Master Apprentice
Archive
To Drive the Cold Winter Away
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Categories: Q/O, romance, first time
Rating: PG-13 for some sexuality
Summary: Qui-Gon warms to Obi-Wan's advances.
Notes: For my darling Clara Swift. Thank you to Alex for beta; without you, I wouldn't be here. To my husband for his body heat and Loreena McKennitt for some of the loveliest music ever.
TO DRIVE THE COLD WINTER AWAY
Except for the bitterly cold wind and rain pounding against the window and roof, their sleeping quarters were otherwise quiet. The darkness was nearly absolute, but once Qui-Gon's eyes adjusted he could see faint shadows against the walls, moving silhouettes of wind-tossed branches outside.
He curled in on himself, pulling the blankets closer and crossing his feet in a futile bid to warm them up. The winter outside seemed to have taken up residence in his body, and the blankets provided by their hosts seemed not nearly enough to capture and hold any heat to combat it.
As he shivered he tried to meditate. Perhaps taking himself to a warm place in his mind would help.
It didn't.
Restlessly, he turned over, looking through the darkness toward Obi-Wan's bed, wondering if he was awake and willing to talk to his old master until weariness finally took him down.
"Master?"
"Yes, Obi-Wan?" he replied, mildly surprised that his apprentice would respond as if he'd heard Qui-Gon's thoughts.
"Is something wrong?"
Qui-Gon took a deep breath and thrust his feet into the chilly depths of his bed. "Why do you ask that, Padawan? Are you all right?"
Obi-Wan huffed with mock impatience. "Of course I'm all right, but I don't believe you are."
Qui-Gon rolled his eyes in the dark. Damned intuitive boy. "Well, then, no. I'm cold. I can't seem to get warm."
Without hesitation Obi-Wan moved from his bed, his dark form looming suddenly beside Qui-Gon. "Take off your sleep shirt," he said, removing his own and tossing it to the foot of the bed, leaving himself only in his smallclothes.
"What?"
"Body heat. Skin to skin contact. You know it's warmer that way."
Yes, he did. He'd taught that lesson to Obi-Wan himself once, caught outside with little shelter and four inches of snow. Obi-Wan had been a slip of a boy at fourteen then, not the strapping young man he was now.
Qui-Gon offered no resistance when Obi-Wan reached for his shirt, his fingers on the buttons sure even in the darkness. It soon joined Obi-Wan's as Obi-Wan soon joined Qui-Gon.
Obi-Wan turned and pressed his body backward to snug against Qui-Gon, molding himself to fit against long legs and broad chest. Qui-Gon, his chilled body already welcoming the fiery furnace beside him, slid one arm beneath the pillow, cradling Obi-Wan's head as he wrapped his free arm about his torso.
Obi-Wan's arm rested atop his. "Better?" Obi-Wan asked, turning his head slightly as if attempting to discern a face in the darkness.
"Yes. Thank you, Padawan," Qui-Gon replied, sighing deeply and ruffling Obi-Wan's hair on the exhale. "Much."
Obi-Wan relaxed in his arms, sleep returning easily.
Qui-Gon, finally warming, found slumber still a far-off possibility. The body in his arms was firm and muscular, and heavy in sleep. Obi-Wan smelled of the wine from supper, faint woodsmoke from the late bonfire, and sleep-sweat. Clean and real and present, a solid and sunwarmed rock amidst an ocean of icy, wind-blown waves.
Obi-Wan shifted a bit, pressing his backside innocently into Qui-Gon's groin, while sliding one hand beneath the pillow, and when encountering Qui-Gon's hand there, entwined their fingers as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Qui-Gon tried to quell his body's response to the pressure of twin stimuli. His body argued otherwise. It knew this man. It wanted him.
Qui-Gon sensed his face and neck redden as his cock filled against firm buttocks. Obi-Wan slept on, apparently unmindful of this insistent third presence in their shared bed. Qui-Gon closed his eyes and thought of anything else: the wind outside, cold rain - the very things that had driven him to accept Obi-Wan's offer of shared warmth in the first place.
When pale winter sunlight breached the curtains to fall lightly on his face, Qui-Gon awoke, surprised he had fallen asleep at all. Outside the storm had passed and early morning birds were chirping and squawking nearby. In his arms Obi-Wan had shifted. He now rested against Qui-Gon's shoulder with his head tucked beneath the bearded chin, one arm sprawled across his master's chest and their legs tangled comfortably together amid twisted blankets.
"Good morning, Master. Sleep well?"
Qui-Gon started, but the languid draw of a leg against his settled him to enjoy the closeness while he could.
"I did, finally. And you?"
"Never better." Obi-Wan sat up and stretched, his skin glowing in the sunlight, then lay back down, elbow in the pillow and head on his hand, smiling down at Qui-Gon. "We should do this more often."
Qui-Gon stared back at him, this young man, all sparkle and boyish charm even while only just awake. "We should?"
"Yes. We should."
With that, Obi-Wan bent to kiss Qui-Gon with soft lips and breath and a scruff of morning whiskers, the paradox a promise of more delights.
When he was allowed up for breath, Qui-Gon croaked, "Me?"
Obi-Wan sighed, a sigh of patient love. "You. Always has been. You know that."
And as he pulled Obi-Wan down for a more thorough exploration with tongue and hands, Qui-Gon knew, too.
~end
February 1, 2006