Read Me a Jedi

by Tem-ve H'syan

Title: Read Me a Jedi
Author: Tem-ve H'syan tem-ve@gmx.de
Rating: R
Pairing: Q/O. And yes, the Q is somewhat ambiguous.
Summary: Obi-Wan needs help reading the writing on the wall.
Disclaimer: Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon belong to Lucasfilm, and Quinlan Vos additionally belongs to Jan Duursema who is fortunate enough to be married to his effigy. This is a gift fic, and nothing could be further from my mind than making profit on it.
Warnings: None.
Notes: Huge thanks to Clara Swift for the beta - this one was written as a Jedi Santa gift fic for Karita Wyr, who had requested a first-time story, Qui/Obi or Quin/Obi, and I did my best to deliver, though I failed utterly at concealing the Tem-isms of course. The furry tentacled critter is a creation of Jennifer Gail's and will feature in one of her own fics much more prominently and impressively than here! :)

"Astrophysics."

The dreadlocked Padawan flopped down on the seat opposite Obi-Wan's, his full tray of food jostling Obi-Wan's near-empty one. A large cup of some cloudy red soup discharged some of its contents onto the tray. The only thing forthcoming was a frown.

"All right, Comparative History then."

Obi-Wan shook his head and ran a hand through his short hair, then laid his fork down and prepared to look the interloper in the eye.

"Advanced Rimward Linguistics? Surely not?" The smirk did absolutely nothing to placate what looked like a very irritated Padawan Kenobi.

"What are you talking about, Vos?"

"You're moping, Obi-Wan. In case you haven't noticed, there's a ring of free seats around you, which is frankly unusual at this hour. So, which assignment's been eating into this week's Amicable Kenobi time?" Not waiting for an answer, Quinlan lifted the cup to his lips and took a long noisy slurp of soup.

"I'm not moping." No reaction, just another casual slurp. "And I'm doing fine on my assignments, in case you were wondering." Somehow the intended sharpness was missing from Obi-Wan's voice. Quinlan looked up, smiling tentatively.

"Never assumed otherwise. Are you still eating those?" Quinlan pointed a white-nailed finger at a small pile of dismantled lor crab shells on Obi-Wan's plate.

"They're shells, Quinlan. Humans aren't supposed to eat them." Obi-Wan couldn't help snorting in amusement at his friend's antics.

"Well. the Council is still out on whether Kiffar actually qualify as full humans." Quinlan grinned disarmingly and proceeded to stuff the crab shells into his mouth. Obi-Wan made a face at the crunching sounds, then another at the exaggerated enjoyment on Quinlan's features, the grin so broad that the tattooed band across the bridge of his nose actually curved upwards. When Quinlan licked his fingertips and sucked the last of the crab flavour off them with an obscene smacking sound, Obi-Wan conceded defeat.

"You, Vos, would certainly rank close to the animal end of the spectrum," he said, his face almost straight. "How you managed not to end up in the stables when they brought you in is anyone's guess."

"Rrrowr," Quinlan replied. "Force-tricked them. Besides, the harnesses didn't look good on me. This is much more stylish." He tugged the sleeve of his dark brown tunic, exposing tightly-wrapped light brown undersleeves miraculously unstained with soup.

"So it's not work that's bugging you," Quinlan continued, evidently unwilling to let go of that particular thread. He licked his lips extensively before resuming his interrupted soup-slurping activity.

Quinlan was sure there was a library's worth of discarded half-sentences written on Obi-Wan's face. Unfortunately, they were in Kenobinese, a code he yet hadn't mastered even after nearly four years of knowing him.

"Master being a pain?" he hazarded.

Quinlan grinned into his soup at Obi-Wan's reaction, the instinctive glances he cast around himself, as if his Master might appear out of the blue, here, of all places, in the cloverleaf-shaped hall that passed for a refectory, playroom and recreation area for the Padawans inhabiting the surrounding sleeping-cells. Masters would only visit these rooms unannounced in dire emergencies, and Quinlan was fairly certain that actually listening to a random Padawan mouthing off about his Master would be fairly low on said Master's agenda in such a case.

