Cytoplasmic Pseudopods and Other Nonsense

by MrsHamill (thamill@cox.net)

Archive: MA and my site, Mom's Kitchen (www.squidge.org/~foxsden)
Category: PWP and only PWP. Well, first time too. And humor I guess.
Pairing: Q/O
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Qui-Gon wants to get fucked. Seriously. Would I lie to you?
Disclaimer: What, you think I own these guys? Do I even look like George Lucas? If this is not what you expected, please alter your expectations. No such thing as random coincidence. No such thing as too much lubricant.
Warning: Stupidity ahead.
Series: Good God no.
Notes: I wanted to see if I could make Qui-Gon goofy, so I did. Tell me if I succeeded. Thank you, Bill Watterson. Dedicated to Emu, cos I sure as hell wouldn't write it for anyone else. Thanks to Lady Salieri for the... *incentive* Well, for the blue briefs, anyway. Claude was the beta par excellance on this one, thank you so much for that, my dear. This was a rather big hit at Plushie Theater at Connexions (considering I think Heather almost wet herself reading it) so I'll go out on a limb and say, spew warnings!

"No, I believe that's a cytoplasmic pseudopod."

"It's a what?"

Obi-Wan frowned at his master's face, just visible behind the protective face-plate. "I said, it seems to be extruding a cytoplasmic pseudopod. It very much resembles a single-celled creature which moves by extending... Master, what in the world is the matter?"

Qui-Gon began weaving back and forth and at Obi-Wan's exclamation, smiled dopily at his padawan. "A pitoslamic duploplod? My, what big words you use, Obi-Wan."

The rather large creature that was oozing slowly towards them appeared to be doing so brainlessly; after all, you could see right into it and there was obviously no gray matter in the gray matter. That didn't preclude their being careful around it, since most things on the planet were toxic to humans in one way or another. Stepping back away from the creature, Obi-Wan looked closely at his master, Qui-Gon Jinn. It was difficult to do, since they were both wearing biosuits to protect them from the exceedingly hostile environment of Rixa Four. Hostile was, of course, a relative term -- the creature before them certainly seemed happy enough.

"Master, are you quite all right?"

"Never been better," Qui-Gon said heartily. It had to be a malfunction in their suit radios, because Qui-Gon Jinn never sounded hearty. "I think it wants to be friends, Obi-Wan. Look, it's trying to shake hands."

"Master, it doesn't have hands."

"No, it has tomaplastic poodooobobs. Oh, look. Its thing looks like a tentacle." Qui-Gon made as if to step closer, but Obi-Wan held him back, becoming alarmed at this unusual behavior. "Did I ever tell you how much tentacles turn me on? I always wanted to have a Mon Calamari fuck me and never have, did you know they have tentacles instead of..."

"Master!" With effort, Obi-Wan got Qui-Gon turned away from the four-foot-long amoeba-ish thing that was no longer oozing across the rock. Pulling Qui-Gon's head down, Obi-Wan looked into his eyes. Were his pupils dilated? "Something's wrong with you, Master. We need to get back into the hab, get you out of the biosuit and--"

"Into something more comfortable?" Qui-Gon lurched drunkenly forward, and Obi-Wan used the motion to check Qui-Gon's suit, making sure all his hoses and valves were secure and not letting in any of the noxious atmosphere. "You don't have tentacles, do you, Obi-Wan? It would be very nice if you did, though I'd still like to fuck you, even if you don't, because you have other bits that I'm sure are just as good as I've imagined. Or we could ask our new friend here to join us. Wouldn't that be nice?"

"If I have my way, no one will be fucking you but me, Qui-Gon Jinn," Obi-Wan murmured, barely aware of what he was saying, preoccupied with trying to keep his master from initiating any further contact with what appeared to be (at least to date) the highest form of life on Rixa Four. With effort, he got Qui-Gon pointed the other way, back to the hab, so Obi-Wan could try to find out what in the Force was wrong.

"Oh, do you promise?" Involved as he was in urging Qui-Gon back down the path, it took Obi-Wan a moment to understand Qui-Gon's words. When he did, he froze. He couldn't decide which shocked him more: that he had said aloud what he'd only been thinking for months or Qui-Gon's reply to those words. "It seems like I've been wanting you for... just forever, you know. Naughty padawan, slinking around wearing next to nothing all the time, changing clothes in front of me, teasing me with what I can't have. I've never seen any tentacles on you, though. D'you think you could get them grafted? Would they move if they were grafted on a human, d'you think?"

