Title: The Struggles of Sneaks
Fandom: Star Wars
Disclaimer: I come in peace! Sadly, I don't own these Jedi, or the concept either. George Lucas does.
Summary: A smut-filled PWP in which Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan sneak away from festivities to briefly indulge themselves
Notes: Written for the Sneezefic Winter Celebration Challenge using bunnies #15, #16, and #19: write a story using the words/phrases: frozen, feverish, dreamy, fire, "Nice and toasty", temperature, covers, holiday, feast, "Take care of you" and make it 2004 words long
Feedback: Sure :-)
The Struggles of Sneaks
"Master! Someone will hear us!" Nonetheless, Qui-Gon's hands slide past the waistband of Obi-Wan's leggings and squeeze his cheeks gently. Obi-Wan cries out in alarm and surprise. His master's hands are so cold it is hard to believe they are not altogether frozen. Though it is really no surprise as the two Jedi are on a planet which does not have much in the way of central heating systems, and moreover they are up in the rafters of a building on said planet. A mid-winter holiday celebration, going on below, the music and general sounds of merriment waft up to them. Down below, there is a feast like no other, tables weighted down in fruits and pies. Down below, there is dancing in the center of the room, women twirling and men stomping. Down below there is the warmth of the fire and the friendliness of local families who have known each other for generations. And up above there are two Jedi in the throws of passion, unable to keep their hands off each other for a moment more even given their location.
"Make that much noise again," hisses Qui-Gon into his padawan's ear, "and they shall indeed hear us." He slides one hand up and down Obi-Wan's thick thigh a few times to warm it, for the temperature near Obi-Wan's nether regions is high in comparison to the cold air at the top of the large, adapted barn. Not to mention the other benefits of rubbing Obi-Wan in such an area. Then he slips his hand over the gentle curve of the young man's hip to grasp Obi-Wan's already hard cock. "But keep silent, and you'll be very glad you did." He gives it a firm stroke.
Obi-Wan's body reacts with a great shudder, and he gasps in longing. "But Master," he whispers back, "I do not believe I can be silent. Not with this cold sniiiffff in my nose."
"If not silent, then quiet," is Qui-Gon advice. "Do not let your sneezes or your cries get away from you, for I do not believe this sort of merriment was quite what the governor had in mind when he said we should make ourselves at home at the celebration." Qui-Gon leans forward against Obi-Wan's back. Obi-Wan bends forward, holding onto one of cross supports to help keep his balance.
It is pointless to tell his master he will try his best to be silent. Such use of that word might result in a lecture, and he is not in the mood for lectures. Sick with a cold or not, he had taken one look at Qui-Gon that night and wanted him right then and there. It was all they could think to do to sneak off to a secluded spot. "Yes, Master," he promises. He cannot be sure of silence, but it is true that they cannot risk being heard and seen. There is a certain rush in doing this sort of thing whenever the mood takes them, but such pleasure will be short-lived if they are discovered.
"Reach out to the force," Qui-Gon advises. "It will take care of you." That was always what Qui-Gon said in such circumstances, as though the living force would protect them from voyeurs on the rare occasions when they made love in public. Obi-Wan thinks perhaps there are better uses for the force, but he would never admit so. If Qui-Gon thinks they will be all right, that is all he needs. Though, at present, all Obi-Wan really cares about is Qui-Gon taking care of him.
Slowly, his leggings are pulled off completely, and his tunics loosened. Qui-Gon's nearly frozen hands race up and down. He covers Obi-Wan's body with teasing touches. A pinch at the nipples here. A tickle at his balls there. A soft caressing over his navel. A gentle squeezing of his rump. A hot kiss on the back of the neck. A warm hug from behind from a half-naked body. The body shivers.
"I'm cold," Qui-Gon whispers, once his touches reduce Obi-Wan to a half cognizant, half dreamy state. "I wish we'd picked a spot closer to the fire." He looks down at the large blaze on the other side of the great hall. It stands at least five feet tall and eight or nine feet wide, allowing for animals of all sorts to be roasted in it. It also provides all the warmth for the entire building, apart from that small bit which comes directly from the merrymakers themselves. "You're not so cold though, are you?" He catches a glimpse of Obi-Wan's face. "Ohhh, but you're feeling sneezey, aren't you?"
Obi-Wan finds he cannot answer. Dreamily, he gazes forward, still holding fast to the wooden beam out of instinct. His cold, which has plagued him all evening, is indeed threatening to ruin it all already. Deep in the back of his nose is an intense urge to sneeze. It is the sort of urge he normally might invite with a smile, helping it out with a bit of nose wiggling and sniffling until it takes him over with ferocious force. But this time, even with the tingles Qui-Gon has inflicted upon his body, he does not welcome it. Instead, he screws up his face and takes a deep breath, holding it in.
Qui-Gon can of course tell he is trying, without wanting to use the word himself, either. The first time he had ever actually used the word try around Obi-Wan he had been given a long lecture by the boy about following what he taught and not setting unreasonable expectations. Qui-Gon does not want that right now. He just wants Obi-Wan. "I shall make it quick," he decides, shivering more. But as he presses himself close against Obi-Wan, the warmth overpowers him. Not just from the fact that his padawan is warm, but from that rush through his body when he feels his lover's skin. His hands slide around Obi-Wan's body, holding him close with one hand, stroking him skillfully with the other.
