Charitable Deeds

Archive: Emu's homepage http://www.zip.com.au/~emu/genfic.html; SWAL; SWC; M_A; Anyone else just ask, we're easy

Disclaimer: The boys belong to George Lucas, but we undoubtedly get more enjoyment out of them.

Warnings: This is what happens when 'chelle and Emu are allowed to play together without proper supervision.

'chelle's Notes: I first got the idea for this while reading Aya's "What You Desire." Then Diebin's "Assasins Always Get Paid" fed the damn bunny, but it didn't bite until Emu mentioned the boys lying on the bed, looking up at her, waiting for direction. Deciding that made the whole damn thing was her fault, I set about forcing her to take responsibility for her bunny and help raise it. To my delight, she did.

I want to thank Pumpkin for the beta, and Emu for taking part in this insanity. Writing with you was a joy, my big brown bird.

Emu's notes: And if you think this is gratuitous, you should see what else is in the pipeline. It's been a pleasure to discover that 'chelle's even more unbalanced than I.

You shake your head as the door closes behind you, unable to believe that once again you let the little green troll talk you into something against your better judgment.

The two Jedi have turned to face you. Their hands are folded into their robes and they are wearing that calm expression which Jedi favor, and which you find incredibly annoying. Well, you think, they won't remain calm for long.

"Now that you have purchased us, may I ask what you intend to do with us?" the master asks.

The two exchange a quick look. "We are not real slaves. It was a charity auction."

"I did. Sex with me is prohibited. I am not going to order you to have sex with me."

He glanced at the taller man. Looked away quickly. Swallowed hard. "My master is very attractive. It's just..."

Obi-Wan was looking around the room, anywhere but at you or his master. "I never thought there'd be a witness."

You laugh. "Don't worry, young Padawan. It won't be something I haven't seen before."

"Don't be too certain of that, Master Jinn. Or didn't you read the agreement?" You could swear he quails slightly, and you smile, feeling very pleased with yourself. "I have my copy right here." You pat the pocket of your vest. "I can read it to you if you like. It says that you agreed to do whatever I say for the next twelve hours."

The two Jedi exchange another nervous look. You assume they are communicating silently.

"I know we agreed, but that was with the understanding that sex would not be part of it," Master Jinn says.

They exchange glances again. That is getting to be damned annoying. "Enough with the meaningful glances. I think we should adjourn this to a more comfortable location." Exchanging yet another glance, they follow as you lead them to the bedchamber you keep for guests. You adjust the lighting controls and the room fills with a soft glow. They are eyeing the large bed in the center of the room. You settle into the room's only chair, and gesture toward the bed. "Please, make yourselves comfortable."

You don't need to be a Jedi to be aware of their reluctance as they move to sit on the bed. "Now, where would you like to begin? I'm not averse to input from you, you know. After all, you'll be the ones directly involved."

No comment. Oh well. You continue. "You should probably start with kissing." You smile smugly. "Yes, definitely kissing."

"What? You don't know how to kiss?" You glare at the master. "Surely you've kissed before."

"There's a first time for everything. Master Jinn, may I call you Qui-Gon?" No answer. "Qui-Gon, you're the master; be masterful. Take your apprentice in your arms and kiss him."

Qui-Gon gathered a breath. "I haven't kissed anyone, not the way you mean, in a very long time."

Obi-Wan looks shocked. "Twenty-five years! Master, you're not... not a virgin are you?"

"Did you ever think maybe you should have tried it a few more times before deciding it wasn't worth doing?"

You are nearly as amazed as Obi-Wan at this piece of information and you are forced to revise your plans for the evening. Yoda didn't warn you that one of them was inexperienced. You look at Obi-Wan, maybe both of them.

"Well." You drum your fingers on the arm of the chair. "Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan drags his gaze back to you, forcing his mouth closed.

"Seeing as you're the experienced one here, perhaps you should take charge of the kissing."

"Me?" He pulls back a little at your look. "How?" He manages to make it sound like you've asked him to build a fighter ship out of twigs.

You're not going to play that game. "How would you *like* to kiss him?"

"I wouldn't." He flushes, too absorbed in the verbal sparring to notice Qui-Gon flushing even more deeply beside him.

"Oh, come now, Obi-Wan. Are you telling lies? In front of your Master, no less?"

He swallows audibly, and looks at Qui-Gon, who is now looking in the other direction. It's a pleasant change from the meaningful glances of earlier, but hardly conducive to a hot night under the covers. Or on top of them. Or against the wall.

But you're getting ahead of yourself. "Qui-Gon hasn't been kissed in a very long time. He's not nearly as embarrassed as I would be after a confession like that, but no doubt he's feeling a little over-exposed. Now, how do you think you should kiss him?"

Obi-Wan mumbles something.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Softly," he says, a little too loudly, and snaps his mouth shut.

"See, that wasn't so hard. So get on with it."

Obi-Wan twists to face his master, with an expression that is half-apologetic, half a request for permission. Qui-Gon, firmly ignoring you, gives a small nod and lets Obi-Wan slowly lean forward until their lips settle together, almost a breath, before they begin to draw apart.

"He's not a great aunt at a bonding ceremony, Obi. Put some lovin' in it."