Also, what he'd seen of Master Jinn since he'd first come across him in the caves on Troiken had not exactly been intimidating. Sure, it would be hard for any Jedi Master to be as coarse-humoured and easy-going as his own master Tholme, but really, Tholme and Jinn were friends after a fashion, which ruled bastardness on Jinn's part out pretty conclusively.

It was probably Kenobi's own exacting standards anyway.

Oh. Judging from the way Kenobi was now looking him directly in the face, he must have missed something. Rewind. No - pause. Yes, pause would be nice. He found he liked that look on Obi-Wan's face altogether too much, the small frown line just evening out into smoothness and the mouth half-open because his mind was far too busy with other things.

"Pardon?" Quinlan said.

Obi-Wan sighed. "I said I need your help, Quinlan."

Quinlan placed the empty soup bowl on his tray with a thump. "All right. That rules anything academic out, star student that you are." He winked at Obi-Wan, but failed to get a reaction. "Vos Unlimited, Rules Bent or Broken, at your service," he continued, extending a hand in a mock greeting.

Obi-Wan batted it away, his own smile a shade less certain than Quinlan's. "I've been thinking long and hard about whether I should even ask you this, considering what you've. been through. But. you can hardly censure me for asking, right?"

Quinlan blinked. "If you're planning on selling me your virginity, I suggest we take this somewhere more private," he grinned. "If you still have one to sell, that is. I'd be perfectly willing to negotiate part-payments."

Obi-Wan spluttered, flushed, then finally broke into the grin Quinlan had been trying for. "Can you get your mind out of the gutter for a moment please, Padawan Vos? This is serious business we're talking about!"

"Are we?" Quinlan cocked his head to one side, well aware of how that made his dreadlocks bounce.

"We are," Obi-Wan replied, closing his eyes for a moment to gather his thoughts. "When we first met, you told me about this gift of yours. that you could read things. I mean, read the history of inanimate objects by touching them."

Quinlan nodded slowly, as yet uncertain of what Obi-Wan was driving at.

"For all I know, you might not want to do that any more, not with things you're not familiar with. I mean, I'd understand, after what they've put you through."

"Obi-Wan." Quinlan laid one hand on Obi-Wan's forearm, heavy, warm and olive-coloured. "When you've had a piece of metal tell you in exact detail how your parents got killed, there isn't much left that can scare you. You want me to read something for you, is that it?"

"Yes," Obi-Wan answered. "But it's nothing life-threatening, so if you'd rather not do it, I'd understand."

Quinlan snorted. "It had better not be anything life-threatening. Because, you know, you might have a very inquisitive Master Tholme on your hands otherwise. But, honestly, Obi-Wan? Nothing of yours could threaten me even if you tried really hard."

Obi-Wan nodded. "Good. Thank you. Though. it's not strictly speaking anything of mine."

"Figures," Quinlan replied, running his fingertip around the smear of soup in his bowl and contemplating his stained finger before sucking it clean. "Why else would you want it read? So, I take it it's. oh, let me hazard a guess. Master Jinn's?"

"Got it in one," Obi-Wan replied, his smile hesitant but genuine. "You see, it's been ten days since my elevation to Senior, and his naming day is coming up. I was thinking to celebrate both by giving him something he really likes."

"Which would be?"

"Well, that's where I need your help."

"You couldn't just have asked, uh, I don't know. Master Koon for example? Or Knight Gallia? Or even my own Master? I'm sure they'd be able to give you a clue as to what Master Jinn really likes. And keep quiet about it," he added.

"As I said, if you don't feel comfortable doing it, I'm perfectly fine with that," Obi-Wan repeated, carefully keeping the defensiveness from his voice. "But I know what Master Koon or Master Tholme would suggest. And I don't want that. You see, I don't want an idea of what Master Koon or Master Tholme think my Master would like, and especially not of what Master Koon or Master Tholme think would be an affordable and appropriate gift for a Senior Padawan to give. I want something that surprises him. Touches him. Reminds him of a good time he's had, or pleases him in some way. Something he'll remember me by."