Yep, something was definitely wrong. Obi-Wan breathed a sigh of relief -- not only would Qui-Gon forget what Obi-Wan had said, he'd likely forget how he responded as well. "I don't think that would be a good idea, Master," Obi-Wan murmured, urging Qui-Gon on once again. What could have possibly gotten into Qui-Gon? His hoses had looked secure, and they had checked each other's suits before they went through the airlock -- he had been fine then.

With a start, Obi-Wan remembered Qui-Gon making a comment about how the inside of his biosuit smelled as he donned it. Obi-Wan's had had an odor about it as well -- disinfectant, he had thought. But it was mild...

"You're just no fun anymore, Obi-Wan. You used to be fun, and I used to have a lot of fun thinking about how much more fun you could be." Qui-Gon lurched to the side as his foot slipped on a rock. "Whoops!"

"Master, please be careful." Obi-Wan braced Qui-Gon on one side, trying to steer him clear of any further obstacles. "We need to get back to the hab and get you out of that suit -- perhaps you're having a reaction to something in the cleaning solution..."

"There you go again, teasing me." Qui-Gon's voice was both aggrieved and drunken, and under other circumstances, Obi-Wan would have found the whole thing wildly amusing. But they were on a mission, in a hostile environment, and this was no place to sit and laugh himself silly over his normally staid and reserved master, who was beginning to hum an old and extremely bawdy Corellian drinking song as he lurched down the path.

Before Qui-Gon could burst into song, the hab came into view. Obi-Wan hadn't been so happy to see anything in his life as he was to see the neon yellow of the shelter, looking brightly absurd in the unrelieved smoky gray of Rixa Four. There was another of the amoeba-like things -- the largest creature they had so far found on the planet -- oozing over a rise near their path.

"Look, our friend has followed us! Over here! We're going to have a party, would you like to attend?"

"Master, I don't think it's the same one," Obi-Wan said, pushing his master back onto the path with effort. "Oof... why'd you have to be so big? I'm going to need to add weight training to my regimen for situations like this. Please, Master, this way..."

"Oh all right," Qui-Gon said, peevishly. "But only if you'll fuck me once we get inside." He planted his feet and tried to cross his arms -- something basically impossible given the bulky suits.

Obi-Wan sighed and looked at his master, whose upper body was slowly weaving in a lopsided circle. "All right," he said, keeping an eye on the amoeba. He had a feeling they were made of some type of ammonia sulfate which might eat through the biosuits -- unlikely, but he didn't want to take the chance.

"Do you promise?" Qui-Gon demanded, sounding like a petulant child -- well, a drunk, petulant child -- once again trying to fold his arms and once again failing. "You've got to promise, Obi-Wan, because I just haven't been fucked properly in forever, and if you don't want to, our new friends I'm sure wouldn't mind..."

"Get into the hab, Qui-Gon," Obi-Wan growled, getting behind his master and shoving gently -- then, when nothing happened, shoving not-so-gently. He kept his hands low so as not to over-balance the tall man, which, of course, meant his hands were right on Qui-Gon's ass. "I promise, all right? Just get into the blasted hab!"

"Oh, wonderful!" Qui-Gon twisted enough to grab Obi-Wan's hand and began pulling him towards the airlock. "I'm going to get fucked! And by my wonderful, beautiful padawan! Isn't that wonderful?" He appeared to be addressing the amoeba-thing, which ignored him.

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes but followed, thinking anything that could get Qui-Gon into the hab and out of whatever it was that was causing this unbelievable reaction of his -- why couldn't he have done something like this sooner? Like when they were in the Temple, and between missions, or really, just any place but on Rixa Four where the rain was caustic and the largest form of life appeared to be an amoeba half the size of an eopie, something that moved by extending cytoplasmic pseudopods that looked a bit like tentacles...

And when the hell had Qui-Gon developed a fetish about tentacles? What the fuck was so sexy about tentacles, anyway?

They cycled into the airlock and Obi-Wan had to stop Qui-Gon from opening his suit then and there. "We need to decontam, Master," he said, hitting the appropriate buttons with one hand while the other batted Qui-Gon's hands away from the fastenings on his suit. "Wait! Decontam doesn't take long, just wait! Gods take it, will you wait?!"

"Oh, all right." Now Qui-Gon sounded sulky. "Don't think you're getting out of your promise, though."

"Perish the thought," Obi-Wan murmured with a sigh. He'd really love to live up to that promise, too, but knew he shouldn't... couldn't... abuse Qui-Gon's trust like that. Eventually, they'd find out what was wrong and correct it, and Qui-Gon would probably go to sleep and when he woke up, he'd be the same staid, stoic, tall and beautiful and scrumptious and with a start, Obi-Wan flashed on a memory of the tiny blue briefs that were all Qui-Gon had been wearing as he had climbed into the biosuit...

