Trouble pops up on a mission, forcing Qui-Gon to take matters into his own hands. So to speak. (Qui/Obi)
, Star Wars Characters:
Obi-Wan Kenobi, Qui-Gon Jinn
1. Chapter 1 by Emma Grant
Obi-Wan Kenobi stared across the throne room of the palace to where the Doranthian monarchs stood waiting for them. He held the small green cushion upon which their gift rested before him, keeping his attention focused ahead of him. Qui-Gon had gone over the ritual with him several times that morning, to the extent that Obi-Wan was mildly annoyed by his master's apparent lack of confidence in him.
He was glad he wasn't the one speaking, though. The Doranthian language was extremely difficult for humans to reproduce, and despite the fact that Qui-Gon had worked very hard on his pronunciation, Obi-Wan wasn't sure that refusing to bring along a protocol droid had been such a good idea.
"Ready?" Qui-Gon whispered from behind him.
Obi-Wan nodded and began to cross the large room, his feet making little noise as he tried to replicate the Doranthian's gliding gait. He could sense Qui-Gon a few paces behind him.
He knelt at the foot of the dais, holding the cushion out before him to display the jewel they had brought as a gift from the Supreme Chancellor. The Doranthian monarch warbled something incomprehensible. After a moment, Qui-Gon responded, his words equally incomprehensible. Obi-Wan waited and listened as they spoke to each other, keeping his head bowed as he'd been instructed to do.
He felt an odd wave of tension from his master, followed by a response that seemed to Obi-Wan to have an argumentative tone to it. The monarch warbled something back that sounded equally irritable, and guards stepped forward from either side of the dais. They slipped leathery hands beneath Obi-Wan's arms and tugged him to his feet.
Obi-Wan kept his mouth closed and his eyes on the jewel on the cushion before him. He had no idea what was happening, but the gift-giving ritual did not seem to be going as planned. Qui-Gon and the monarch were still talking with each other in tones that bordered on hostility.
The guards began to tug Obi-Wan forward, as if to lead him away from the dais. There was a rustle of movement behind him, and then the guards were being pushed away by Qui-Gon, whose face barely disguised his fury.
Obi-Wan could only stare at his master in shock. He had seen him angry before, but rarely under circumstances such as these. Qui-Gon was always serene and strong, collected and calm, always in control.
But Qui-Gon was looking back at him now with an unreadable expression on his face. He seemed to be disturbed and excited, all at once. Obi-Wan raised his eyebrows in a way he hoped was pleading. What's happening? Have I done something wrong?
Resolution settled over Qui-Gon's face. He turned back to the Doranthian monarch, warbled another sentence, and then grasped the front of Obi-Wan's robes and pulled. Obi-Wan struggled not to stumble or drop the jewel, still utterly confused.
This confusion was not alleviated when his master pulled him even closer and kissed him. Kissed him, deeply and powerfully, in a way Obi-Wan had never been kissed in all his sixteen years, with lips and tongue and hot and wet and…
Qui-Gon pushed him away and spun him at the same time, pulling Obi-Wan back against his chest. His hand stroked down Obi-Wan's belly, down until it cupped Obi-Wan's groin in a manner that seemed almost possessive.
Obi-Wan closed his eyes, but he couldn't prevent himself from becoming hard. There was nothing he could do to stop it -- it was a weakness of late, and he knew it had more to do with his age than his ability to control the Force -- but why couldn't he control it now? He felt himself flush with embarrassment. He wrapped his fingers tightly around the jewel and let the cushion drop to the floor.
But it wasn't over yet. To his astonishment, Qui-Gon's fingers began fumbling at the waistband of his leggings, pushing them down and reaching inside and -- oh Force no -- wrapping those long fingers around Obi-Wan's rapidly hardening cock.
Obi-Wan squeezed his eyes shut even more tightly; he didn't want to see the Doranthians watching him, watching his own master pulling on his cock. He'd done this himself at least once a day for years, and he'd certainly fantasized that the hand around it wasn't his own -- but he'd honestly never thought of Qui-Gon.
Qui-Gon's hand was rough and smooth and tight and there, and Obi-Wan could only let his head fall back against his master's shoulder, could only bite his lip to stifle the desire to moan. Qui-Gon was quite good at this, he thought dimly, and wondered what lessons he'd learn himself from fifty years of wanking. The strokes sped up, glorious friction in all the right places, pressure and heat building, and it wasn't long before Obi-Wan realized he was about to come.
For a moment, he wondered if he should try to hold back. Perhaps this was a test of some sort, a measure of his endurance, or--
"Let go, Padawan," Qui-Gon whispered into his ear.
Obi-Wan felt his orgasm spill over him, and he was unable to keep himself from vocalizing. His back arched, pressing his groin into Qui-Gon's hand, and his knees shook, nearly giving way beneath him. Qui-Gon's other arm was around him them, supporting him.
They didn't speak at all on the walk back to their ship, having left the jewel from the Chancellor behind and taken their leave without so much as a goodbye. Obi-Wan didn't know what to say or even where to begin -- so he didn't say anything. He waited, half hoping Qui-Gon had decided to pretend it hadn't happened.
They were away from the planet and setting the nav-computer before either of them said a word.
"Padawan, I owe you an explanation," Qui-Gon said, staring at the monitor before him.
"No," Obi-Wan replied, feeling himself blush again. "It's all right."
"It isn't," Qui-Gon said, turning to look at him. "I made a mistake and I put you in a terrible position."
"I… wouldn't call it terrible," Obi-Wan said, then blushed even more.
Qui-Gon smiled. "That's not what I was referring to."
There were a few moments of silence as he finished the calculations and set the ship into hyperdrive. Obi-Wan watched the starlines streak past them outside, the vast coldness of space almost comforting.
"I was overconfident in my ability to communicate with the Doranthians," Qui-Gon began at last, "and though I doubt my mistake will have lasting consequences on Doranthia's relationship with the Republic, I fear I may have done permanent damage to… to you."
Obi-Wan opened his mouth and closed it again before speaking. "If I may be frank, why would a… hand job cause me permanent damage?"
Qui-Gon smiled again. "It turns out that my presentation of you at the palace contained an incorrectly conjugated verb. Instead of saying that you were presenting the gift, I told the monarch that you were the gift."
"Oh," Obi-Wan replied. "And he thought--"
"That I was offering your services to him."
Obi-Wan could not help the look of horror that crossed his face.
"I told him I had made an error, but he had already taken a fancy to you and could not be convinced otherwise. As you know from your research on Doranthian culture, they have great respect for the pair bond, and so I told them…" Qui-Gon waved his hand.
"That we were married?" Obi-Wan gasped. "Master!" He grinned though, now embarrassed for Qui-Gon. He'd gotten the better end of the deal, himself.
"And then he demanded proof," Qui-Gon sighed. "At any rate, what's done is done. I will take full responsibility for the failure of our mission, of course. And Obi-Wan--" Qui-Gon's face became troubled again. "I am sorry. I would not have preferred your first sexual experience be under those circumstances."
Obi-Wan felt his cheeks heat again. "What makes you think that was my first time?"
Qui-Gon gave him a long look, then rose from his seat, heading toward the main hold of the craft.
"Qui-Gon?" Obi-Wan said, drumming up his courage as his master disappeared from view.
"Yes?" he heard.
"I… it was…" He swallowed. "Thank you."
There was definitely a smile in his master's voice. "You're welcome, Obi-Wan."
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