#jedi kissage

[skyywalkerfen]

Can I prompt you, lovely, since you’re so fucking good at these? How about combining QuiObi #7: routine kisses where the other person presents their cheek/forehead for the hello/goodbye kiss without even looking up from what they’re doing and #9: a little kiss, pulling back, only to go back in for a passionate one? Pretty please?

to meggory84, in honor of her special day, and because she asked. :-D  Enjoy.

“Kissing For The Clueless” (Jedi Knight Edition)

It’s their eighteenth standard day here on Lysstern, and Obi-Wan is not precisely sure just how much more he can take.

It’s the little things that are killing him.  The soft looks, the gentle touches, the nearness – Force, the nearness.  Obi-Wan had spent more than a decade living with Qui-Gon Jinn, but he’s pretty sure it was never as bad as this is now.  Of course he’s been out on his own as a Knight for the last two years, so it’s possible that his memory isn’t – no.  No, that’s not it.

It never was this bad.

Qui-Gon is close to him now; so very, very close.  Not the closeness of teacher and student, of teaching master and the padawan being taught, but the closeness of – intimates.  Lovers.

Which is what the two of them are, of course, to their hosts and the rest of the city, because that’s what this mission demands of them: that they be a couple, devoted lovers, older man and younger, as this culture’s norms expect.

Obi-Wan isn’t inexperienced, exactly.  He’s had a few sexual partners over the years, and even one he’d call a lover.  He knew how lovers behaved, he’d have no trouble simulating a relationship, certainly, with the man he’d wanted in truth since he’d been sixteen.  He’d thought he was ready.  

He’d thought wrong.  

And it’s killing him by the tiniest, most exquisitely painful increments possible.

Qui-Gon has finished his first-meal when Obi-Wan comes into the common eating room, but not by much.  The man is still sitting at his accustomed end of the long table, used dishes pushed aside, data-padd in one big hand and cup in the other.  Which means who-ever else had been eating must have just left.  Reading while eating is something the Lyssterians consider quite rude, certainly when one has company.  

Calm, Obi-Wan counsels himself, as he walks across the common room toward his old master.  Calm.  

They are sharing a sleeping room, of course, and in that room there is only one bed.  

Of course.  

Obi-Wan has been taking cold water-showers in the mornings ever since the fourth one, when he’d woken up wrapped around Qui-Gon like the man was the galaxy’s best pillow, morning erection snuggled perilously close to the cleft of Qui-Gon’s arse.  

How he got himself unwrapped and out of the bed without waking Qui-Gon, he still doesn’t know.  And if Qui-Gon has any inkling that his former padawan had been humping him in their sleep, he hasn’t let on.

But.

For the last ten-day now, Qui-Gon’s been – different.  Not upset, but distracted, perhaps, as though something had dropped a pebble into the pool of that deep-Force-calm that’s as much a part of him as his blue eyes and crooked nose.  It’s a situation Obi-Wan has seen/felt a few times before, when there is something deeply disturbing that Qui-Gon is considering.

Obi-Wan has a rather horrible, sinking-deep feeling that he knows what that pebble was.

“Good morning, Qui,” he says as he reaches the table, which is between him and the counter with the kaffin-pot, kashmeal in its warmer, and the thrice-blessed hot water for tea.

“Good morning,” Qui-Gon rumbles in return, and tilts his head for the obligatory morning-greeting kiss.  There’s no one in the room to witness the lapse if they don’t, but Obi-Wan is loathe to give up any moments of contact, painful as they may be, and the memories they make.

They could well be the only moments he will have.

Obi-Wan leans down and brushes his mouth against Qui-Gon’s cheek, feeling beard-bristle tickle, coarsely soft, against his lips.  Trying not to inhale the smell of the man because he doesn’t want to be needing another cool shower this early in the day.  

But Qui-Gon seems – elsewhere, his attention never really straying from the padd in his hand.  He doesn’t even meet Obi-Wan’s eyes.

The sinking-deep feeling in Obi-Wan’s gut, sinks deeper.

The meal is awkward, to say the least.  After Obi-Wan’s two conversational gambits meet only with what response is necessary and no more, he retreats into his kashmeal and tea and absolutely does not panic.  It wouldn’t help anyway.

He gives up on the cereal when it becomes clear that his stomach is less than pleased.  The tea is a solace, though, and Obi-Wan is contemplating its dark depths when Qui-Gon shifts back from the table.  

“Not hungry this morning?”

Paying more attention than had been apparent, evidently.  “First-meal is still a hit and miss thing for me, I’m afraid,” Obi-Wan says, grabbing the sudden conversational life-ring, “for all that you were sure I’d grow out of that.  But their tea leaf is lovely; certainly a variety to infiltrate the Order’s commissary with.”

“Indeed.”  But Qui-Gon is looking at him now, deep ocean gaze beloved and intense, peeling back the mature Jedi Knight layers to the small, squirmy Obi-Wan within, the way Qui-Gon’s always been able to do, intentionally or not.

And that is, quite suddenly, too much.  

“I think I will take a walk,” Obi-Wan blurts out, rising from his chair in a motion that does not, Force-willing, look as uncontrolled as it actually is, because he really must move now or twitch out of his skin.  “As we have no obligations to our hosts, for the first time, until tomorrow.”

Qui-Gon’s still looking at him.  “It would be time better spent discussing the mission and making plans for next week.”

Would it, now? Obi-Wan thinks, stung.  And just as suddenly things reverse, and now it’s more than easy to stand still and meet – and hold – those blue eyes.  “It would be better if I were better able to sit down for the discussion.  An unexercised padawan is a twitchy one, is how you always put it, as I recall?”

“You’re no longer a padawan.”

“You’re correct,” Obi-Wan says, and lets his diction pop on the final ‘t.’  “I’m not.”

Something shifts beneath the ocean surface and then – to Obi-Wan’s shock – the older man drops his gaze.  “I know,” Qui-Gon says at last, softly, and there’s something in his rich voice, maybe several somethings, that Obi-Wan can’t parse past his own surprise.  “I am – very much aware of that.”

