Mind-to-mind communication is not all it's cracked up to be. The mind is more private and sensitive than any part of the physical body, and when physical contact has been denied, a casual brush of the beloved's thoughts is as powerful as foreplay. Even the most careful shielding is not always enough to keep intense conversations discreet. Verbal communication is in fact more subtle, less frustrating, and more private - especially considering the tendency of lovers to create their own private code for forbidden topics.

"Master," said Obi-Wan quietly as they searched the crowded dining hall for a place to sit. "I believe we need to do some laundry tonight."

Qui-Gon smiled. "Laundry" was not the chore the casual listener might believe it to be. "Why, Obi, are you feeling dirty?"

"Yes, Master, terribly dirty. And it's been so long since we've had an opportunity to do laundry." Obi's eyes danced with mischief.

"Well, then my de- er, Padawan, I guess we should make time for laundry tonight." His smile grew wider. "In fact, it would be my pleasure."

"Oh good." Obi-Wan's smile was so radiant Qui-Gon thought his knees would melt. "I'll see you tonight then..."

That evening Obi made sure to come back to their quarters a little bit early to prepare for his lover. It had been a while since they'd had the time or energy to be intimate, and he wanted this evening of "laundry" to be perfect. He lingered in the shower, hoping Qui-Gon would find him there. Leaving only when the water cooled and his fingers were wrinkled as raisins, Obi-Wan smoothed a musky body oil over his skin ... the scented oil that never failed to drive Qui-Gon wild. He imagined his hands were Qui-Gon's as he slicked the oil over his chest and sides ... and then in all the secret places he hoped his lover would nuzzle later this evening. Sighing and quivering with excitement, Obi glanced at the clock and frowned. Surely his Master should be home by now? Crossing to his room, Obi dug through his clothes - mostly Jedi brown and beige - until he found a pair of silk trousers that whispered over his skin in blue-green folds. His Master loved that shade on him, said it brought out the colors in his eyes. He adjusted the tie so the pants clung low on his hips. Glanced at the clock and adjusted the tie again. And again ... and again. Could his master have forgotten? Obi picked up the commlink and paged Qui-Gon.

"Yes, Obi?"

"Master? Have you forgotten that we were going to do the laundry tonight?" Obi tried to keep the worry out of his voice.

"No, no of course not. How could I possibly - thank you, Mace - forget about the laundry? I'm just - All right, just a minute! - stuck here." A pause, then softer, "I'm sorry, Obi. I'll be there as soon as I can."

Obi-Wan smiled with relief. "Oh, I understand. Poor Master. Hurry home," he crooned. He put the commlink down and wandered into the main living area. He darkened the windows for privacy, dimmed the lights, lit some candles. Hmmm. Music ... that's what was needed. Selecting a recording of Aldairian Blues, he couldn't help but sway as the sultry music thrummed from the corners of the room. He could just imagine his inhibited Master pressed up against him, shyly slowdancing in the darkened room with his arms tight around Obi's back. So confident in battle or in negotiations, when it came to dancing Qui-Gon felt awkward and uncertain ... which Obi found terribly exciting. Qui-Gon would not dance in public; to him it was as private as lovemaking. In fact, even in their own quarters Obi had trouble coaxing him to dance. But not tonight, he was sure.

He imagined pressing up against the taller man, imagined Qui-Gon's scent, imagined the brush of Qui-Gon's hair across his face as his master leaned down to kiss him ... Obi-Wan whimpered. His erection made the front of his pants tent out. He stroked the silk over the taut skin as he imagined rubbing against his Master's hip. Qui-Gon would reach down and cup his ass in those big hands of his and squeeze while nibbling tiny kisses up and down his neck ... Oh, he should make himself wait for Qui-Gon, it would be better. Letting his hand fall, Obi looked at the clock again and was shocked to see the time ...

Qui-Gon's commlink bleeped. "Hello?"

"Master," Obi's voice was husky over the throbbing music. "I'm still waiting for you to come help with the laundry."

"Obi, I'd love to help with the laundry ... but I cannot leave until I've completed this project."

"I understand, Master. I don't mean to pester. It's just that ... ah ... we have a _really_ big load of laundry here. I'm not sure we can put it off much longer."

He could hear Qui-Gon chuckle. "I'll be there soon. Wait for me."

