He blends in well in your oversized Batman Hockey jersey and jeans. His braid falls carelessly down his back as he starts scanning the shelves. You've already decided it's a pizza and wine coolers night and wanted some movies to go with the mood. Watching him crouch in front of the shelf, he smiles. "What's Barney and Friends?"

You laugh, "You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy." He stares at you, a questioning look. You wave it off. "Never mind, bad joke." You decide on a comedy and tear jerker, knowing you'll have something nice and warm to curl up with, even if he didn't know it yet. Renting the bunch, you head home.

On the way home you drive through Mickey-D's for an order of fries and a soda, then head off. On the way home you pass a few restaurants, supermarket and the Fun Center, which he eyes and laughs. Then he sees in the black and white marquee.

F Street Bookstore: Open 24 hours

He looks at you. "Your people must be very scholarly for the bookstores to remain open all day and night."

You start choking, trying to control your laughter. "Uh. I can think of a lot of words to describe the people in F Street, but scholarly would not be one of them." He nods, still smiling if not really getting the joke. You then add, "Though it's a very good place for umm ... research."

"What type of research?" he asks innocently.

You think to yourself, There is no way in Sith this guy's.

A what? Damn, you forgot he was telepathic.

You pull over and stare at him, one eyebrow cocked. You try to speak but just end up saying, "Nah."

"No, what," he asks grinning widely.

"Ben, you've. you know. I mean a great looking guy like you has to have. before right?" You sound like an idiot, and decide right then and there to enroll in a conversational English class.

He starts to chuckle. "I've what? I've done many different things before, but what specifically are you talking about?" You start laughing then.

"You know, done the nasty? Bumped uglies? Done the mattress mambo?" You suddenly get flashbacks of that last scene in 'Grumpy Old Men'.

"Uglies?"

You sit there, biting your lip. Damn, you used to teach this stuff to teenagers and never got flustered. Why now talking to a grown man. A very sexy grown man.

You shift into clinical mode. "You've been intimate with a partner before. You know, had sexual relations?"

His eyes widen and you see a bit of pink creep into his cheeks. "My lady, I've." he stammers, "I've been with several partners, many many times, sometimes more than once." He stops his dissertation when you unsuccessfully try not to laugh at his exasperation. He's probably wondering what kind of degenerate Qui-Gon left him with.

It takes a few breaths before you are capable of coherent speech. "I'm sorry Ben, but you should have seen the look on your face." He eyes you a little longer then breaks into a sheepish grin. You wipe the tears from your cheeks. "I won't tease you anymore, I promise."

He exhales and starts to chuckle. "I'm sorry. I've never really had anyone ask." He looks at the sign again. "Is that what that place is for? Research"

You smile and turn into the parking lot. "Are you brave enough?"

He grins, unfastening his seatbelt. "I AM a Jedi."

You both get out of the car and walk in.

"Ladies first," he says, opening the door for you. You walk through the silver mylar door curtain and smile, waving at the guy behind the counter. He glances at you, then eyes Ben who's just joined you. You link your arm through his and lead him through the store.

"Excuse me," he says, waving to you both. "I'm gonna need to see some ID."

Your eyes widen a bit as you realize Ben doesn't have any. You try to cover for him. "He left it at home. I can show you mine."

Ben grins and waves his hand. "You don't need to see our ID."

"I don't need to see your ID."

"We can look around to our hearts content."

"Yeah, knock yourselves out."

Ben looks at you slightly confused. "He expects us to beat each other?"

The clerk blinks, "Only in the back, towels are in the hall by the bathroom."

You bite your lip hard this time, ushering him off to the greeting cards before he gets any more screwed up. He starts to peruse the wall and pulls down one with a birthday greeting. "This one would be nice for Master Yoda." He reads, " 'Happy Birthday Master, hope it's all you wish for.'" He opens the card and stares in shock at the blonde woman in black latex inside purring, "If not, you can punish me for it." You are too busy stifling your laughter and wiping the tears from your cheeks to save him. He closes the card and returns it to the shelf in horror, then turns to the clerk, who's watching you both. The clerk smiles and nods.

You compose yourself enough to lead him away from the cards and over to the magazine rack. He stares wide eyed at the myriads of scantily clad women leaping from the pages. You ask, "Did you want to look at any of those?" He's still wide eyed and slack jawed as he slowly shakes his head. You gently touch his chin and wipe a spot of drool off his lips. He takes the hint and closes his mouth, swallowing hard.

You guide him to the display of various body paints, oils, ointments.

"Motion lotion?" He picks the bottle up carefully, studying it. "Mango." He looks at you, his curiosity overcoming his embarrassment. "What's it for?"

