TITLE: Bringing It Home
AUTHOR: Alexandra Duvall (alexandra_duvall@yahoo.com)
RATING: NC-17, PWP
PAIRING: Q/f
SUMMARY: Qui-Gon comes back from a long journey, and
receives exactly the homecoming gift he needs.
ARCHIVE:  Yes to all the lists I'm posting to. If I
missed one, let me know. Anyone else, ask and you'll
receive.
This will also shortly be on my website
(http://www.geocities.com/alexandra_duvall)
DISCLAIMER: Aw, c'mon! Can't I have them? Please?
*sigh* Oh well.
NOTES:  I've had a hideous week at work, so I decided
to spend my Friday indulging in a wee bit o' smut.  No
redeeming value whatsoever, but I hope you enjoy. :-)
FEEDBACK:  Oh, yes, please! Knowing what you liked or
didn't like would make me very, very, ecstatically,
almost embarrassingly happy.

***
Bringing It Home
by Alexandra Duvall
***

His pack hit the floor with two distinct thuds.  He
knew he was in worse shape than he thought when it
took a moment for him to realize that the second thud
was actually Obi-Wan's pack hitting the floor behind
him.  "Hell," he muttered and rubbed the bridge of his
nose. 

They had been away from the Temple for almost eight
months, running from one planet to the next putting
out fires, and the strain had begun to wear on him.
By the time they neared Coruscant again, he had begun
to feel brittle and fragmented, his connection to the
living Force badly needing renewal and nurture.

Obi-Wan had been uncharacteristically tolerant of his
moodiness, and even now merely gave Qui-Gon a weary
smile, stretching his arms up over his head in the
first purely free motion he had allowed himself in
weeks.  "Good to be home, isn't it?"

"Yes."  He looked around their modest but comfortable
quarters.  His favorite chair stood invitingly by the
window, the book he had been reading still on the arm.
The kitchen would be empty, but there would be tea,
and later he could find food, or simply a warm bath
and bed.  It was everything he had longed for over
these last months, but now none of it appealed to him.
It still felt unreal, as though he had not yet really
come home.  "I'm going to the gardens to meditate.
Don't expect me anytime soon."

Obi-Wan nodded.  "Enjoy yourself." 

Mingled affection and guilt rushed through him.  He
pulled his padawan into an abrupt hug and kissed his
forehead before releasing him.  "I will."

***
He inhaled deeply.  The scent of gorgon flowers
tickled the back of his throat and the cooling air of
twilight rasped through his lungs.  Although the dusk
was only simulated, timed to match the rotation of the
giant city-planet, he could still feel the beat of the
natural living Force all around him.  It pulsed
through him, from the lush foliage of the gardens and
even the warm stone of the wide bench upon which he
sat cross-legged.  The blessed feeling reminded him of
why, despite all the beautiful and exotic worlds he
had visited in his long career as a Jedi, he loved his
home in the Temple most of all.

Home.  It would always be home, even when he did not
see it for months at a time.  He gave thanks that they
had finally been able to come home after this last
mission.  The stress had begun to wear on him, between
the running, the fighting and the arguing with
bull-headed hotshots who thought they were statesmen.
Compounding that strain was his responsibility for
keeping his apprentice--so dear to him, but so, so
young--alive, hale and on the proper course of
learning. 

He felt as though he hadn't breathed since they left.

But he was home now.  He had done his duty, and
Obi-Wan was safely doing whatever padawans did these
days during their rare unencumbered time.  For his own
part, he lifted his face to catch the warmth from the
solar filters, closing his eyes and listening to the
rustle and unrhythmic steps of his fellow Jedi passing
along the path beyond the curve of trees.  Just out of
sight of the path, he had the privacy he craved while
still maintaining his connection to the rejuvenating
life of the Temple around him.

One set of footsteps detached from the others,
bringing a presence toward him that he had not felt in
a long time, but to which he still responded with as
much joy as ever. "You look very peaceful."

He smiled at the familiar voice.  Yes, he truly was
home.  "Do I feel peaceful?"

An answering wave of Force swept over him, its touch a
reminder of long-time affection.  "You feel as though
you've forgotten what it feels like to sit so still.
Has your new padawan been running you ragged again?"

"Obi-Wan is eighteen.  Hardly new."

"I know about boys that age.  Should I speak with
him?"

"Oh, yes, you're an excellent role model."  He
chuckled and savored her responsive laugh.

