A Wedding in Arcadia #11 -- Honeymoon Sunday

by Merry Amelie (MerryAmelie@aol.com)

Archive: MA only

Category: Alternate Reality, Qui/Obi, Romance, Series

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Newlywed joys

Series: Academic Arcadia -- # 60

A chronological list of the series with the URLs can be found under the header 'Academic Arcadia' at: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/master-apprentice/files/

My MA story page: http://www.masterapprentice.org/cgi-bin/qs.cgi?keyword=Merry+Amelie

Feedback: Is treasured at MerryAmelie@aol.com Disclaimer: Mr. Lucas owns everything Star Wars. I'm not making any money.

To Alex, Ula, and Nerowill, my friends and betas extraordinaire

Even newlyweds had to eat sometime, and hunger could be a powerful incentive, as Ian and Quinn had reaffirmed earlier in a more intimate context. Having finally finished the Prentices' gourmet basket, and willing to put tasting each other on hold for the moment, they were ready for the pleasures of the table. They wouldn't have to worry about coordinating with the rest of the family; they'd checked out a few hours ago to give the grooms their privacy. Ian was more than half inclined to ring for room service, but Quinn had other ideas.

The men finally managed to get out the door at around 2 pm, oxfords clattering over the marble lobby as they headed for the Fountains Room. At that hour, it was mostly empty, and they were given a table in an alcove across from what could have been a replica of Tahlgren Fountain at Georgeton, one of Quinn's favorite places to study. It had a contemplative feel, thanks to the surrounding greenery and splashing water.

Quinn smiled; this was even better than the more public togetherness he'd imagined that morning. They'd washed before coming down, but no amount of water could rinse the look of satisfaction from their faces. Quinn wondered briefly if they'd left their suite too soon; this was new territory for him, his first meal with Ian outside the cocoon of family since their wedding. It was a good thing that their acclimation was in a relatively secluded spot, after all. Quinn needed time to get used to treating Ian as his husband, without looking like either the cat who ate the canary or his chum. No longer 'just friends' for public consumption, their personas as part of a couple were newly emerging.

Ian smiled back at him winningly as he picked up the menu. His lazy grin reminded Quinn of what they'd been doing just a few smiles back. "I fancy a bit of red meat," Ian teased, relaxed with not a waiter in sight.

"Sounds good. I'm in the mood for prime rib," Quinn gently 'ribbed' him back, evoking the memory of the prime rib he'd been lucky enough to suckle on earlier.

Entrees decided, they sat back and studied each other appreciatively. Ian's lips were still a touch coralled from Quinn's kisses, unnoticeable to all but Quinn's discerning gaze in the low light. Quinn's flush had had almost enough time to dissipate by the time they'd gotten out of bed, and a cool shower had done the rest. Happiness was shining off them both.

After the men had ordered, they sank into the chair cushions and sipped their bordeaux.

Ian said, "That was a great party." He sighed contentedly. "Did you hear Bant try to convince me to throw Lelia's bouquet?"

Quinn chuckled. "No, but she asked me too."

"At least she got to dance with Ethan. Didya see the way she looked at him?" Ian asked.

Quinn nodded. "He'd better watch out, or he'll be the next bachelor down the aisle."

Their waiter brought over their appetizers, calamari marinara. They tucked into them hungrily, having worked up an appetite in the best possible way beforehand.

"Monty told me that Lelia loved dancing with us," Ian said.

Quinn smiled. "I figured that much when she kept holding out her hands for a lift up."

"We'll have some great pictures."

"I can't wait to see the ones of our dance," Quinn said. "Felt incredible holding you and hearing everyone clapping."

"It was amazing. Didn't seem like it would ever happen after my uncle's little chat with us." Rory's remarks had certainly galvanized them, Ian reflected.

"I know. And what a grand gesture, bringing out our cake." Quinn smiled, still delighting in the unexpected blessing.

"Yeah. That just about floored me."

Their steaks came out sizzling, and the men dug in lustily.

"I didn't expect the traditional toasts," Quinn said in between bites. "Loved them."

Ian said, "Dad and Monty went to a lot of trouble for us."

