Master
Apprentice  Archive
Padawan's Delight
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"Give my warmest regards to Padawan Eerin, Obi. I take it this is a day to celebrate?"
A light peck on the cheek, and the impressive figure of Master Qui-Tan Jinn moved away from her Padawan, not without allowing to let her gaze linger a little on Obi-Wan's unusually pristine outfit. He was in his dress blacks, and seeing as they were at least two years older than his everyday tunics, their tightness managed to show off his lean muscular body to heart-warming effect. Other parts of Jinn's body, also decidedly warmed at the sight of her young Padawan and new lover in his Jedi finery, sent little encouraging messages to her brain. Later.
She fervently hoped the event wouldn't turn into one of the famed senior Padawans' orgies -- not that she minded Obi-Wan coming home in the small hours, all loose and sweaty from hours of dancing, smudged with others' humorous attempts at make-up, and tasting of exotic drinks and spices... but she found she rather preferred herself to be responsible for Obi-Wan's sweat and loose-limbed grace, not to mention various discolorations of skin. Qui-Tan had never worn lipstick in her entire life, but Obi-Wan's perfect pale neck was currently an advertisement of her expertise at turning skin purple without the aid of dyes.
"It is indeed, though I gather she's made it a rather intimate diner a deux, and in her quarters at that. She insinuated something about it being an important rite of passage for her species, and that she was happy it was finally time for it...," he blushed furiously under Qui-Tan's mild but stern gaze, then sighed deeply and stroked her chin. "Master, I imagine she chose me because we've been friends since as far back as we can remember. As it is, we're not even sexually compatible, so you're in no danger at all... Qui..."
The last words reached Qui-Tan's brain via her skin as Obi-Wan nuzzled into the hollow of her throat. They registered dimly in her consciousness, alongside a vague memory about the sexual and procreative mores of Mon Calamarians. That class had been so long ago... but surely Obi-Wan should remember? Anyway, he was the one that was going, so why worry? "Go with the Force, Padawan. And I'm sure you won't mind an evening without my cooking anyway, eh?"
They shared a grin, knowing full well that Qui-Tan would be raiding the fridge for sandwichable material and curl her impressive length on the sofa with a good book as she always did. She would sometimes joke about missing that crucial housewifery gene, and as a result was quite willing to indulge Obi-Wan's messy streak as long as things didn't start smelling. The recent change in their relationship had taught both of them the importance of regularly laundering the sheets, and Qui-Tan sighed wistfully at the memory of last night's delights...
"Um, well, Bant said she'd cook herself, and I must admit I haven't got the faintest what Mon Calamarian cuisine is like. Pretty wet, I assume."
Qui-Tan grinned. "Seaweed's good for you, young man, and make sure you get some protein in you. You know I can be demanding when left alone all evening...". He escaped her well-meant pinch in the arse by fractions of an inch, dancing away from her with a mischievous grin, a slim black shadow with a shock of red hair, Padawan braid trailing and twining with the strand of laughter he left behind as he skittered away through the open door.
"Wow, Kenobi! I thought I'd never see the day... she's really got you in her hand now, has she?" Bant, comfortable in her usual tunics, made an appropriately rude gesture, grinning widely. "Or is that some new kink of yours... dressing up? Don't just stand there like the statue of Odan-Urr... c'mon in, Obi!"
Utterly confused, Obi-Wan eyed his friend's quarters. No sign of any ritual intent. If anything, Bant's quarters were even messier than his own. The advantage of having a blind Master, Obi-Wan surmised. Bant chuckled. "Oh no, she sees it all right. A Padawan's messes shine in the Force unfortunately. But she's been a bit more indulgent recently -- after all, I only have one eluu in my life, and boy, am I glad it's finally happened. I was nearly despairing of it, what with everyone around me getting laid and Maw-Inna even talking about getting bonded, and now you and your Master... I was half expecting to be left out of this entirely, you know? The only entirely asexual Jedi in the Order. Would have pleased Master Windu no end, I'm sure."
Gesturing, she had relieved Obi-Wan of his robe and ushered him to a chair at one end of the dining table, set for two. He sat down blushingly, cursing himself for having spent half of his Non-Human Sexuality class dozing, and the other half fantasising about the rather more human sexuality of his own Master. Still, he'd be damned if he'd let on. Tread carefully, Kenobi.
"So, you're... celebrating your sexual maturity? Your... sort of... coming of age?"
Bant blushed a rather becoming shade of orange and nodded, a bright smile on her wet lips. Obi-Wan beamed and pulled her into an awkward hug which nearly landed her on the table and had both of them laughing. "Welcome to the club, Bant! Happy eluu. Or whatever."
Bant wriggled off her friend's lap and straightened her tunics. "Thanks, Obi. You can't even begin to imagine how relieved I am. I was beginning to wonder if there was something wrong with me, or if being Jedi somehow interfered with my natural hormones, but..." she stopped short at Obi-Wan's good-natured guffaw.
