Master Apprentice Archive Room Service: Bedroom Quick search:

Rating: NC-17 probably. It's all in the mind *grin*

Summary: Two Jedi talk about gardening. No really.

Notes: Okay, Cyn's "chastity" thread came at just the right moment to spark this one off (thanks!!), and I must admit I just had a ball with my favourite images here. I also admit to owning a hibiscus tree called Qui-Gon (and a smaller one called Obi-Wan who's now heroically conquered his whitefly problem, and a tiny pink-blossomed one called Anakin who's being a bit of a pest at the moment), and the joys of rubbing one's eyes cannot be overestimated!

Also, this is the last but one in the Room Service series. I'm quite simply running out of rooms!

The swirling fields of mesmerising colour turned from purple and brown to a searing bright green. Out of the centres of wormlike masses of intertwining brightness screamed an intensifying white light that spread out over his entire field of vision before revealing itself to be made up of myriads of tiny patterns, a tapestry of sharp diamonds and swirls, woven in shades of grey that tore along vein-like lines as if the tapestry had been set on fire from behind. Along the crossing points of these deepening rifts, perfectly round deep cobalt blue points formed, radiating a depth and calm that put him in mind of other, too familiar blue orbs overseeing the fractured journeys of his mind. Ah, Qui-Gon's eyes were just inescapable, and there was no way Obi-Wan was ever going to complain about that.

He ceased rubbing his eyes and sighed in pleasure at the slow, psychedelic-edged return to the normality of the bedroom. Chances were that this was the only kind of pleasure he would associate this bedroom with -- the Igna people were very vocal about chastity and disallowed absolutely any kind of erotic contact before marriage.

And of course there was no way to convince them that Qui-Gon and he were married, despite the fact that it sometimes felt like that to him (especially when Qui's teacups ended up all over the place for him to wash, or he relied on his Padawan for representative and memory duties). It had been hard enough to convince the Igna that entering into talks with the population of their moon M'seuda and thereby acknowledging the existence of other cultures alongside their own would not amount to damnable heresy. If he remembered correctly, Qui-Gon had at one point had to convince them that he existed at all, and that he had never been in danger of being eaten by a great mutant star goat, which was apparently their idea of punishment for believing in the existence of foreign devils.

To sum it all up, any thought of a nice relaxing sex session with his Master and lover was pretty much out of the question. Obi-Wan sighed. The very layout of the bedroom was geared towards chastity as well. Not that it was austere -- on the contrary. The walls were covered in something shiny and deep green, and the floor made from some smooth brown rock that actually felt warm to his naked feet. The arched windows were framed in gold-coloured sandstone, and rich flowers and shrubs in various containers made the room look rather like an indoor garden.

The beds, however, were a different matter. Looking like they'd been carved out of the same bedrock (Obi-Wan grinned at the word) as the floor, they were shaped like sarcophagi (or altars to a sleep deity, Obi-Wan figured, though he wasn't sure whether the assumption of a separate deity for sleep wasn't running contrary to the Igna's beliefs. Pretty much everything was, really.) and definitely too narrow to allow more than one person, lying stretched out straight between the walls, yes, walls, of the cot.

If it had only been for the peculiar architecture of the beds, Obi-Wan would surely have found a way to enjoy himself, and his Master, under these circumstances, and the mere thought of Qui-Gon pressed tightly against him in the narrow space sent tiny spears of pleasure through him ... but this was a mission, they were staying here on borrowed time, and if the suspicious faces of the Igna dignitaries were anything to go by, they were definitely figuring as 'foreign devils, but foreign devils that must be borne'.

And just to make sure nothing would happen to besmirch the purity of the Igna culture, the wicked chastity worshippers had actually installed surveillance cameras in the Jedi's quarters. Even in the bedroom. Especially in the bedroom.

Qui-Gon Jinn didn't seem to mind all that much. Oh well, the benefit of old age, and a higher level of Jedi serenity ... he was half-sitting, half-lying draped over a high-backed couch, staring out the open window into a golden sunset. The mere sight of his aquiline profile against the melting sky would, under normal circumstances, have been a definite incentive for Obi-Wan to sneak over and kiss Qui out of his reveries. Besides, Qui-Gon was not dreaming. He was examining one of the potted plants on the windowsill.

"These are quite beautiful, you know ... "

Obi-Wan blinked and reluctantly tore his eyes away from Qui-Gon to focus on the plant in question. A rather spindly small thing with thin twigs like inverted brown lightning and few but large shining green leaves, totally failing to create the impression of a vigorously alive being. The flowers, however, were admittedly impressive - large lush chalices of a deep velvety red that was so dark it bordered on the black around the middle, where an obscenely elegant thin stalk protruded out of the flower, bearing five tiny furry yellow balls at its top, a perfect star pattern. Qui-Gon idly fingered the blossom, and it was only by this act that Obi-Wan came to realise the flower was almost as big as his Master's hand. Impressive.