He shoots you a glare that he could only have learned from his master. "My name," he grinds, "is Obi-Wan."

You just raise a brow. "That's what we're after. Passion." A beat. "Or are all those rumours about what you do with your mouth just... rumours?"

Who would think a Jedi padawan could be so easily taunted? Obi-Wan pulls Qui-Gon's head forward and lets his lips dance over the other man's, brushes and kisses that never quite settle, catching his upper lip, lower lip, edge of mustache, just to let them go, almost a ballet with Qui-Gon one step behind, the master finally giving up to simply keep leaning forward, breath coming fast and shallow as Obi-Wan teases his mouth.

Obi-Wan slips his hands around into the loose hair, bunching it close and lifting Qui-Gon's head to open his jaw, sucking a breath from him and suddenly pulls back, putting a good arm-length between them. Obi-Wan is staring at the wall, breath ragged, oblivious to the awed stares from you and the man beside him.

You manage to drag your attention back to Qui-Gon, who's looking bruised and glazed and a little like he's already been fucked. He swallows, but it doesn't seem to do much good so he swallows again, unconscious of the way his tongue flicks over his swollen lips.

"I'm sorry, Master."

"No, it's..." Qui-Gon withdraws the arm that has reached to comfort. "It's all right." A glare for you. "Are you satisfied?"

"Are you?"

Oops. Not the time to push him; he's striding towards you like he's about to seize your neck and toss you out.

A huge hand falls on each arm of the chair, robe falling open to blanket you in. "You are not helping," he growls.

"It seems to me I've helped quite a lot." The words aren't as cocky as you'd have liked.

"I think you should leave."

"I think you should remember where and what you are. I purchased your services for the evening. We would not want it said that Jedi do not fulfill their obligations."

Qui-Gon straightens to his full height, and you are left painfully aware of the fact that you are playing with a Jedi Master, but then he draws back, returns to the bed. You’ve won. Impossible.

You turn your attention back to Obi-Wan. "Kiss your master again, a little deeper this time. Keep kissing him until I say you can stop."

Obi-Wan looks up at his master, whose face is now unreadable. You wonder if the master is more disturbed by his angry outburst or the kiss. Obi-Wan reaches up a hand and gently brushes the back of it across his master's face. Qui-Gon's expression softens a little. Obi-Wan stretches upward, bringing his lips once again to Qui-Gon's. This time his lips don't dance, they take. You watch the increasingly deep kiss.

"Lie down," you order. "But don't break the kiss."

They comply, lying back on the bed with Qui-Gon on his back, Obi-Wan on his side, leaning over him. Qui-Gon's arms encircle his padawan, and he is returning the kiss. This, you decide, is going to be fun after all.

Qui-Gon's hands trail over his padawan's shoulder, sliding down under the robe to push it away, bunching the material to shove it down the arm which is now twisting to be free of the sleeve.

"Hey."

He ignores you and the robe falls back, revealing ivory tunic that scrunches under Qui-Gon's squeezing hands as Obi-Wan sighs into his mouth.

"Hey!"

Obi-Wan pushes at Qui-Gon's robe, kisses growing frantic, giving up on the robe and rifling through the layers of tunic, groaning as Qui-Gon presses up against him and tugging harder.

"Stop!!!!!"

Hands still and two pairs of glazed eyes turn to you, blinking you into focus. What was it you were going to say? Oh, right.

"We're doing this my way, remember? And *my* way involves foreplay." They both look a tad sheepish. "I appreciate the enthusiasm, but I prefer things a bit slower. Resume kissing. Only kissing. And no tongue. Not until I say so."

Not saying a word, they look back at each other. You see a soft smile on Qui-Gon's face and hear a quiet chuckle from Obi-Wan. A private conversation. You consider forbidding them, but realize it would be impossible, and, you decide, wrong. Their first sexual encounter is taking place before your eyes, and at your command. This small amount of privacy you can allow them.

As you watch, Obi-Wan leans down again. This time the kiss is slow. He presses their lips together, tugging lightly on Qui-Gon's, then he takes Qui-Gon's lower lip in his and sucks. You hear the older man's gasp. Moments later he reciprocates and Obi-Wan's hand is roaming over his master's chest as Qui-Gon caresses his lips. The hand remains on top of Qui-Gon's tunic so you stay silent.

You allow the kissing to continue. Their early enthusiasm resulted in Qui-Gon's tunic being pushed up and his leggings are insufficient to hide his erection from your eyes. It is, you swallow hard, substantial.

"Qui-Gon," you interrupt. It takes several moments and a series of brief kisses before they fully separate.

"Yes." There is no mistaking the annoyance in his voice.

"Would you like to be able to touch Obi-Wan?"

He doesn't look at you. His eyes are glued to Obi-Wan's face. "I would."

"Then do so. But do not remove any clothing."

He reaches up. His long fingers move slowly across his padawan's face, and Obi-Wan is leaning into the touch. Several fingers glide across a cheek; a single finger traces the bridge of his nose, the outline of his lips. Then that hand strokes down the length of Obi-Wan's neck and Obi-Wan tilts his head, offering as much of himself as he can to that touch.

You find yourself leaning forward, your eyes glued to those long, callused fingers.