"Yes Master," whispered Obi. He looked around the room. What to do until Qui-Gon arrived? He walked to Qui-Gon's room, which had the larger bed, and opened the door. The room was as barren as a cell. Hmmm. Fortunately Obi made a habit of collecting little surprises that he saved for occasions like this. Obi stripped Qui-Gon's bed of its covers and replaced them with satin ones he'd secretly picked up on their last mission. This seemed like a good night to surprise Qui-Gon with them. Grabbing a bottle of wine from their spartan kitchen supplies, he poured two glasses and set them both on the nightstand. He lit more candles, and then, at a loss, crawled under the covers. The sleek sheets felt even better than he hoped; he imagined Qui-Gon crushing him against them, and felt his balls cramp with a combination of frustration and pleasure. Fumbling with the tie at his waist yet again, he slipped his hand inside his trousers to cup his aching balls, rolling them in his hand while his other hand gripped his penis, pumping his hand up and down the shaft. He was not going to last much longer at this rate. Reaching for the commlink, he called up Qui-Gon again.

"Padawan. What is it?" His Master did not sound pleased.

"Master I'm just wondering when we're going to get to that laundry." Obi tried to keep the impatience and hurt out of his voice, but knew he was failing. "I need -"

"Obi-Wan, I said I will get to the laundry when I can," siad Qui-Gon coldly. "Until then it will just have to wait."

"Yes, Master," whispered Obi. "I'll see you when you get home." He hung up and looked at the ceiling. He shouldn't feel hurt he told himself: Qui-Gon was not trying to avoid him, and he didn't mean to be cranky ...

Nevertheless, disappointment, frustration - and yes, hurt - welled up in Obi's heart just as tears welled up in his eyes, and he reached down to comfort himself since it seemed unlikely any other comfort would be forthcoming tonight. It did not take long. Obi gasped and sobbed as he came, calling his lover's name. Drifting off to sleep, he was lonely for the feel of Qui-Gon's warm body pressed against his.

Staggering with weariness, Qui-Gon keyed the lock to his quarters. He was exhausted, but even more he was regretting his sharp tone with Obi earlier. He _had_ made a promise to be home, and not only did he not keep that promise, he'd been grouchy with his lover. But with so many people demanding a thousand different things, it was hard not to see Obi's calls, affectionate as they were, as one more annoyance. Qui-Gon felt ashamed and hoped Obi would forgive him.

His shame deepened as the door opened and he saw the guttering candles in their glass cups and heard faintly the moaning vocals of Aldairian Blues. It was clear Obi had tried to make this evening special ... and Qui-Gon had not even bothered to show up. He saw the open bedroom door, but delayed, blowing out the candles one by one and switching off the music. Padding at last into the room, he gasped at the sight of his padawan curled up in a swirl of creamy white satin sheets. Candlelight glimmered on Obi's bare shoulder and cheek. In sleep he looked innocent, yet also seductive, like a naughty angel, Qui-Gon thought hungrily. The sight of the rumpled silk trousers thrown across the end of the bed only added to the wanton image. Qui-Gon dropped his clothes to the floor and slid under the sheets. The smell of patchouli mixed with Obi's own scent wafted up to him , and he trembled. Hesitantly, Qui-Gon reached out and touched Obi's back. The younger man mumbled something in his sleep, and Qui-Gon pressed closer. "Obi? Love?" He rubbed his hands up and down the curve of Obi-Wan's back, coaxing him to wake. "Obi? Obi?"

"Hmm?" Obi's eyes drifted open. "Oh. Master. You're home," he said muzzily.

"Yes, I'm home at last. I'm so sorry I made you wait, Obi." He pressed suggestively against Obi's slender body, his cock nudging Obi's backside. "Is it too late to do that laundry?" he whispered as his hands slipped around his lover.

Obi smiled and snuggled back against Qui-Gon. "I'm afraid so, Master. You see, I wasn't sure you'd get home at all tonight. So I just did the whole load by hand." He nuzzled a kiss on his shocked master's cheek, and fell asleep - at last - in the shelter of his arms.

DISCLAIMER: This story is a work of fiction written in appreciation of Star Wars; to promote the franchise and to keep it alive. All characters and settings original to Star Wars are copyright to Lucasfilm, Ltd. The rest is copyright to the author.