Now Obi-Wan isn’t at all sure he wants to leave, but he doesn’t see how, exactly, to stay.  He takes his dishes and Qui-Gon’s as well to the counter sink and rinses them before putting them in the sanitizer, but the delaying tactic brings no enlightenment.  Out of excuses, he turns back to the table.

Qui-Gon has put his hands together palm to palm and rested them on the table-top, and is looking either at them or at the grain of the bassha-wood, Obi-Wan can’t tell.  It’s a posture Obi-Wan’s never seen his master take before.  

He walks back to Qui-Gon’s side.  “I’ll have my comm, of course,” because he’s run out of the words he should say and the other words, the ones he wants to say, he can’t.  

He lays his hand lightly on Qui-Gon’s shoulder, one of the signals they’d agreed upon at the beginning of the mission, to warn of a coming kiss or other more intimate touch.  This time Obi-Wan nearly starts – the broad shoulder beneath tabard and tunics is like durasteel.  “Qui-Gon?”

Qui-Gon looks up and the light catches in his eyes, unfathomable.  “Obi-Wan,” he says.  He turns in his seat and reaches up to take Obi-Wan’s hand, half-swallowing it in his larger one.  The calluses on  his palm and fingers are hard and familiar.  These are the hands that have touched Obi-Wan for half of his lifetime; the hands that have meant belonging and guidance, comfort and friendship, Master.  Love.

The expression on Qui-Gon’s face though, that is not familiar at all, and it starts a curious tingle in Obi-Wan’s stomach.  “Qui-Gon, what is it?”

“May I kiss you, Obi-Wan?”

May you what?!  

Obi-Wan freezes in place, except for his mouth which drops open as the curious tingle explodes into a swarm of hot stingflies, fluttering madly around his abdomen, every one of them shrieking a giddy confused ecstatic “YESYESYES!”  But –

“You have been kissing me,” is what he hears himself whisper, completely without his brain’s input or permission.

Whatever Qui-Gon sees on his face, it’s apparently encouraging, because his grip on Obi-Wan’s hand tightens.  “Not as I have wanted to.”

He pulls gently, asking, and despite his daze Obi-Wan answers, as he has for so much of his life when this man has asked.  Yes.

Qui-Gon urges him close and kisses him.

It’s warm and soft, no more than a delicate pressure, the tickle of hair mingling with the dry of slightly chapped lips.  Nothing they have not already done, but nothing at all that they have ever done before.  Deliberate.  Sweetness layered over something new, that Qui-Gon is either letting Obi-Wan feel for the first time or that has finally escaped the Master’s control: a sense of deep, visceral want that trembles, even leashed beneath adamantine shields and iron will.

Qui-Gon kisses him, and lets him go.

It’s a lightning strike, and the nimbus glows violet-white at the edges of Obi-Wan’s vision when he pries his eyes open.  He blinks down at Qui-Gon’s face, so close, so open, full of everything that fills up Obi-Wan’s own chest that he can’t breathe.

Breathing’s overrated.

He kisses Qui-Gon this time, sinks his free hand into the thick hair at the back of Qui-Gon’s head and kisses him hard.  Qui-Gon’s mouth opens under his and Obi-Wan plunges in, drowning eagerly, discovering tea and sweetener and something indescribable that is only Qui-Gon.  The years of hopeful longing and hopeless love surge up and Obi-Wan lets them go, lets them wash out into the Force between them, because if he’s mistaken, if this isn’t what Qui-Gon truly wants –

Qui-Gon gasps against his mouth, and one big hand comes around the back of Obi-Wan’s neck and pulls him impossibly closer.

Eventually the breathing thing truly does become necessary and Obi-Wan breaks away, but only to pepper Qui-Gon’s face with urgent little kisses, cheekbones, proud nose, closed eyelids, before resting his forehead again Qui-Gon’s.  They’re both panting, Qui-Gon’s breath a moist brush across Obi-Wan’s face, a little sour, and how he’s lived this long without it, Obi-Wan has no clue.  “I love you.”

Qui-Gon swallows, loud in the tiny space between them.  “I love you, too,” he says.  

A faint hint of that same tremble colors his deep voice and it’s quite, quite possible that Obi-Wan’s heart is going to stop from sheer joy.  “H-how long?” he asks, not knowing he’s asking until the words are out.

A faint snort.  “Years,” Qui-Gon murmurs.  “Before you were knighted.”

Truly?  But –   “You never – ”  And it’s Obi-Wan’s turn to swallow.  “It’s been two years, Master; is there some sort of waiting period that no-one talks about?”

A louder snort this time and a wash of humor, as Qui-Gon moves away enough that Obi-Wan can see him clearly.  “That’s why, Padawan.”

Obi-Wan wrinkles his brow in question.

“I was part of the equation of your life, dear one; perhaps too big of a part,” Qui-Gon says, and shakes his head when Obi-Wan opens his mouth.  “You needed to be Knight Kenobi, not Padawan to Master Jinn.  You needed to be your own person; to know who you are without me.  Anything else would have been to betray you in the worst fashion.”  Qui-Gon’s hand moves, thumb caressing the tender skin beneath Obi-Wan’s ear in a most distracting fashion.  “And I needed to know, to be sure, that you know.”

Wonderful, marvelous, utterly exasperating man.  Obi-Wan’s mouth pulls up at one corner.  “I’ll sign a form if you’d like.”

The skin around Qui-Gon’s eyes crinkles.  “Your word has always been enough.”

And how is Obi-Wan supposed to remain composed with Qui-Gon saying things like that?  

He untangles them and steps back, only to take Qui-Gon’s hand again and urge him to his feet.  “I’ve changed my plans for the day.  There’s a bed in our room that I most sadly neglected to put to rights, and I believe that requires prompt attention.”

“I thought you intended to get some exercise,” Qui-Gon says.

