To Be Filled With The Spirit

by Tem-ve H'syan

Title: To Be Filled With The Spirit
Author: Tem-ve H'syan tem-ve@gmx.de
Pairing: Q/others, Q/O implied
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: What, you think anyone would pay money for this? Or, more unlikely still, believe that this was anything other than me having fun with Lucas' characters? Think again please.

Summary: Yet another alien welcome ritual. or so Obi-Wan thought.

Warnings: Kids, don't try this at home. Adults, please do, and let me have pictures :)

Notes: This one is entirely Inya's fault for planting the words 'spit roasting' in my mind and insisting that they describe something naughty. Watch your mouth, woman - I have a gag and I'm not afraid to use it. Also, this is indebted to Terri Hamill and Dr Squidlove for their Standing Watch series, as it sort of reverses the roles here, with Obi-Wan as the watcher.

Obi-Wan was no stranger to ritual. Being brought up a Jedi meant being surrounded by rituals, whether at Temple or in any of the dozens of Republic worlds he had travelled in the years of his apprenticeship.

Something as weighty as receiving a Jedi negotiation party usually involved some sort of ritual. Master Qui-Gon liked to refer to it as 'social lubricant', and had gracefully borne the effects of any number of alien rituals, whether they involved changing into all-white clothes, having his hair concealed by an elaborate and largely botanical crown, or adopting a temporary name for the duration of the visit.

So when the Muntee elders formally requested that Master Jinn, as the leader of their small delegation, should receive the fullness of 'the spirit', to bless the Jedi presence and hopefully disseminate the spirit among his own people, Qui-Gon hadn't batted an eyelid, and Obi-Wan had been mildly amused.

Qui-Gon being filled with whatever spirit - yes, that would work. He had seen his Master roaring drunk before, once before to be precise, and the evening had been pleasant enough. The good-natured ribbing between a slightly swaying Qui-Gon and the other Masters, most of them no less affected by the delicious but potent concoction Padawan Rill had handed out at his Knighting party, had been a hoot, and Obi-Wan had come away with a profound impression of just how much Master Qui-Gon enjoyed living in the moment, even if that involved pouring mild intoxicants down his throat and making a fool of himself in that resonant growly voice of his.

It was only when Qui-Gon had attempted to sing that Obi-Wan sent a mild sobering suggestion his way, and was met with the most un-Masterly look he had ever seen on Qui-Gon's face. If the words 'Master Qui-Gon' and 'pout' did not have some sort of magnetic repulsion about them that kept them from ever appearing in the same sentence, Obi-Wan would almost have believed that that was what it was.

Well, he would do his best not to spoil it for him this time.

At least he would not be kept apart from Qui-Gon, though he was not required to partake of this 'spirit' thing at this point, being the junior member of the delegation. Somehow it was assumed that Master Qui-Gon would pass whatever spirit he was imbued with on to his apprentice, and Obi-Wan secretly hoped that this did not involve mopping up the bathroom. Still, Master Qui-Gon was generally good with intoxicants, requiring no more than a small nudge to sober up. In fact, Obi-Wan suspected he enjoyed the abandon of being drunk or high, knowing full well he could tone down most drugs' effects at will.

Obi-Wan was allowed to witness the ceremony, which made him a little more comfortable with the whole affair. Actually, as ceremonies went, it seemed pretty casual. Crowds and protocol were not involved, for one thing - the whole thing was to take place in a small red-walled room. Seated on a low dais along one wall were a row of native 'witnesses', evidently present to make sure the 'spirit' passed into Qui-Gon all right.

They did not seem too concerned with their task, as if this sort of ritual was an everyday occurrence to them. One of them was even eating, munching a long green fruit of some sort while waiting for Qui-Gon to be led in.

There was another small dais set up in the middle of the room, or at least that was what Obi-Wan suspected it was. It was draped in thick crumpled fabric that looked exceptionally soft and matched the coppery colour of the walls. A metal chandelier lit the place from above - whoever stood on the little podium would appear very statuesque indeed, at least until he started swaying. Maybe that was why the thing was covered in soft fabrics? Well, Obi-Wan would make sure his Master would not catch any bruises if he fell.

It was only when the other 'witnesses' around him spontaneously broke into what sounded like a slightly disorderly hum of a tune that he realised the ritual must be about to begin. He followed the others' gazes to where a door had opened, and two Muntee attendants were leading his Master into the chamber.