The flush on Obi-Wan's face was highly unlikely to be residual embarrassment at the indecent offer Quinlan had made only half-jokingly. Clearly, young Kenobi was fired up about something entirely different. If not someone entirely different.

"All right. So we're reading a personal item of his? I'm warning you, I can only read the imprints left by living hands. or, well, other appendages. But the object in question must have been touched in order for me to read it. And I can only see what happened in connection with those touches. "

Obi-Wan nodded eagerly, almost ready to interrupt him. "That is just what I have in mind. He keeps them in his sleeping-cell, small mementoes of past travels. I have seen them. well, once, the one time I was in there, but I think I remember where he keeps them. I want to know what they mean, Quinlan."

"The one time you were there? I never considered Master Jinn such a recluse."

Obi-Wan frowned. "He isn't. It's just. I have no reason to be in his cell. Well, except that once when he actually asked me. Turned out it was a kind of test - he had me rig the light conductor on the short wall so that his latest pet vegetable could get sufficient daylight. From above, that was the important thing. I don't believe for a minute he couldn't have done it himself."

"You have smaller hands," Quinlan pointed out. "And those light conductors are built for flatness. Damn hard to fiddle with the wiring if you've got paws the size of Jinn's. Hell, even mine get stuck in there on a regular basis."

Obi-Wan's face was a spectacle of ill-concealed emotion. Surprise, certainly, at hearing his friend admit to tampering with Temple technology just like that. But somehow Quinlan couldn't help suspecting his mention of Jinn's paws had something to do with the faint flush on Obi-Wan's cheeks.

Reading some of Master Jinn's private property might just be more fun than either of them had been expecting.

"I've got it."

"Got what - oh." It took Quinlan one glance at Obi-Wan's conspiratorial expression and the barely noticeable imbalance in his sleeve to gather what Kenobi was driving at.

"Not here." Obi-Wan deftly evaded Quinlan's hand. "My cell."

"It's not like he's going to just wander in here," Quinlan murmured.

"Force, I hope not," Obi-Wan replied tensely, but refrained from looking around himself at the sight of Quinlan's ironic grin. "But I don't really want the entire Padawanate to know what Master Jinn wants."

No, Quinlan thought with bitter amusement, you wouldn't. Because they might just walk up to Master Jinn and give it to him, and where would that leave you, Obi-Wan? One day, Quinlan resolved, one day he would talk to Obi-Wan about his crush on his Master. And it was a crush, of that he was certain. Not that Master Jinn did not deserve admiration, but what Obi-Wan was doing was bordering on mooning, especially given his usually calm and controlled demeanour. And that was putting it kindly - he'd heard other suitable descriptions, most of them involving rectal insertion of rather long and rigid objects. Not, it had to be said, of the kind that tended to be attached to living bodies.

Actually, he could sort of see the attraction. Well, if he had a thing for older men, which he hadn't. But if he had, he could see himself going for Master Jinn. Theoretically. Those hands must feel pretty spectacular clenched around various parts of the lucky recipient's body. And, if Masters' gossip was anything to be believed, young Knight Jinn must have been quite popular among the more sensually-inclined Jedi of his age.

Not that he would ever tell Obi-Wan.

Not that he had even bothered to ask Master Tholme whether he had been among the lucky recipients of Master Jinn's attentions. He had no particular desire to discuss sex with his Master, and greatly preferred the candid conversations and occasional gropings of his fellow Padawans.

Of which Padawan Kenobi was, regrettably, not a partaker. It wouldn't be so bad if he was simply not interested in carnal interaction, or exclusively devoted to the female sex. but the tension was beginning to reach the stage where one needed no psychometric reading skills of any description in order to deduce that Padawan Kenobi was in dire need of a good hard shag. From someone who was apparently unwilling to provide one.

Or unaware he was being asked for one. Really, he couldn't blame him given Kenobi's prim and proper stick-up-his-arseness. damn. He'd missed words from Kenobi again.

More to the point, he'd nearly missed the door of Kenobi's sleeping-cell.

"I don't know where you were thinking of going, Quinlan, but this is where I am going," Obi-Wan called out, his amusement at Quinlan's absent-mindedness almost masking the residual nervousness in his voice.