There’s no mistaking the undertones and Force-wash of teasing and desire, and Obi-Wan grins.  “Oh, I do.”

*

[skyywalkerfen]

I dunno if you are still wanting kiss memes (i just read that heartbreaking ObiQui one) but if so, 6 and/or 17? Please?

“Obi-Wan – ”

“Shhh.”  It vibrates acrossQui-Gon’s skin, dragging a shiver in its wake.  “Wanted this for solong, you don’t know – ” Another kiss on Qui-Gon’s neck just above where Obi-Wan’s clever,clever fingers are coaxing Qui-Gon’s inner tunic away.  “Let me? Please?”

It takes a few seconds for the low,hoarse words to register as an actual question.  As if he could eventhink of refusing this man; not that Qui-Gon can so much actuallythink right now anyway.  “Yes, love,” he whispers. “Yes, if you want, anything, but – ”

The remaining words fade in Qui-Gon’sthroat as a wave of happiness and lust washes over him through theForce, and he can’t do anything except lean against the wall hisformer padawan has got him pinned to and try not to lose his mind. That every breath he takes is ripe and soaked with Obi-Wandoesn’t help in the slightest.

Obi-Wan leans into him, hot and heavy –all of him – his hips pressing into Qui-Gon’s thighs,keeping him right where Obi-Wan wants him as the younger man slipsone hand down the front of Qui-Gon’s tunics.  His belt vanishessomewhere and his sash sighs to the floor, followed by the softdouble-flump of his tabards as Obi-Wan pushes them offQui-Gon’s shoulders.

But Qui-Gon barely notices any of thisbecause Obi-Wan’s mouth is at the base of Qui-Gon’s throat, lickinginto the hollow and nibbling along his collarbone.  In fact, thatis all he notices, until the heat of Obi-Wan’s mouth is joinedby the heat of callused hands sliding up Qui-Gon’s chest, slippingbeneath the now-untied fabrics and parting them like water breakingbefore a ship’s prow.  

Obi-Wan’s kisses move downward, tinglesof wet sensation that chart the contours of Qui-Gon’s chest.  Kissestrace the shallow groove of his breastbone, fingers brushing throughthe patch of graying hair and curving around his ribs, and all thenerves beneath Qui-Gon’s skin follow, starting up and lunging forcontact like metal filings to a magnet.  

Obi-Wan’s breath heats and his mouthpractically scorches, unbearably erotic.  His lips climb the curve ofQui-Gon’s pectoral muscle and his tongue licks close, close, closer,until it reaches the edge of Qui-Gon’s nipple, already pebbled hardin anticipation.  Obi-Wan swirls his tongue, spiraling inward untilhe finds the center, and then he closes his mouth around the ruchedup flesh and sucks.  Hard.

Electricity shocks a straight line pathfrom tit to crotch and Qui-Gon surges from half to full, achingerection so fast it’s nearly painful, but the good kind of pain.  Theblood rush is dizzying and Qui-Gon digs his fingers into Obi-Wan’swaist without thought, hands crumpling wool and silk in a sudden needfor an anchor-point, for contact with the skin beneath.  

Obi-Wan sucks harder, and then thereare teeth and Qui-Gon can’t stop his groan.  “Obi-Wan– ”

A long hum tingles his skin, and then –

~Tasty.~

– and out of nowhere Qui-Gon’s laughbursts free, the tender, mischievous lust in Obi-Wan’s sendingcatching him off-guard.  ~Imp.  Unholy, Force-born imp, youare, beloved, oh – ~

~You have all this skin,Qui; I want to taste all of it.~

//Love// Qui-Gon sends and//love// he is sent back, an ocean wave that crashes over andthrough him even as his tunics are at last pushed off, washing downhis arms and catching on his wrists.  Obi-Wan’s mouth follows thefabrics’ path, tongue tracing the ball of Qui-Gon’s shoulder and downto the edge of his armpit, which is suddenly far, far more sensitivethan it’s ever been before.  

There he pauses, nibbling around theedges until Qui-Gon is nearing an edge himself, before mapping outthe skin of Qui-Gon’s inner arm by slow, velvety increments.  Theinside of Qui-Gon’s elbow is laved, and then his tunics disappear,tugged over his wrist-bones and away, and Obi-Wan takes possession ofQui-Gon’s right hand.

Qui-Gon pries his eyes open andwatches, arousal and amazement shivering through him, as Obi-Wancherishes this coarse, unlovely part of him: that’s the onlyword that fits.  Every bit of skin, every callus and scar are touchedand tasted, and the sensations as Obi-Wan’s tongues flickers betweenhis fingers have Qui-Gon’s blood pounding and his cock literallythrobbing, shoving rudely against his pants as though he’s somehowseventeen again.    

He threads the fingers of his otherhand into Obi-Wan’s hair, the copper-blond strands like some preciousflossed metal, silky against Qui-Gon’s own rough skin.  

Obi-Wan looks up at the touch, stillholding Qui-Gon’s hand close to his mouth.  His eyes are brilliant,pupils wide, the clear blue-gray surrounding them seemingly lit fromwithin, pools of truth Qui-Gon would drown if he hadn’t already doneso, years ago.  There’s a pink flush across Obi-Wan’s cheekbones andhis lips are a deeper red, and his tongue darts out to moisten thembefore Obi-Wan licks delicately across the pad of Qui-Gon’s middlefinger, and that’s more than Qui-Gon can take.

He drags Obi-Wan an impossible inchcloser with the hand still wound into longish coppery hair and kissesthe man hard, capturing that agile tongue and sucking on it.  Thedeep groan Obi-Wan makes goes straight to Qui-Gon’s groin.  He kissesObi-Wan until he can’t – they can’t – breathe, and breaks away tomouth at the skin of Obi-Wan’s jaw, stubble prickly against histongue.  