They were naked. Now, Obi-Wan had quickly learnt that that was not an unusual thing for a Muntee to be - in fact, he had ascertained most of what he knew about the Muntee's physical appearance from the fact that nudity was fairly common among them and was apparently not frowned upon at all. He didn't blame them - they were fairly attractive humanoids with copper-coloured skin and long manes of black hair that trailed down their backs in a tapering line. If he'd looked a little more closely, Obi-Wan could have seen that that line of hair ended in a small flap of skin not unlike a flattened tail, evenly covered in smooth black hair.

But that was most definitely not where he was looking.

He was looking at Master Qui-Gon. Who was also naked.

Obi-Wan knew this shouldn't bother him, especially as Master Qui-Gon did not appear to be in any discomfort, but the sight drove a hot flush to his cheeks. He was. naked. All of him. Just. skin. Obi-Wan breathed deeply, willing himself to serenity. If Master Qui-Gon did not find this embarrassing, it was not his place to do so. And Master Qui-Gon seemed perfectly at ease, walking up to the small dais between his two attendants (very obviously male, and slightly aroused, at least if Obi-Wan's human standards were in any way applicable). He was a little taller than they were, and his pale skin was a striking contrast to their dark reddish complexions. Their eyes were nearly black, and one of them answered Qui-Gon's smile and nodded in confirmation at something Qui-Gon must have asked in a whisper.

Qui-Gon did not step up on the chandelier-lit dais. He knelt on it, sitting back comfortably on his heels, hands on his thighs, eyes closed, face serene.

There was no spirit anywhere in sight. If you didn't count the admittedly intoxicating sight of a nude Master Qui-Gon preparing to be filled with it. Obi-Wan breathed deeply and willed the inappropriate thoughts away, scanning the room for any sign of another door, another attendant or indeed any consumables beyond the obscene fruit the female next to him was still munching on. He found nothing.

Only the slow purr of one of the Muntee drew his attention back to what was happening in the middle of the room. His mouth dropped open, and he wasn't sure he would ever close it again.

Qui-Gon's mouth was open too. But not to sip any kind of alcoholic beverage or join in any holy chants. Master Qui-Gon's mouth was. no, there was no other way of describing it. He was. servicing that Muntee. His cock. He was. had the man's cock in his mouth. And he was sucking it. Slurping. Massaging the thing with his lips, eagerly taking as much of the swollen flesh in his mouth as he could, until his lips met the man's hand where it held his cock steady for his Master to service.

Obi-Wan forgot to breathe. The 'spirit'? Had they drugged him beforehand? Was Master Qui-Gon here against his will - doing - oh, unthinkable things right before his eyes and those of the ostensibly bored witnesses? His hand went to the hilt of his lightsabre, ready to leap to his Master's rescue at the slightest sign that his Master was being hurt.

Oh, for that famed telepathy now.

From the expression on Master Qui-Gon's face, he was at least not in any great discomfort - in fact, he seemed to be enjoying his humiliating task. Almost as much as the recipient of his attentions did. He had his head thrown back, exposing a long line of throat that he was fondling with his free hand, evidently in rapture at what Master Qui-Gon's mouth was doing to him. down there.

Obi-Wan forced himself to look. Qui-Gon was on his hands and knees, his loosened hair streaming over his shoulders, eyes closed, mouth working the Muntee's hard cock as if. yes. Hunger. That was what it reminded him of. As if Master Qui-Gon desired to do this, to feed on another's engorged flesh. Obi-Wan flushed in shame. These thoughts were as familiar as they were inappropriate.

Averting his eyes did not help. Not only was his mind's eye filled with images of Master Qui-Gon eagerly sucking a stranger's cock. the noises made it impossibly to tune out what was happening.

Soft grunts, Qui-Gon's as well as the Muntee's. Both of them, purring in raspy deep voices, one fisting his cock roughly while fingering Master Qui-Gon's pale skin. And Qui-Gon himself. he was making those noises too. Shuddering when copper-coloured fingers massaged the skin between his bottom and his balls, thrusting his hips up that little bit, nudging the Muntee's glistening rampant cock with his buttocks. Oh Force, he wasn't really going to.

He was.

Obi-Wan watched open-mouthed as the dark-skinned cock sank into his Master's white flesh, slowly, inch by inch until it was all the way in. Qui-Gon was rigid, frozen in place, breathing heavily around the cock in his mouth. Surely that had to hurt?