Once the door slid shut behind them, Obi-Wan's stance relaxed visibly.

The cell, a standard human-sized one with barely any personal touches, was clearly too small to entertain guests in, so Quinlan did what he was accustomed to doing when invited to other people's sleeping-cells, namely flop down on the bed, leaning against the wall and leaving just a little less than half the mattress to the gracious host. "Show us, now."

"Here." Obi-Wan let the object roll out of his sleeve, catching it in one palm. Quinlan picked it up, raised it to his face and peered at it intently while Obi-Wan hung up his belt, pulled a sitting-cushion from under the bed and squatted on it, almost at Quinlan's feet. It occurred to Quinlan that he might have asked whether he should have taken his boots off, but Obi-Wan didn't seem to mind, and the object in his hands seemed more interesting anyway.

It was a small, slightly irregular cube of some dense grey material, with an engraving on one of its sides and cut grooves in two of the others. It didn't seem to do anything much besides sit there, and he couldn't see nor sense any technical enhancements to it.

"No, it's not a holocron," Obi-Wan supplied from where he was sitting. "I've tried."

"Let's find out, hm?" Quinlan cradled the thing in both his hands and rested them in his lap, as comfortable as he could possibly get on Obi-Wan's narrow cot. Breathing deeply, he let it all fall away - the cot, the room, Obi-Wan, his own body - until there was just the surface of the grey cube, blurred with possibility.

Slowly, he reached inside.

"It was soft once. Moulded. Someone made this from some kind of clay. Fast careless hands. Not much time, and on to the next one. The thing engraved into it - an old person did that. an old grey-skinned female in. clothes that were old-fashioned even then. Wrapped to the fingertips, she is. I think it's writing. These. things, they're lined up between thin rods. That's what these," he ran his fingertips along the grooves in the sides, "are for. And there's a lot of sand. Ack."

Quinlan spat out, shaking his head to clear it. "Sorry. Looks like this thing was buried in sand with the old woman's touch still on it."

"Where?" The frown-line between Obi-Wan's brows had reappeared.

"Can't say. Somewhere with lots of sand apparently. The thing's been indoors for all its life, so there's not much I can see."

"Indoors, buried in sand?" Obi-Wan repeated. "Strange. So how did Master come by it?"

Quinlan rubbed his eyes, then closed them again. "I think he found it. Dug it up. No, wait, that's not Jinn's hand. It's someone Force-sensitive though. Years and years later. A young man of some influence, but. a bad reputation? There's something unsavoury about him. And his skin's a different colour. Yellowish. Orange. Feared by his people. Different people, these. The thing means nothing to him, but he keeps it in his home."

Quinlan gripped the object as if to squeeze meaningful information from it. "The next set of hands I see are a child's. A daughter's. Uncomprehending hands. There's metal between her hands and the thing, metal beaten thin until it falls like fabric." Quinlan's fingertips traced the uneven surface of the cube. "And there's Master Jinn. His hands take hers in the cup of his palms, he's listening. Not to what the child is saying. Then he takes the cube and rubs it against the back of his neck, under his hair, and crushes it into her hands again, into the thin metal sheet. Oh. I see. He presses the engraved side against her forehead, and her sweat is stronger than his. He leaves a sigil of thin metal on her skin. He's pleased with himself. The girl's hands are all over the sigil. Then all over Jinn. Oh, and he's young. No beard yet. The kid tries to squash an imprint on his cheek because that's as high as she can reach even when he's squatting down, and it ends up all crooked because he's smiling. He's saying something to her - oh, you should see that, the Jinn teaching gesture even at that age - and then he closes the thing in his palms."

Quinlan eyed the small artefact curiously. "And it hasn't been touched much since then. But what it says. I suspect only Master Jinn can tell you. It's some sort of a stamping or printing implement I think, and it looks like its only meaning was that of an archaeological relic, even at the time."

"Hm." Obi-Wan reached out a hand wordlessly, and Quinlan dropped the small cube into it. "It looks like writing of some kind. But you're right -" Obi-Wan cleared his throat. When had his voice become so hoarse? "It's not really telling us anything much we don't know. Well, in terms of Master's fondness for ancient writing, I mean." He made a dismissive gesture, then gave in to the lure of the little cube and ran his fingertips over the engraved surface, feeling for any traces of metal, any traces of his Master's skin. He held it up to his nose to sniff it before realising that he was not alone and slipping it back into his sleeve.