Obi-Wan moans out his name and Qui-Gonfeels as much as hears it: feels the rise of Obi-Wan’s chest againsthis own and the tremble of the warm, savory skin beneath his mouth,and Qui-Gon tugs at fabric to reach the succulent curve of Obi-Wan’sshoulder because the other man is still a bit dressed and that is.just. wrong.

He’s got Obi-Wan’s sash off and bothtunics untied, his mouth and hands feeding on the luscious skinbeneath, when Obi-Wan stills them with his own.  “No.”

Only a breath of sound, but it stopsQui-Gon like a shout.  Ice runs up his spine –

– only to melt again with Obi-Wan’snext words.  “Sorry, oh sorry, love, not what I meant, don’t feellike that,” and //love// and //regret// press againstQui-Gon’s mind.  “I – it’s just, I – let me?  Let me do thisfor you?”  The words sigh, tickling, pleading, into Qui-Gon’s ear. “Unclothe you, touch you – everywhere?”

And Obi-Wan had said, had asked thatbefore, but –  

“You – ”  Qui-Gon swallows,looking for more of his voice, “ – must be clothed for that?”

“I… ”

Qui-Gon raises his head then and sees,to his confusion, that Obi-Wan’s face matches his aura: anot-so-delicate flush of embarrassment, of the kind that Qui-Gonhasn’t witnessed nor felt since his padawan’s teenage years.  Or isit something else?  What in the Force… ?  

He cups Obi-Wan’s face gently, feelingObi-Wan’s cheekbones hot against his palms.  “Obi-Wan?”

Obi-Wan’s gaze drops, lashes sweepingdown before they rise again, and the motion is soft and oddly,disturbingly uncertain.  “Because,” Obi-Wan admits hoarsely,“when you touch me, I – lose myself.  I can’t think.  And I wantto remember this.”  

Something in Qui-Gon shivers.

Obi-Wan searches Qui-Gon’s gaze andevidently finds what he’s looking for, because the uncertaintyvanishes like snow on Tatooine, vaporized in the flashfire heatbursting behind Obi-Wan’s own eyes.

“I want to remember everything,”Obi-Wan growls, his fingers closing around Qui-Gon’s wrists.  Hepulls Qui-Gon’s hands away and plants a licking kiss in the middle ofeach palm before releasing them.

“All of it, all of you,” andObi-Wan is sliding now, sliding slo-w-ly down, hands sliding do-w-nand pulling at the ties of Qui-Gon’s leggings, “every – ” akiss to Qui-Gon’s ribs, “ – single – ” tongue dipping intohis navel, “ – solitary – ” warm palms groping his nakedthighs, “ – inch – ” fingers pulling at his underwear, “ –of – ” hot breath on his naked cock,“ – you.”

Oh, Qui-Gon thinks dazedly, withthe last two functioning brain cells he’s got before they, and he, surrender to overwhelming odds.  Oh.  All right.

*

*

*

[skyywalkerfen]

Pssst, skyy, would you like to do 18, 19, and 20, all in one?

He felt the spike of distress in the Force a momentbefore he heard Obi-Wan’s voice.  “Qui?”

Qui-Gon looked up from the comm-set tosee his partner actually standing – or, more accurately, leaning,but upright nonetheless – in the open bedroom doorway.  “Youshouldn’t be moving about on your own just yet,” Qui-Gon scolded,deliberately mild, rising and grabbing the portable comm-padd beforewalking over to him.

The face Obi-Wan made gave lie to everysingle one of his years of maturity.  Which was actually quitereassuring.  “How are you feeling?” Qui-Gon asked.

“’m fine.”  Obi-Wan scowled, thebruising around his eyes adding flair to the expression.  “Don’tfuss.”

Qui-Gon treated that directive with allthe respect it deserved, touching a finger to Obi-Wan’s chin andlooking deeply into his eyes.  

Definitely improved.  Obi-Wan’s color,excepting the bruising, was something approaching Human-normal, andhis eyes at least appeared better, showing a greater portion ofgray-blue iris now rather than the enormous black holes they hadbeen.  Several days immersion in bacta had taken care of much of hisphysical injury, and the rest would heal at the slower, natural rate.  

The damage wreaked by the psychotropicdrugs Obi-Wan had been force-fed, though, that had left his emotionalcontrols in ruins and his Force-sense deadened: thatwas another matter entirely.

“You do look better,” Qui-Gonallowed, “although you’ll not be asking Mace for a spar anytimesoon, yet, I think.  Did you sleep?”

“I’m fine.”  Obi-Wantwitched his chin out of Qui-Gon’s light hold.

Certainly you are.  However – “That wasn’t my question, dear one,” he said, still gently.

Obi-Wan’s gaze seemed to be aimedsomewhere beyond Qui-Gon’s shoulder, and his mouth was –stubborn, was perhaps the word.

Qui-Gon wasn’t having that, evenallowing for the utter shambles the drugs had made of his formerpadawan’s emotional stability.  “Obi-Wan?”

A near-soundless huff.  “I did sleep. Some.”  A half-shrug.  “A bit.”

“A bit.  Then why are you not stillin bed, sleeping more?”

Another huff.  Then the equallystubborn jaw set, and although Obi-Wan didn’t actually move, thecrossing of his arms was no less emphatic for being strictlymetaphorical.  “Because you aren’t in it.”

Oh, love.  

Since he’d come out of the bacta tankand home to their quarters, Obi-Wan kept spitting out these bites ofstark, raw truth; and every one of them felt – justified or not –like it had been gnawed off of Qui-Gon’s own heart.  “That,”Qui-Gon said, his voice very carefully unconcerned, “is somethingwe can easily fix.”

They ended up tangled together on thebig bed, Qui-Gon propped up against pillows and the wall and Obi-Wancurled sideways against his chest, very nearly in his lap.  Obi-Wansettled himself with a sigh, rubbing his face briefly againstQui-Gon’s chest before he stilled.  Qui-Gon felt the press ofObi-Wan’s still-too-prominent cheekbone and jaw, along with thetingle that told him that his own skin was reddening – again –from the scrape of several days’ worth of beard stubble.  

