Qui-Gon Jinn was sulking.
Were he in a more reasonable mood, he would have been meditating on the unfairness of life. Instead, he'd flopped onto the sofa, fixed his glare on the ceiling and settled into a pout. This was day 11 of The Sulk, which was one of the reasons life was so unfair.
He fiddled with his Padawan braid and glowered all the harder at the ceiling. It wasn't that he didn't have a good life. He did. He knew that.
The usual mutual fond affection and respect between a Master and Padawan flourished in his relationship with Master Yoda, and they were known as one of the most effective teams in the Coruscant Temple. Further, Qui-Gon knew the very fact that Yoda had taken a leave of absence from the Council in order to claim Qui-Gon as his apprentice made the honor of having him for a Master a great privilege as well as an honor.
And Master Yoda was a great Master. Infuriating at times - a common trait in all Masters according to Padawan gossip sessions - but caring, attentive, an excellent teacher and a protector who knew when to let Qui-Gon stand on his own. All a Padawan could ask for. Except for one thing. Well, two.
Life was not fair. It had become a mantra, one he chanted every minute he didn't have other duties to occupy his attention. He'd been very careful about that. No way could his Master find fault with his performance in anything from saber drills to keeping their quarters clean and ordered.
He'd even put some water on to warm for his Master's evening tea before Qui-Gon had taken his shower, then retreated to the sofa. The perfect Padawan. Master Yoda deserved nothing less, but what did the perfect Padawan deserve?
His refuge was covered with a soft warm fabric that tickled his bare skin. It distracted him mildly preventing him from reaching the height of a perfect sulk, but that didn't bother him enough to put a tunic on over his sleep pants. Now, if he'd thought it would make any difference, he'd put on tunic, boots and a cloak, but he knew it wouldn't.
Almost as if to rub his nose in that fact, the door to their quarters opened, and Yoda entered. Qui-Gon knew this as he could sense his Master even in a large crowd. He did not actually look at him as this would have interfered with The Sulk to an unacceptable degree.
Yoda did not so much as sigh. Which was one of the two grossly unfair things about Qui-Gon's life. While he would match his sulking skills with the best of them, Master Yoda never deigned to notice. He always ignored his poor, long-suffering Padawan until, Qui-Gon either gave up and accepted or blurted out what was wrong.
Qui-Gon had vowed that this time he would make the little green ... Master ask. He'd passed his record of an 8-day Sulk without so much as a twitch of a pointy ear in acknowledgment of that accomplishment. Soon he would have the Temple record. Maybe that would at least get him bashed in the shin with the walking stick. Any reaction beyond calm acceptance would do. Qui-Gon really wasn't that picky at this point.
It was the tea cup that broke him. He heard Yoda pour himself a cup of tea, then settle in his favorite chair. The usual. Then in one clink of cup to saucer, Qui-Gon graduated from sulking to petulance. "Damnit! It's not fair!" he blurted out, his fist striking the sofa cushion.
"Troubles you something does, Padawan?"
Whatever skill Qui-Gon had in understatement, he'd learned at his Master's tiny knee. He did not appreciate the lesson tonight. He rolled off the sofa, curling up to sit beside it, and fixed the annoying ... Master with the glare that had threatened to strip the paint off the ceiling.
Yoda took another sip of his tea.
Homicidal thoughts flittered through Qui-Gon's mind. If he didn't love the miserable ... Master so much, the tea cup would have seen its last minutes in this reality. Doing his best not to grind his teeth, he growled, "Mace wants to have sex with me."
More tea. "Problem this is? Liked him I thought you did."
Liked, yes, probably well on the way to love, but, "That's not the point."
"Ah, point there is to this?"
Qui-Gon reminded himself once again that he loved the little ... Master. "I don't know how to have sex!"
That did make an ear twitch, and Qui-Gon got the sneaking suspicion that the rotten, green, fink of a ... Master was amused. However, the green eyes that regarded them had a skeptical look in them. "About sex Padawan knows not?"
Qui-Gon blushed and glared even harder. "That's not what I said." He'd had the biology classes, read the interesting extra-curricular stuff and had heard more than his share of bawdy tales on missions and from other Padawans, but he'd never done anything. It was all theory and no practice. "He'll think I'm a clumsy fool!" Which wasn't at all what he wanted for his first time with someone special like his best friend.