The thick groan from Qui-Gon's mouth seemed to say otherwise. In fact it... it spoke directly to Obi-Wan's nether regions, which were altogether too interested in the proceedings. And they weren't listening. Well, not to what he was trying to tell them anyway, about decency and what was real and what was appropriate.

They were listening to Master Qui-Gon's groans as the man behind him grabbed his hips with both hands and thrust in, jarring Qui-Gon's whole body and shoving him onto his colleague's cock. The distant expression of pleasure on the man's face bloomed into a wicked smile. He paused for a breath, one hand loosely fisted in Master Qui-Gon's long hair, then started thrusting in time with his mate, ramming into Qui-Gon from both ends in a rhythm that was as savage as it was riveting.

The sounds they were driving from Qui-Gon's throat - well, whatever managed to escape past the thick cock in his mouth. deep animal groans, and the flexing of his muscles, thighs taut to meet each punishing thrust and make it go as deep as humanly possible, and the way the sinews on the back of his hands stood out as he clawed into the soft fabric. his eyes closed, his whole body radiating thick urgent pleasure.

Obi-Wan whimpered. This. this was too much. This was too good, or at least he hoped it was for his Master too, because he would be damned if he could imagine anything more sinfully and terrifyingly erotic than this, the sight of his Master on his hands and knees, hard and erect, being relentlessly fucked from both ends, and _enjoying_ it. He was not, at this point, at all certain he would ever be able to make the words cross his lips that would describe this scene, or allow him to ask for something similar, but he was certain the image would never leave his mind again. Not until he died. And he felt painfully close to that right now.

The flush had spread to his whole body, and he had long since given up the battle against his insistent flesh. He was hard, full to bursting in fact, and his arse twitched in sympathy at the sight of Master Qui-Gon being filled with rigid dark flesh and taking it all in, taking it all and shoving his hips back as if he wanted more, still more, his greedy and insatiable and marvellous Master.

His hands were trembling when he laid one across his lap, rubbing the heel of his hand against the throbbing erection trapped in his trousers. Oh Force, to see that elegant brown hand wrapped around Master Qui-Gon's cock, fondling and squeezing his balls, milking the unseemly pleasure from him in another deep maddening moan.

A twitch of warning, and that was all. Obi-Wan spent himself in his clothes with a breathless gasp, sweat blooming all over his skin, prickling with the warmth rushing through him. Oh, but for Qui-Gon to feel the same.

He blinked blearily, shaking his head to clear the unfamiliar haze of satiation from his mind. Force. But he could!

He tensed as inconspicuously as he could manage, preparing a curl of Force to reach out and touch, to wrap around Master Qui-Gon's genitals and squeeze sweet release from him -

He didn't get very far. One small touch to the head of Qui-Gon's bobbing erection proved sufficient, and a white ribbon of seed splashed onto the crumpled fabrics under him, accompanied by a desperate, soul-satisfying moan that sent the Muntee at Qui-Gon's head into shuddering convulsions of pleasure. Qui-Gon's eyes flew open, and Obi-Wan saw his throat working around what must have been the man's come. The sight was unbelievably dirty and unbelievably arousing. And more - Qui-Gon licked his lips as the man withdrew his cock from his mouth, and was met with an answering smile on dark brown lips. Hands held the Master's head, buried deep in sweat-sticky hair as the man behind Qui-Gon twitched and thrust in ecstasy, shooting his seed into the Master's pliant body.

Four elegant brown hands helped him up, held him between themselves as he rose to his full height, more glorious than Obi-Wan had ever seen him, naked, sweaty and glazed-eyed but humming in the Force with primal pleasure.

The Witnesses hummed in approval, the two naked Muntee smiled at each other in exhausted satisfaction, and Qui-Gon bowed slowly, evidently filled to the brim with the 'spirit' now, blessed and ready to commune with the Muntee, and to spread the spirit among his. own.

Obi-Wan swallowed. Was it a requirement, he wondered? Could he make it one? Would he ever regain enough breath to say the necessary words, and would Qui-Gon even recognise him given how bright red he must be?

Across the room, Qui-Gon looked up and let a slow smile creep across his features. Obi-Wan twitched, then shivered, then smiled back.

He would be in need of plenty of that 'spirit', if only to calm his nerves enough to even think about negotiations. Plenty of spirit. Oh yes. And Qui-Gon would need even more, seeing as he was the senior member of the negotiating team.

Certain parts of Obi-Wan's anatomy reassured him in their own unmistakable way that he would be more than happy to provide.

--- end ---