Some Day (Ben)

by Master Elayna (Elayna88@aol.com)

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Qui-Gon Jinn/Obi-Wan Kenobi

Category: PWP, AR

Sequel to: Into the Light and Darkness Descending

Summary: A very belated MMoM offering.

Warnings: I've read too many romances in my life. Historical ambiance, not accuracy.

Thank you to Norma Jean for betaing.

Disclaimer: The boys belong to his lordship George Lucas, I'm merely dressing them in thigh high boots and billowy shirts.

The London morning appeared dismally gray and chilly as Lieutenant Ben Larkin opened his eyes to look out the window. He snuggled deeper into his cozy bed, his inherent sense of time alerting him that the household would be awake. The servants would be stoking the fires downstairs, having breakfast, and preparing for the Larkin family members to ring their bells for breakfast in bed or appear in the dining room.

Ben wasn't hungry, at least, not for food. He closed his eyes and situated his naked body on the silk sheets, legs spread wide, early morning stiffness poking into the thick covers, the piles of blankets tucked up to his chin. Taking himself in hand, he imagined that his body was being heated not by fabric, but by the bright sun in the blue sky of the tropics, where he had met and been loved by his pirate captain Quinn.

And where he knew he would experience that love again.

After the whipping he'd received from an enemy of Quinn's, Ben's recovery was prolonged and excessively tedious in his opinion, first confined to a cabin on the Excalibur then to the bedroom his mother had decorated for him in their new house. Ben had the loyal and dutiful enthusiasm of Ani and his younger brothers to distract him from the pain, but only Quinn's touch and comfort could fulfill his cravings. Finally, he was almost back to his normal strength and endurance, regularly walking with his young companions, riding his stallion, practicing with his sword daily, determined to drive his body back to health.

His sword... this was the sword Quinn liked, he smiled, stroking his length with a firm grip. Not as large as Quinn's, but a generous enough size to please the Captain on the rare occasions that Ben was the penetrator in their lovemaking.

The clip-clop of horses pulling a heavy wagon disturbed his thoughts, and Ben's eyes flicked resentfully to observe the gray sky again.

He wanted blue skies, and heat, and rough sand on his back rather than the fine cotton sheets. He yearned to be with Quinn, naked on the beach, the sun and the sex bringing sweat to their bodies. Quinn, tall and proud and stunningly handsome in his nakedness, settling himself on Ben's hips. One of those big hands of his coating Ben's shaft with oil before guiding it into his own body. The groan of pleasure and delight that Quinn would make, harsh and sincere as Ben pierced him. He wouldn't stop; Quinn never did anything by half measures. He would continue determinedly until Ben knew the ecstasy of having his cock completely swallowed within Quinn's opening.

Ben fondled himself, his touch arousing but a pale shadow next to the vibrancy of his memories of Quinn, his strongest grip a weak remembrance of Quinn's tightness. He dug his arms into his sides, as Quinn's long legs would dig into his hips. The pirate's shaft would betray its pleasure, dripping moisture on Ben's belly as Quinn rocked himself.

The sand wouldn't hurt Ben's back, not with the scar tissue, but would rub deliciously against the soft flesh of his buttocks as he slammed down before lifting to meet Quinn's plunges.

His balls craved attention and Ben gave it to them, rolling them in his free hand, trying to duplicate the sensation of Quinn's large paw performing the same gestures, too absorbed by his fantasy to be frustrated by his smaller hand.

Though his eyes were open, they didn't see the elegant brocade of the canopy but his pirate Captain, proud face contorted in pleasure, blue eyes hazed with lust, mouth open as he gasped and strained, broad chest heaving, hair loose and flowing over his shoulders, plunging onto Ben as demandingly as Ben thrust into him.

A final rough stroke, a convulsive squeeze on his balls, a pained cry, and Ben came, his hips arching off the bed, vigorously plowing himself into the bedclothes, imagining the look of relief and bliss on Quinn's face.

Ben lay in bed, the covers slipped to his chest, the warmth he'd generated combating the room's chill.

Some day. Some day soon. The Admiralty would call him back, or he'd steal one of his father's new ships if he had to, travel with Ani back to the ocean, search out Quinn and a beautiful white beach where they could make love for hours, undisturbed by any human presence.

Harold entered discreetly, crossing to the fireplace, stoking the carefully banked embers. Ben pretended to be asleep until the footman had left. His father's staggering success with his trading ventures was both a hindrance and a help to Ben's life. Growing up, he never had to time his activities around the servant's precisely maintained schedule.

Of course, if his family lived in the old house, he'd be sharing a room with Ani and his younger brothers, not enjoying his vast bed by himself. Wealth had distinct advantages, even if it brought his family close enough to nobility to receive regular condescension as ill-bred upstarts.

He climbed out of bed, briskly washing away the traces of his release from his body before dressing in riding clothes. A vigorous canter around the park would be a good way to start the morning, yet another foggy, lonely day in London.

These days would end soon, days of loneliness and fantasy, days of recovery and exercise that would be gladly exchanged for days back on the Redemption, back in Quinn's arms and bed, sailing the seas as was their destiny, together forever.

Some day.

~ the end ~