//How someone as barren as these Igna can cultivate such lush plant life escapes me, Master ... //

Qui-Gon smiled at the mental comment. //The flower is a lot like they are, I suppose. Barrenness supporting surprising sensuality ... in a strictly spiritual sense of course.//

//I don't suppose we'll get beyond meditating together tonight, will we?// Obi-Wan sent, accompanied by a regretful sigh.

Qui-Gon's smile widened, and facing away from the camera closest to him, he allowed himself a wink. "Such beauty from such adversity is indeed a sign of high culture ... " //They may be the best gardeners in the universe, Padawan, but they aren't Force-sensitive. At all.// He stretched languidly on the couch and draped his robe around him as if to ward off some chill from outside. "These were bred from a smaller natural variety that grows in the swamps Polewards of here ... "

Obi-Wan shivered at the memory of swamps. Wedt II hadn't been all that long ago, and the mere mention of the word sent him back to the freezing clinging cold mud of that Force-forsaken planet. And the steamy lovemaking in the 'fresher afterwards. Obi-Wan shivered some more, this time in frustrated delight, and decided he might as well retire to the bed if his Master was going to give him a lecture on the biology of some plant ...

//I heard that, Padawan. However, I agree that retiring to bed is a good idea indeed. And make sure you're tucked in tight.//

Confused, Obi-Wan rid himself of his outer garments and crept under the covers, making himself as comfortable as possible in the narrow bunk. Swamps and plant life indeed. Swamps. Brrrrr.

"They are creatures of the warmth and the rain, Padawan. You may feel reminded of the freezing rain-lashed swamps of Wedt II ... well, imagine a messy cathedral of green trunks and vines and leaves as the home of this one. And imagine yourself on a boat while you're at it because the mud is, well, rather sticky ... " Qui-Gon's voice trailed off, and Obi-Wan's mind was shattered by the image his Master sent.

Sticky mud. Brown, glistening, thick and fragrant, and best of all, clinging to Qui-Gon's naked legs as he emerged from the swamp, up to his hips in the fat dark warmth. Obi-Wan watched in amazement as his Master pulled himself up out of the delicious ooze and into the small boat he himself was seated in. It was hard work to keep himself from rocking the boat too much at the sight. The smooth expanse of Qui-Gon's bare chest, now pale against the shimmering mud that clung to him from the waist down, moulding his elegant muscular long legs into a sculpture to die for. And the thing between Qui's legs ... the thick hard tendril of something about to take root in him. Obi-Wan licked his lips, and Qui-Gon grinned and slapped a hand on his dripping thigh, then smeared the glistening deep brown goo along the length of his leg for effect before offering his mud-coated palm to Obi-Wan. 'It's edible, you know ... ' And the taste was otherworldly, tart and spicy, the essence of the fragrant rainforest, and all of this on his Master's smooth hot skin ...

Obi-Wan realised his own mouth had gone dry when he heard Qui-Gon's amused voice from the other end of the room again. "In their natural habitat, they are fertilised by butterflies. They swarm out there at precisely the point when these flowers are in full bloom." Qui's lips quirked in a smile again and Obi-Wan let out a slight gasp.

This time it was not a picture. Tiny Force-touches swarmed all over his body, disregarding the heavy blankets and the tunic Obi-Wan still wore against the cool of the evening. Millions of imaginary butterflies were dancing on his skin, literally every bit of it, even on his eyelids, wrists, toes. Oh, and there as well. He concentrated on keeping his breathing steady as the ghostly touches rippled up and down his firming penis, fluttering through the light dusting of hair on his balls and making every nerve tingle with sheer lust. Obi-Wan's lips parted in pleasure, and he wasn't quite sure whether it was one of Qui-Gon's precautions that he actually made him yawn at that point. Oh, very convincing ... squirming slightly in the confines of his bed, Obi-Wan was grateful for the heavy covers. And for his Master's ingenious imagination. No doubt there was something similar happening beneath that robe of his. And Force, it was time he got some of his own medicine, for his own good!

"Master?"

"Mmmmh?"

"Do the Igna keep these plants for decorative purposes only, or are they actually useful? I mean, crops ... do they grow them somewhere for fruit or such stuff?" Dammit, his growing arousal was beginning to show in his voice! "I mean, if the fruits taste anywhere near as nice as these flowers look,they should be fairly marketable, no?"

