wan climbed onto the bunk with the bottle of oil, pushed Qui-Gon down flat with one hand and then proceeded to liberally coat Qui-Gon's erection with the other hand, drawing a whimpering moan from Qui-Gon as the master tried to move his hips to get more contact. Obi-Wan added a little more oil to his own cock for good measure before capping the bottle and tossing it aside. He then dove on top of Qui-Gon for another searing kiss.

"Unnghh," was the only thing Qui-Gon could think as his body was covered with the oil-slicked heat of his squirming padawan. Obi-Wan's mouth was sweet hot fire and Qui-Gon returned as good as he got from the delving tongue. There was no time for long lingering explorations as the two bodies wrestled and slid against each other. Qui-Gon groped and grappled, trying to keep that incredible sizzling of the two organs rubbing against each other. He cried out in frustration when Obi-Wan sat up, one knee outside each of Qui-Gon's hips.

Obi-Wan smiled wickedly as he reached behind himself with his right hand and seized Qui-Gon's cock. He placed the tip at the entrance to his body and teasingly rubbed it back and forth.

"Do you want something, Master?" drawled Obi-Wan as he squeezed a little just below the head of Qui-Gon's organ.

"Force take you..." panted Qui-Gon. "I want you... need you."

"Would you like to shove your cock up your padawan's arse and fuck him, Master Jinn?" leered Obi-Wan as he rubbed the head against his opening again.

Qui-Gon almost came right there from the lewd words spilling out in Obi-Wan's refined accent. Bright lights danced before his eyes for a moment as more sparks shot through his body. He tried to thrust upward but Obi-Wan had a tight grip on his hips. In desperation he reached for the waggling phallus that jutted from Obi-Wan's groin.

"Ah, ah, naughty master. Mustn't grab." Obi-Wan laughed as he leaned back and held his cock just out of reach with his left hand.

"Please Obi-Wan!" Qui-Gon tried to heave himself up to get more contact, any contact.

Obi-Wan let go of both cocks to body slam Qui-Gon back down to the mattress. He leaned in, licked Qui-Gon's ear, then whispered, "Since you asked so nicely I shall grant your wish." He gave a last lick before sitting up again. He captured Qui-Gon's cock and slowly pushed the head into his body, stopping after a few inches with a heartfelt gasp.

"Oh fuck, you are so fucking big."

Qui-Gon was a helpless mass of fiery hormones. He tossed his head, feeling the sweat run down his overheated body to mix with the oil from their earlier grappling. The sight of his apprentice straddling his groin, erection bobbing as he slowly began sinking lower, head thrown back as he keened his ravenous lust, combined with the intense pressure that was devouring his cock, was sending him to fevered new heights of ecstasy. He clenched the sheets with both hands and moaned his hunger.

Obi-Wan finally sank completely down, fully engulfing Qui-Gon's shaft. He stopped, his weight balanced across Qui-Gon's groin, eyes closed in appreciation.

"So big... so good." Obi-Wan shifted a little, clenching his buttocks a few times as he adjusted to the incredible fullness.

"Please..." wheezed Qui-Gon. "Got to... move." He was torn between his need for action and fear of losing that delicious pressure that hugged his organ.

Obi-Wan blinked, looked down. He licked his lips, carefully leaned forward. Obi-Wan took one of Qui-Gon's hands and guided it to his own erection. In a breathy growl, he spoke, "We, Master, are about to focus on one incredible fucking moment."

Before Qui-Gon could catch his breath, Obi-Wan rose until the only the head of Qui-Gon's cock was still in his body. With a small groan, he pushed down, then pushed himself up again, again and again, moving faster and faster as he rode Qui-Gon hard.

Qui-Gon was totally lost in the fantastic sensations consuming him. He bucked his hips in counterpoint to Obi-Wan's thrusts, his cock sending urgent waves of torrid flames to rake his already burning nerves. He fisted the velvet rod in his hand, delighting in the oiled steel that jerked to his touch. Obi-Wan's cries were music to his ears, mixing with his own harsh gasps and moans. When he thought he could bear no more, Obi-Wan would increase his pace yet again, and still yet again, until he was plunging up and down frantically. The blood ran white hot through Qui-Gon's veins and there was nothing else in his world.