The acrid sense of distress had begunto ease, physical contact working its usual magic.  Healer Master Te’kla had warned him about the probability while Obi-Wan hadfloated, half alive, in bacta.  “He’s going to need to touch you,Qui-Gon.  Often.”

Qui-Gon had stared at her.  “Youcannot think that would be a problem,” he said, before the lastword truly registered on his weary brain.  “How often?”

The answer had turned out to be“whenever awake,” or something close to it.  

The touches this time began afterQui-Gon had been working away on the padd for some minutes.  Reportsand other Council nonsense could only be put off for so long unlessone had actually rejoined the Force, and Qui-Gon wasn’t laying anyheavy bets about that being a valid reason either.  Soft pressagainst his skin, cooler waft of air following after, there, andthere, and there…  “What are you doing?”

“’s not a real question, right?”Obi-Wan mumbled, not looking up from the serious business of kissingQui-Gon’s chest.  

“You were going to get some moresleep if I came back to bed.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Obi-Wan – ”

“Nope.”  Obi-Wan had reached theedge of Qui-Gon’s left nipple, and the “pop” sound of the wordblew moist, warm air over the peak, which stood up instantly. “Unspoken implication doesn’t equal verbal contract.”

Qui-Gon chuckled despite himself, evenas his breath caught as Obi-Wan’s clever tongue rasped overhardened, ultra-sensitive flesh.  “So you’re trying to distractme instead.”

“I never try, Master Yoda’d yell atme.”

“Love – ”

“I’m living strictly in theMoment.”

Whimsically said, but Obi-Wan’s voicecracked a little at the end and Qui-Gon’s heart constricted, hard.

He let the comm-padd fall to the bedand put both arms around Obi-Wan, curling one hand around the back ofthe copper-blond head.  “You will heal, Obi-Wan,” hemurmured.  “You will, and you will see again, Master Sudenis sure of that.”

“Thinking of the future, Master? You?”  Obi-Wan’s voice went from teasing to terrified in aheartbeat.  “I’m blind, Qui-Gon!  This,” hisfingers dug into around Qui-Gon’s arm, “is the only way Ican see you, the only – ”

“Shhh.”  Qui-Gon hugged him, andburied his mouth again in his partner’s tangled hair.  “I haveyou.  Trust in the Force.”

A sob.  “I can barely feel theForce, any more than I can see you now – ”

“But you are beginning to feel itagain, and you certainly can feelme,” Qui-Gon said, tightening his arms.  

The sob morphed into something like awet laugh.  “Oh yes.  That would be why I’m clinging to you likea youngling, this, ah, gods.”  Obi-Wan shook his head, and huddledcloser.  “Gods.  I’m sorry, I can’t – ”

“Shhh,” Qui-Gon murmured again. “It’s the drugs, dear one, affecting your controls, you knowthat.  But they’re fading and your eyes are healing.  YourForce-sense is returning.  All will be well.  Besides, how often doesone get a Healer actually ordering you to stay in bed and cuddle?”

Obi-Wan snorted, and the sound thatfollowed was a little more surely a laugh this time.  “So you’resaying that I really should just live in this Moment?”

Qui-Gon smiled and planted another kisson the top of Obi-Wan’s head.  “Very good, Padawan.”

Obi-Wan pinched him.

[[The requests were:

18. kisses where one person is sittingin the other’s lap

19. kisses meant to distract the otherperson from whatever they were intently doing

20. top of head kisses]]

[skyywalkerfen]

Since you made the angst comment: Kisses #7, laughing, QuiObi, maybe they get interrupted and one of them has to go deal with Anakin's shenanigans?

Obi-Wan stepped into the room, closedthe door behind him, leaned on the wall next to it, and closed hiseyes.  “Do you think anyone would notice if I just – locked thedoor and refused to come back out?”

“Eventually, after people startedtripping over the laundry deliveries piled up in the hall,” Qui-Gonsaid, looking up from the pad he’d been reading.  “Come and have aseat.”

Obi-Wan dropped himself down onto thecouch in an untidy heap of tunics and coppery hair, head back andeyes closed again, looking ever so much more like the padawan he’drecently been than the slightly-too-dignified knight he was now.  

Qui-Gon eyed him.  “There isfreshly-made tea in the kitchen.”

“That’s nice.”  Obi-Wan didn’ttwitch.

Clearly, this was serious.  

Qui-Gon relegated his pad to the lowtable at the side of the couch, and ventured an arm around Obi-Wan’sshoulders.  His old padawan could be prickly at the oddest moments,but this time he only collapsed against Qui-Gon’s side with a sigh. Qui-Gon planted a slow kiss on the side of Obi-Wan’s head, which wonhim a faint wriggle and another sigh.  

Qui-Gon waited.

“Master, did you ever … ?”

“Atmy age, probably.  Did I – ?”

“I mean, did I ever … ?”

Aah, ah-ha.  “What has young Ani donenow?”

Obi-Wan slumped, the very picture ofexhaustion.  “What has he not?  How can one child have thatmuch energy?”

If you so much as snicker,Master Jinn, you may never get laid again.  “Younglingsfrequently run on apparently inexhaustible fuel cells, dear one.  OurAnakin is no different.”

Obi-Wan twitched, just slightly.  “He’syour padawan, Qui-Gon.”

“With whom you have most graciouslyagreed to help this old master, and I dislike to think – in fact, Ipositively shudder to think what state I’d be in without you.”

Obi-Wan breathed in and then out, longand long, exhaling like he’d shunt every last molecule of air fromhis lungs.  His hand, which had rested on Qui-Gon’s leg as of aright, began to rub.  “ … It’s not for free, you know; my help. I expect to be well-compensated for my assistance.”

There was his Obi-Wan.  “Doyou, now?”

“Hmm.”

“And you’re sure I can stand thecost?”

