Archive: Ask, and ye shall receive.
Category: Huh. PWP, I think.
Warnings, Spoilers: None.
Summary: Obi-Wan has a dream. Maybe.
Disclaimer: Lucas owns all, except my imagination. Don't sue; I'm
not making any money off this.
Feedback: Please, any sort.
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]