Master Apprentice Archive Peeling Feelings Quick search:

Archive: MA, or ask me

Category: Q/O PWP

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: None

Summary: Sequel to Biker Boys. Blame Bonny who said I should do this, and my master Cuimne who insisted on the bugs.

Disclaimer: Characters belong to George Lucas, not me.

Feedback: Yes please

Despite his lifetime of Jedi training, the last seven years as Padawan Learner, Obi-Wan couldn't keep still. It had begun as an uncomfortable sensation. The hot burning of being taken roughly should have worn off, but it hadn't - and it was getting worse.

Hanging on to Qui-Gon's waist on the back of the motorbike, Obi-Wan thought that the tight leather trousers he was wearing weren't helping. The soft leather was flexible and moulded to his body, but he wasn't wearing any underwear. He wriggled a little to try to reduce the discomfort, longing for the journey to end.

By the time they reached the ancient tribal gathering hall and had been welcomed by leaders of both tribes, Obi-Wan was being driven to distraction by the hot burning pain. Qui-Gon bowed politely as each dignitary was introduced. Obi-Wan stood unmoving, unwilling to risk the chaffing of leather against soreness that he was sure bowing would produce. No-one mentioned his impoliteness, though several raised eyebrows registered their owners' disapproval. His master gave him a questioning glance, but there was no time for explanation.

They were ushered to their places at the huge negotiating table in a long, high room by the elder of the Soo-Zoo-Ki tribe, a slight, elderly female named Subishi, who looked at each of the Jedi negotiators with bright interested eyes and a small smile. Obi-Wan stifled a groan at the sight of hard wooden seats. Not a cushion in the whole room.

The tribal leaders were in a hurry to start. As Qui-Gon had earlier intimated, there was no time for them to change from the leather outfits into more appropriate clothes. No-one had seemed to mind their somewhat unusual appearance dressed from head to foot in black leather on the noisy machine. But of course, these people had never actually seen Jedi before and probably saw nothing amiss in their attire.

The burning in his bottom was becoming unbearable. Obi-Wan was desperate to change out of the constricting clothes into his loose Jedi garb. A shower, he thought wistfully. The image of cool water slaking his tortured flesh almost made him sigh out loud.

Once or twice as the talks dragged on, his master caught him shifting in his seat. The third time he received a glance - eyebrows raised and a slight smile. Obi-Wan's eyes widened at the sudden realisation - Master thinks I'm aroused! The bastard thinks I've got the hots for him in that ridiculous, tight, form- hugging... He groaned inwardly. That's all I need, he thought. Agony at the back and horny at the front.

The participants in the talks took no formal breaks as the day progressed - food and drink were served at the table and they helped themselves without stopping the negotiations.

Occasionally, one of them would discretely retire for a quick comfort break, but were back very soon catching up on the short discussion they had missed by conferring with their colleagues. Jedi, of course, were made of sterner stuff and expected to remain at their position constantly.

Obi-Wan willed his body to quietness, pushing away the sensations as he had been taught from the crèche. It worked for a time, and he gave his concentration to the discussions and arguments that were becoming heated.

But the hot, sore feeling was back, and a new sensation made itself felt - itching. Sweat beaded on the padawan's brow as he fought the desire to wriggle in his seat, to shift a little, anything to relieve the awful itch. Inside and out. The thought of fireants crawling on his skin came to mind, for that's what it felt like. Thousands of insect feet sending his over sensitised nerve endings firing their agonising signals to his brain.

Clenching and relaxing made no difference. His breathing was shallow and his hands gripped the edge of the table as if letting go would give them permission to dive into his pants and scratch that terrible itch until it stopped.

This could only have been caused by the lube Qui-Gon used on him during their hasty coupling. Qui-Gon flashed his apprentice another hot look - the movements were becoming noticeable even to the others at the table. Obi-Wan glared right back. This is your fault, he thought.

The small woman at one end of the table raised an arm to call for silence. One of the D'Catti delegates was becoming very irate and was making his point in a high voice and with heated gestures.

"I'm sure many of us are becoming tired. Carrying on now would serve little purpose, I feel." Subishi forestalled the imminent protests from a number of those present by addressing Qui-Gon directly. "Master Jedi. I would love to hear more of your famous Order, and of your wondrous travels. I've never left my own planet, you know..." She had taken hold of his arm and pulled him to his feet and towards the exit. Though she only came up to Qui-Gon's waist, the tiny woman was surprisingly strong. His apprentice followed stiffly.

Once outside, she bowed her head with a smile and said quietly, "You can tell me your tales later, Master Jedi. I need to rest for a short while. Excuse me." Qui-Gon bowed politely to her as she left them.

Qui-Gon took Obi-Wan's arm and led him away from the main building and they ended up in a quiet garden. He reached for his apprentice, who backed away.

"Oh no you don't! Stay away from me."

"Obi-Wan. What's wrong? I thought you wanted..."

"I don't believe it! My arse is on fire and you think I want to fuck!"

Obi-Wan had sunk on to a stone bench and was frantically wriggling, grinding his backside against the rough surface. When that didn't produced the required effect, he stood again and pushed a hand down the back of the tight leather to try manual relief.

"Your...? Let me see." Qui-Gon moved around the red-faced young man.

"Not a chance. You're not coming anywhere near me for a long time after this."

"It'll be just a slight reaction to the leather polish. A rash. That's all. You'll be fine after you've seen the healers..."

"I am not going to any healers. What will they think? Qui-Gon, I can't. Haven't you got something in the medkit?"

Qui-Gon sat down on the bench. "Ah, I'm afraid I didn't bring it. I left it with our packs in the shuttle." At Obi-Wan's outraged look, he added, "I didn't think we'd need it. I'm sorry." Qui-Gon paused. "Erm, you shouldn't scratch like that, you know."

A sound from a group of ornamental bushes made them turn. The little old woman, Subishi, approached. Obi-Wan quickly pulled his hand free and stilled his frantic movements with an effort and Qui- Gon politely rose to stand next to his apprentice. Obi-Wan once more wished for his Jedi robe so he could tuck his hands in the sleeves out of temptation's way.

Subishi beamed at them. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but I couldn't help but overhear..." Meaning you've been lurking in the shrubbery listening, Obi-Wan thought sourly. She reached into her voluminous robe and handed Obi-Wan a tube. "This should work. Anti- inflammatory. You really should be careful what you put on your body, you know. Or in it for that matter. Oh, you'll probably have some peeling skin in the next day or so."

"Peeling?" Obi-Wan managed to ask, but the tiny female continued, "I'm never without a few medical necessities. At my age, you never know when you'll need them." Another tube was removed from her hidden supply and handed over. "And next time try this. Water-based. I find it mess-free and convenient. Spermicidal too. Not that that's a problem for you two." The little woman raised her face to the tall Jedi master. "You're lucky you didn't get a reaction too. Then we'd have had both of you squirming through the talks."

She left the open-mouthed Jedi with a huge grin, not waiting for a comment.