"Thank you, Quinlan. At least now I know what this thing was good for. though I'm afraid archaeological relics are a little beyond my means. I fear it might have to be. plantlife again for a present." Obi-Wan looked disappointed, though more than a little flushed as well.

"You could try painting symbols on his cheek and see what that does," Quinlan quipped. "Seriously though, if you have any other ideas, I'm not finding this particularly hard."

"You mean you could. read another thing?"

"As many as you can smuggle out of his room. His imprint is pretty damn strong. Easy reading." Quinlan smiled.

And if it hadn't been an insult to use Force suggestions on a fellow Jedi, Quinlan would have been sorely tempted to come up with some appropriate and useful reading matter.

Actually, Quinlan found he enjoyed the sessions far more than he thought he would, given that Obi-Wan's attention, obvious to anyone but himself, was so clearly not focused on Quinlan.

Ah, but teasing Obi-Wan with images was a sport not to be scoffed at. Especially not if one could get away with having Kenobi close his eyes too, to 'aid the meditative effect', and then feast on the boy's unguarded expression, his accustomed Padawanly control warring with what was undeniably lust at the mention of Qui-Gon Jinn close up. Specifically Qui-Gon Jinn's hands.

Not that he had to make any of it up - Quinlan had been quite amazed at the details of Master Jinn's life and times as revealed by random objects from his room.

True, he had tortured Obi-Wan mercilessly when he'd brought a towel, spending an inordinate amount of time tracing the making of it, the spinning and weaving and the application of the small burnt-in monogram that all Temple textiles bore. There had been many, many hands involved in this towel. But the sight of Obi-Wan's face when he got to the main point, the bit where said towel was being rubbed across a wet Master Jinn by a careless but firm hand intent on drying off. yes, that had been worth the long build-up.

Also, for all that Obi-Wan denied it as eloquently as his stilted body language allowed, Quinlan was sure there was more than a little physical arousal lurking under those tunics. Also, when had they graduated to towels? Surely that held very little usable information on what to give a Jedi as a gift, especially in an environment where one's personal hygiene requirements were catered to as a matter of course? He had certainly not sensed Master Jinn using any exotic scents or skin-care products on himself, though he had refrained from describing that bit to Obi-Wan. Kenobi coming in his pants might be a highly desirable sight, but Quinlan preferred that sight to be of a voluntary nature.

And for that, that Jinn crush would have to be dealt with first.

He tried his best under the circumstances, reading everything Obi-Wan brought him. Mercifully, he didn't have to make anything up; given Master Jinn's overwhelmingly tactile nature, there was hardly anything in his private room that he hadn't at some point touched in a way that could be described in erotic terms. Privately, Quinlan suspected that even a loving description of Master Jinn's hands, those coarse but capable and above all large hands, would be enough to make Obi-Wan's mouth water.

To be honest, even Quinlan himself had been surprised to find that a little-used hair tie liberated from under Master Jinn's bed carried echoes of having been looped around the man's wrists. In the privacy of his sleeping-cell, and in amicable company. He did not recognise the face, and wasted no time in describing it, focusing instead on the clenching and unclenching of those big hands, on the contrast between the nondescript fabric and the thick wrists captured within, on the scent of the man's sweat and the sound of his breathing. Heavy breathing. Happy heavy breathing.

Or the piece of blue-tinged bark that had revealed the imprints of many tenacious tentacles. Dark-skinned mobile things covered in soft black-brown fur and bearing residual traces of alien intelligence - which would not have been intriguing in itself had they not been intermingled with the imprint of Master Jinn's touch, painting a shocking image of a writhing human body pressed against a tree trunk, trapped in the brutal embrace of at least half a dozen amorous tentacles.

Well, Jinn must have liked it enough to keep a reminder of it.