An innocent greenish-blue look, and then Obi-Wan concentrated all his Force abilities on sending Qui-Gon an image of how he intended to sample the taste of the potential fruits. Squeezing a large red berry in his fist, he let the juice drip all over Qui-Gon's heated skin, covered with a light sheen of sweat from the heat of the harvesting season out in the fields. Tiny deep red rivulets snaking down Qui's taut stomach, towards the delta of the alpha and the omega, and Obi-Wan's tongue trailing behind, reverently tasting the sweet tang of the ripe fruit and the warm salty musk of his lover underneath. None of the juice managed to escape Obi-Wan's eager tongue beyond the thicket of Qui-Gon's pubes, but he continued licking his way down anyway. Or up, actually, as Qui-Gon's impressive member was straining hard against the live-giving sun, rising and colouring a deep red that was similar to the berry juice. But vastly preferable. Obi-Wan licked all the way to the tip, slowly, before popping it into his mouth like an oversized berry and sucking on it, craving the sticky salty juice of Qui-Gon's spiralling pleasure over the sweetness of the fruit.

Qui-Gon purred and shifted on the sofa, clearly as aroused as his Padawan now.

"Oh, they are delicious, Obi-Wan. Pity it's not the season for them yet really - as you can see, the bushes are still in bloom, and you'd be lucky to find a single hard green berry on them now. However, once the harvesting season arrives, the plants will be so heavily laden that the farmers actually have to tie them to poles to keep the fruit from rotting against the damp ground."

Obi-Wan gave a slight chuckle. That was an easy one, and he delighted in the mental picture he sent Qui-Gon almost as much as Qui-Gon himself would enjoy it.

The strong and beautiful Jedi master, proud and elegant, bound to a pole in the middle of the fields. Hair loose and streaming, wide black leather straps snaking around his chest and arms and belly and thighs, altogether enhancing the sleek beauty of his muscular body and offsetting the light tone of his smooth skin to an unsettling degree. Obi-Wan felt like eating the man as he was, and Qui-Gon writhed in delight at the suggestion, taut bonds digging into the firm flesh, allowing no escape. Oh yes ... he secretly loved being exposed to any number of caresses and teases, the tantalising brush of his Padawan's fingers contrasting so beautifully with the tight grip of the leather straps, meshing into a spiral of tenderness and hardness spurring each other on to greater heights, more feather-light touches leading to more writhing leading to more firm unyielding restraint leading to more squirming leading to more delightful sweet touches until Obi-Wan's hand wrapped around Qui-Gon's throbbing hardness, squeezing with all its might ...

... and Qui-Gon could not contain a gasp as he felt the selfsame Forceful grip on his cock, hidden under the folds of his robe, here in the bedroom.Oh, his Padawan was getting good at this. But two could play at that game!

"Which is why the plants, in their wild form, release their fruits before they are weighed down by them, so that they can climb up towards the light again."

The mental image was clearly a variation on the theme Qui-Gon had observed his Padawan enjoying so much: trailing vines snaking up Obi-Wan's naked and aroused body at an uncanny speed, sinuously enveloping him in a mesh of lush green foliage until he was completely unable to move, a sculpture in green. And then Qui-Gon created a single tendril of the green mass to curl around Obi-Wan's jutting penis, starting at the base and twining itself around, higher and higher until it reached the head. The stem grew thicker and stronger and came out in little leaves, tightening around Obi-Wan's cock that was already weeping at the top. As a finishing touch, Qui-Gon added a tiny flower blossoming at top speed from the tip of the vine, a sweet little star of purple exploding against the most sensitive spot of Obi-Wan's body, and almost immediately drowned in the shower of thick hot white seed erupting from him.

Obi-Wan bucked up on the narrow bed and bit his lip to keep from screaming as he came, well-hidden under the covers. He had just enough presence of mind left to roll onto his side lazily as if something had stung his back, then collapsed into the wash of pleasure.

"And do you know how the original plants rid themselves of the ripe fruit, Padawan?"

Bleary and sated, Obi-Wan looked up at his still-smiling master, whose face was now undeniably flushed with his own arousal and just radiant. "Er, no.But it seems to be a funny sight judging from your expression ... "

"It is indeed. That's why they're called 'spitting-berries' in the local tongue - the ripe fruit simply snaps off at the stem and propels itself away from the plant on a stream of seeds, scattering its genetic material across as much of the surface of the planet as it can cover."

Obi-Wan gave a light laugh, then shot the obvious image at Qui-Gon, who came almost instantly and scattered his own seed as far as the confines of his robe allowed, disguising his deep moan as a laugh, an adorable guffaw that had Obi-Wan joining in without thinking. Laughter bred laughter, spasms of mirth jerking through their heated and spent bodies, and when Obi-Wan wiped the tears of laughter from his eyes and managed to look at his Master again without bursting into another fit of giggling, he faced a serene expression and slightly raised eyebrows.

"What's so funny, Padawan?" A smile.

"I ... I just pictured one of these plant things shooting off in your face, Master. All red, hahaha ... " Qui-Gon fell in with the good-natured explosion once more, and the room resounded with the two Jedi's laughter.

//It might consider spitting, Padawan. After all, it has good reasons to be jealous of your capabilities of imitating its act of 'shooting off' ... //

The observer at the surveillance monitor shook his head gravely. Whatever uncanny abilities these Jedi might or might not have, they were definitely a very very silly race.

---The End---