"There. It's done. Now, get undressed!" Qui-Gon's hands started pulling and yanking, and Obi-Wan knew he had to stop them before the biosuits were damaged.

"I'll take care of it, Master," Obi-Wan said, once again batting those large, hard, warm hands away. "Be careful! We can't afford any damage to these suits, they're not ours!"

"I don't care, you promised me you'd fuck me, and I want it now!"

With another sigh of frustration, Obi-Wan moved as rapidly as he could, divesting them of the biosuits and cycling the airlock into the hab proper. Qui-Gon was obviously ready for anything, for his poor briefs were distended and looked on the verge of ripping. Obi-Wan had been so caught up in something being wrong with Qui-Gon (and just keeping up with Qui-Gon's mania) that not even that sight stirred him -- well, not much, anyway. However, when Qui-Gon shoved his briefs down -- wobbling dangerously in the process -- freeing his erection, Obi-Wan had to blink and speak sternly to his libido. "Master, we need to find out why you're behaving like this, it's not normal."

Ignoring him, Qui-Gon started pulling on Obi-Wan's singlet and shorts, trying to get them off despite Obi-Wan's efforts to the contrary. Finally, with a feral sounding growl, he grabbed the fabric of Obi-Wan's shirt and pulled, literally ripping the material away. Stunned, Obi-Wan gasped "Master!" and his surprise was such that he was incapable of preventing Qui-Gon from doing the same with his shorts.

"You're not hard... Obi-Wan, you have to be hard in order to fuck me." Qui-Gon, who was still swaying, blinking and slurring his words, lifted his off-kilter focus to Obi-Wan's face and spoke earnestly. "You did promise, Padawan. I want to be fucked, and since you won't invite our new friends inside, Obi-Wan Kenobi, you're my only hope..."

"I know, I know Master, but I'm worried about you and I need to... MASTER!" Without warning, Qui-Gon slid down to his knees and sucked Obi-Wan's half-hard cock into his mouth, drawing the next thing to a shriek out of Obi-Wan and making sure all the blood in his body was re-directed to his nether regions. He got an erection quite extraordinary fast, even for a young man of twenty.

Now it was Obi-Wan's turn to sway, as Qui-Gon suckled his penis like a baby at a bottle. The only thing holding him up was Qui-Gon's hands on his hips, and Obi-Wan couldn't seem to find a place to settle his hands -- tangling them in Qui-Gon's mop of sweaty hair didn't seem appropriate, somehow. How was he supposed to figure out what was wrong with Qui-Gon when Qui-Gon seemed intent on sucking his brains out through his cock? And doing a mighty fine job of it, too, he realized, as he gasped air into his straining lungs.

At literally the last second, Qui-Gon released his prize and basically climbed up Obi-Wan's body. Both of them were swaying now, and Obi-Wan's knees felt rubbery. "Now, now, Padawan, you can't come yet, you've got to fuck me first. Let's... let's..." He glanced around the room but did not release Obi-Wan. Crowing in delight, he rediscovered the large bunk and nearly threw Obi-Wan down on it.

"Master, please! We need to find out why you're behaving like this, there's something wrong!" As Obi-Wan tried to reason with his master, said master was climbing on top of him and settling himself over Obi-Wan's upper thighs.

"Oh, quit being such a wet blanket, Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon held out his hand for a moment, then looked at it when nothing happened, his face comically surprised. "Hm. I can't seem to get the Force to do stuff. Can you get the Force to do stuff for you, Obi-Wan? That's really a very handy thing, you know, the Force. It comes in very, very handy at times, I've noticed."

"Master," Obi-Wan pleaded, pretty much in despair that he'd be listened to. It looked as though he was going to have to just play along with Qui-Gon, fuck the man, and then...

With a blink, Obi-Wan caught himself. What the... he was objecting to fucking Qui-Gon? Just who was the insane one here anyway? And is insanity so bad when it's not hurting anyone?

With a mental sigh, he answered his rhetorical question. Because it would be taking advantage of his master. Because he didn't want to hurt Qui-Gon. Because he fucking loved the man, he snarled to himself, silencing those pesky inner voices.

Unfortunately, there was a cabinet set into the wall next to the bed, and in that cabinet was some skin lotion. Qui-Gon didn't have to stretch very far to reach it, though Obi-Wan caught him over-extending and just managed to save him from a sure fall to the floor. "You know," Qui-Gon said with his inebriated smile, "I just love how you call me 'master'. It always sounds just... just..." While Qui-Gon thought (or tried to think), he poured a measure of the lotion in his hand, coated his fingers and reached behind himself, using his other hand on the wall behind the bed to balance. "So... obscene. Yes, I think that's the proper word. Very much. Like a porno talkie chip. Sometimes you give me an instant boner just by walking away or talking to me."