Gently, Qui-Gon's hand settles on the side of Obi-Wan's neck, a single broad thumb tracing the line of his throat. His expression is utterly serious, but Obi-Wan's lip curls in a small smile. He trails further, using the palm of his hand, now. He lingers at the material crossed over Obi-Wan's chest, fingers twitching at the tempting entrance, but with a glance that doesn't quite reach you, he continues, slipping his hand up to the edge of shoulder and slowly squeezing his way along Obi-Wan's arm until he captures the hand, linking their fingers.

He pulls their hands close for a kiss and then lifts his head to catch Obi-Wan's lips, drawing him down into another round of kissing. Soon he loses patience and untangles his fingers to rub the small of Obi-Wan's back, occasionally dipping to brush shyly over his ass. Obi-Wan is half on top of him, their chests together, one leg on top of Qui-Gon's, close enough to each feel the other's body, but not to let erections brush hips.

They're exploring like teenagers, and you're absorbed in the sweet, tentative touches when suddenly they roll, Qui-Gon claiming his place on top of Obi-Wan with their bodies lined completely, chest to chest, groin to groin. Qui-Gon props his weight on his elbows and stretches down to steal kisses from his smiling padawan before he turns his head to meet your gaze, face perfectly neutral. "May I use my tongue, now?"

You swallow. "I think," you manage to say, "that is it time to lose the robe." It's blocking your view. "The robe only, mind you. And yes, you may both use your tongues."

Qui-Gon looks back down at Obi-Wan, whose hands have already come up to push away the offending robe, and he shifts his weight to pull out of the sleeves. By the smug looks it's not half obvious that they're taking the opportunity to jostle their hips a little. You're feeling indulgent, so you let it pass.

Qui-Gon leans forward to kiss the other man, and you discover a new problem. "Don't make me make you tie your hair back."

For a moment you think they haven't heard, or haven't cared to hear, but then Obi-Wan's fingers curl in the loose fall of hair, twisting it back behind Qui-Gon's ear to give you an uninterrupted view as their mouths open and their tongues meet, hesitantly. Qui-Gon's mouth closes as he swallows, but with a tiny lick Obi-Wan parts his lips and enters, barely, no deeper than it would take to feel the edge of teeth.

His hands are cupping the globes of Qui-Gon's ass, squeezing gently in time with his explorations as their mouths join in deep, wet kisses, but when Qui-Gon's hair falls forward again he lifts a hand to hold it back before you can open your mouth to ask.

You watch. Pleasure and desire are radiating off them now as the kisses continue. They are nearly devouring each other. The kissing appears as much a duel as a sharing, each of them seeking to plunder the other's mouth.

Then Obi-Wan pulls away, his mouth attaching itself to Qui-Gon's neck. Qui-Gon groans in response, arching his head back and thrusting his groin against Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan loops his legs over the back of Qui-Gon's legs, thrusting back. His hands slide slowly up Qui-Gon's back, finally cupping the back of his head and pulling his mouth back down. As the kissing resumes you notice the red mark on Qui-Gon's neck. That could be a little tough to explain, but then he can probably just make it disappear.

Their hips are grinding together and you consider telling them to stop. Before you can, Qui-Gon pulls back, eliciting a frustrated groan from Obi-Wan. He moves to straddle his apprentice, both hands moving over Obi-Wan's tunic. They pause above what you assume is the location of Obi-Wan's nipples, making you wonder how much he can feel through the layers of fabric. The hands move lower and you watch avidly. From his chest they move to stroke the outside of Obi-Wan's thighs. One hand remains firmly planted on the outside and the other moves to cup Obi-Wan's cock through his leggings.

Obi-Wan arches into the touch, his eyes closing, his pleasure written across his features. Unfortunately, you can't see Qui-Gon's hand beneath Obi-Wan's tunic. Deciding that just knowing what he's doing is wildly erotic, you don't order the tunic moved.

You watch Qui-Gon watching Obi-Wan, and you're wondering if this is how he looks while observing his apprentice in saber practice. He probably has the same air of concentration, if perhaps not as flushed, and he probably doesn't let his tongue flick over his lip. Almost certainly, his breathing isn't quite so hard as it is now.

His eyes narrow slightly just before Obi-Wan gasps, and then the edges crinkle, pleased. His elbow falls into a slow rhythm and Obi-Wan's hips begin to rock, just barely, but Qui-Gon presses with his other hand to still him, insisting he accept what he's given.

Your breath wobbles. "Slowly, now. We don't want him to come." You barely recognize your own voice.

"No, we don't want you to come, Obi-Wan," he adds, softly, and the 'we' flips in your belly. His arm slows, relaxing slightly, and you can tell that he's just sweeping his hand over Obi-Wan's erection, the touch too light to squeeze.

Obi-Wan's eyes open to silently plead, but when the rhythm continues, unchanging, he turns the look on you.

"Don't look over there, my Padawan. I’m sure our audience enjoys seeing you this way, wants to hear your enjoyment." His voice is surprisingly coarse. "I do."

Obi-Wan whimpers.

Qui-Gon's stroking doesn't change.

"Qui-Gon, please." The words are as much moaned as they are spoken.

Qui-Gon turns his head to look at you. You shake yours sharply. "I'm afraid not, Padawan. You'll just need to be patient a little longer."

