Master Apprentice Archive It's Pon Farr, Jar-Jar Quick search:

Archive: M/A, my page

Pairing: Q/O

Category: Humor

Rating: PG

Feedback: Any and all, please!!!

Summary: En route to Coruscant from Tattoine, Jar-Jar suddenly feels an overwhelming need to return to Naboo. Can the great Jedi Master, so attuned to the Living Force, remain unaffected?

IMPORTANT NOTE: Let me reassure you, there is NO actual Gungan sex in this story.

 

 

"...and then whammo, the bigges' bombad pod slammed into...."

Obi-Wan clenched his jaw and the ship's controls. Why, oh, why hadn't his master left this thing on Tattoine? He was willing to forgive Qui-Gon for the lie about needing a bongo navigator to get through the planet core. After all, the creature would surely have been killed if left with Boss Nass. But they could have just left him on the desert planet, and they would have been rid of him. At this point, he was just an annoying tag-along. A really, really annoying tag-along.

"...and then mesa told Padme not to worry because Ani bein' so good with...."

The padawan had volunteered to take over the ship's controls while Ric Olie got some rest, never suspecting that Jar-Jar would plop down in the seat next to him and discover he had a captive audience. For the past hour, Obi-Wan had been subjected to every excruciating detail of the insufferably irritating, Sith-be-damned pod race.

"...wesa jumpin' up and down and screamin'...."

*He* would have left the creature in Otoh Gunga. As he tried to tune out the constant babble, Obi-Wan's mind drifted to considering just how Boss Nass would have "punished" the loathsome life-form. Maybe he would have tied him out in the water and let baby goober fish nibble him to death. Maybe the Big Boss might have slowly sliced those big floppy ears to ribbons. Or, wasn't a high concentration of salt toxic to amphibinoids? Maybe covering the thing with an enormous quantity of....

Obi-Wan suddenly realized it was quiet. What a relief! He glanced surreptitiously at the garrulous

Gungan, not wanting to show any behavior which Jar-Jar might interpret as actual interest, and make him start gibbering again. But he was sitting slumped in the chair, stalked eyes half-closed in a daze.

Jar-Jar groaned. "Mesa no feel so good."

Great. All he needed was a Gungan with motion-sickness. The thing did look a little green about the gills. Well, greener than normal. Obi-Wan wondered if the Queen stocked her ship with air-sickness bags. He started to rummage through the various compartments nearby.

"Mesa feel all trembly. Mesa hot." Jar-Jar fanned himself with one of his ears.

Trembly? Maybe he had contracted some rare desert disease. Tattoine toxemia, or something. Obi-Wan hoped it wasn't contagious.

"Why don't you go find an empty bunk and lie down, Jar-Jar?" And leave me alone, he pleaded silently.

"Yousa gotsa good idea. Mesa go sleep."

The Gungan stood and swayed on his feet. He made his way unsteadily from the chair, but tripped as he passed by the pilot's station. Only a quick application of the Force kept him from crashing down into Obi-Wan's lap.

The padawan wrinkled his nose in disgust. Whew! Whatever the disease, add "overwhelming odor" to the list of symptoms.

Obi-Wan supported Jar-Jar with the Force until he was through the door of the cockpit. He breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, he could just relax and enjoy flying the Queen's rather snazzy ship.

Several blissfully quiet hours drifted by, during which Obi-Wan checked the calculations for the flight to Coruscant, and kept mental tabs on his master, who was busy plotting strategy with Amidala. Everything seemed to be in place. The ship handled like a cream puff. He had to resist the temptation to do a few spins and rolls just to see what she was really capable of. Instead, he contented himself with his favorite past time, dreaming about his incredibly handsome master.

His tall, handsome, incredibly large master. Large all over, he knew from covert observation. Hair that moved like a waterfall as he swung through ....

A loud crash and subsequent thud from behind jerked the apprentice back to attention. The large, smelly Gungan had reappeared. Oh, poo-doo.