"I know. I can't believe I've got a brother after all these years, not to mention a second dad." Quinn grinned.

"It's wonderful to share them with you." Ian smiled into Quinn's eyes.

"Thank you. Amazing how it all worked out," Quinn said.

"We have you to thank for that, Quinn, not me." Ian's shining face told the story of Quinn's courage in the face of lifelong repression, both internal and external.

"Would you like dessert, Ian?" Quinn asked with a smile.

"I'd rather have the leftover wedding cake upstairs."

When the bill came, they did not split it, and the charge ended up on their new joint MasterGuard.

After lunch, they went back to their rooms for a nap. They'd made love more than slept last night, after all. Their housekeeper had been in while they'd eaten, so they had the gift of crisp sheets to cuddle up in. Quinn curled up into approximately the same size as Ian, and settled on his husband's chest, feeling Ian's strong arm curve around him just the way he liked it. Warmth enveloped them, and they were asleep in moments.

They began to stir a couple of hours later. Quinn kissed the tempting nipple so close to his mouth, awakening it and the rest of Ian even faster. His eyes opened to see Quinn the picture of contentment as he teased the sweet nub.

"Mmmm. Feels so good, love." Ian massaged Quinn's shoulders as he brought him up for a soft kiss.

Quinn covered Ian completely, and began to kiss him all over his face and neck as Ian did the same. When he saw the adoration in Ian's eyes, he said, "I'll never forget your face when you said 'I do', lad."

Ian caught his breath. "I won't either." Their next kiss went so deep that their slow lovemaking accelerated apace, and their all-too pleasurable friction set them off quickly, despite their wedding night plentitude.

When he could move, Quinn burrowed into Ian's side again. "Never able t'get enough of you," he panted out.

"Don't know about that. I imagine when I'm 80..." Ian trailed off as Quinn tasted his lower right jaw.

Quinn said, "When you're 80, we'll still make love every day. We might not be quite so energetic, but what does that matter anyway?"

Chuckling at the mental image of granduncle sex, Ian said, "Like the way you think, nin daer." By now, Ian used the Elvish endearment without conscious thought.

Quinn smiled broadly. "How about a shower and a swim?"

"Sounds good, but you're forgetting the cake."

Trust Ian to remember the important things, and in time to forestall a second shower too. Quinn got up to take the styrofoam container from their mini-fridge, and brought it to an expectant Ian in bed. They usually kept a few hand towels on the nightstands for clean-up, and against all odds there were still some unused ones left in case they got over-enthusiastic.

Quinn knew that the flowers were Ian's favorite part, so he chose a piece with a blue flower and green leaves for his husband. He held the flower in front of Ian's tempting lips, and watched greedily as Ian nibbled on it the way he wanted Ian to nibble on him. Well aware of what Quinn craved, as always, Ian frequently nipped at his fingers instead, leaving them a trifle unsteady. Ian almost seemed to eat the torte crumb by crumb. Its complexity of flavors and scents -- hazelnut, chocolate, coffee -- left them both salivating, especially when it started to decorate Ian's skin. By the time he was done, there was a creamy glaze over Ian's cheeks, nose, mouth, and chin that just begged to be licked off, which Quinn did avidly.

Ian had cannily picked a slice with his own name on it, and winked playfully when Quinn's pupils dilated even further than they had at his performance. He hand-fed his mate with all the tenderness he used with Lelia, now mixed with his natural eroticism, the latter on full display here in their own private world. Sometimes he held the cake just out of reach, so that Quinn would have to lean forward to eat it, not so incidentally pressing his chest to Ian's. When he was through, Quinn had a delicious beard and moustache for Ian to lap at. He didn't stop until Quinn was clean-shaven once more.

Not much icing of any sort was left on them by the time they showered, but they had fun soaping it off anyway. Afterwards, they decided to go to Mace Athletic Center since it had an Olympic-size pool, trumping the generous proportions of the one at their hotel. They didn't have assigned lockers, as they'd had at the conference, so they left their clothes in public ones near the hot tub.