At last, Obi-Wan looked up at him.  Theeyes that met Qui-Gon’s were bright and mischievous, despite theshadows beneath them.  “You’re the only one who can,” Obi-Wanmurmured, tilting his face up, and really, it was no hardship at allfor Qui-Gon to lean in and meet that price.

The kiss was slow and sweet, and thendeep and sweeter, and then they were stretched out the length of thecouch, Obi-Wan underneath and freeing one hand to shove at the hankof Qui-Gon’s hair that dangled across his cheekbone.  “Of all thedays for you not to braid this … ”

“Such grumbling,” Qui-Gon said andbent down to kiss him again.  Only to have Obi-Wan sputter and pushthat annoying hand between them again, scrabbling away another swathof hair.

This would simply not do.

A push of Force and muscle later andthey landed on the floor with a thump, Qui-Gon on the bottom, lookingup into his old padawan’s startled eyes.  

“Master!”

“Better?” Qui-Gon asked, as drylyas he could, and blew a puff of air at the strands of too-long,red-gold hair now tickling at his own nose.

Obi-Wan stared at him.  

And then he laughed, bright and sudden,mirth blooming, sparkling in the Force like some effervescent drink,and Qui-Gon grinned in return before he pulled the younger man’shead down and kissed him again, wandering hair be damned.

Qui-Gon had kissed, and been kissed by,others in the course of his long life, but somehow with Obi-Wan itwas always new once more.  The smell and the taste of him, theweight of Obi-Wan’s body pressing Qui-Gon into the rug andanchoring him, arousing him, here and now, the Moment swirling aroundthem, Obi-Wan’s tongue in his mouth, touching, teasing, the shiftand light thrust of his, their, hips –

–  the strident bleeeet of Qui-Gon’scomm unit from its perch on the side table.

Obi-Wan rolled off with a jerk,thumping to the floor as Qui-Gon hissed, counted to ten, pulled theoffensive piece of technology to his hand with the Force and thumbedit on without looking at it.  “Jinn.”

“Master Qui-Gon sir!  We finished uppractice and – !”  Anakin wasn’t actually shouting, but it wasa close-run thing.  

Two minutes later, after the childhadn’t let Qui-Gon get more than a word or two in or even stoppedfor air, Qui-Gon set the unit on receive-only, laid one arm acrosshis eyes and suggested something obscene and quite physicallyimpossible in Mando’a, and Obi-Wan put his head down on Qui-Gon’sshoulder and laughed until he cried.

*

*

[skyywalkerfen]

so hum i don't want to seem greedy but i saw the kiss meme and i was eyeing #5 and trying to decide between asking for quiobi or skysolo, and actually i've hardly read anything with both pairings (lots of skysolo and obikin usually, not so much quiobi) and what would be your take if you were trying to include both pairings? skysolo with force ghosts!quiobi? everyone lives au? complete au? I'm curious :-)

May this satisfy your curiousity :-)

~ ~ ~

(read it on AO3)

~ ~ ~

Meditation sometimestook Luke to increasingly interesting places now, as if becomingfamiliar with the main map was allowing him to find the other ways,the side-roads.  The “other” places in the other places, and Lukesmiled, bittersweetly.  Because wasn’t that just a description that’dhave Han rolling his eyes hard and Chewie eyeing both of them withhis own special brand of amused tolerance?

Oh, Han.

The “other”places were feelings as much as they were places, somehow translatedinto visuals that made sense to the mind’s eye.  Luke had no realclue yet how much was his own perception and how much was created inthe Force by…  Something else?  

Not that itmattered.

Luke ran his handlightly over the grass he was sitting on and looked at the gardenaround him.  Because this was a garden, surely.  Grass and bushes andtrees, and flickers of sound that were surely birds of some sort. Flickers of Force-glow limning the edges because this was theluminous, after all.  And just out of sight, the unmistakable soundsof free-running water.  

Which of course,always reminded him of Han.  

Water and Han hadbeen inextricably linked in Luke’s mind ever since his firstrainstorm, there on Yavin 4, where Luke had got himself gleefullysoaked to the bone and Han hadn’t said an unkind word – he’d justleaned against one of the Falcon’s struts and shook his head,and smiled.

Luke had been alittle bit in love with Han even then.

Luke smiled tohimself again now, around the muted ache in his heart, and looked upat what might be sky above him.  What to do about Han was thequestion of this meditation, a question that Luke desperately neededto answer before it caused Han any more hurt, and asking it had ledhim –

Here, to thisbeautiful, peaceful “garden.”

He was no expert –half a life spent with underground desert hydroponicsnot-withstanding – but the place felt guided in a wild sort of way. Or was it wild beneath the guidance?  

“A bit of both,actually.”

Or perhaps this“place” wasn’t some-thing else, but some-oneelse.  

Luke looked to hisright to find the speaker, and stared in wonder.

Even sittingcross-legged on the grass, the man was tall for a Human, dressed inthe kind of beige tunics that had been common to the old Jedi Order. Silver glimmered in his long hair and threaded through his shortbeard and mustache, and his broad face was lined with unshakableintegrity, deep compassion, hints of disobedience, and a wisdomlearned the hard way.  The feel of his Force-Presence made Luke wantto curl up next to him: a tall tree by a deep, still pool, firmlyrooted and utterly serene.

“A garden tendedover centuries,” the man continued, in a voice like warm velvet. “Not even the oldest had witnessed its first seeds planted.  Aspace of water and life, full of the Living Force.”  

A whirr of wings anda bird landed on one of the man’s broad, upraised hands.  The redplumage was so intense a color that the little creature seemed tosparkle: a living jewel, edged faintly in light.  It warbled andtrilled a greeting, and the Jedi – because he obviously was –inclined his head as if he’d understood every note.

“This is yourgarden, then?” Luke asked.  The bird cocked its head at him,examining him with one bright eye.

The Jedi smiledwithout smiling.  “It belonged to all but I spent many hours hereover my life-time, as I was able to.  It was my favorite of thegardens, as it was for many of us.”