"I was a model apprentice."  She paused, and even with
his eyes closed, he could see her head tilting up and
to the side.  "Other than the temper tantrums when I
was eleven, but I thought we agreed never to mention
that again."

"I didn't mention it."  He finally opened his eyes to
find her standing exactly as he had expected.  Her
hands were folded in front of her, and her head tilted
at its usual odd angle.  Heavy silk meditation robes
fell around her; she had obviously come here to
meditate as he had.  He took a closer, though
surreptitious look.  Yes, she still meditated nude
beneath the silk.  His body remembered and a thrill
shot through him.

"No, you didn't," she agreed.  Her smile was amiable,
but her eyes glinted with heat and mischief.  Older
now than he had been when he first braided her hair
and heard her call him Master, her sensuality had
deepened into a pool he could immerse himself in for
hours.  And he had, one cherished time, since he cut
that braid and called her Knight.  "But I'm sure
Obi-Wan doesn't do such things.  He seems like a fine
apprentice."

"He is."  He closed his eyes again briefly and sighed
as her fingers ghosted along his jawline, barely
lifting the fine hairs of his beard.  The gesture
dated back to her apprenticeship, when he had first
begun growing out his beard, and she had not known
whether to approve.  "But I admit, it's good to leave
him to his own devices once in a while.  Keeping him
stimulated can be exhausting." 

She laughed and sat down by him. The inside of her
thigh pressed against the outside of his through silk
and linen, and her hand never left his face.  She
stroked her thumb along the outer curve of his ear;
his body debated whether to be relaxed or aroused by
the gesture.  "And is anyone keeping you stimulated?"

Was it a simple question, or an offer?  They had only
had the one time together, years ago, and although he
had never forgotten it, he hesitated to read more than
affection into her gestures now.  But he found himself
wanting what she might be offering, and wanting it
badly.

He opened his eyes to meet the inquisitive blue gaze,
and his own smile turned rueful.  "Overstimulated, I'm
afraid, and not in the way I'd like."

"You need to relax," she said, and her touch became
more soothing.  Her fingers traced his features in a
pattern that seemed to draw the tension from deep
within him, releasing it more efficiently than his own
meditations could.  The setting sun turned her red
hair into a blaze, and she leaned closer until he
could taste the spicy warmth of her breath. Hope
tingled in his stomach.  He stayed very still.  "And
you need the right kind of overstimulation."

The kiss was brief, soft, and drew a sigh of desire
and contentment from him, a wordless acceptance and
thanks.  She had always known what he needed.  As her
mouth made a damp trail to his ear and down his neck,
he knew she had not lost her knack for fulfilling
those needs.  Right now he needed to make love, to
feel himself joined with another person close to him.
He reached out and felt the warm curves of her body
through her robe, his thumbs brushing the stiffening
tips of her breasts.

She drew out of his grasp before he could pull her
closer.  Sliding down onto the soft ground, she knelt
beside him and pulled his knees until he was facing
her.  His booted feet fell off the bench and hit the
ground on either side of her, and she moved up between
his legs to capture his mouth again briefly.

As his belt and sash came loose, he gave a deep sigh
of anticipation, but a pang of guilt struck him as
soon as he exhaled.  Should he have left Obi-Wan so
abruptly, when they had been away so long?  Yes,
Obi-Wan was more than old enough to see himself
settled and occupied, but they had not had any time
together for talking or training since....

"Stop it."  Her teeth on his chest were not gentle,
but they succeeded in bringing his attention back
where she seemed to feel it belonged.  "Obi-Wan's
grown up enough to not want you around right now.  And
when he grows up a little more, he'll have his chance
with you.  Right now, it's my turn."

He let out a laugh, which turned to a gasp at the damp
kisses wetting each newly-revealed spot on his
abdomen.  "I submit to your wisdom, padawan mine."
And indeed Obi-Wan was grown up, enough that he was
probably tangled in bed with one of his own friends by
now, enjoying themselves and each other and grateful
that Obi-Wan's old master was gone for the evening.

"That's a first."  And then she stopped talking,
because she had pulled open his pants and was looking
into with the same innocent wonder she had shown the
first and only time they had been together.  He
remembered that look with stark clarity; his nerves
had not jangled so much since the first time he had
taken off his clothes in front of Joren Kaiba when he
was fifteen. 