Obi-Wan's eyes were bugging out of their sockets and his jaw would have been on the floor, had he been upright. Qui-Gon was preparing himself? He must have been for the next thing Obi-Wan knew, Qui-Gon knelt up, nearly falling face-first onto Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon might have been impaired, but thankfully Obi-Wan was not, and was able to catch him before he fell off the bunk to the floor. Obi-Wan braced him with one arm as Qui-Gon lifted himself again, in an attempt to impale himself onto Obi-Wan's erection.

Unfortunately, his aim was off. Quite a bit. As was his balance, obviously.

The first time he sank down, he overshot by several inches and ended up almost sitting on Obi-Wan's knees. He lifted himself up again, using both the wall and Obi-Wan's hand for balance, and tried again -- nearly bending Obi-Wan's cock backwards and causing a yelp of pain from his padawan. He apologized and tried it again, this time landing on Obi-Wan's stomach.

"This would indubiotly be easier if you had tentacles, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said, in some exasperation. "Or at least a prehensile penis. Why you don't have either, I'll never know."

"Indubiotly?" Obi-Wan asked. His sense of the absurd was finally returning and with it, his sense of humor. "And I don't have tentacles because I'm not Mon Calimari, Master." He put his hands on Qui-Gon's thighs, preventing him from rising again. "Master, this isn't necessary. You're obviously under the effects of something -- perhaps an allergic reaction of some type -- and I don't think you're being quite yourself."

Qui-Gon blinked at him. "Not myself?" He frowned and looked down at his body, from knees to erection, which was about all he could see at the moment. "If I'm not myself, who could I be?"

Obi-Wan burst out laughing, shaking his head in fond exasperation. "I have no idea, but I'm glad to meet you anyway. Here, let's try this."

It was a wide bunk, not well padded, but long and deep. Carefully, with a judicious use of the Force, Obi-Wan lifted, shifted, tucked and pulled until he was on top and resting between Qui-Gon's thighs, his hands resting on the mattress to either side of Qui-Gon's head. Qui-Gon was spread out before him, still aroused, still drunken -- there was hardly any blue around his dilated pupils -- but at least he was safe and not in danger of falling out of the bunk to the hard floor.

"Master," Obi-Wan said softly, smiling. "I think perhaps you should just rest, and sleep off the effects of whatever is wrong. I'll com the Thanosians and find out what--"

"Obi-Wan, you promised." Obi-Wan blinked, but before he could say anything, Qui-Gon added, "You promised you'd fuck me. We are Jedi, and we should always keep our promises, Padawan."

"Qui-Gon..." Obi-Wan intended to launch a rational argument, while attempting a subtle Force suggestion that should have put Qui-Gon out for the count. But before he could say a word, Qui-Gon reached out with his lotion-slick hand and wrapped it around Obi-Wan's flagging erection. All that came out, therefore, was "Uuunngh..."

"Please?" Qui-Gon looked debauched and drunk and delicious and Obi-Wan moaned in despair. It simply wasn't fair.

"I've wanted you for so long, and now..." Obi-Wan felt like he was about to explode. He sat back on his haunches, away from that teasing, caressing touch, and stared down at Qui-Gon's long, lean, gorgeous form. He ran his fingers up the long legs, feeling the muscles bunch beneath the skin, smoothing the hair down. Qui-Gon obligingly spread his legs further apart, but Obi-Wan didn't go where he was expected to go. "You say you've been waiting -- I've been waiting too. I've loved you for what seems like forever, Master," he murmured, not even paying attention to what he was saying, simply speaking from his heart. "Wanted you for longer than that, even. You make me crazed with the way you move, with the way you talk, whenever you stand close to me to correct something I'm doing wrong."

Stroking his palms down Qui-Gon's flanks and over his taut stomach, Obi-Wan smiled with genuine desire. "So strong, so lean and proud. Your body is that of a man half your age, and it will never lose its allure to me. I love to watch you move, even in full tunics. Love to watch your face when you help or teach children, when you feel protective." He ran his hands up further, over large, dusky nipples, to broad shoulders. "You've carried me on these, when I needed it." Down long arms to hands, so large, so callused, so warm and gentle. "There have been times when I've dreamed about your hands."