“Thank you forshowing me this, for having me here,” Luke said, because he waspolite, and because this was wonderful and not a little bit amazing,and its peace was easing his heart.  “I’m honored.”

The man lookeddirectly at him, and a spark like mischief glinted in the bluest eyesLuke had ever seen.  “How much of this is you, young Luke?  Yourown imagination?” he asked, one eyebrow rising.  “The Force isinfinite, after all, and you have had the best of teachers.”

Luke had to smile. “My imagination is not thisgood,” he said, shaking his head, and the other man actuallychuckled, the sound rumbling warmly around them.  The bird took offwith an indignant chirp.

“Will you nevergrow out of teasing students, Master?” a new voice asked, and Lukeblinked, because that was –

“What fun wouldthat be, Padawan?” Luke’s companion returned.  “And I amteaching, not teasing: you are the last being I should need to tellthat to.”

“Hmm-mm,” camethe skeptical sound, and the newcomer folded gracefully onto thegrass beside them.

A young Human man ofperhaps Luke’s own age, with coppery hair cut short and standing upin a spiky fluff around his head, save for a fine braid that fellfrom behind his right ear to half-way down his chest.  Compact andfit, he wore tunics of the same style as the older Jedi’s, butcream-colored and much less rumpled.  His face was smooth, the onlyline that of a deep cleft in his chin, but Luke knew him immediately. There was no mistaking that Presence in the Force – like asheltering, never-failing warmth and the flash of sunlight off asteel sword-blade.

“Hello, Ben,”Luke said, smiling again.  “I like the – ”  He motioned at thebraid.

Ben’s – Obi-WanKenobi’s – eyebrows rose.  He glanced down at himself and thenturned a look on the other Jedi that felt like equal parts fondnessand exasperation.  “Qui-Gon, really.”

The man – Qui-Gon– was unruffled.  “This is young Luke’s reality, Obi-Wan; itmerely shapes in the ways most familiar.”

Ben huffed at that,and shook his head.  The Light overtook his form for a moment, andwhen it receded Luke was looking at an older man, perhaps forty or soStandard if he had to guess.  The cleft chin had vanished beneath thebeard Luke remembered although it was copper now, and Ben’s hair wasa medium length, well-cut around his face.  His outer clothing wasstill cream-colored but his undertunic was now a rich brown, tuckedup close around his neck.

Altogether, anappearance Luke recognized from holos and files and even a flatpic ortwo, that he’d seen after he’d joined the Alliance.  “GeneralKenobi.”

Ben’s mouthtwitched.  “Among my least-favorite of the titles I was – giftedwith, although it was certainly more polite than some.”

His voice was wryand less rough than Luke remembered, the urbane, elegant tones nolonger graveled  by decades of Tatooine dust, and Luke wasfascinated.  By everything.  So amazing to be sitting here, in somesimulacrum of the old Jedi Order itself and talking to his teacher inthe Force as though it was nothing more than an easy afternoon’sholiday.  

If only there wassome way to show this, share this, even a fraction of something likethis, with Han…

Luke shook himself. “So what was your favorite title, then?” he asked, curious.

Ben’s gaze wentdistant and the small smile that curved his mouth beneath the neatmustache was somehow warm, fond, happy, and self-mocking, all atonce.  He bent a not-quite-glance at the other Jedi.  “Padawan.”

Qui-Gon didn’t sayanything, but the space around them – which was the Force itself –flooded with such warmth, such an all-encompassing love, that itnearly took Luke’s breath away.  Who was this man?  And who had hebeen to Ben?  

The answer slappedhim a half-second later.

Of course.  Qui-GonJinn.  

Jedi Master Qui-GonJinn – the man whom Leia said had actually been Obi-Wan Kenobi’steacher rather than Yoda, according to her father Bail Organa, andwho had been killed long before the fall of the Old Republic.

“You’re Qui-GonJinn,” Luke said, delight and awe escaping and welling up andtingling, spilling over.  “I am deeply honored to meet you, MasterJinn.”

Ben did look atQui-Gon this time, full-on.  “Not only teasing but playingmysterious?”

Qui-Gon smiled, andit was like the sun coming out.  “I had every faith in hisperceptions, Obi-Wan.  As I said, he has had the very best ofteachers.  And he is Anakin’s son.”

Anakin.

Delight turnedsharp-edged, and Luke swallowed.  “You knew my father?  In life?”

Qui-Gon studied himwith blue eyes that saw everything.  “It was I who first broughthim to the Temple.”

“Master Jinn, Ihave – many questions.”

Qui-Gon’s expressionsobered, and softened into something terribly, painfully kind.  “Lessthan you think, and more answers than you know.  And – very littleof Anakin Skywalker’s story is mine to tell.”

Obi-Wan shifted. Qui-Gon didn’t look at him, but awareness swirled between them justthe same, nearly tangible.

“Nor are those thequestions and answers you came here, and now, to seek,” Qui-Gonadded.

Luke’s chin came up. “They aren’t, but all knowledge is useful, whether it hurts ornot, and things found by accident under the sand are frequently themost valuable in the end.”

Ben actually laughedout loud, and the skin around Qui-Gon’s eyes crinkled.  “Well-said,young Knight.  Well-said indeed.”

Knight.  Jedi.

“You area Jedi Knight, Luke.”  Qui-Gon reached out and laid his big hand onLuke’s arm, and the contact tingled like a physical blessing.  “Don’tever doubt that.  You are the last of the old and perhaps the firstof the new.  Pass on what you have learned, that the ways of theForce are not lost to this time.”

Luke’s breath feltshaky.  Hells, he felt shaky, peace beginning to desert him. “I don’t know enough, Master Jinn.  I had so little time – howcan I presume to teach?”

“You knoweverything you need to.   The rest – the Code was a set of seekingquestions that became guidelines and finally law over time, but thattime is over.  Read them and ponder them if you wish, but what youneed to know, you already have within you.”  Qui-Gon brushed twofingers against Luke’s chest, and something of the Master’s deep-wellcalm wound around Luke’s heart.  “Here.  Trust your feelings.