But now he was a master, making love with his own
padawan and dearly hoping he would measure up to her
expectations. She had not seemed disappointed, then or
now, but when she stared like that he still had the
urge to ask her if she had ever seen one before.  The
thought tempted him, if only to break the tension, but
he hardly wanted to seem peevish.

Besides, the tension was beginning to feel good, and
even better as slim but sturdy hands lifted out his
slowly hardening flesh.

The warmth of her exhaled breath ghosted across the
sensitive head, and a minute shiver traveled through
him.  He looked down at her head bent over his lap,
brushed the short copper strands by her ear.  She
leaned back enough so he could see his own shaft,
lifting and filling just from having her so close.
Her thumbs found the special sweet places on either
side of the base, and he found himself as touched that
she had remembered as by the gentle pleasure that she
began coaxing from him. 

As she rubbed in soft, tight circles, he watched
himself lengthen and thicken until he was fully erect.
The hard penis jutted out quivering between his
thighs at each stroke from her thumbs like a separate
creature.  The red and swollen head glistened less
than an inch from her lips.  He ached at the
proximity, and tried to stop his back from arching at
each soft puff of breath that teased his needy
arousal.  All the repressed tension left in him
gripped his body in a vise, his erection its focus and
only possible point of release.

Her mouth found the tip of his penis at last, and he
swallowed a yelp.  Undignified--and although he heard
fewer people passing by, he was not sure he was in the
mood to attract an audience.  Not yet, anyway.

He swallowed another sound, and then his worries
became moot as she swallowed him.  Soft tongue and
lips wet his shaft, then stroked and massaged it until
it pulsed in time with his ragged breaths.  His hips
jerked up every time she sucked up the length of him
to his tip, trying to push deeper and faster towards
ecstasy.  One of her hands moved to steady him while
the other pulled and teased his tightening sac. 

He wanted badly to fall back onto his hands, let his
eyes shut and just thrust, but he struggled to keep
watching as his shaft vanished into its sweet, wet
haven, then slid out again, glistening.  Nothing could
be more erotic than this, to watch himself being
pleasured by his beautiful student.  Then she
swallowed around his length and he lost the fight for
control, flinging his head back with a gasping cry.  A
distant part of his brain heard nearby footsteps
falter, but the rest of him had stopped caring about
anything but his penis and what she was doing to it. 

His entire body tightened to the breaking point.  Her
mouth and hands moved faster, urging him to surrender
to the orgasm she was offering him, but he fought
against climaxing despite the unbearable yearning in
his balls to release their load.  He loved her mouth
and he wanted to come, but he did not want to come
there yet.  He wanted to come somewhere even hotter,
tighter and silkier than her mouth.  From the ache she
projected and the way her hips squirmed minutely as
she sucked him, she craved it, too.

Even so, he did not know if he had the willpower until
he was already pushing her away from his lap.  His
erection bobbed free of her lips with the same aura of
indignant surprise as the wide blue gaze staring up at
him.  Her expression turned to anticipation as he kept
moving her back until he could slide off the bench to
his knees, close enough to feel the heat radiating
from her.  As he sat back on his heels, he returned
her stare, openly admiring her body and letting the
full impact of his desire come through in his gaze. 

Her swollen lips parted as her breath quickened; he
found himself imagining what it would be like to make
her lips that way just from his kisses.  He held up
his hands between them in wordless invitation and
command.  With a sigh, she leaned into him, pressing
her breasts into his palms.  He rubbed and played with
them through the heavy silk of her meditation robe,
loving her, loving what he could do to her as much as
she did it to him. 

Soon his hands smoothed up over her shoulders, then
down her arms and back.  He stroked the length of her
body through the cloth again and again, until she was
surging up toward him with breathy moans at every
caress.  He cupped her backside, squeezing and lifting
her until she rose enough for him to pull her robe up
around her hips.  His fingers found the hot, satiny
flesh of her thighs and stomach, so much warmer and
smoother than the expensive silk of her garment.  He
touched the wet folds of her lower lips and felt her
tremble.

She made a soft, constant keening noise, bending
backward so he could kiss her newly-exposed breasts.
He could only suckle at them for moments in between
his own hoarse groans.  Then he pulled her back up and
to him, kissing her urgently. His body screamed for
completion; all he needed to do was lift her up or lay
her down and he could be inside her.  She started to
straddle his thighs, lift herself onto his straining
phallus, but she paused just as his hardness brushed
her abdomen.

