---

"That ought to do it," you say, stretching for the first time in hours. You've spent almost a full day in a repair-induced haze, concentrating entirely on jury-rigging a sublight engine back into something resembling operational status.

Qui-Gon bends, folding himself into a ball small enough to fit into the engine compartment as he examines your handiwork. He and his apprentice, a guy named Obi-Wan seem like nice enough fellows on short acquaintance. After all, they were giving you a way off of this cursed cheese hole after a month's enforced stay. Fix the engine and get a ride to Galactic Center. Not a bad deal for an impoverished hitchhiker.

Although you think now that maybe you should have held out for maybe a little money. They didn't just break their sublight drive. They killed it. Slagged it, fragged it, damn near obliterated it. It had been on the tip of your tongue to ask why, but prudence kept your mouth firmly shut.

The engine rumbles as Obi-Wan, working in the cockpit, sends it power. It sounds tired, like a pony ridden hard by someone with a pronounced lack of common sense, but the seals are holding. For the moment anyway.

You grin. "It works."

Qui-Gon, extracting himself from the engine compartment, smiles down at you proudly. You return his smile. He really is a charming fellow. Handsome too, tall and broad, with long graying hair and lovely blue eyes. And his apprentice isn't hard on the eyes either, smaller, leaner, with short ginger gold hair, shifting eyes, and the loveliest smile you've ever seen. Being a guest on board their ship shouldn't be at all unpleasant.

The two of you stay put while Obi-Wan arm-wrestles the ailing ship into orbit. The sublight engine creaks and groans in protest, but it holds together. You can almost hear it sigh in relief when the ship jumps into hyperspace and power switches over to the hyperdrive.

You blow out a breath you didn't even realize you were holding. Now that you've held up your end of the deal, you've got a ride. And to Courscant no less!

"What do you have as far as supplies go?" you ask. You haven't eaten all day.

"Just ships rations I'm afraid," he explains as the two of you leave the engine room.

Famous last words, you think about two hours later as the three of you polish off the remains of dinner. Nearly three years of living on the road (bad analogy) taught you wonderful things about making the most of ration packets. Your hosts look impressed. And stuffed.

"Can we keep her Master?" Obi-Wan asks, his jaded blue eyes sparkling. You've spent most of the meal subtly flirting with one or the other of your hosts. They seem amused by your attentions and play along.

"Well that's up to her Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon teases. He turns to you, laughter lighting up his blue eyes. "May we keep you miss?"

"That depends," you drawl with a grin.

"On what?" he takes the bait.

Your grin widens. "On whether or not you two do dishes."

"Touché my lady," Qui-Gon acknowledges.

The three of you clear away dinner and settle in for the evening, you curling up with a good book while your hosts do some studying of their own. You're curious, but you learned a long time ago that nosy hitchhikers tend to be dead ones before too long.

Qui-Gon yawns, veiling it behind one hand. "Are you ready to retire miss?" he asks you.

You tear yourself away from your book. "Yeah."

"You're welcome to the cabin. My apprentice and I can make pallets in the cargo hold."

You wave that off. "I haven't met a command chair yet that I couldn't sleep in. I'll be fine."

A gentleman to the fingernails, he tries to argue the point further. You hold up one finger. "You're being kind enough as it is. I'll be fine. Promise."

He smiles and you nearly melt into a slimy pile on the floor. "If you insist."

"I insist."

"Very well. Good night."

"Are you sure you'll be all right?" Obi-Wan pipes up.

You give the younger man an amused look. "Gentle Kenobi, I've spent the past month trying to sleep on a shelf in an overcrowded hostel over a perpetual bar brawl. I'll be fine."

He grins, flashing dimples. You fight the desire to melt into the floor and make a mental note to have a long talk with your body when next the opportunity presents itself. "Good night then."

"Good night gentlemen," you say as they exit the room together.

You smile. Nice people.

You grab your bag and head for the 'fresher to get cleaned up for the night. Grabbing a quick shower, you dress in your usual sleep clothes, loose ragged shirt and snug shorts. Ordinarily you'd be worried about interruptions, but for some reason you don't think your hosts will be going anywhere anytime soon, if the soft breathy sounds coming from their cabin are any clue. You extract a blanket from your bag of stuff and tuck yourself in as best you can in the command chair.

Where you can't sleep.

At first you think that it's because of your position. You're used to sleeping stretched out on a hard shelf surrounded by noise. It's too quiet and too comfortable.

You sigh. Oh well. As if you haven't had to deal with this sort of thing before.

A few minutes later you stretch out on the floor, the cushions from the cockpit seats giving you a little protection from the hard deck. Much better. You curl up and drift off.