You give him a wicked grin and whisper, "I can't really explain it, but I have some at home we can experiment with." The color starts to creep back into his cheeks, but he nods and replaces the bottle on the shelf.

The next display is basic stuff: powders, condoms, lubes. He picks up one particular tube and says, "Is this for what I think it's for?" You start to answer, but the clerk beats you to it.

"It's great stuff, I use that brand myself," he says smiling widely. Ben nods, gives a noncommittal smile of his own and puts the tube back.

What is this place? he asks.

If you're too squicked, we can go.

"No!" he says aloud then catches himself. He stares at you, another sheepish grin. "No, not until we gotten what you're looking for." I thought you were done teasing me.

You giggle. You did that by yourself. You then lead him to the next aisle. His eyes go wide at the assortment of anatomically correct, extremely lifelike.

"Wangers?" You clutch your stomach this time at his shocked tone. He goes to the first display and stares at the 'official replica LONG DONG SILVER complete with oscillating action.' "Gods I thought I'd seen the last of these on Benwi."

"Oh no, we carry those too," the clerk says helpfully. "Bottom shelf, second on the right."

"Thanks," he answers then glares at you. You're useless, your face is buried in his sleeve, barely able to breathe. Fat lot of good you are.

You stifle another giggle. Think of it as a lesson in diplomacy. You pull him forward hurting yourself holding in all the laughter as he stares at one model then another.

"That one looks like Qui-Gon's," he says absently.

You blink, scanning the shelf. "What was that?"

He catches himself. "No, nothing." You stare at him, same wicked grin. He pulls you to the end of the aisle. There he's back into horrified mode where the female anatomically correct devices are displayed. He stares in disbelief. "How. who. do they model for this?"

You're gonna kill yourself if you don't laugh soon. You guide him to the aisle of inflatables. Along the wall are also assorted videos: Shaving Ryan's Privates, Three Men and a Lady, Deep Blue She." The clerk smiled again and held up another title. "This one just came in if you're interested." You see it and double over in silent laughter. Ben reads the title aloud, "Star Whores: The Panting Man, Ace." He kneels next to you, lying on the floor. "I don't get it."

"Isn't that why you're here?" the clerk asks again.

Ben smiles weakly, then helps you up. "She's not well, I should take her home."

"Of course," the clerk says, "but if she can't help you later, I'd be happy to." He winks and smiles a knowing smile, you dissolve into more giggles and he quickly guides you out of the store.

Back in the car you fall over, your head in his lap, laughing hysterically. He starts to chuckle too. "That wasn't very nice."

Between gasps, you manage, "It was your idea."

"Fine," he chuckles. "The next time I have an idea, ignore it."

You're back in control again and head on home. You're making pizzas tonight then watching "Clue." Maybe later he'll remember the lotion.

You smile, opening the tomato sauce. "Only if you want to."

He chuckles then. "Ah. no, thank you." Coming around the bar, he washes his hands. "Did you take my Master there before?"

You start laughing, "You think you're the only one I've tortured? Qui-Gon went four shades of red and whammied the clerk so he wouldn't remember us." You nudge him then. "You fared much better, Ben."

He smiled, and you felt your mouth fall open. Damn.

"Are you alright?" he asks.

"Yeah, fine thanks." You hand him the block of mozzarella and shredder and set him to work, while you season the sauce. The recipe is you friend's Italian grandmother's brought over from Sicily (she says it is anyway, you don't care, it's delish, that's all that matters). He's shredding the cheese, watching you season the sauce ala Emeril Lagasse. You're throw seasonings in right and left, BAM, stirring occasionally, then tasting it, blinking to see what you've missed. "More garlic," you mumble, sprinkling a bit in, then you mix it up again and taste. You dip your finger in the sauce and go to Ben. "Taste this, it's missing something."

He tentatively touches his tongue to your fingertip, then licks your finger at length, taking it into his mouth and thoroughly sucking it.. You watch him move, watch his eyes, light with another discovery, and feel your breath catch as he smiles.

"I don't know if it's missing anything, but it's very good," he answers finally. You lower your hand slowly, goofy expression still plastered on your face. Shaking it off, you set the sauce aside and pull out the Bobolis.

He's never had pizza before and you get the pleasure of explaining it to him. Cracking open two drinks, you hand him one and explain the assembly. He's curious, and you help him sample a bit of everything, feeding him cheese, veggies, a pepperoni which becomes three. He happily dollops sauce on the shell, then just about everything on the counter ends up on it, doused thoroughly with cheese. He watches you put yours together, munching on the leftover pepperoni. It's ok, for Ben you'll do without.