And Kenobi liked it enough to excuse himself for a couple of minutes after Quinlan had recounted that one. And Quinlan was certain it was not to throw up at the disgusting suggestion of Master Jinn involved in intimate business with a tentacled creature.

But try as he might, Obi-Wan could not make up his mind about the gift. If that was indeed what was on his mind at all these days.

Whatever it was, Obi-Wan was not doing it. And yes, it was driving Quinlan up the wall. Which wasn't far given the size of Obi-Wan's cell, but it rankled with his residual pride to be able to drive Kenobi to such levels of arousal with just words and not be able to reap the benefits.

Or at least get Kenobi so hot that his stupid Master caught a whiff and pounced. Because a relaxed, well-fucked Kenobi would be a very desirable thing at this point, and he could think of a number of evidently uninvolved Padawans who would readily agree.

Something had to be done. And since he'd exhausted his options with Kenobi, it was time to start enquiries with Jinn. At least he could be reasonably sure that the Master would not feel insulted at the suggestion that he might be partial to sexual activity in general.

Really, the things one did for one's friends.

"Obi-Wan, stop glancing around you like you're about to commit a crime. You're attracting at-ten-tion."

Obi-Wan swallowed and tried to stand up even straighter, which had an involuntarily comical effect seeing as he was also trying to sneak as inconspicuously as possibly towards his Master's sleeping-cell.

"He's out with my Master, I'm telling you. Safest bet in the world. Trust?"

"Trust," Obi-Wan said, quietly. "But I'm not too comfortable sneaking around in his room."

"Oh, like you weren't all those times before? What's to fear this time?"

"Well, I've got you with me, for starters."

"Precisely. And why have you got me with you? Because you want stuff read. Trust me, I can spot readable stuff immediately. You said his naming day was tomorrow, right? And have you got a gift yet? There."

Quinlan didn't even wait for Obi-Wan to shake his head. The expression of utter misery on the Padawan's face was pitiful to watch, and not only unbecoming a Jedi, but quite inappropriate given what Obi-Wan was about to experience.

Well, what certain parties involved hoped he was about to experience anyway.

Quinlan had to recite a litany of patience as he watched Obi-Wan fumble with the door code to his Master's cell. Had to keep himself from punching it in himself. Instead, he stood a few steps back, pretending to stand watch.

The door slid open, and Obi-Wan wandered in, slowly, taking each step carefully as if the air in his Master's room was made of treacle and one false move could destroy the very make-up of the room. The room was a little larger than Obi-Wan's cell, probably owing to Master Jinn's greater height rather than his superior rank. There were no amenities worth speaking of, though the room at least spoke very clearly of being inhabited. The bed was badly made, an evil-looking plant took up most of the space in front of the light conductor, and a small pile of datapads, discs, and bound papers beside the bed indicated that Master Jinn did more than just sleep in here.

Obi-Wan stood in the only place where it was possible to stand without touching anything, and did just that, namely not touch anything.

Quinlan sighed, then summoned what little acting capability he had and startled quite convincingly before slamming the door shut.

Obi-Wan nearly jumped out of his skin.

"Sorry," Quinlan murmured. "Heard someone walking past outside."

"Sith!" Oh, good. It took a lot to get Obi-Wan to swear. "Let's get out of here, quick!"

"Why the rush?" Quinlan placed a reassuring arm on Obi-Wan's shoulder. "Nobody can see us here now, and Jinn's not going to be back for an hour at least. Hmmmmm. what have we got left that isn't familiar already?"

Obi-Wan winced, then winced again when Quinlan pulled the drawer of Qui-Gon's bedside cabinet open, but failed to wince at what Quinlan produced from its depths.

Oh, Kenobi. You're that innocent?

Quinlan bit back a grin, than waved Obi-Wan closer, leaning in for a conspiratorial whisper.

"We'd better read this one in here. He might. miss it if we took it anywhere." He ran his fingertips reverently over the smooth elastic surface, making a show of channelling pleasure from the odd near-conical object that was almost the size of his own hand, but brown and made from something resilient and artificial.

"What the." Obi-Wan began, then fell silent at the dreamy look in Quinlan's eyes. Obediently, he sat down at the foot of Qui-Gon's bed. Quinlan shook his head.