You have to admit Qui-Gon is doing quite well for a man who professes to have such limited experience. Since it is highly unlikely that he lied about the lack of experience, you assume it is a Jedi Master thing, or perhaps just some deep seated need for control on his part. You smile softly to yourself. It would be nice to see that control challenged. "Padawan." Obi-Wan turns to look at you. "If I let you, how would you like to undress your Master?"

"Slowly," he replies.

Approving of his answer, you nod. "Then do so."

He moves to sit up and Qui-Gon obligingly shifts to one side of him, still on his knees. Obi-Wan kneels as well, directly in front of his master. His eyes are twinkling mischievously as he rests both of his hands on Qui-Gon's shoulders.

Yes, you think, he is going to enjoy his revenge, and so are you.

His eyes are locked to Qui-Gon's as he slides his hands slowly down his master's chest to his belt. He quickly undoes it, dropping it to the floor beside the bed. He pulls slowly on his master's sash, his eyes still locked to Qui-Gon's. When it is at last off, he drops it to the floor. Then he rests the pads of his fingertips against Qui-Gon's collar bone. He starts to slide them slowly down, opening the tunics underneath as he does so.

Reaching Qui-Gon's waist, he rests one hand against his master's side. The other he slides slowly up one side of his master's chest, pushing the tunic further, fully exposing half of that broad chest. He neither pauses nor accelerates when he reaches a puckered brown nipple. Someone gasps as his fingertips pass over it. You aren't sure who- it might have been you.

Reaching Qui-Gon's shoulder, Obi-Wan slides the tunic off, exposing the flesh beneath. He applies his lips to that shoulder, kissing, then nipping lightly. Qui-Gon inhales sharply, and Obi-Wan smiles. He reaches for the sleeve of Qui-Gon's tunic and tugs, pulling it off.

Half of Qui-Gon's torso is now exposed to your hungry eyes, and, you have to admit, the view is magnificent. Obi-Wan takes Qui-Gon's hand in his and guides it to his mouth. He is gazing directly into his master's eyes as he takes a long finger into his mouth and sucks, scraping it gently with his teeth as he pulls it out of his mouth. He repeats the procedure with a second finger, then a third. A brief lick to Qui-Gon's palm and he is kissing Qui-Gon's wrist. He moves slowly up that powerful forearm; none of the skin along his path is left untouched. The hairs on Qui-Gon's arm are standing up. Small bumps cover his flesh.

You marvel at his control. If it were you, you are certain you would long ago have succumbed to begging.

Obi-Wan reaches Qui-Gon’s elbow and pauses for a moment, licking the crease. Then he resumes his upward journey. The round bulge of Qui-Gon's bicep is slowly tasted.

He is finally back at Qui-Gon's shoulder and you inhale deeply in anticipation of where he will go next. So does Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan surprises you by moving behind his master. He pushes Qui-Gon's hair to the side and leans forward to briefly press his lips to the side of Qui-Gon's neck. He sits back. One hand moves from Qui-Gon's neck down across his shoulder, then Obi-Wan lets it fall down the expanse of Qui-Gon's back.

When he reaches the waistband of Qui-Gon's leggings he brings the hand back up. It slides down again, caressing as he pushes the tunic aside. Reaching Qui-Gon's waist, he lifts his hand and shoves the tunic off of his master's shoulder. He slides his hand down the length of Qui-Gon's arm, edging the tunic down and off as he does.

Obi-Wan moves. He is again kneeling in front of his master. He leans forward and licks gently at the side of Qui-Gon's neck. Then he moves his mouth lower, to the area just below Qui-Gon's collar bone. A kiss, and he is lower still. Another, and his mouth is poised over Qui-Gon's nipple. He pauses. You know the heat of his breath must be warming the exposed skin. Clearly undecided, he glances up at Qui-Gon's face. What he sees there must be what he was looking for because he leans forward and takes the entire nipple into his mouth, sucking hard. Qui-Gon cries out. His hands go to Obi-Wan's head, and his back arches.

When Obi-Wan releases his prize the two men just look at each other, both breathing hard. The tension between them fills the room, immobilizing all three of you.

You decide you have ceded too much control. "Obi-Wan." He doesn't look at you, or respond in any way. His attention is still riveted to Qui-Gon. "Obi-Wan," you repeat.

"Yes?"

"You have more undressing to do."

He moves off of the bed and gestures to Qui-Gon. His master moves to the edge of the bed and Obi-Wan kneels in front of him. He makes quick work of his master's boots. But he hesitates before removing Qui-Gon's leggings. He is resting one hand on each of his master's legs, just above the knee. Slowly, his hands begin to move upward. The leggings are tight and every muscle in Qui-Gon's thighs is outlined clearly. You wonder what they would feel like under your hands.

The thought is cut off when Obi-Wan's hands reach Qui-Gon's waist. He takes the waistband in his hands and waits. After a long moment, Qui-Gon lifts his hips and Obi-Wan swiftly pulls the leggings down.

Qui-Gon's cock bucks upward. You were right. It is substantial. The head is stained purple, and you can imagine how intensely aroused Qui-Gon must be. His balls are pendulous, hanging low, surrounded by wiry black hair.