Pizzas safely in the oven, he starts rummaging through the fridge while you clean off the counter. He pulls out a can of Reddy-Whip and reads the side. "Is this stuff any good?"

It must have been left over from the last JH meeting. You smile. "Oh yeah, and versatile too."

He picks up the inference and turns a little pink. "I thought you were done teasing me?"

You take a swig of your drink. "Who said I was teasing?" He swallows hard and starts to put the can back. You stop him, taking it from him and shaking it up. "Here, try some. I was thinking we could have it with dessert tonight." Raising the can to his lips, you say, "Open up."

He complies and you spray a small glop of it on his tongue. He steps back a bit, closing his mouth, then his expression changes from confusion to interest. He smiles and reaches for the can, and before you can warn him, immediately sprays a giant glob all over his chin. You try stifling you laughter but his deep chuckles let you know it's ok. You step closer to him and, with your fingers, start eating the whipped cream. He's helping, and you both end up feeding each other for a few moments.

Almost all the whipped cream is gone. Almost. You purposely leave a dollop on his chin and then step much closer. His eyes go wide as you run you tongue across the glob, closing your lips over it and spiriting it away before kissing the cleft in his chin. You let yourself linger there, running you lips over his skin, still sweet from all the cream. His breath goes a bit shallow.

"Um." he stammers, his pulse racing.

You step back a bit. "Sorry, but you missed a spot." Then with a saucy grin you turn and take your drink to the couch.

You're both well fed through the movie polishing off the pizza and wine coolers then munching on warm chocolate chip cookies and vanilla ice cream. You decide to save the Reddy-Whip for later that weekend. You're sitting comfortably snuggled up against his side, his arm across the back of the futon couch. 'Clue' ends and you surf the channels a bit, not feeling up to the tearjerker tonight. The TV ends up on the Cartoon Network, a Looney Toons marathon. Ben adores Bugs Bunny, feels really bad for Wile E., and says the Gopher twins Mac & Tosh remind him of Mace Windu and Qui-Gon, especially when Master Yoda is around. That last thought makes you giggle uncontrollably.

Still curled up next to him, you nuzzle his side a bit getting closer. He doesn't seem to mind, but leans back against the couch arm to accommodate you. You rest one hand on his stomach, absently scritching his belly. He smiles and moves his arm from the cushion back to your waist.

It's after 11 when he takes the remote and starts surfing. You grin slightly, knowing it's when all the cable channels start showing the steamy stuff. He starts clicking away, stopping first at MTV, wondering who the guy dressed like a Jedi is. You quickly hit the random button and the channel ends up on HBO.

His jaw drops as (on-screen) a scantily clad blond shimmies from person to person at an anonymous bar, stealing kisses and, in some cases, gropes and phone numbers. Noting his distraction, you slowly slide your hand under his shirt and start softly stroking his bare stomach. He starts stroking your waist, never tearing his eyes from the TV screen. His fingers are softly pulling your shirt up and soon he's stroking your skin. You purr at the touch of his hand and start moving your hand up, across the hard abs to his now very hard nipples. You run the palm of your hand over one nipple and hear his breath catch. He looks at you then, his eyes blue, a bit unsure.

"Would you like me to stop?" you ask softly, your fingers still caressing the hard nub.

"Um." he whispers, "No, please don't." He shifts on the cushion again and you lay on top of him, your legs straddling his. You're both still fully clothed, but pressed against each other so intimately, the clothing doesn't matter. You start to slide your other hand into his shirt then stop, much to his surprise. You smile and push hard against the frame of the futon.

"That's better," you coo, as the futon opens into a full sized bed. Ben is startled at this, not knowing what to say. You smile at the bewildered expression and lower your mouth to his for a nice wet kiss.

He's hesitant at first, then his hands go to your hips as he pulls you against him. You feel his hardness through his jeans and softly rub against him. He groans against your lips, pulling you against him tightly, moving against you. You chuckle softly and slide your hands under his shirt.

His breath is shallow and rapid as you explore his lips, kiss his cheeks, his nose, nibble his chin more and lightly bite his neck. He arches his neck up, baring the sensitive skin to your mouth. You can feel his heart racing under your hands, his pulse against your lips, and decide you want to taste him. All of him.

You sit up carefully and slowly pull the jersey off him. He lifts up and lets you undress him, still watching you. He's shirtless now, and on his back on the cushion, hands at your waist, fingers looped through the belt loops of your shorts. With a well manicured nail, you trace soft patterns down his chest, raising gooseflesh on his arms as you softly flick his hard male nipples. You follow your fingertips with your tongue and lap his skin lightly. His soft moans excite you and you take his hands and raise them over his head before nipping the sensitive skin of his arm with your teeth. He gives an audible sigh as your mouth closes over his nipple, swirling it with your tongue. You move over to the other one and suck lightly, drawing the nub between your teeth tweaking it bit. He gasps and claws the cushion.