Warm hands and accented voices greet you down in sleep, guiding you through longing dreams. Longing and unspecific; you've never made love and you're not entirely sure of the specifics of the act. Sure you've heard plenty, but hearing and doing are eternities apart.

To coin a phrase.

---

"How many?"

"What?"

"How many places have you been?" Obi-Wan glances up from an astronavigation text awaiting your answer.

You quickly count backwards. "Seventeen, not counting layovers. I've been hitching for almost three years."

"Why?" He indicates the terminal you're working on. You're a mathematician by education and you're working on several graduate projects whilst seeing the galaxy for less than ten credits a day.

You shrug. "Why not? I don't exactly have a boatload of commitments."

He mulls that over. You spend a moment marveling at how regulated his life must be, told constantly where to be and what to do. It's for a higher purpose, or so he believes, but to a young man infected with that feeling of adolescent invincibility, it must be stifling.

Not that your lifestyle is without drawback. "Doesn't it get lonely, being out on your own so much?"

He's asked the question and you'll tell him no lies. "Very."

"You're awfully young to be out on your own," Qui-Gon observes from the doorway.

You jump. "Make noise when you walk, will ya please? You scared me!"

"How old *are* you anyway?" Obi-Wan asks curiously.

"It's impolite to ask a lady her age," you say primly.

He raises his right hand, "I, Jedi Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi, declare before my Master and a responsible witness that I am impolite. Now how old are you?"

His flippancy makes you snort. "What in the name of the Five Rings made you think of me as a reliable witness?"

"Must be your honest face. Now answer me."

Admit defeat gracefully. "Twenty."

That seems to come as a bit of a shock to Qui-Gon. "You're kidding!" he blurts.

"No I'm not. I'll be twenty-one in a few weeks."

He seems to flail for a moment. Of all the things that could throw this utterly placid man off balance . . . "Why? How old did you think I was?"

Obi-Wan smiles. He takes your hand and kisses the knuckles gently. "Not a day over seventeen my dear lady."

"Don't be cute," you order, but you grin.

---

Later that night, you drift in your little makeshift bed. Dreaming of them. Again.

Half-awake and half-asleep, it takes you a minute to realize that the warm hand caressing your hair is real, not the product of your overactive imagination. When that information finally worms it's way through your thick head, you jerk awake.

It's Qui-Gon. You catch your breath when you notice he has no shirt on. He's kneeling by you, dressed only in sleep pants, the dim light shadowing his skin. His chest is broad, powerful, rising and falling like the tides with his breathing. You swallow. Maybe you *are* still dreaming.

"This has gone on long enough, I think," he declares, sliding one arm under you. "C'mon, up with you."

"What in the . . ." you trail off as he pulls you against him. Your breasts press into his chest with only the worn fabric of your nightshirt to protect you from his heat. You don't have time to get your bearings before his mouth comes down on yours for your first kiss.

Your startled exclamation is muffled by his lips, moving against yours, warm and dry and demanding. You open your mouth a little and jerk in his arms as his tongue, hot, wet velvet, invades your mouth, sweeping and spiraling.

"You've been dreaming about us for days," a new voice says behind you. You try to get free of Qui-Gon's arms and kiss as Obi-Wan's hands land on your shoulders, caressing you with feathery touches.

When you're firmly convinced you're about to pass out from lack of air, the kiss breaks. Qui-Gon's lips brush over your cheek. His beard rasps at your face. "Jedi can read thoughts young lady, and you've been projecting to us. Clearer and clearer as the nights go by."

"Have you any idea how hard it is to sleep with you so close?" Obi-Wan whispers, his breath caressing your ear. "When someone's dreaming of . . . this?" He turns your head roughly and plants his mouth on yours. Qui-Gon, denied your lips, starts stroking your throat with his lips and beard, kissing and nipping at the fluttering pulse-points. Your hands tangle in his long loose hair.

New sensations take hold of you as their hands move over your body, pressing and stroking through your nightclothes. Your head rocks back at a gasp when Obi-Wan cups your breasts, running his thumbs over your nipples. Qui-Gon's hands run restlessly up and down your spine, trailing down to rub your hips. You sag bonelessly between the two of them, your heart jackrabbiting in your ribs.

"No no, no fainting. You're not escaping us that easily," Qui-Gon scolds. His tone promises . . . something, you haven't the vaguest idea what. Until you glance downward and see a frightening bulge in his sleep pants.

Great Gods you're getting raped by Jedi Knights! Icy panic dashes over you as your mind coughs up terrible stories of pain and death. Tears prick your eyes and you fight Obi-Wan's embrace. Oh yes. You've heard much. "Let go of me!"