They looked at each other for a long moment.  Slowly,
she took his hands from her body and placed them on
her face. A jolt of new excitement shot through his
stomach and up his spine. Oh yes, this was what he
craved, and she was welcoming him.  His fingers slid
through her hair to cup her head.  He rested his
forehead against hers.  As they both closed their
eyes, he reached through the Force, finding the
special place in her mind that belonged to him and
forming the temporary lovebond to join their minds and
enhance their physical union.

*My Master... always my Master, love you, oh,
Qui-Gon....*

*Yes, love, my precious, precious padawan....*

A low groan escaped them both, and Qui-Gon pulled her
back into his arms.  She shuddered with violent
pleasure, then his lips tenderly caressed her face and
mouth as he adjusted to her presence in his mind.  He
kept kissing her through it, seeking out and reveling
in the sensations of being held and caressed and
kissed as she leaned into his strong frame, hands on
his shoulders, mouth constantly seeking his.  So hot
in her arousal, in body and mind, she filled his
senses and his psyche until he could do nothing but
obey when she lay back onto the soft grass and drew
him on top of her.

Her hips arched to meet him as he settled into their
cradle.  His hands moved under her back and neck to
support her head for his kisses; hers roamed beneath
his loosened tunics and trousers to urge him between
her thighs.  Her need pulsed through his groin, and he
kissed her one last time before he lowered his head to
her damp shoulder, sighing with relief as he finally
pressed into her.

She sobbed with ecstatic, panting breaths as he worked
himself into her.  His erection found its home in her
soft, wet channel.  They lay still for a moment,
panting together, the tiny movements of their hips
rubbing together their only motion.  She was full; he
was buried balls-deep in her.  He shared and drew from
the pool of sensation until it was too good, too
addictive to keep from thrusting to make it feel even
better.

They started slowly with short, easy strokes, savoring
the reality of making love together at last.  Flesh
slid over and into flesh, enflaming every spot she
touched with her lips, her breasts, her fingers, her
feet.  Tears trickled down the side of his nose as he
thrust harder.  She choked off a cry, and he slammed
into her again.

More, he needed more, needed to finish, and so did
she.  His insides were melting, building the pressure
in his loins until it was time to come. She clutched
his shoulders just as he jerked them both upright
again, then ground his erection inside her, working
them both into irreversible frenzy.  His fingers dug
into her hips; he thrust upward, pounding into her
until he could not wait anymore.  He wrapped her in
his arms and keened into her shoulder as his climax
narrowed his universe to the hot jets he was spurting
into her deep, welcoming body.  She shook in his
embrace, her bliss melding with his until they were
joined as completely as they had ever known.

He kept thrusting, enjoying her gentle post-climactic
shudders.  She took his face between her hands and
kissed him again and again, then finally slumped down
onto his shoulder.  Careful to stay inside her, he
lowered her back down to the grass.  Only then did he
let himself to slip from her warmth.  The intense
mental connection had eased, but he could still feel
the heat of her in the Force as he bent to taste the
salty dampness of her throat.

She murmured to him in nonsense words as she returned
his touches.  The scents of their sex permeated the
scent of the flowers.  Except for the soft noises they
made, the garden was still and quiet.  The Force
shimmered and vibrated with the unmistakable signature
of two Jedi making love--no surprise that their
brethren had allowed them their privacy.

"So wonderful...," she said when her murmurs became
coherent words again.  "So good."

He lifted his mouth from her neck and sought the
sweeter taste of her lips and tongue.  "Yes," he said
between kisses, voice still husky from breathing so
hard.  "We can't let it be so long before the next
time."

"It needn't be any time at all."  He raised himself up
to look at her, then startled as her hand closed
around his still-hard phallus.  She grinned up at him
and stretched her body like a sybaritic princess.
"The garden is ours for a little while longer.  And
when we tire of it, my quarters are empty."

"Are they?"  He let her pull him against her side.

"Yes.  The privilege of being a knight without a
padawan. You probably don't remember what that's
like."

He laughed and stretched a little himself.  His
hardness grew and twitched in anticipation as he
rolled onto her again.  "Then I'll take you there.
And then," he said in a lower voice as he lifted her
back into his embrace, "I'll take you there."

Her answering laugh wavered as he slid his body over
hers, and her sigh finished the job of readying him
for a second joining.  She drew him to her as they
sank back into the bliss of the strengthening
lovebond.  Then she lifted her hips, latched onto his
mouth, and welcomed him home again.

END