As he slides himself into Obi-Wan, they both start pumping and rocking back and forth. Their breathing becomes one, the same soft pants, the same rises and falls. Their desires become one as well. Obi-Wan bent, giving himself over, holding on as Qui-Gon takes him fully. The rhythm quickens with the need to fulfill their urges, for as good as it is, they want more as soon as they can get it. Slowly, they slip into a sort of feverish daze. The fires of their passion warm them both from the inside outwards. Even a sniffly Obi-Wan, still holding his breath, can relax enough to enjoy the motion and the touches.
But his nose brings him back to his senses, halfway through the act. It is tickling madly now, and running more than he can risk sniffling it back. He wipes his nose roughly on his cuff and tries to ignore the strong tickling. But it is no use. With the silence already broken by Qui-Gon's breathy grunts, Obi-Wan cannot help but let out a gasp. "heh!" He nearly throws himself off balance as he lets go of the cross-beam to clamp his hand over his mouth.
"Quiet," Qui-Gon whispers, steadying him. Then he plasters Obi-Wan's back and neck with gentle kisses. "Last I checked, you weren't a little initiate anymore, but a fine Jedi padawan. You should know well how to control your own body. Do not make me turn this into an exercise." As though making a point, he rubs his finger over the head of his padawan's cock and Obi-Wan shudders in delight.
"Yes, Master," he says again. But this is easier said than done for the tickle is building madly in his nose. Try as he might, but he cannot seem to make it back down completely. When it is in the back of his nose, it seems to fill his whole head with the deep urge to sneeze, eyes closing, mouth opening in expectation and congestion. When it resides in the front of his nose it tickles his nostrils, making him feel the need to sneeze immediately. But the worst is when it travels back and forth without his control, escaping his every attempt, teasing him dreadfully. His breath escapes him, coming in pants and soft gasps. Qui-Gon's touch becomes tenderer, trying to relax him back into holding the sneeze back. But the young man tenses despite the touch. With a mumbled apology in advance, he gives into his own urges and lets the sneezes strike as they will. "hah-IHtchoo! IHHtchooo! Sniiffff!" For a moment, full of sniffles and snuffles, he believes he is through. But the tickle returns immediately, snapping him forward for a third. "heh-IHtchhhh!"
The sneezes break Qui-Gon's rhythm, and he pulls back with a shiver. "Obi-Wan, are you all right?"
Dazed and apologetic, Obi-Wan nods. So long as no one below is screaming, it seems they have not been found out. "I'm so sorry, Master," he breathes. "This cold of mine... I could not help but sneeze." It is not as though he has not tried.
"Not your fault, my sniffly little Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon comforts him, kissing his cheek gently in reassurance. He did try, after all. "Sometimes you cannot help it, but you were quiet about it. That is what matters." He brushes his hand against Obi-Wan's cheek to follow the kiss placed just moments before. "We can stop now, if you like." He holds his breath, hoping Obi-Wan will not ask for this to end.
Qui-Gon shivers again from the cold and presses closer, his erection hard against Obi-Wan's rear. "No, just come back to me," Obi-Wan whispers, and wiggles his rump enticingly. "Warm yourself up again."
Obeying his padawan at once, Qui-Gon slips back into the young man with a soft moan of pleasure. "Nice and toasty," he remarks with a grin. "As always." For their combined desires are all the fire they need to stay warm. Being a part of Obi-Wan is much warmer than being apart.
They begin to rock again, and Obi-Wan begins to sniffle. Another tickle builds quickly in his nose, and he manages to hold it back for quite a lot while, distracting himself with Qui-Gon's strong thrusts and strokes. When it finally pushes to the surface, however, he is able to stifle the single sneeze into his shoulder nearly silently, and Qui-Gon is able to stay inside him without skipping a beat. It is all too much to take. Caught up in the excitement of the celebration below, the two Jedi lose themselves in each other, coming with quiet gasps and muffled moans that go unheard by all but them.
"Hush now, my Obi," Qui-Gon says, cradling his padawan in his warm arms when it is all over and they have pulled their clothes back on. He covers the young man in kisses, some meant especially to soothe the sniffly nose. "You did very well."
"Mmm," Obi-Wan replies, burying his face in his master's tunics, still a bit dazed from expending so much energy in the act of sex and the act of holding back his sneezes. "But you were rather loud there for a moment, Master." He sniffs hard and lets his master rub a handkerchief at his nose.
"I will do better next time," Qui-Gon promises, bending and kissing Obi-Wan's forehead to seal the deal. It was not so much a matter of trying to do better as it was working towards a goal. With enough practice and fortitude, nearly anything desirable could be accomplished. And Obi-Wan was desirable enough to make such an attempt.
With a smile, Obi-Wan adds, "And perhaps next time I won't get the sneezes... heh... hehIHshoo! Sniff, sniifff! Right in the middle of it, either." Obi-Wan closes his eyes as the arms of his master tighten with a comforting squeeze. They are both silent. They are both warm. And the festivities go on down below without them for a little while longer.