"Ben, it's ok to touch me," you whisper.

He hesitantly puts a hand on the back of your neck, not pulling you into him, not pushing you away. Gods, he's acting like a.

"Gods," he hisses as your nip at his skin. He starts pulling at your shirt.

You chuckle then and pull away. "Not yet darlin," you purr, undoing the button of his jeans. "I want these off first." You tease him a bit, sliding your fingers into his waistband, pulling on it slightly before sliding them down his slim hips. You notice he's wearing white boxers as you slowly slip the denim off his legs. Yep, Qui-Gon's up to something; you find plain white boxers incredibly sexy for some reason. He's motionless, breathing heavily, watching you from beneath his long lashes. Oh yeah, you think throwing his jeans in a heap, warm tan skin over tight hard muscles, an impressive bulge under white cotton boxers. This was his doing.

Not that you're complaining.

You start at his ankles, pressing hot wet kisses along the tops of his feet, working your way slowly up to his calves, tickling one lightly while nibbling the other. He's muttering incoherently as you move upwards, licking each knee, then spread his legs slightly and nip the soft skin inside his thighs. You slide your hands inside the legs of his boxers and run your nails along the crease of his leg where his hips start. You let the soft nest of hair twirl around your fingers, but make certain you don't touch his shaft just yet. It's driving him mad and he's shifting under your fingers, begging for it. Your husky growl lets him know you'll take care of him soon, but not just yet.

You straddle his hips then and continue kissing his body, licking and sucking a trail to his chest, gently holding his arms down against the cushion. He's growling now, pleading. "Please."

You silence him with another kiss, exploring his mouth again with your tongue. You then sit up, and start to slowly undress for him. Ben watches you unbutton your shirt, then slowly pulls it open as you slide it off your shoulders. You then undo your bra, dropping it on the pile of clothes then lay back on his chest and kiss him again as you press your breasts against him. He responds enthusiastically, thrusting his hips against yours, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling at your jeans. You start biting his neck and reach down to undo the button. Soon your jeans are on the floor, and you're lying against him clad only in green silk panties. His hands are all over you, pulling you close, caressing your skin, clutching you as he thrusts up against you. He slips his strong hands into the back of your panties, cupping your soft flesh, pushing you against him. You growl again and start working your way down his body, this time pulling his shorts down with you.

You nuzzle his shaft first, your warm breath hot on him, blowing gently across the softness. Ben whimpers softly as you slowly, tentatively flicking your tongue along the length of him. He screams outright as you slide the whole of him into your mouth. You suck him softly at first, letting his whispers and moans coax you on until he's yelling, shouting.

"GODS, PLEASE YOU'RE DRIVING ME MAD!!!"

You stop and pull away long enough to hear him begging while you strip off your panties. You mount him quickly and ride him hard then, let him clutch your breasts, leaving red marks you'll make him kiss later. His wild shouts echo against the walls as he moves against you, thrusting his cock deeply into you. He's panting, moaning, clawing the bed, his hands are on your hips, moving you in rhythm with every thrust. He's sweating lightly, and you run your hands across his damp chest, tweaking his now rock hard nipples as his movements get frantic.

He arches against you as he comes, filling you to overflowing, pumping wildly. You swivel your hips a bit, drawing another gasp from him. You give him one more stroke before stretching out along his body, his shaft still in you. He wraps his arms around you, drawing you against him again as you pull the soft quilt over you very satisfied bodies. As you settle down for a nice rest, a deep sexy voice rumbles through your mind.

Little one, I'll stop by in the morning.

Just a little after sunrise. You wake up in the arms of a very sexy padawan and smile. Qui-Gon will be by today. You have to be extra nice to him.

You reach for the nearest piece of clothing and pull the rumpled jersey over your head. Ben's still sleeping, not that you blame him. You woke him twice last night to make love to him. He's got great stamina. And a very nice ass.

You run through morning routine and turn on the teapot, wondering what to make for breakfast. Qui said he'd be by in the morning, and you want to make sure he stays. You start rummaging through the cabinets when you hear the same deep voice.

Open the door, Ney.

You smile at that pet name. He is Ney (short for honey) and Mace is T (short for sweetie). Both men liked their pet names and used them for you as well. Smoothing your hair a bit, you quietly open the door and are immediately crushed in a strong embrace, with warm soft lips exploring yours. Strong hands roam your body, running the length of your back, pulling you into his chest. Finally he comes up for air.