"Up here. This one is going to be good, I promise. Make yourself comfortable." He patted the mattress next to himself. "Come on, this is bigger than yours. Room enough for both of us."

Hesitantly, Obi-Wan clambered on the bed, his eyes never straying from the mysterious artefact in Quinlan's hand. It had a wide base at one end, as if it was meant to stand up, a small conical deity perhaps?

"You ready to hear great things about your Master?" Quinlan asked with a grin. "Boy, we should've found this earlier. would have answered all your questions."

"What. what is it? I mean, what did Master do with it?"

Quinlan smirked. "Your Master used this for his pleasure. Or had it used on him. But no, mostly he's used it on himself. He hasn't been sharing himself all that much lately."

"Sharing himself?" Obi-Wan's voice was almost a squeak, and his face was bright red. Quinlan hoped it was just the right mix of righteous indignation and lust, because the shade suited Obi-Wan. Exceptionally well.

"I trust I can spare you the details of the hands that made this, right?" Obi-Wan nodded hurriedly. "Good. Because the hands that have held this have mostly been Master Jinn's. Well, one hand held it - like so - " he gripped the artefact around its base, "and the other wet it. Like so." His eyes still closed, Quinlan made as if to spread something slick along the conical part. Having the very recent images of Master Jinn's hands to guide him was helpful, of course.

"He is lying on his side, on this here mattress," Quinlan continued. "This time he's naked. I see him almost fully dressed too though, one foot up on the bed, boots still on, his leggings shoved down just far enough and with a deeply satisfied expression on his face before he straightens himself and his clothes again, wipes his hands, hides them in his sleeves again as if nothing happened. But no, this time he is naked."

"Naked." Obi-Wan's voice has gone beyond excited and into incredulous.

"Yes," Quinlan confirms. "Naked as the day he was born. Well, a little hairier than that. Sorry." He can't help snorting in amusement at Obi-Wan's open-mouthed expression, picturing his Master naked and spread out on the bed. And even though Quinlan still doesn't have a thing for older men, he admits that watching Master Jinn do things to himself in his mind's eye is far from a hardship. "He's running a hand down his side, down the small of his back. Grips one buttock in a strong hand and exposes his opening. Slides a slick finger down the crack and plays with it. Oh, he's enjoying this. And he's taking his time, teasing until he can't bear it any more. Mmmmh, yes. Oh, he's fast. He's gripped the thing, wet as it is, and rammed it into himself, almost all the way in, in one thrust. Wow, that was almost painful. His face is all tense, his mouth wide open. Breathing very loudly now, small groaning noises. His hand keeps on pushing. Slowly, until the thing is all the way in. He's rolling over now. Oh. Oh, wow. That is big. That is a marvellous big hard cock. And he can't keep his hands off it either. Mmmmh. Big, slick hands sliding up and down, squeezing. Pulling. He's using both hands now, going fast and faster, moaning, deep animal moans, oh, and his hips are thrusting, fuck, as if he's being fucked, he wants to be fucked, he's imagining it, and all the while it's his hands pleasuring him, just his hands, hard strong hands. He wants, oh how he wants."

Quinlan risks a glance out of the corner of his eye, quite a bit aroused by his own narrative and the infectious pleasure he's reading out of the toy. Obi-Wan is near-bursting with arousal, the front of his leggings tented by a prominent erection, his mouth open and panting. and the little light on the door controls is flashing once, twice.

The door slides open nearly soundlessly. It takes a Master apparently.

Unfortunately, the tiny gust of outside air is enough to startle Obi-Wan out of his reverie, and he opens his eyes - only to find himself facing his Master, robe and outer tunics slung over his arm, fresh from a workout, his long hair clinging to his neck and chest, smelling of sweat and musk and growing arousal so much that even Quinlan can't help notice it.

Jinn is smiling. Obi-Wan is terrified.

"Obi-Wan. Wasn't expecting you in here. and I see you have a guest too." The wink goes unnoticed by Obi-Wan's widened eyes. "Have you anything to say to me, Padawan?" The voice is soft, sweet almost. Not a trace of the stern Master.

