The Shirt

obi-ki

Archive: MA, anyone else please ask.

Pairing: Qui-Gon/Obi-Wan

Catagory: PWP, Qui/Obi

Rating: R

Warnings: None

Spoilers: None.

Summary: A lesson in semantics leads to some interesting revelations.

Disclaimers: Everything Star Wars belongs to George Lucas and Lucasfilms. I am just playing in his world, borrowing the boyz and their accomplices and will return them all when I'm through. No money is being made from this, it is all done for entertainment only.

Author's notes: This is my first contribution to MMOM 2003. This story is dedicated to my new padawan, Josiah Rose, who can be thanked/blamed for the conversation that spawned this bunny. As always, massive Qui-Gon hugs to my marvelous beta/editor, Monalee, whose keens eyes and dutiful red font have made this a better piece As always, I can't resist making a few final tweaks, so all mistakes are mine. Hope you enjoy the story.

Feedback: Please, in any way, shape or form. Onlist or off at kiowkqgj@yahoo.com

Obi-Wan looked down at the tear across the bottom of his workout shirt and sighed heavily. "I really enjoyed this shirt."

Pulling his own sweaty workout shirt over his head, Qui-Gon looked at his padawan in obvious bewilderment. "Enjoy is not a word I would use to describe a fondness for an article of clothing, Obi-Wan."

"Why not," Obi-Wan groused.

"You enjoy eating a good meal, listening to music, watching an outstanding performance or looking at great works of art," Qui-Gon asserted in his best lecture voice.

"I like the way it looks on me, the softness of the fabric, the way it molds to my body like a second skin making it very comfortable to wear for workouts and the way it manages to still look presentable even after hours in the gym," the padawan countered, his stance becoming somewhat defensive.

"That tells me that you like the shirt, enjoy wearing the shirt but that is not the same as enjoying the shirt itself," Qui-Gon explained patiently.

"Semantics," Obi-Wan snapped. "What is the big deal anyway?"

"I am training you to be a negotiator and as such you should always strive to use the most comprehensive words to convey your point," the master insisted.

"A guy can't even get a break in the privacy of his own quarters," Obi-Wan mumbled as he threw the offending garment towards the recycling unit.

"What was that, Padawan?" Qui-Gon asked, his expression making it more than clear that he had heard the snippy complaint.

"Nothing, Master," he replied a bit petulantly. "May I be excused to shower? I am meeting Garen and Bruck for late-meal and afterwards we have a study room booked at the library to practice for our debate for our Advanced Negotiating Theories class."

"You are excused, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon answered. As his student began to walk away, he added sternly, "Please clear an hour from your schedule at some point tomorrow. I think some exercises in accepting constructive criticism are in order."

Obi-Wan stopped in his tracks, took three or four calming breaths then turned to face Qui-Gon. "I apologize for my insolence, my Master," he said with a formal bow. "I will check my schedule and confirm a time at first-meal tomorrow."

"That is acceptable, Padawan," Qui-Gon agreed with a polite nod. He walked over to the doors to the balcony, adding as he moved through them. "Please be sure you are back in our quarters by curfew, Obi-Wan."

Qui-Gon ignored the twinges of tightly held irritation that seeped over the bond and settled onto his knees for some well deserved individual mediation. Master Dooku had always threatened that at some point he would get an apprentice as headstrong as he had been and Obi-Wan's willfulness was definitely fitting the bill. Only his apprentice would launch into a full-scale argument to defend a verb choice instead of taking the easy path of deferring to his Master's instruction. But the constant challenging and lack of capitulation was a big part of why they made such good team and he used that truism as a focus as he settled into his meditation.

Silence surrounded Qui-Gon as he surfaced from his meditation and a glance at the chrono told him Obi-Wan had left quite some time ago to meet his agemates. He took time to stretch as he rose from the floor, working the stiffness from his bones and muscles. His meditation had been extremely enlightening and he found his mind still focused on the facts it had revealed. Sometime in the past year, he had ceased thinking of Obi-Wan as a petulant teenager and had come to think of his apprentice as a headstrong but highly capable young man.