You are not the only one who is staring. Obi-Wan is looking intently at the sight before him, his tongue unconsciously darting out, his lips parting. He begins to lean forward.

"No," you say sharply.

He turns to look at you, clearly unhappy. "I'm sorry, Obi-Wan, but not yet. For starters, you are wearing far too much." You look up at Qui-Gon. "Wouldn't you agree?"

"Yes." The voice is rough, sounding completely unlike the calm Jedi voice you heard at the beginning of the evening.

You look at Obi-Wan. "Undress."

Qui-Gon glares at you.

"I'm sure you will have many other opportunities to undress him yourself, Qui-Gon."

Obi-Wan is already standing. His hands are undoing his belt and pulling off his sash. They drop to the floor. His tunics quickly follow. He unfastens his boots and kicks them off. In one swift movement the leggings are gone and he stands before you gloriously nude.

You look at Qui-Gon. You know Qui-Gon has seen him nude before, but you would never know it from the way he is staring. His hands keep coming up as if to touch, before being pulled back down.

"Qui-Gon," you say quietly.

He pulls eyes away from Obi-Wan to look at you. "Would you like to fellate him?" He nods, swallowing. "Then do so." Qui-Gon is off the bed and kneeling on the floor in front of his apprentice in a heartbeat. "Have you ever done this before?"

"No." His voice is barely audible.

"Then I shall instruct you. Take the shaft in your hand, low, near the base." He does so, his large hand covering more than half of Obi-Wan's cock. "Now lick the head." He obeys. Obi-Wan gasps. "Do it again. Again. Again. Now swirl your tongue around the head." Obi-Wan's hands tangle in his master’s hair. "Take the head into your mouth- just the head. Suck softly. A little harder. A little harder." You are having trouble controlling your own breathing now. The sight of Obi-Wan's cock in Qui-Gon's mouth is powerfully arousing. Giving Qui-Gon these instructions is one of the most erotic things you have ever done.

"Now lift it, exposing the underside. Good. Apply your mouth to the underside near the base. Tilt your head so you can take some of the skin into your mouth. Suck. Move up a little higher and do it again. Rub your thumb over the head as you do it." He does exactly as you order. Obi-Wan is whimpering.

"You are doing very well, Qui-Gon. Keep going." He reaches the area just below the head. "Most men are very sensitive there, so give it some extra attention."

Obi-Wan groans. "Qui-Gon."

The sound of his name elicits a wordless moan from Qui-Gon.

"Now take as much of it as you can in your mouth. Suck. Curve your tongue around the underside. Now move your mouth up and down his cock. Move your hand, too." He quickly finds a steady rhythm. You know that after all of the extended foreplay Obi-Wan will come soon. "Don't let him come in your mouth. When he starts to come, point it at your chest, cover yourself with Obi-Wan's come."

You aren't sure if it's your words that set Obi-Wan off but he starts to come and Qui-Gon does as he was told. Come spurts from Obi-Wan's thick cock onto his master. One pulse follows the next. You look from the cock jerking in Qui-Gon's hand up to Obi-Wan's face. It is contorted with pleasure. His mouth is open, his eyes closed, his cheeks flushed. His back is arched slightly.

When it finally ends, he drops to the floor. Qui-Gon puts an arm around him and Obi-Wan rests his forehead against Qui-Gon's shoulder, trembling. Qui-Gon uses his free hand to soothingly stroke the younger man's back.

When the visible trembling subsides you ask, "Better?" Obi-Wan nods without raising his head. "Do you think it's your master's turn now?" That catches his interest. He lifts his head and turns to look at you.

"Yes." His voice is a little raw.

You turn your attention to Qui-Gon. "Put your hands on your chest."

"What?"

"Put your hands on your chest. It seems like a straight forward enough directive to me." Glaring at you, he complies. "Now use your hands to rub Obi-Wan's come into your skin. Luxuriate in it. The proof of his passion for you. The proof of your ability to pleasure him."

Large hands are moving over a broad chest, spreading white fluid. "Don't forget your nipples. If you are good, I may let Obi-Wan lick it off. Would you like that Obi-Wan, to taste yourself on Qui-Gon's skin?"

"Yes." His voice is low, almost inaudible.

Callused fingers caress hardened brown nipples. God, the man is spectacular, everything about him large. The combination of sensuality and spirituality which flow from him only enhance his size, making him nearly irresistible. You wonder what it would be like to have those hands on you. You glance at Obi-Wan. His cock is jutting straight out. His eyes are glued to Qui-Gon's hands.

"Shall I have him move his hands lower, Obi-Wan?"

"Yes."

"Would you like to tell him what to do?" He turns toward you. The hungry look on his face answers your question. "Then do so."

He immediately turns his attention back to Qui-Gon. "Move your hands lower." Qui-Gon's hands slide to his abdomen. "Lower. Cover your cock with my fluid." Qui-Gon complies. He strokes both of his hands up and down his length, first one, and then the other. His shaft is soon shining with Obi-Wan's come.

"Just one hand now."

Obi-Wan is good at this. You watch reverently. "Did you ever imagine this, Obi-Wan? Imagine watching him like this? His own hand on his cock?"

"Yes."