As he let his hands run back up Qui-Gon's arms, Obi-Wan glanced into Qui-Gon's face and was amazed at the yearning he saw there. "Please, Obi-Wan." When he whispered like that, Qui-Gon didn't sound quite so inebriated. Instead, he sounded calmer and more lucid -- perhaps he was finally throwing off the effects of... whatever it was. "Please."

What happened next was rather... well, anticlimactic wasn't exactly the word either of them would have chosen. Mentally throwing up his hands, Obi-Wan carefully, tenderly prepared Qui-Gon and entered him, one smooth thrust carrying him deep. Qui-Gon arched and groaned in pleasure as they found their rhythm, and Obi-Wan just let everything slide, lived in the moment (for perhaps the first time -- ironic that it took fucking his master to realize why his master always said that) and enjoyed himself. Immensely.

It was a long, languid time later that his orgasm washed over him, like a cleansing wave of pure water. Qui-Gon was already out, his spunk splashed all over his stomach and chest, when Obi-Wan came in for a landing and snuggled deeply in his master's sleeping embrace.

Obi-Wan was sitting at the communications station when Qui-Gon finally opened his eyes, several hours later. "No, I'm certain we'll be finished by tomorrow," he was saying to the scientist in charge of the Thanosian attempt to settle Rixa Four. He glanced at Qui-Gon before resuming. "Preliminarily, I can say that the available data indicate the creatures are not sentient, and we haven't seen anything larger on the planet. Master Jinn appears to be awake now -- we'll have to clean the biosuits out, but we should be finished with the survey by tomorrow." He ended the transmission when the gentlebeing thanked him for his report and signed off.

Turning in his seat, Obi-Wan looked across the small hab and watched as Qui-Gon pushed himself to a sitting position. He was still naked, and Obi-Wan felt another flash of desire, tempered by the knowledge that Qui-Gon had undoubtedly shaken off the effects of his reaction. A call to the Temple while Qui-Gon slept confirmed Obi-Wan's suspicions: the disinfecting solution used in their biosuits by the Thanosians was non-toxic to humans, but breathing in its vapors in an enclosed space (like a biosuit) could give a human symptoms resembling inebriation. The only thing surprising was that Obi-Wan hadn't been affected. Lucky him.

A less serious query to the Temple healers -- about the feasibility of certain appendage grafts -- was fortunately, or rather, unfortunately, ignored.

Qui-Gon had shifted so that he was sitting on the edge of the bunk, and was holding his head in his hands. Obi-Wan let him be, knowing he was probably experiencing something close to a hangover, but was undoubtedly too ashamed to ask for help. For his part, Obi-Wan didn't really know what to think, or how. He realized -- again, though it was much too late for recriminations -- that he shouldn't have taken advantage of his master as he had, and also knew, now, that going without that intimacy in the future would be nearly impossible for him. Rather than curing him, making love to Qui-Gon had cemented his love.

Scrubbing his face with his hands, then running those hands through his tangled mane, Qui-Gon took a deep breath and stood, wobbling only slightly. Obi-Wan jumped to his feet to help, but Qui-Gon held up his hand, steadying himself against the edge of the bunk and taking another deep breath before looking up, directly into Obi-Wan's face.

Obi-Wan could see no emotion at all in the calm, deep blue eyes that seriously regarded him. He stood nervously, wondering if he were in for a reprimand, or if perhaps Qui-Gon was willing to forget the entire incident and move on. Only through long practice at standing and waiting was he able to keep from fidgeting as Qui-Gon let the moment continue.

Finally, with a deep breath he released as a sigh, Qui-Gon walked across the floor to Obi-Wan, who wondered how, even with no clothes on, Qui-Gon managed to hold such dignity in his bearing. Obi-Wan kept his eyes up and forward, not certain what would happen if he were to look at Qui-Gon's body again, unsure that he would be able to contain his reaction, his desire. Uncertain whether such reaction would be welcome.

Standing nearly toe to toe, Qui-Gon lifted his large, callused hands and cupped Obi-Wan's face gently. He was still calm, though Obi-Wan thought he could sense some type of emotion within; what it was, however, he couldn't say. Not anger, he felt fairly certain of that. But...

After another long, wordless look, during which Obi-Wan felt Qui-Gon was peering into his soul, Qui-Gon sighed again, and his lips turned up slightly, very slightly. This time, Obi-Wan was certain he could sense something there, some warm and pleasant emotion -- perhaps a little bit of embarrassed hilarity, perhaps some fondness, perhaps something else, even hotter, that was harder to discern -- somewhere under the surface of calm sobriety.

Qui-Gon's thumbs gently caressed Obi-Wan's cheeks once, then again, then with an even softer sigh and a wider, gentle and contented smile, Qui-Gon leaned in and sweetly kissed his padawan.

end