"I. uh." Obi-Wan is trying to force words up his throat. He is bright crimson now, and so frozen in place that he's not even managed to pull his tunics down to cover his hard-on.

"Oh. Oh, how rude of me." How does he do that? He's almost purring. Quinlan is intensely jealous right now, of that voice more than anything else. "I appear to have interrupted a rather private. interaction, yes?" He throws his clothes onto a seat-cushion at the foot of the bed. "Padawan Vos?"

Quinlan nods.

"Can I count on you to alert me once you are finished here?" Still calm and reassuring, and oozing sensuality. Damn, he should have been an actor.

"No!" Obi-Wan bursts forth.

Finally. Quinlan relaxes a little.

"No?" Jinn enquires, looking down at his Padawan, half sprawled on his bed. He offers him a hand up, not without casually brushing the front of his own suspiciously tight trousers first. "How am I supposed to read that, Obi-Wan?"

"Master." Obi-Wan swallows, then stands up very straight, still pitifully short beside Jinn. "It's not what you think it is."

"Isn't it?" Jinn replies. "Pity. I might have asked your permission to watch otherwise."

"Watch?" Obi-Wan's back to squeaking. "You would want to watch?"

"Second best thing," Jinn replies with a shrug and a lopsided smile. "If all parties involved are amiable to the idea, of course."

"You. I don't want you to watch," Obi-Wan says hurriedly, still slowly enough for Jinn to feign disappointment in the moment it takes Obi-Wan to catch his breath. "I want. want you to touch me. Please. Everywhere. Oh God, the things I've seen. I'm so sorry, Master."

Jinn looks at Quinlan over the top of Obi-Wan's head as he clasps him in his arms, raising one eyebrow as if to ask what Quinlan's been showing him. Typical Kenobi, and they both know it. Jinn's much better at dealing with it though. He's got the right hands for it.

"The things you saw," he murmurs into Kenobi's ear as he cups the back of his head in one of those huge hands while the other is sorting through tunics in search of flesh, "the things you saw are what you would be in for. If you were that way inclined. Sexual interaction with me is not all kisses and roses, Padawan, so consider before you offer."

Obi-Wan's hips answer before his mouth does, and it's a testament to Jinn's superior reflexes that he pulls his hand away before Obi-Wan can grind into it.

It's quite a show. Obi-Wan stands transfixed in the middle of the room, held upright only by Jinn's hand at the back of his head, or so it seems. "I want," he says, panting but keeping control of his voice with the last of his strength, "to possess you. To be in you. To be under you and over you and. all over you. To be in your hands. Sticking, clinging, grasped, bruised, breathless both of us - "

Obi-Wan's sudden tirade is stopped short by a gentle pair of fingers across his lips. They are Jinn's fingers, and he falls silent immediately. Well, after a brief moan that swallows the last syllables of what he'd been trying to say.

"Yes," Jinn purrs, "that certainly sounds sincere enough. Quinlan, would you be so kind? I think Obi-Wan needs a little rest."

Smirking, Quinlan slides off the bed and makes room for Obi-Wan. The moment Obi-Wan's back hits the mattress, he spreads his legs, and Quinlan cannot help but grin at such unaccustomed eagerness. Especially considering how much of a bottom Master Jinn apparently is. But really, Kenobi deserves his moments of mindlessness too. He has precious few of them anyway, uptight lad that he is.

Though as he watches Obi-Wan melt into a twitching puddle under the insistent caresses of Jinn's hands, Quinlan suspects that might change sooner rather than later.

Oh, sooner, definitely. Obi-Wan's taken less long to convulse in a sobbing orgasm than it's taken Quinlan to even unlace his leggings. Jinn has stopped smirking now and is focused fully on the squirming unleashed streak of Padawan beneath him. And Quinlan can't find it in himself to blame him. Not with the sight he's making, flushed, needy, sweaty, undignified, and for what might well be the first time in his young life, entirely happy.

Neither of them will mind his presence. Neither of them will even notice, and as he reaches down to touch himself, he reasons that's quite enough of a reward for a rogue like himself.

And if any of them should feel inclined to share themselves again. well, they know where to find him.

--- end ---