Obi-Wan quickly wraps his arms around you, rocking you gently. "We would never harm you my darling. Ever." He looks over at Qui-Gon. "Something's not right here Master. She's scared almost witless."

You sniffle, scared out of your skin and ashamed that you're not acting in a more dignified manner. Well what's dignity when you're about to be . . . your mind shies away from that train of thought.

Qui-Gon's hand cups your face, forcing your head up. His eyes search you, burning with desire, bright with concern. "You've never had a man before."

It's not a question exactly, but you manage a nod.

"Oh lady," he breathes, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and holding you against him again, soothing you with his warmth. Obi-Wan stays with you, pressing his chest into your back, his hands clasped around your waist. Their body heat and their smells envelope you, surround you. You can feel their hearts beating, steady and strong.

The fear in your heart backs away, crouching somewhere in your stomach. As thoughts of violation recede, reaction to their nearness sets in. You wiggle a little against Obi-Wan, feeling a *very* pronounced hardness spring to life in the small of your back. You trace your lips over Qui-Gon's chest, letting the hair there scratch at your face.

Qui-Gon's hands drop, sliding down your arms. Obi-Wan's fingers find the buttons on your shirt and start popping them open, baring your belly. He leaves the top four in place as his hands rub your stomach, creeping around to slip up your back.

Qui-Gon rises to his feet. You drag your gaze up to his face. "Where . . ."

"I'm not leaving little one." He glances at his Padawan. You feel Obi-Wan nod. He gathers you up into his arms and stands, carrying you easily. You nuzzle at the dimple in his right cheek. He smiles, giving you a tiny, cherishing kiss on the nose.

Before you know it, you're lying on their bed, Qui-Gon holding your feet, tracing the blue flames tattooed up the sides of your calves with a fingernail, Obi-Wan removing his shirt. He kneels next to the bed and flicks open the last buttons on your shirt, pressing hot dry lips to your chest.

Obi-Wan guides your arms out of your shirtsleeves and drops his head to your neck. His hands fall to your breasts and stroke, calluses catching on the tender aureoles of your nipples. Your mouth drops open as Qui-Gon's lips flow over your ankle.

Qui-Gon's lips stretch in a smile. "You're awfully quiet."

Your muscles all do something incredibly stupid as his hand rubs hard against your dampening crotch. You groan breathlessly as he grinds his hand against you. Obi-Wan, not to be outdone, takes your breast in his mouth, suckling the nipple, teasing it with his tongue. He grips the other nipple between the first two fingers of his hand, pinching and wiggling.

"You, my lady, are decidedly overdressed for the occasion," Qui-Gon states, low and rough, the accent adding a layer of silk to his voice. He works his fingers under the waistband of your shorts and yanks them over your hips.

Obi-Wan's head moves lower, kissing the rune-inlaid dagger tattooed on the left side of your waist. He looks up at your face, eyes smoke-gray with passion. "I like this." More kisses. "It compliments your shape."

All of a sudden, they retreat, leaving you writhing on the coverlet. You watch, wide-eyed, as the two men kiss and embrace. Ah, so that's what you were hearing that first night. You eyes open even wider as Obi-Wan unfastens Qui-Gon's sleep pants. They droop to the floor around his ankles, displaying your first sight of a naked man.

Your eyes fasten themselves on his erection, hard and eager, nested in a tangle of dark brown hair. You gulp. Whatever the man's intentions, this thing means nothing but business, and that business has nothing to do with your pleasure or your pain. Only with its own.

Your apprehension must be showing. Both Jedi flash you reassuring smiles. Obi-Wan asks, "Is this the first time you've seen this?" He takes his Master's cock in one hand, displaying it for you.

You nod. Your neck feels rubbery.

"Move over," Qui-Gon commands.

You obligingly scootch over. Qui-Gon lays out full-length, one arm thrown up over his head, letting you examine him, stretched out and ready. Obi-Wan climbs onto the bed beside him, kneeling on the mattress.

Your hand creeps over to the man lying next to you, watching you, blue eyes curtained behind dark lashes. Moving faster than thought, he grabs your wrist and pulls you close, the upflung arm coming down around your back. A tiny whimper escapes you as your skin connects with his.

"You will learn, young lady, how to please a man tonight," Qui-Gon whispers. You shudder at the ideas his words awaken. What in the name of the Seven Dragons do you know of pleasing anyone?

"You'll learn." You glance up at Obi-Wan. His smile isn't entirely without sympathy. "You did mention that you were a fast learner."