"Ah." More Sithspawned tea. "Love lessons you wish. Ask was all you need do. Knew this did you not?"
Qui-Gon sighed heavily. Of course he'd known. That was the other reason life wasn't fair. "There wouldn't have been any point," he grumbled.
"Refuse you did you think I would?" Yoda asked, looking affronted. "Master's duty it is to train a Padawan in all things."
Yes, Qui-Gon had known that. And he longed for Yoda's wisdom and gentle guidance, but he wasn't blind or stupid. "Master, you know I love you."
Yoda nodded. "Precious is Padawan to me also. Thus deny him I would not lessons requested."
Qui-Gon let his head flop back against the sofa in exasperation. "Master, it's physically impossible."
A snort, then, "Judge me by my size do you?"
"Never!" Qui-Gon protested, then blushed again. Okay, almost never. "Master, sometimes size does matter."
"Hmpf. More than one lesson you need, Padawan mine. Begin with demonstration we shall. Stand up."
Qui-Gon sighed, but obeyed, rising to his feet. Though the Healers had said he was not yet full grown, he'd already reached six feet in height. The rigorous training of a Jedi and a generous diet had given him a hard, muscular look despite a body entering its final growth spurt. That left him five feet taller and two widths of his Master's body broader in the shoulder than Yoda. This was not going to be pretty, but he had only himself to blame. He knew his Master was a stubborn ... whatever, and Qui-Gon had all but accused him of dereliction of duty.
At first nothing happened beyond Yoda staring intently at him, then someone nuzzled the back of Qui-Gon's neck. He gasped, his eyes-widening, all but his sense of touch saying no one was there, but his sense of touch was having much too good a time to care.
He groaned softly as the sensation moved from behind his ear, down along his throat, then 'hands' began to caress his chest. Mace had done this much to him, but they'd not been ready to do more and had made a point of not even pushing tunics aside. That caused him to yelp in surprise when a 'mouth' fastened on his right nipple, then sucked.
Oh, Force, that felt good. His head dropped back, baring the long column of his throat. The 'mouth' multiplied, nuzzling his neck and sucking on both nipples, while 'hands' roamed his torso with caresses that inflamed his groin.
His knees weakened and gave out, but his phantom lover held him upright. The ties on his sleep pants parted, and his only garment fell to the floor, leaving him naked and hungry for more. "Master, please," he whispered, a part of him terrified that the lesson Yoda intended would involve arousing him, then abandoning him.
Affection caressed his mind through their training-bond. A reassuring touch that soothed him while other touches made him begin to writhe. Yet another 'mouth' engulfed his cock, while the hands began to knead his backside. "More," he begged, wanting. ...
He didn't know how to say it. Although he was facing the source of his exquisite torment, he reached back, cupped his buttocks, then parted them in invitation. "Please." So many nights he'd dreamed of Mace's hands doing that, of Mace taking him, while he gave himself without fear or awkwardness.
The dreams. He wanted his dreams. "Hands ... knees. ... Master."
The Force eased him to the floor, maneuvering his body into the position he'd requested, even while his opening was gently stretched. He moaned and looked up to meet his Master's gaze as a bulk worthy of the man he hoped to take as his lover began to penetrate him. "Size matters not," he whispered.
Yoda gave him a satisfied smile, then sipped at his tea while the thrusting began - not too rough, ever mindful of his rapidly vanishing virginity, but deep and satisfying to a young man aching for long denied physical pleasures.
The Force swirled around and in him, until every inch of his body felt as if it were being sucked, nuzzled or kissed, all while he undulated against the fullness claiming him. Three times he almost came, but a whimper from him, and Yoda prevented his orgasm, then continued.
When his seed finally spilled, he lacked the strength for more than a soft gasp of surprise, while inside he screamed with ecstacy. His Force lover eased him the rest of the way to the floor, summoned a blanket to cover him, then gave him one final caress before fading away.
In a contented stupor, Qui-Gon lay there and gave serious consideration to purring. Instead, an eternity or six later, he managed enough energy to pry open his eyes.
Yoda was drinking tea.
"You'll teach me how to do that?"
He nodded.
"Not just with my body, but with the Force, too?"
Yoda considered this for a moment, then nodded.
Qui-Gon grinned. Life was more than fair. And Mace was in for one hell of a surprise.
Yoda poured himself another cup of tea.
| Home |