It was close to dinner time, leaving the pool almost empty. A few men in Speedos swam laps rigorously, probably practicing for the swim team. The two jumped in the other side, where there were no lap lanes, and basked in the cool water. They indulged in a little horseplay, kicking and splashing like kids. Ian noticed that Quinn was touching him more than he usually allowed himself to in a public place, and grinned in delight.

They swam for over an hour, then headed for the jacuzzi. They were in luck; a young couple walked by them hand in hand, having just finished using it. The water came up to Quinn's chest and Ian's shoulders, and felt deliciously hot after their swim.

Each muscle in Quinn's body slowly relaxed as he twined his fingers with his lad, and leaned back against the smooth vinyl. Just like the previous couple, they didn't think twice about anyone seeing them holding hands. Ian enjoyed this soak more than any of their other hot tub indulgences, even the incendiary ones when they'd been in private.

They stayed in until a couple of other swimmers came over, then showered in two adjacent tile cubicles. Clean and dressed, they went outside and walked the block to Mundi Hall under a cloudy sky. Fresh from their wedding reception yesterday, they stepped into the lobby, where they'd shared their first reception together -- the wine and cheese party celebrating the start of the Tolkien conference. They could almost hear the excited voices of their colleagues around them as they sat on one of the benches that lined the lobby, Quinn's arm loose over Ian's shoulders. There was actually a faint smell of wine on the air, an indication that another party had taken place recently.

Ian remembered discussing Bant's theories on Radagast with Quinn, enthusiasm making him more drunk than wine ever could. Incredible that places could become so indelible, so important. Quinn reminisced about something just as important -- the way Ian's hair had looked under the soft lighting, that blaze of copper brightening the room more than the lights. Looking at him now, the newlywed glow was even brighter. They sat there for a little while in comfortable silence.

When Quinn's stomach started to rumble, Ian said, "D'ya fancy a chicken salad hoagie then?"

Quinn got up even before he answered. "Let's go."

The little sandwich shop was much more crowded than last time, but they still managed to snag a table pleasantly reminiscent of their local diner with its formica tabletops and vinyl booths.

"Now why can't this place be in our neck of the woods?" said Ian in between bites of hoagie happiness.

"I know. I almost feel like driving all the way out here just for the food."

"Luckily, I gave you a bit more incentive than that." Ian gazed down at his ring finger with satisfaction, thinking that it finally matched its name.

Quinn reached over to touch Ian's ring, no longer worried about how each gesture might be perceived.

"Looks good on you, lad."

"So does yours."

They finished every crumb of their sandwiches, then strolled back to the hotel. Fortunately, it was only a few blocks away, since their hair was still a bit damp from their swim and the early October night had grown cool. An occasional arm over a t-shirted back did a lot to mitigate the temperature, though.

Ian opened the door to their suite, and they traded off using the facilities and towelling their hair dry.

"Would you like to sit on the balcony, Ian?" asked Quinn. Autumn, with its nippy days and nippier nights, was his favorite time of year.

Ian said, "Just let me get our sweatshirts," heading over to the maple dresser to do so while Quinn put his wallet and keys on the nightstand.

They lounged in comfortable Adirondack chairs on the terrace, enjoying the night breeze, now that they were dressed for it. They had a lovely view of some of the older lecture halls by the river.

As Ian reached for Quinn's hand, he reflected that they'd already held hands in public more in the past few days than in their entire relationship, including their second cruise. "I love this," he said spontaneously, pressing Quinn's fingers for emphasis.

Quinn had a feeling that he referred to their entire wedding weekend and the new freedom they'd taken advantage of already. "Me too," he said simply.

They drifted into reverie as they sat there, hands entwined. Everything they wanted was right there in that caress. Rousing themselves when it became even colder, they went to their bedroom and stripped for the night.

Under the covers in each other's arms, they warmed up quickly and were eager to turn up the heat even more. After all, they were newlyweds who hadn't made love since early that afternoon.

Quinn's neck and chest demanded particular attention, which Ian was happy to provide. A loving tongue bath was one of life's pleasures, and Ian was an expert at it, as indeed he was in all of the ars romantica. By the time Quinn was properly bathed, both of them needed another bath, just when they'd thought their honeymoon couldn't get more enjoyable.

Good grooming had never been more important.