"I lied," you croak, tensing in Qui-Gon's arms.

Obi-Wan takes your hand out of Qui-Gon's grasp, kissing your knuckles. He slips your fingers into his hot mouth one by one, wetting them and tasting them. He blows on your damp hand, causing gooseflesh to waltz across your skin. Qui-Gon's hand on your back traces idle patterns, drawing fiery lines across your skin.

He takes your hand and presses it to Qui-Gon's chest, guiding you over the tense muscles. You gently pinch and tweak at his flat brownish nipples, marveling at his soft sighs of enjoyment. Getting a little bolder, you snake your tongue out and tease the other nipple. It stiffens under your tongue. You lock your lips around it, sucking on it gently.

Obi-Wan's fingertip traces your jaw, drawing your attention away from Qui-Gon. You lean your head over to receive his kiss, returning it without hesitation.

As his mouth leaves yours, his hand turns your head to face Qui-Gon's swollen cock. You gulp. It's huge, especially to your inexperienced eyes. Huge and intimidating.

"It's all right. Here," Obi-Wan takes your hand again and places it on Qui-Gon's erection. Your eyes widen again as you feel its texture, closing your fist. A light sigh escapes the Master's mouth. Obi-Wan's hand guides you lower, sliding your palm over the engorged flesh. He cups your hand gently under Qui-Gon's testicles.

The ice broken, after all, you've been properly introduced now, you run your hand all over Qui-Gon's groin, feeling his cock get stiffer and stiffer. You run your finger through the creases between thigh and sac, the tightly curled hair scratchy against your fingers. Obi-Wan takes your hand again, showing you how hard to grip and where to stroke.

A droplet of fluid oozes out of the slit in the head. In automatic reaction, Obi-Wan bends and licks it away, dodging as Qui-Gon's hips buck up. "Oh I'm sorry! Did you want that?"

Want *what*? Your jaw drops open.

"I sense hesitation," Qui-Gon rasps. "Obi-Wan?"

"Yes Master," he replies. "Here," he wipes a little more moisture off of Qui-Gon and holds it before your face. You examine it, sniff at it, like it's a vegetable dish in disguise. You watch in wonder as Obi-Wan licks it off his fingers, casting both of you a sultry look.

Gathering your courage, you stick out your tongue and touch the underside of Qui-Gon's cock. The muscles in his hips and groin jump and flutter under his skin. You take the head into your mouth, sucking at it timidly. He groans. More wetness leaks out across your tongue. You pull away, rolling the taste around in your mouth. Salty, and sort of sweet. Not bad.

"In your mouth, little one," Qui-Gon bites out. You look up at him. The lust in his piercing gaze scares you, but fright's starting to give way to desire. You want to please this man. You need to. "In your mouth and in your throat. Now."

You nod and slide your mouth down on his cock. When the tip reaches the back of your throat you pause. You're not sure if you can take him any deeper.

"Just start swallowing," Obi-Wan instructs. You try, and only get another inch or so down. You try again, and nearly choke yourself. Obi-Wan stifles a giggle. "I said swallow, not inhale. And if you can't, you can't." You sense he's grinning. "You're nearly killing him as it is."

"Gods know," Qui-Gon groans. You take him out of your mouth and run your lips and tongue over and over his erection.

"Use your hands too," Obi-Wan suggests. You wrap one fist around Qui-Gon's slick cock, stroking and pulling. His hips rock in time with your caresses, thrusting into your hand. His moans get louder and louder, until he's nearly shouting in the small cabin.

Suddenly he twitches in your hand, spraying hot seed all over your hand and face. Obi-Wan ducks in, covering Qui-Gon's cock with his mouth, sucking him dry. You pull back and watch the Jedi master climax, his face slack, every muscle in his body clenched, his eyes closed, a mighty groan tearing out of his lungs.

Qui-Gon's hips heave up one last time and collapse, panting to get his breath back. "Gods children, that was incredible." He strokes your cheek with one hand and his Padawan's with the other.

"Thank you," you say, smiling. That wasn't so bad.

Obi-Wan looks over at you, eyes shifted to green. "Your turn."

Crawling over Qui-Gon's legs, he tackles you and wrestles you gently to the bed. Your legs open and wind around his waist, his erection obvious through his sleep pants.

He grabs his braid and runs the end over your lips and jaw, tickling you. He smiles when you giggle, pressing his lips against yours in another draining kiss. You taste Qui-Gon's semen in his mouth. Not that you mind, exactly, but he himself tastes better.

"I'm flattered," Obi-Wan says against your neck, kissing and nipping his way slowly down. He takes each of your nipples into his mouth, sucking and nibbling. You moan and writhe against him, arching your back.