The storm raged between them: higher and hotter, pounding and raging. They rode the crest until lightning struck with a thunderous roar. A flood of brilliant searing light inundated Qui-Gon's being as his cock erupted, spilling its hot seed into Obi-Wan's body. Pressure burned and pulsed around the trapped organ, pulling forth the precious fluid until Qui-Gon was drained. With a final cry, Qui-Gon slid down into sweet oblivion.

Several minutes later Qui-Gon managed to open his eyes. His limbs were heavy and listless. Obi-Wan lay stretched on top of him, Qui-Gon's cock still embedded as it slowly deflated. His eyes were open as he gazed intently at Qui-Gon's face.

"Obi-Wan?" It was an effort to get the few syllables out.

"Go to sleep, Master," Obi-Wan said softly. "I'll take care of you."

Sleep was a very enticing thought at the moment. Qui-Gon couldn't really think of a reason not to, although that blasted little masterly conscience was trying to poke at him. "But -"

"Good night, Master." Obi-Wan stopped Qui-Gon's words with a kiss. He slid off to the side, found a sheet to pull over them, and nestled at his master's side.

The last words Qui-Gon remembered as he drifted away was a whispered, "Thank you... my dream come true... Master."

Qui-Gon woke to the insistent buzzing of the small chrono in the bulkhead. He slapped at it to silence the annoyance, then stretched. He lay quietly for a few moments, until memory of the previous hours came rushing in. He took a deep sniff of the musk-laden sheets and air, then with a grimace fingered the stickiness on his belly and groin.

"Well, that was definitely no dream," he muttered. As he looked around he realized that Obi-Wan was gone, not only from the bunk, but from the cabin. He ordered the lights up and was surprised to see that Obi-Wan's bag was already packed and his own bag was almost ready as well.

The door opened and a fully-dressed Obi-Wan bustled in. He put a small tray down on the bunk next to Qui-Gon. "I'm afraid there's not much left for first meal, so I hope you don't mind crackers and jam with your tea."

"Padawan, we need to talk after I get dressed." Mindful of the tray, Qui-Gon carefully sat up straight, then leaned back against the wall, arms crossed.

"Yes, Master." Obi-Wan moved to his bag and picked it up.

"Did you hear me?" Qui-Gon asked. "I said we need to talk."

"Yes, Master, I heard you." Obi-Wan bowed respectfully. "However, unless you intend to walk through the Temple like that, may I suggest that you might wish to shower and dress quickly, Master? I've left out a change of clothing for you."

Qui-Gon glanced at the chrono. It was only sixth hour of the Temple morning cycle. "What are you talking about, Padawan? We are not scheduled to arrive at Coruscant for another three hours."

"I woke up early and went to check our course, and I realized that we would be landing on the only day of the thirtyday that the Temple dining facility serves granmalt with chorba berries for firstmeal. I know that is one of your favorites, so I took the liberty of increasing our speed while you were sleeping," Obi-Wan said blandly. "We will be landing at the Temple in twenty minutes." He cocked an eyebrow and tilted his head slightly. "If there is nothing further, Master, I will move my bag to the exit ramp and return to the control room for final descent."

Qui-Gon fumed silently for a long minute, glowering at the innocent expression on his apprentice's face and wondering suspiciously how long ago he had to have gotten up to change their speed to make up the three extra hours. The temptation of having an opportunity to get one of his favorite meals warred with his irritation at having to put off the difficult discussion he knew he needed to have with his apprentice. "Oh, get out," he finally growled.

"Yes, Master." Obi-Wan bowed again and left with his bag.

With little in the way of alternatives, Qui-Gon took a quick shower, then wolfed down the crackers and tea as he dressed. He flung the rest of his gear into his bag and dumped it by the exit ramp next to Obi-Wan's bag. He made it to the control room in time to witness their final descent. The ship settled into its assigned slot in the Temple hangar with the slightest of thumps and wheezing of hydrogears. He was about to stand up when the ship's comm crackled to life.

"Master Jinn, this is Temple Administration calling. Please respond, Master Jinn."

Qui-Gon thumbed the switch. "Jinn here."

"Please stand by, Master Jinn."

"I wish they'd make up their mind," Qui-Gon grumbled. "Do they want to talk to me or not?"

Obi-Wan kept silent, diligently focusing on the final shut down of controls and sending of the maintenance logs to the ground crew.