Qui-Gon's whole body seems to jerk at that yes. He has your full attention now. His eyes are glazed. He is looking at Obi-Wan, but you wonder how much he is actually seeing. Except for the hand on his cock and the rapid rise and fall of his chest, his entire body is perfectly still.

"Do you like knowing I've fantasized about you, Master?"

"Yes." Qui-Gon barely gets the word out.

"I've done it for years. I touch myself exactly as you are doing now, imaging the hand is yours."

"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon groans.

Obi-Wan reaches up and touches his face. "I've imagined so much more than that, my Qui-Gon. I've imagined us doing all manner of things, in all manner of places. Shall I tell you each and every one of them in detail someday?"

Qui-Gon just nods. The Jedi mask is completely gone now, lost in a haze of pleasure and lust.

"Do you want to come in my mouth?"

The hand stops in answer. "Lift your hand to your mouth first. Taste me, just as I will taste you."

One of his fingers disappears into the recesses of Qui-Gon's mouth. "Good?" Obi-Wan asks. A nod.

"Stand." Qui-Gon groans in protest, but he obeys. Obi-Wan slides his hand up and down his master's cock experimentally.

"Please, Obi-Wan. Please." Qui-Gon's groan creates an answering ache in you and you can only imagine what it did to the man at whom it was directed. Obi-Wan takes the large cock in front of him into his mouth. He doesn't tease. He establishes a steady rhythm intended to bring Qui-Gon immediately to the edge.

It works. Qui-Gon's head his thrown back, his hands holding Obi-Wan's head. He is biting his lower lip to keep from crying out. His upper body is taut, but his hips jerk spasmodically in Obi-Wan's hands.

The tableau before you remains frozen for some time. Then Qui-Gon is dropping into Obi-Wan's arms, burying his head into Obi-Wan's neck. His entire body is shaking, and Obi-Wan is holding him, petting him, whispering words you can't quite make out.

You decide this is a good time to see about dinner and slip quietly out of the room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When you return, they are no longer embracing. However, they are still on the floor, naked and kneeling. Qui-Gon's hand is stroking Obi-Wan's cheek and the younger man is leaning into the touch. The sheer tenderness of the scene makes your breath catch in your throat.

You leave the tray of food on the table and curl up in your chair, pulling your knees to your chest. You don't want to interrupt, not yet.

Qui-Gon turns his head slightly in your direction, somehow acknowledging you and ignoring you with that small gesture, and the gentle touching continues. Obi-Wan's gaze never strays, even when he gently brushes his lips over the hand, not quite a kiss.

Then Qui-Gon’s eyes to flicker towards you, and if Qui-Gon Jinn were not a revered Jedi Master, you might believe that was a smirk on his face. You shouldn't have left them alone. They're planning something.

Someone's stomach growls, and they break into warm smiles that you could never have imagined on their serene faces. You even catch a little of that warmth when Obi-Wan looks at you. "Do we smell dinner?"

"Hungry?"

His brow arches, just barely.

You force yourself to stand and walk back to the table. It seems whatever they've planned can wait. "Now what sort of owner would I be if I didn't feed my slaves?"

The meal is silent, uneventful, as though the two Jedi dine naked in the company of a near-stranger every day.

You'd considered bringing a more... novel meal, but are glad you didn't. This quiet intimacy is better, and though your company can't resist their shared glances, you are a part of this, passing around the bowls instead of just observing.

When the plates are finally cleared away, they turn to look at you. Do they realize how blended their movements are, even the angles of their bodies mirrored as though confronting an opponent in battle? You casually return to your chair, reminding yourself that you've faced tougher challenges than these two, though admittedly, none of your other challenges have been quite so... naked. You lean back, a picture of control.

You came up with so many fantasies over dinner that now you're stuck for which one to choose. Start simple. "Obi-Wan, lie down on the bed, on your stomach."

"No."

What? "No?"

"No." Two voices, answering in chorus, and suddenly all your power is gone.

"You both agreed to this, I paid good-"

"No." Obi-Wan's voice allows no argument, and so you fall silent.

They watch you, waiting, and then slowly Qui-Gon turns to face his padawan properly, his focus complete.

Obi-Wan's gaze lingers on you, watching your reaction as he moves towards his master, breaking only when he pulls Qui-Gon down to kiss him. It's demanding, bruising their lips as their bodies grind together, hands groping at backs and buttocks and tangling in hair. No more foreplay.

It is Qui-Gon who finally pulls away; they share something, and then Qui-Gon walks to the bed and lies down. Obi-Wan shoots you a look as he heads in the opposite direction, to the refresher. You are left alone with Qui-Gon, a moment to observe him stretched out on the bed. He's mostly on his back, leaning a little towards the 'fresher, waiting for his lover to return as though oblivious to your company. You have a moment to wonder what in the Force is going on.

When Obi-Wan steps back into the room he's holding a small tube and looking straight at you. "You are going to sit in that chair, and you will not move. Especially not your mouth. If I ask you a direct question, you may nod or shake your head. Do you understand?"

You nod.

He lifts his hand, rolling the tube in his fingers. "Do you want to see me fuck my master?"

Uh. You look to Qui-Gon. He is watching his padawan, seeing nothing but Obi-Wan through his dark eyes. You nod.