One hand moves to your crotch, fingers easing between the folds. Bolts of utter heat flash through your body as he finds your clit, pressing and brushing it expertly. He licks the outline of your tattoo again, blowing on it, watching your muscles twitch. He gives you a naughty look. "I never thought you'd be one to go for tattoos."

"Seemed like a good idea at the time," you breathe.

Qui-Gon's face comes into your line of sight, lips claiming yours in another fainting kiss. One arm goes under your head, keeping your head against his as he rains kisses all over your face. You fight for breath as Obi-Wan's fingers keep stroking your clit and Qui-Gon's free hand engulfs your breast.

Suddenly both men stop their ministrations, leaving you writhing in their arms. What . . . ?

And your universe ends as Obi-Wan plants his mouth, tongue extended, between your legs.

You cry out a prayer as the slithery velveteen of his tongue dips and swirls over your flesh, tasting skin and juice. You'd bounce off the bed if it weren't for Qui-Gon's mouth on your face and hand on your breast. Obi-Wan's tongue plays over your wetness, finding all the sensitive spots and paying special homage to each and every one.

Your every breath comes out in a moan. You feel like your body's become a floodgate, holding back fire and light and insanity and bliss. Your hips wiggle under Obi-Wan's mouth, trying to coax him into giving you release.

He backs off, waiting until you look down and meet his eyes. He lifts one finger, wets it with his mouth, and traces it over your folds. Your eyes fly open as he slides it inside you. It doesn't exactly hurt, but it's an intrusive feeling nonetheless. You're not sure if you like it or not.

Obi-Wan draws his finger out a little and thrusts it back in again. Your muscles clench, squeezing his finger.

"Easy sweetheart," he coos. His eyebrows draw together, the slash between his eyes deepening. You gasp as you feel . . . something . . . easing your tense muscles, letting his finger in.

Qui-Gon, deciding he needs to distract you for a moment, lowers his head onto one breast, tickling it with his mustache and beard. He sucks your nipple into his mouth and toys the tip with his tongue.

By the time your senses return, Obi-Wan's pushed a second finger inside you, rotating them, stretching your muscles apart, his mouth locked over your throbbing clit. Qui-Gon comes up and kisses you again, muffling your moans and cries.

Obi-Wan moves away from you. "No!" you cry out, reaching for him.

"I'm not going anywhere," he purrs, stripping off his sleep pants. Your eyes feel like they might melt out of their sockets when his cock, almost purple with suppressed need, springs free. He kicks the offending clothing away. Qui-Gon moves away from you a little, keeping your head nestled in the bend of his elbow.

Obi-Wan moves over you, dropping onto his hands. You spread your legs as far as they'll go. He takes your lips with his as his cock presses into you. He swallows your gasp of equal parts pain and bliss. With a sigh, he rests his hips on yours, buried in you to the hilt.

"Am I hurting you?" he asks after a moment.

You shake your head numbly, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. Obi-Wan waits for a moment, letting you stretch, and he draws his hips back and forth in slow, easy thrusts.

A tide of utter pleasure rises throughout your body, chasing away any pain. Your back arches as his thrusts speed up and get rougher. Your hands clench in the small of his back, digging bloody crescents with your fingernails. Your feet and toes curl, sending your calf muscles into spasms.

Qui-Gon runs his hand over you both, admiring the lines of your bodies. His hand comes between you and flicks lightly against your clit. You gasp in a scream as a fresh bolt of pleasure arcs through you. He leans over and takes Obi-Wan's mouth in a deep, passionate kiss, his fingers massaging the sensitive skin around your clit.

You feel something inside you start to break. "What . . . what is . . . happening to me?" you scream between breaths.

"Just ride it!" Qui-Gon orders. Obi-Wan, his hips pistoning against yours, his cock rubbing all along your insides, is beyond speech by now, gasping for breath above your face.

The floodgates open and a wave of fire, light, and absolute bliss catapults you into oblivion. You scream release, your entire body spasming under and around Obi-Wan. He finishes mere seconds later, shooting liquid fire into your waiting body.

He sprawls over you for several minutes as your breathing normalizes.

"Padawan?" Qui-Gon's voice is rich with amusement.

"Hmm?"

"You might want to move. You'll smother her."

"I don't mind," you comment. You don't. As far as you're concerned right now, you could die like this and go to the Fortunes perfectly happy.

Obi-Wan levers his body up off of you and rolls over, dropping one arm around your waist. You turn and snuggle into his chest. Qui-Gon spoons himself behind you, chest against your back, and the three of you let sleep claim you.

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