"Wesa gots to go back. Mesa need to go home!" Jar-Jar yelled urgently, waving his gangly arms about.

Obi-Wan was confused by the sudden demand, but maintained his calm, Jedi bearing. He had learned from the best, hadn't he?

"Jar-Jar, we are on an essential mission for the good of your planet. We must take the Queen to Coruscant. Surely you understand this."

"Mesa has to go back now!" Jar-Jar cried. He was becoming increasingly agitated.

"Once the Queen convinces the Senate to act, I'm sure we can return. But we must go to Coruscant."

"No, wesa go now!" he screamed, and launched himself at the ship's controls, landing on top of the

unsuspecting padawan.

Obi-Wan pushed up with his knees sharply, managing to extricate himself from under the weight of the desperate creature. He grabbed the amphibioid's arms to pull him away from the controls. Eww. Gungans were squishy.

Jar-Jar's dire state seemed to have enhanced his reasoning skills. He quickly deduced he would have to subdue the Jedi in order to change the ship's route. He threw himself on the padawan with vigor, managing to lock his legs around Obi-Wan's waist, blocking access to his light saber.

"Get off me!" Obi-Wan yelled, accompanied with a Force-shove. Nothing. The Gungan seemed driven by an unknown force, greater than The Force.

Obi-Wan knew he had to restrain his strength. As much as he would like to, he shouldn't actually hurt the thing. It might cause an interplanetary incident. Plus, Master Yoda would probably thwack him if he found out about it. Weakness he had for greenish life-forms.

Time to call for back-up. 'Master! Help!' the apprentice yelled through the bond he shared with histeacher.

"Obi-Wan, I'm coming!" the Jedi Master called out as he dashed into the cockpit, light-saber drawn.

After a moment's surprise at seeing a Gungan flailing his apprentice, Qui-Gon doused his saber, reached down and gripped the mad creature's shoulder. With a squeeze of his mighty hand, the creature went limp.

Obi-Wan pushed the dead weight off of him with a groan. Why hadn't they left this thing on Tattoine?

"What happened, Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon asked as he boosted his apprentice to his feet.

"I really don't know, Master. Jar-Jar complained that he didn't feel well, went back to take a nap, and then barged in insisting that we change course to return to Naboo. When I tactfully refused, he attacked me."

"Very curious," the wise master mumbled, furrowing his handsome brow.

"Master, if I might ask a question?"

"Of course! You may always ask questions, my Padawan."

"What was that technique you used on Jar-Jar just now? I saw you do it in the bongo, too." Something you've never shown me, he added to himself.

"Oh, that." The Jedi Master puffed himself up, entering his pedantic mode.

Obi-Wan cringed. Why couldn't the man ever answer a simple question with a simple answer? The only thing that made these little lectures bearable any more was an active imagination.

"That particular technique is a nerve block, taught to me by a Vulcan. Quite an efficient means of subduing an attacker, I must say."

"Hmm." Obi-Wan looked at his master with an expression of rapt attention, and began undressing him with his eyes.

"The Vulcans are an interesting race, Padawan. I'm sure you'd find them fascinating."

Under those tunics was a broad, muscular chest, just waiting to be touched. Just waiting for youthful hands to explore....

"...value logic above all else...."

Obi-Wan nodded. His fingers would make quick work of the ties on those leggings, slipping the garment down over his master's sleek hips....

"...have completely suppressed all emotions...."

But then there were those damnable boots. He really needed to start the fantasy by taking the boots off, so when he got to this part, the leggings would just slide right off.

"... except once every seven years, when the males go through a most unusual phase called Pon Farr...."

"I see," the Padawan murmured, usually an appropriate comment. Once the boots were off, there were the wonderful, sexy feet to consider.

"Padawan, that's it!" Qui-Gon's face lit up like one of the Queen's dresses.

"What?" Obi-Wan snapped back to reality. Sith, just when he was getting to the good part.

"Did Jar-Jar complain of an increased temperature?

"Yes, Master."

"Did he feel trembly?"

"Why, yes, Master, he did!"