Obi-Wan walks calmly to the bed, moving around to spoon up behind Qui-Gon so they are facing you, and Qui-Gon's head twists to meet his mouth, hair raining down on the pillow. Obi-Wan clutches him close, the fist of lube held against the broad chest. More long, wet kisses, until Qui-Gon transfers his attention to Obi-Wan's neck, and Obi-Wan looks at you while he manoeuvres open the lubricant.

You're waiting for Obi-Wan to say something but he just smiles, and a quiet moan makes you realize that he has distracted you; his hand has already disappeared between them.

Qui-Gon's moans are soon continuous, his body twisting as he pushes his hips back for more and once again you realize you'd forgotten that he hasn't done this in a very long time. It seems he's beginning to realize what the fuss is about.

You look up their bodies to find Obi-Wan still watching you, though something of his attention is distracted and somehow you know he is working his fingers inside.

He licks his lips and looks down at the pure pleasure in his Master's face. "How do you think I should take him? Like this? Perhaps against that wall? Or I could roll him onto his back so he can-"

"Knees." You struggle to steady your voice. "Hands and knees."

A light smile touches his lips and he leans forward to give Qui-Gon his instructions. Judging by the kiss, Qui-Gon is in favour. He turns and moves onto his hands and knees.

Obi-Wan climbs behind him, sliding lube over himself, shining wetly. You can't tear your eyes away.

"You like my cock?"

You can't help but smile. "It is impressive."

He slicks his hand up the length. "Imagine how it will feel to him, to be filled with this."

Two gasps, and Obi-Wan rains kisses and reassurance on his master's back. Qui-Gon closes his eyes, trying to will his nerves into the Force, and it's the most humble, beautiful thing...

"Taste him," you ask. Obi-Wan simply raises an eyebrow, and you add, "please."

Obi-Wan pulls back until his cheek can brush over a round buttock, then he slides a thumb up the cleft, contemplating. "Do you imagine anyone has ever placed their tongue here?" Qui-Gon's face is unreadable as Obi-Wan smoothes a hand up his back. "I'm not going to ask him. He’s not going to share that with you."

He lowers his head and a moment later Qui-Gon gives a cry that cuts through the room. Hands come up to part his cheeks and he's all but sobbing, begging, and your hands are gripping the chair to keep from your lap.

For the first time all night, you close your eyes, imagining you are running your tongue over that clenched bud, loosening him with kisses, perhaps the first to do so. You can’t keep your eyes closed for long.

Obi-Wan straightens, still holding Qui-Gon open, and pushes all the way inside. Qui-Gon grunts, teeth gritted, and you know that hurt.

"Hey!" You are partway out of your chair before you realize it. Obi-Wan turns to glare at you and you fall back, but you still challenge him. "Be gentle. He hasn't done this in a long time, maybe ever. Don't hurt him."

"Did I tell you to speak?" Obi-Wan's voice is hard. "He is my master. I don't need you to tell me how to pleasure him." The intensity of his reaction silences you.

He turns his attention back to the man beneath him. He runs his hands gently over Qui-Gon's back. "Master, tell me which you want. This?" He moves slowly, and Qui-Gon moans as Obi-Wan strokes deeply into him. He repeats the motion several times. "Or this?" He thrusts hard this time. Qui-Gon gasps, gripping the sheets with his hands.

"You," is the choked reply.

Obi-Wan clearly takes that to mean he should decide, as do you. "This then." He resumes his slow stroking. "I want it to last." A long deep stroke. "So long, Master. Waited so long. Wanted you for so long."

Qui-Gon's response is incoherent, lost in his moans.

Those moans are getting to you. So is the sight of Qui-Gon Jinn on his hands and knees. The muscles in his arms and shoulders are bulging as he bucks back onto his apprentice's cock. The long, sinewy muscles of his thighs flex with every thrust. His hair obscures his face, but you imagine it readily, how his face looks in pleasure. He moans again, more deeply than before, and the sound goes right through you. You want to be the one causing those moans. You wonder what it feels like to be encased in his strength, to be the one stroking within him. You know he must be tight, perhaps almost unbearably so. You can almost feel the long hardness of him beneath you, the buttocks you are thrusting into the only thing about him that could even remotely be considered soft.

Briefly, you wonder if Obi-Wan would let you take Qui-Gon's erection in your hand, let you stroke him. You consider his earlier possessiveness. No, he would never let anyone else make Qui-Gon come, of that you are certain.

The question is now moot. Qui-Gon is coming. His cock jerks in the air under him, releasing pulse after pulse. You have an image of yourself lying beneath him, your mouth open as if drinking from a fountain. His entire frame shakes and you want to pull him against you, warm him, soothe him, let him relax into you.

Obi-Wan stops, eyes tightly closed. The thought of what Qui-Gon's muscles must be doing to his cock almost makes you moan.

Qui-Gon has fallen to his forearms, and his forehead is pressed against the mattress. Obi-Wan stays firmly inside him, running his hands over Qui-Gon, touching every bit of flesh within reach.

Qui-Gon lets out a long, shuddering breath. Obi-Wan kisses his back softly, before turning his head and lying his cheek against Qui-Gon's back. They stay like that for a few minutes and then Obi-Wan pulls himself upright. He again takes Qui-Gon's hips in his hands and begins to thrust. His strokes are firm, half thrusting forward, half pulling Qui-Gon back against him. You watch the muscles of his buttocks and legs flex and relax as he moves.