"Kenobi, I realise it's never interfered with _yours_ but we're different species, okay?" she grinned. "You can count yourself lucky I'm not a Wookiee. I wouldn't wish their coming-of-age ritual on you, mate. As it is, all we're going to have is a nice meal," she gestured to the plates and cutlery on the table, "and then I think I'll celebrate the occasion by finally legally entering the adult section of the Temple library. There may not have been many Mon Calamarians in the Order, but Master Tlen has one hell of a reputation as a writer... and I'm sure you have already made plans for the informal part of the evening, eh? Frankly, I'm amazed she lets you go at all, showing off your cute butt like that!"
Obi-Wan wondered how many more times he was going to get his arse pinched tonight and decided he firmly didn't care. A meal was all it was? Phew. Even given the unknown quality of Mon Calamarian cooking that could not possibly terrify him. On the whole, this sounded like a brilliant plan. Dinner with his best friend, and then hot steamy sex with his Master... yes, definitely an occasion to celebrate.
Minutes later, Bant emerged from the kitchen balancing two large ornate metal plates on her webbed hands, the contents glistening and steaming. Curious, Obi-Wan sniffed at the display on his plate. The overall scent was salty and reminiscent of the sea, as was to be expected really. Warm odours of a dull spiciness enveloped his face as he surveyed the various gleaming little piles. They all looked more or less like seaweed, from large leathery brown leaves that gave an amazingly satisfying crunch and tasted almost meaty, to thin red coral-like structures that appeared to melt in his mouth and tasted of nothing much, to long spicy green strings with little bubbles at irregular intervals that would go 'pop' in his mouth and spread a tangy juice on his tongue. Obi-Wan tasted, munched, and marvelled.
"Great stuff, Bant. I'm amazed that I needn't even pretend to be a Calamarian to enjoy these... lovely selection."
Bant smiled at him indulgently. "Don't forget the main attraction, Obi," she pointed her knife at the two dumpling-like objects in the centre of the array of seaweed, "they're the ones that actually took most of the effort to make."
Grinning, Obi-Wan lifted the edge of one of them up with his fork. Coated in a translucent gelatinous membrane with two pointy ends, the dumplings were about the size of a child's fist. They exuded an overwhelming scent once he'd cut through the thin outer membrane -- unlike anything he'd ever smelled before. Sort of... amber, and thick and yet tangy. It made his mouth water sufficiently to breach the dumpling's leathery pale surface with his knife. It deflated instantly, leaving a puddle of a liquid that was just as thick, clear and amber as its scent had been. Bant giggled at Obi-Wan's nonplussed expression, which made him even more determined not to let on how little he knew about this particular ritual dinner. Besides, the things were delicious. Within a minute, Obi-Wan had managed to mop up the oozy filling with the remnants of the dumpling, and he'd polished off his second one before Bant had even started on hers. He munched some more seaweed to get his taste buds back to normal, but left some on his plate just in case there was a chance of a second helping...
"Ummm... Bant?"
"Yes, Obi? Oh, that went down well, eh?" She beamed at him, bright pink with joy.
"Would it be awfully rude to ask if there's any more of these?"
The explosion of mirth on the young Calamarian's face took Obi-Wan completely by surprise. When she had calmed down sufficiently to form coherent words again, she shook her head. "No way, Kenobi... I was pretty amazed I actually managed four at first go! It's not like I'm used to it yet, you know. Virginity, I think, is what you call it," the sweet wicked grin was well enough to make Obi-Wan blush for each of the times he'd made his best friend listen to his adolescent fantasies about assorted girls in the Temple.
"Um, okay... but I'm sure cooking is not something that won't come easier with practice, is it?"
"Cooking?" Bant gaped at him for half a minute, uncertain whether to be horrified or to burst out laughing. "_Cooking_?"
"You mean you didn't... cook... these..." Obi-Wan's heart sank at the sight of the half-eaten dumpling left on Bant's plate. The thick oozy filling, the leathery shell, the gelatinous spiny coating... he felt his heart sink further, far enough to squash his stomach out of the way. It was definitely rising, his stomach. And Bant's continued mirth didn't help at all...
Bant had been good with him when he'd returned from the 'fresher, face a greenish shade of grey painted with the crimson blush of terminal embarrassment. Her amusement at the whole scene had more than made up for the ruined ritual, she had assured him with a grin, and she'd walked him almost all the way to his Master's quarters before setting off for the Library with a cheeky giggle.
As he wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, Obi-Wan swore he would never fall asleep during a lecture ever again. He drew a deep breath, pressed his palm to the lock and thanked the Force that at least Qui-Tan Jinn was _not_ an egg-laying species.
---The End---