Rating: R
Disclaimer: Lucas owns all, except my imagination. Don't sue; I'm not making any money off this.
Feedback: Please.
Distribution: Ask, and ye shall receive.
Author's note: This is slash. If that bothers you, don't read this.
It was a dream, Obi-Wan told himself fervently. It had to be a dream. There was no way that his--
ohthatfeltnice
--Master would, voluntarily and unasked, come to his bed in the middle of the night and start--
--start--
"Ohhhh," Obi-Wan moaned, unable to stop himself. This isn't reality, he told himself sternly; but parts of his anatomy weren't listening.
Mid-lick, Qui-Gon raised his head. "Problem, Padawan?" he asked mildly.
"You're, ah." Obi-Wan faltered, stopping himself from saying something too obvious. Qui-Gon waited, though, as patient as he ever was, and Obi-Wan searched for more words. "Is this a dream, Master?"
Qui-Gon breathed out gently, sending a ruffle of air across Obi-Wan's chest. "It is reality. All is reality, even dreams, until you awaken."
"Helpful." Obi-Wan's head fell back against the pillow with a thump. It had to be a dream; there was no way this would be happening. No way. Sure, he'd wanted it enough, and he would give anything to have this happen in real life, but his Master would never--
--would never--
--and Qui-Gon's head was down again; his tongue was teasing one of Obi-Wan's nipples, his beard rough against Obi-Wan's skin, and one of his hands was--
--thiscan'tbehappening, but nice, so nice--
Obi-Wan lifted his hips, arching to allow Qui-Gon better access. The hand stroked gently down, along Obi-Wan's spine, down, caressing the skin and sending hot tingling waves of pleasure rushing to his groin.
"Oh, don't stop, don't stop, please, don't stop." He knew he was babbling, but didn't care, not when Qui-Gon was *there* and doing *that* and, oh, why was he leaving?
But he wasn't leaving; just pulling back, sitting up, letting his hands run soothingly down Obi-Wan's trembling legs.
"So," Qui-Gon said. "Is this a dream, then, do you think?"
"Must be." Obi-Wan regained control of his body. "There's no way that you would know, otherwise..."
"Unless I felt the same way?"
Obi-Wan blinked a few times, and then whimpered, discarding thought for need. "Kiss me, kiss me," he begged, reaching for Qui-Gon. And the man reached back, twining his broad hand in Obi-Wan's smaller one, bending to meet mouth with mouth.
Sweet hot pressure, soothing and stimulating at the same time. Obi-Wan was dimly aware that Qui-Gon was cradling the back of his head, but all he cared about was the warmth that ran from his mouth to his groin. Every nerve seemed alive.
Force, but he liked this dream.
"More," he moaned when the kiss ended; but Qui-Gon shook his head, smiling a little, and brushed his fingers lightly against Obi-Wan's cheek.
"Padawan, my own, now is not the time for more."
"Oh," Obi-Wan said, trying to control his disappointment. "But it's a *dream*..."
Qui-Gon's smile spread to his eyes. "Wait a while, my Padawan. When you are a Knight, if you still dream in this way, come to me. We will finish what we have started."
If it was a dream, he could lose nothing; so Obi-Wan stretched up his his hand to rest against Qui-Gon's cheek. "I love you, Master."
"And I you-- Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon turned his head and pressed a kiss against Obi-Wan's palm.
And then the dream shifted, as dreams did, though none of the night was as exciting.
***
"Did you sleep well, Padawan?" Qui-Gon asked, as he did every morning.
"Yes." Obi-Wan took a big swallow of the waiting glass of cold emarr juice, and looked up at his Master through his lashes. "I had a rather...illuminating dream, though."
"Is that so?"
"Mmm-hmm."
Qui-Gon smiled gently. "Well, then. When you are a Knight, if you still dream that way, come to me and I will help you figure out the meaning."
Obi-Wan, startled, blinked up at Qui-Gon, who simply smiled in his enigmatic-Master way and said nothing.
[end]