Qui-Gon is still hard.

"Touch yourself." Obi-Wan's voice is thick with lust. Qui-Gon's strong hand curls around his own cock. He begins to pull in time with Obi-Wan's thrusts. Obi-Wan moves into him and Qui-Gon's hand pulls back toward the base of his cock. Obi-Wan pulls out and Qui-Gon's hand moves forward again.

Obi-Wan's face is contorted. "Almost," he gasps, "there." He thrusts. "Come." Another thrust and then you lose track as they move against each other hard and fast. Qui-Gon's hand on his cock is a blur. "Come with me, Qui-Gon. Come." He thrusts forward hard and stops. He is coming. His face is nearly unrecognizable, his expression almost one of pain. He is biting his lower lip. His hands are squeezing Qui-Gon's hips so hard that you fear bruises will result.

Qui-Gon is sharing his pleasure, moaning Obi-Wan's name as he comes yet again.

Obi-Wan collapses against the broad back beneath him. He is breathing hard, some of his muscles seem to be spasming. You don't know what prompts it, but suddenly he carefully withdraws from his master's body and moves to lie next to him. He pulls Qui-Gon's still shaking form into his arms.

For a long time they stay like that, Obi-Wan gently petting Qui-Gon's hair, dropping silent kisses on his head, and even when Qui-Gon lifts his chin to meet his lover's lips, the kisses are soft. They seem oblivious to you, until Qui-Gon looks up with a sigh. "Aren't we done with you, yet?"

"That's some appreciation. If I hadn't won the bid, you'd be releasing all your pent-up feelings into Yaddle's washing right now."

Obi-Wan releases a shudder, but Qui-Gon holds steady. "What would you have us do? Make a formal speech of appreciation before the Council?"

You release your annoyance - is a ‘thank you,’ really a terrible thing to ask? For such a sexy, endearing man, he truly deserves a good needling. You stand and walk a few paces forward, letting your gaze rove lewdly over their bodies. "I was thinking that you could show a little... gratitude."

Qui-Gon just stares at you, and Obi-Wan stares at you, and then stares at Qui-Gon, waiting for the explosion.

Qui-Gon's face twitches; finally he blinks and looks at his lover, touches his chin a moment. He drops a kiss to Obi-Wan's forehead and pushes off the bed to walk slowly towards you.

You force yourself to remain still, even as he circles behind you, steps closer until you feel the tension radiating against your back, power barely restrained. He leans down, breath warming your ear. "Get out."

You open your mouth to answer, shut it again. You may very well have pushed him too far.

Obi-Wan rises from the bed and walks over to place a calming hand on Qui-Gon's arm. "Master, our owner may have a point."

Qui-Gon turns his glare on his apprentice, but the longer he looks at Obi-Wan, the more his gaze softens.

"We have much to be grateful for, Qui-Gon," Obi-Wan continues in a quiet voice. "I would never have had the courage to approach you, and you wouldn't have had the courage to approach me."

Qui-Gon is obviously considering Obi-Wan's words. Obi-Wan smiles approvingly and you realize Qui-Gon must have acquiesced to something. Then they do something completely unexpected. They both kneel. Two pairs of hands remove your pants. You are lifted with the force and placed on your back on the floor. One of them moves between your legs. The other is kneeling beside you.

A warm mouth descends, swallowing your cock. Another engulfs a testicle, sucking gently. You groan at the double assault. Your hips move upward of their own accord, only to be held firmly down. The mouth on your testicle pulls back, tugs the loose skin on your scrotum between warm lips. A tongue swirls over the head of your cock.

The mouth on your scrotum releases it completely. Moments later you realize why as a moist finger pushes against your entrance. You push against the intruding digit, groaning yet again.

The mouth descends again. One mouth is covering the head of your cock, sucking with increasing strength, while a tongue and teeth gently tease any exposed area of your shaft.

The finger inside you brushes your prostate. You call out. The second mouth returns to your scrotum, sucking in your other testicle. The first mouth begins to move up and down, stroking, a warm tongue curling around the underside of your cock. The hands on your hips release you and you begin to move. Up into that incredibly moist mouth, back onto the finger stroking within you. You hear a scream. Realize it came from your mouth as pulses of hot fluid are pulled from your body into an eager mouth. The finger is stroking your prostate continuously now and you come and come and come. When at last it ends you just lie there, muscles twitching uncontrollably, feeling blood pulse back into your extremities.

Arms encircle you, pulling you back against a strong chest. Another body presses against your chest, surrounding you with warmth. A slight smile curving your lips, you drift off to sleep.

You wake to the sound of buzzing. You are still on the floor. They're gone and you are covered with a blanket from the bed. Very considerate. That damn buzzing. Rising, you stumble to a communication station. "Hello."

He sighs. "Unresolved sexual tension leaking across bond with former Padawan. Giving me headache it was."

"I did this to get rid of your headache." Disbelief wars with annoyance. "Don't they have painkillers at that Temple of yours?" you grate.

He nods and then disappears. You turn away, heading for the fresher and a hot shower.

THE END