Qui-Gon bore a self-satisfied smirk." Jar-Jar must be going through the Gungan equivalent of Pon Farr. He must return to Naboo to mate, or he will die."

"Did you say mate? As in have sex?" Yuk. Obi-Wan did *not* want to think about this.

"We must turn back. It is the will of the Force."

"But what about the blockade? What about the Queen's mission to convince the Senate?"

"You have much to learn of the Living Force, my young apprentice," Qui-Gon replied in the classic, cryptic Jedi Master style. "Now turn this thing around."

Obi-Wan sighed. "Yes, Master."

So back they went. Obi-Wan executed a nifty turn to head the ship back to Naboo.

Qui-Gon thoughtfully moved Jar-Jar's unconscious form out of the way so that no one would trip over him. Obi-Wan turned the ventilation system on turbo-speed in an attempt to keep the odor tolerable, and settled in for the return trip.

There was only a moment's peace before a perturbed Panaka burst into the room. "What's the meaning of this? Why have we changed course?"

"It's a matter of life or death. We must return to Naboo," the great master decreed.

"I disagree. It is essential that the Queen reach Coruscant in the most expedient manner."

"You must trust my judgement."

"Turn around! Her Highness commands it!"

"No more commands from Her Highness today," Qui-Gon replied, waving his hand in front of the security chief's face.

Wow, thought Obi-Wan with outright envy. I can't wait until I'm a knight so I can just mind-whammy anybody who disagrees with me.

"Of course. No more commands from Her Highness today," Panaka parroted. "Let me get Ric Olie to help." He exited the cabin, his flouncy jacket bouncing as he left.

Must be a common security uniform, Obi-Wan mused. Seems like he had seen something similar on another world. Ah yes, it was the army of flying monkeys that protected the Dark Queen of the West, or something like that.

Ric Olie came into the cockpit to relieve Obi-Wan of duty, already convinced of the need to change course. The padawan took up his regular station, situated slightly behind and to the right of his master. If he was lucky, Qui-Gon would have reason to stand up, and Obi-Wan could get a good view of his cute butt.

The Jedi Master attended the distressed Gungan as they flew, monitoring Jar-Jar's condition while the creature whined in his Force-induced sleep. Several times he began to regain consciousness, but the Jedi pushed him back under with a soft mental suggestion, staying closely attuned to the amphibiod's needs. The master even went so far as to stroke one of the long ears, trying to ease the pain of the moment. Obi-Wan thought that was service above and beyond the call of duty.

Time passed slowly, with only Jar-Jar's muttering and Qui-Gon's reassurances to fill the hours. Obi-Wan fell into consideration of the Pon Farr. Have sex or die. It was certainly an interesting evolutionary adaptation. Even the most reserved Gungan, or Vulcan, would eventually break down and become a pawn to his own sexual desires.

"Is it hot in here?" Qui-Gon broke into the padawan's reverie.

"No, Master. At least I don't think so."

The Jedi stood and removed his cloak, tossing it to the side before indulging in a full stretch of hisluscious body.

'Yes!' Obi-Wan thought, eyeing the Jedi's posterior. Patience is rewarded, just like his master always said.

Qui-Gon rubbed his head, frowning. "How much longer until we reach the planet, Ric?"

"We're coming out of hyperspace now, sir. What shall we do about the blockade?"

"Just try to look inconspicuous. Maybe they won't notice us," the quick-witted Master suggested.

He lightened his control over Jar-Jar's mind, and the Gungan sat up with a jerk.

"Wesa goin' home!" the creature cried, hugging the closest Jedi. Qui-Gon tolerated it, although Obi-Wan did notice a pinched look about his eyes.

"Jar-Jar, is there any place in particular you need to go?"

"Mesa go to Sacred Place. Others musn be there, too."

"Can you give directions to the pilot?"

"Mesa try!" he responded enthusiastically, and flopped over to where Ric Olie was listening to the Chosen One show off his piloting knowledge.