Several minutes later a pleasant, cheery voice came over the comm. "Master Jinn, this is Knight Terea of the Mission Committee. Welcome back to the Temple."

"Jinn here. I assume you want our mission report?"

"Actually, Master Jinn, it is quite fortunate that you have arrived early. There is a cancellation in the Mission Committee's schedule and they would like to have your debriefing at half past seventh hour, if you are ready."

Qui-Gon gave a low sub-vocal growl of annoyance before responding. He had almost forgiven Obi-Wan for pushing up their arrival and had let himself look forward to firstmeal, but it seemed now that none of his plans for this morning would come to fruition. Fortunately, they had actually finished the report already since there had been so little else to do on the trip back. "That will be fine, Knight Terea."

"Thank you, sir. I will put you and your padawan down for half past seventh hour in conference room twelve. Knight Terea out."

Qui-Gon sighed as a rumble escaped his stomach. "We should have just enough time to drop our bags off in our quarters and review the report one time." He stood up and headed for the door, pausing at the doorway. Qui-Gon frowned at his apprentice. "We still need to talk about what happened between us, Padawan."

"Yes, Master. As you wish, Master." Obi-Wan stood respectfully waiting.

"Let's go." Qui-Gon turned on his heel and strode down the corridor.

Obi-Wan smiled discreetly and followed behind.

After the post-mission briefing Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan made a short stop in the dining facility, finding that of course everything tasty was already long gone. Qui-Gon then dragged his reluctant apprentice to the Healer's Wing for a checkup.

"I feel fine now, Master," complained Obi-Wan as they sat in the waiting room.

"You still had symptoms last night, Padawan," reminded Qui-Gon firmly. "And as the Mission Committee chairbeing pointed out, we need to follow protocol and ensure that you are actually recovered." He felt a small but very unmasterly stab of pleasure at Obi-Wan's obvious dismay.

Any further protests were cut off by the entrance of Healer Tr'nif. The healer took Obi-Wan into the examining room while Qui-Gon waited outside, occupying his time composing various things he wanted to say to his apprentice. A half hour later the door opened and an assistant healer let Qui-Gon into the room. He saw that his naked apprentice was just climbing down from a padded table.

"Very well, you may get dressed, Padawan Kenobi," ordered the healer. He scribbled several notes on his datapad before turning to Qui-Gon. "We will have the blood and tissue samples analyzed, Master Jinn, but it appears that your apprentice has made a full recovery. I don't anticipate any further problems."

"Thank you, Healer Tr'nif," said Qui-Gon. "The local planetary practitioner was able to provide a herbal solution which seemed to resolve the immediate symptoms. He also gave us this oil for use on the trip back to help with the, uh, after-effects of the insect bites." He offered the remnants of the oil and the sheet of flexidol that he had had to request back from his apparently forgetful padawan after the mission briefing.

Obi-Wan had finished dressing and now began slowly edging toward the door.

The healer glanced at the instructions and nodded. He sniffed at the bottle of oil, then rolled a small sample between his fingers. "Interesting formulation. I take it that it was effective against the formication?"

"It worked quite well..." Qui-Gon stopped for a second. "Excuse me, did you say formication? With an 'm'?

"Yes." The healer pointed at the scratching on the flexidol. "It is quite difficult to read, but given the symptoms your apprentice described, I'm certain it must say 'formication'. Did not the local healer discuss this with you? Your padawan certainly seemed to be familiar with these instructions."

"The medicator's speech was even more difficult to understand than his writing." Qui-Gon was straining to keep a neutral expression on his face. "Thank you, Healer Tr'nif. You have been most helpful."

Qui-Gon turned to see the door closing behind his speedily departing apprentice.

"PADAWAN!" roared Qui-Gon.

The healer stared quizzically for a moment as the door slammed behind the running Jedi master, then shrugged as he went back to writing his report.

finis

Note: FORMICATION: Dictionary Entries
1. Subjective cutaneous sensations (e.g., cold, warmth, tingling, pressure, etc.) that are experienced spontaneously in the absence of stimulation.
2. The illusion or hallucination that ants or other insects are creeping on or under the skin. Formication is a feature of some psychotic states as well as drug and alcohol abuse. From the Latin formicatio, from formicare meaning to creep like an ant. Not to be confused with fornication.