“As to thequestion you’ve not asked – about your friend Han – well.  Atrue, selfless love is rarely a bad thing, as long as it never blindsone to the higher good.  And here I will leave you to Obi-Wan’stender mercies, for I sense you have still other questions which hemay now be able to answer.”

Qui-Gon rockedeasily up onto his knees, and Obi-Wan looked at him.  Qui-Gon touchedthree fingers gently to the underside of the bearded jaw and with nomore ado, kissed Obi-Wan on the mouth.  

Softly, sweetly; notlingering but utterly without haste.  It was beyond any doubt alover’s kiss, and Luke had seen enough in the last few years to knowthe distinction, even had the feeling around them not been perfectly,perfectly clear.

In the next breaththe older Jedi Master was gone, and Obi-Wan was watching Luke withthose kind, ageless, gray-blue eyes.  “Well?” he asked after afew moments, with a slight smile and tilt of his head.  “Do youhave your answer?”

Luke grinned backalmost helplessly, feeling the Force sparking, glinting, shining witha joy he’d thought he’d given up.  Oh, yes.  Oh, yes he did have hisanswer, at last.

“Yes, I do.  Tothat question anyway.  But I’ve got others, you know,” he said, andalmost laughed at Obi-Wan’s expression of mock annoyance.  “Startingwith: where, when is this, here?” he asked, smoothing his handacross the grass.

“The Temple onCoruscant in our time, Qui-Gon’s and mine,” Ben said.  “This wascalled the ‘Room of a Thousand Fountains'…”

*

Luke came back tothe living world to the smells of soil and green things around him,in the little glade he’d retreated to.  And to the sounds of Chewiemuttering to himself – snatches of favorite Wookie epic poetry, itsounded like – and further away, Han’s tuneless humming as hepampered his “lady,” taking advantage of their planetfall here totweak at things on the Falcon’s belly.  Luke’s best friend wasrarely happier than when he was tinkering, but lately even thatactivity had had threads of unease and worry running through,pinching the weave out of true.  

But Han hadn’t saida word, not really: had only stuck by Luke and stayed there throughthe months of Luke’s own uncertainty and doubt, accepting theat-gentle-arms-length-only relationship that Luke knew was causinghis friend frustration and a deep heart’s-ache.

A hell of areversal, Luke thought and not for the first time, his mouth twistingin gentle irony, when it was “the last Jedi” who couldn’t commitand not the “smuggler-scoundrel,” the persona Han had thrown updefiantly to the galaxy for most of his life.

Luke smiled,watching his friend’s figure as the man stretched – just – enoughto reach a recalcitrant part, molding trousers and the eternal whiteshirt to that long, lean body.

Well.  If Han wasstill willing, uncertainty would end very soon.  

Right now, in fact.

“Well, you lookbetter,” was Han’s greeting when Luke reached him there in theFalcon’s shadow.  “Good session of navel-gazing, huh?”

Luke nodded.  Hisheart was so full that the peace of it must be spilling from hiseyes, and Han’s own hazel ones narrowed.  “You look like you foundsomethin’, kid.  Answers to what you needed, maybe?”

Oh, yes. “Yes,” Luke said, smiling because he couldn’t help it.  “Han,we need to talk.”

Han’s head wentback.  “You know that ain’t been a good phrase ever in thehistory of the galaxy, right?”

“Then we’re goingto start a new fashion, you and I.”  Luke tilted his head at theFalcon’s ramp.  “C'mon.”

“Oh, we needprivacy for this, do we.”  Han’s mouth tightened, worry in hisemotions.

Luke put a hand onhis arm.  “I think you’re going to want it.  I know I am,” hesaid softly, sliding that hand up Han’s arm to his shoulder andcupping his nape.

Worry morphed intosurprise.  “Luke?”

Sometimes the bestanswer was not a word.  Luke pulled, gentle and inexorable, until Hanleaned down close enough and Luke touched their mouths together in asimple kiss.

A frozen moment, Hannot even breathing, until Luke released him and Han suddenly inhaled,the sound sharp between them.  “Luke?” he whispered, hazeleyes wide with shock, hope trembling there like a baby bird justpeeking out of its nest.

Luke nodded againtoward the ship’s interior, blinking against the sudden sting in hisown eyes.  “C'mon.”

*

“So,” Han saidlazily, quite a while later, “not that I’m complaining – at all –but what brought this on, finally?”

Luke idly tracedgentle circles in the small of Han’s back.  Even to his prostheticfingers, Han’s skin was so soft…   “I got my answer.”

“Answer.  To thatwhole 'Jedi not having lovers and families’ thing.”

“Hmm.”

“So… you decidedin that meditation, huh?”  A gentle kiss was pressed to Luke’schin, and the tip of his nose, and one to each of his closed eyes. “Like I said, so very much not complaining – but.  Whatmade that session different?”

Luke opened his eyesand gazed up into Han’s questioning ones, his heart so full of thisamazing man and this now-peaceful love that it might burst.  “Ididn’t decide, exactly,” he said, delighting in the myriad flecksof color he could see in the gray-hazel, this close in.  “I – gotmy answer.”

Han’s mouth curledin his familiar, gently mocking half-twist.  “What, from the 'glowyghosts of Jedi Masters past,’ or somethin’?”

“Or something,”Luke agreed, grinning, before he sobered.  

He ran his otherfingers, the flesh ones, across the hard lines of Han’s collarbonesand into the fragile hollow they guarded.  Felt Han’s pulse, Han’slife, against his fingertips.  “I’m sorry that it took so long, andmore that it caused you pain.  This is – I had to be sure,Han.”

“That's okay,”Han said, and kissed him lightly on the mouth.  And it was okay, Lukefelt it – the heart's-ache had vanished like mist on Tatooine. “You're sure now.”