Qui-Gon slumped into the seat next to his apprentice. His normally ruddy complexion looked sallow, and he was sweating a good bit. In fact, Obi-Wan thought after catching a whiff, his master could use a step into the 'fresher.

Now there was a choice image. Qui-Gon in the shower, water streaming down his naked body while those big hands lathered soap bubbles across his....

"Obi-Wan, I'm afraid I don't feel well. You may need to take control of the situation once we land. My legs and hands are shaking, and I'm experiencing an odd sensation in my groin. Must have pulled a muscle. I don't know if I can walk very far."

"Of course, Master. I will do my best," asserted the apprentice. All right! A chance to be in charge,

Obi-Wan gloated.

The Trade Federation fiends were so busy plotting devious deeds, they didn't even notice the small ship which slipped through their blockade. Olie landed the Queen's sweet little craft neatly within the Naboo woodlands, touching down without even a scratch to the shiny hull.

Jar-Jar raced to the door, babbling and making slurpy noises against the paristeel as he pounded with his soft hands. Obi-Wan glanced at the creature for only a moment, recoiling when he caught an unwanted glimpse of the tremendous swelling at his crotch.

Still, he must do his duty. He must make his master proud. Obi-Wan gathered his wits and his cloak, and stepped forward to stand behind Jar-Jar. He pushed the hovering Panaka away with a sweep of his hand. "I'll deal with this," he said with confidence.

The door panel swooshed open to reveal a verdant world of lush greenery. Jar-Jar dropped to all fours and scampered away as fast as his limbs would carry him. Obi-Wan rushed to follow, knowing it was his padawanly duty to protect the Gungan, no matter how annoying he found him personally.

They dashed through the forest, slipping on moss-covered stones and splashing through trickling streams. On the Gungan rushed, drawn toward the sound of pounding drums. He didn't slow down until they came to a clearing.

Ancient stone heads dotted the landscape, the massive visages observing an awesome site. Jar-Jar ran into a gathering of fellow amphibinoids writhing in a primal mating ritual. So this was Gungan Pon Farr. Obi-Wan quickly averted his eyes. No need to etch these details permanently in his brain.

Now that his charge had been safely delivered to the ongoing orgy, he could go back to the ship and take care of his master. He turned to make his way up the path.

"Oof." The padawan's way was impeded by a tan and brown wall. Or, no, it was only the Jedi Master, who must have followed Obi-Wan through the woods.

"Padawan, I'm sorry." Qui-Gon's breath came in heavy gasps. "I am most distressed. I seem to have been infected by my proximity to Jar-Jar." The big man's deep blue eyes had turned dark with some previously unseen emotion.

"The Pon Farr?" Obi-Wan squeaked.

"I am afraid so. I fear I am having a sympathetic response. I don't know how much longer I can control my impulses." Qui-Gon was rapidly clenching and unclenching his really big hands.

Obi-Wan's heart beat as loudly as the drums.

"You have to ...."

"... have sex, or die," the master moaned. He took a step forward.

Obi-Wan took a step back. He knew now what it felt like to be prey. His master had to have sex, or die. Here. Now.

Ye gods! What was he waiting for? He launched himself at the trembly Jedi.

Over and over they tumbled, landing in a very nice patch of soft moss, without any rocks or sticks to poke them in the back. Obi-Wan was smothered with kisses as his nearly-frantic master pulled at his clothes. The apprentice was nearly overwhelmed by the Great and Wonderful Moment. This wasn't one of his fantasies, but it was close enough.

He remembered, then. "Wait!"

By a tremendous effort of will, his master pulled back and looked at his padawan, lust rolling across their bond.

"Boots first!"

"Good thinking, Obi-Wan!" Qui-Gon complimented, using up his last shred of control.

Both men tugged at the uncooperative footwear, until, with a final "umph," there were twenty naked toes digging into the moist moss.

Obi-Wan grinned and dove on top of Qui-Gon, determined to once again do his padawanly duty. Saving his master's life had never been so much fun.

 

The End, thank goodness.