As he headed to the small kitchen to prepare a light supper for himself, he realized that the shift in thinking had also changed the way he catalogued Obi-Wan's physical being. Although he still took note of the lithe body's strengths and weaknesses, he was also beginning to notice the sheer sensual aura that surrounded Obi-Wan. The sparkling eyes, the flirty smile, the stalking saunter that appeared in the most unusual situations.

The tail of the dark green shirt hanging from the edge of the recycling unit caught his eye and he wandered over to it. As he looked down at it, he remember Obi-Wan's features as he pulled off the ripped shirt and tossed it aside. Sweat and exertion had darkened and mussed his hair, his chest was damp and a little shiny and his face wore an expression that was a combination of longing and exasperation. The combination created a beautiful picture that showed without a doubt that his padawan was no longer a boy.

Qui-Gon picked up the shirt almost without a conscious effort and the impression of his padawan filled his senses. The well-worn shirt had been Obi-Wan's favorite since he had been barely sixteen and the many memories associated with it flooded Qui-Gon's mind. In its early life, the shirt had been worn during relaxation and group social events and Qui-Gon couldn’t help but wonder how many times the sleek and sensual appearance it enhanced had led to much more intimate forms of exercise. Come to think of it, Obi-Wan had been wearing this shirt the night he lost his virginity, not fully perfected shields allowing the sixteen year old's pleasure to flow across their bond until Qui-Gon had realized what he was feeling and increased the strength of his own. How many other encounters had there been and how much of Obi-Wan's sexual awakening was tied into this garment? Suddenly, Obi-Wan's word choice to describe the shirt and his reluctance to part with the worn and threadbare item no longer seemed so inappropriate.

After placing the shirt carefully over the back of the chair with the idea of seeing if it could be mended, Qui-Gon assembled his meal. He ate automatically, his mind still reeling with the revelations of his meditation and subsequent internal monologue. So much had changed today about the way he viewed his apprentice and now all he needed to do was figure out what, if anything, he should do with that newfound knowledge.

Still focused on that thought, Qui-Gon cleaned up from his meal, grabbed the shirt and went into his bedroom. He tossed the shirt on his bed, stripped and headed for a well-needed shower. As with late-meal, he completed his ablutions by rote, his mind filled with images of Obi-Wan. Although he had known intellectually that Obi-Wan was sexually active, his heart had never really considered what that could mean. They had always been very close. Their relationship formed in dire need and over the years it had only deepened. He loved Obi-Wan and it was readily apparent that Obi-Wan loved him, that love effortlessly conveyed in the little things the apprentice did to see to the needs of his master.

But would that be enough to take their relationship further? Qui-Gon wondered as he dried off. And would Obi-Wan want to? Loving someone was a far cry from being in love with or even feeling desire for someone and Obi-Wan had given no indication that he could possibly feel either of those for his aging master.

After twisting his still damp hair into a loose plait, Qui-Gon tossed back the covers and stretched out on his bed. Such thoughts of his handsome apprentice had quickly sent a surge of blood flowing to parts south and he knew he would not be able to sleep unless he handled the issue. With Obi-Wan's shirt in one hand and his firming flesh in the other, he breathed in the younger man's scent as he began to slowly stroke his erection. With his face buried in the aromatic fabric, it was easy to imagine Obi-Wan in bed with him and that it was Obi-Wan's hand stroking him so pleasurably. He swept his thumb over the tip of his penis with each stroke, the spreading fluid adding to the wonderful sensation.

His pleasure was quickly escalating and Qui-Gon knew it would only be a matter of moments before his orgasm overtook him. Suddenly the feel of his own hand was no longer enough and wrapped the shirt around his throbbing shaft. The extra sensation was all it took and in seconds he was spurting his release into the green fabric, a cry of "my Obi-Wan" escaping from his lips.

The sound of a throat being cleared in the vicinity of the doorway forced Qui-Gon's eyes to open and drew his head to look in that direction. A deep flush spread over his face as he took in the sight of his handsome and apparently enthralled apprentice leaning against the door jam. He drew in a few deeps breaths to calm his breathing then met his padawan's steady gaze. "It seems that I was incorrect in my earlier assessment, Obi-Wan. It is possible to enjoy a shirt."

The End.