"Did you miss me?" he asked.

"And if I say no?" you answer, leading him back to the kitchen.

He wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you back against him. "You'd be lying." His mouth is on your neck now, his hands splayed across your belly, moving slowly downward.

"Probably," you answer, leaning back against him.

He moves one hand between your legs and starts to stroke you softly, his other hand sliding under your shirt to cup your breasts. You let him play a little longer, your hands on his guiding them, then gently pull away.

"Did you miss me?" you purr, as he stalks into the kitchen after you.

"Of course I did." He's half growling, reaching for you again. You let him win, and step fully into his embrace. He's devouring you, stripping off his coat, while pull his shirt up and slip your hands under his shirttails. You rake your nails down his back, making him growl again, biting your neck. He's leaning you against the fridge, lifting your shirt and pressing wet kisses onto your breasts, nipping them lightly. He softly licks the red marks on your skin. "I will have to speak to my padawan," he breathes. "He shouldn't be marking you like this."

This shakes you back into reality. "Qui-Gon, he's."

He silences you with another kiss. "He'll sleep in."

You laugh lustily. "Always thinking ahead? That's what I like about you."

"Is that all you like?" he teases.

You tangle your hands in his hair. "Shut up and kiss me."

He crushes his mouth against yours, fumbling with his belt. You unbutton his pants and slide your hand into his shorts, cupping his length in your hand. You start to stroke him softly, feeling his groans against your lips. He cups your breasts in his hands then slides his hands down to your waist and lifts you, sheathing himself in your wet softness. You wrap your legs around him as he presses you against the refrigerator, sliding his cock slowly into you.

"Gods Ney you feel so good." he moans, nipping your neck as you ride him.

Your arms are around his neck, levering yourself closer as you pull his hair lightly to get his attention. He breaks away from your neck and is rewarded with another kiss as you tilt your hips just so, sending a shock of pleasure through him.

His thrusts quicken, deeper and deeper into you. His ragged breath is hot on your skin, his mouth covering whatever skin he can reach. His hands cup your buttocks, pulling you into him harder as he starts to thrust wildly, spasms wracking both of your bodies. His fingers dig into your warm soft flesh.

He comes in you, moaning against your lips, filling you with hot sticky cum. You bite his lip as you come, your breathing as ragged as his. He kisses you once more and then slowly lowers you on shaking legs to the floor. You lean against the fridge to steady yourself, then excuse yourself to make yourself a bit more presentable.

You return about five minutes later and pull down 3 mugs from the shelf. Setting them on the counter you watch as he starts pouring the water from the pot. You pull the tin of tea down from the cabinet and wait patiently while he finishes up. You then place a wet kiss on his mouth. "I missed you too Ney."

"I suppose you had a nice evening with Obi-Wan," he says casually. You study him then, not seeing or feeling any anger or hurt.

"You all but gift wrapped him for me Qui." You touch his hand then. "Are you angry?"

"Hardly," he answers, smiling. "Actually, I was thinking."

Ben staggers out of the living room sleepily, wearing his rumpled jeans. He stops short, mouth and eyes wide at the sight of Qui-Gon seated at the table, sipping a large cup of tea.

"Master! You're- you're- you're--"

Qui-Gon chuckles. "Padawan I don't ever remember you being this eloquent." He waves to the chair next to him. Ben moves quietly, sitting across from him instead. Qui-Gon shakes his head but says nothing.

You come in with another cup of tea and a plate of toast. Setting the tea in front of Ben, you press a soft kiss on his mouth. "Good morning. Did you sleep well?"

Ben stares at you then glances at Qui-Gon. His master seems amused, but not angry, thank the Force. Ben stammers, "Yes, I did thank you." Qui-Gon stifles another chuckle.

"Good," you say. You head back into the kitchen and bring out plates, peanut butter, jelly (Qui-Gon's favorite) and assorted fresh fruit. Taking your seat between them you say, "I would like to do some shopping today. I hope you're up to it gentlemen."

Ben sputters, "Not at that place!"

You laugh and lightly touch his hand. "No, not at F St. I was hoping we could wander through the mall, maybe catch a movie. South Park is showing."

Qui-Gon smiles widely. "Kick Ass!!"

Ben stares at his master in disbelief. "I beg your pardon?"

"You'll understand soon enough Obi-Wan."

You decide to catch the movie first then do some shopping. While waiting in line you notice the jealous stares you get from the women around you. You don't blame them. Ben's in jeans again, tight black t-shirt, and a denim jacket. Qui-Gon is similarly dressed, in jeans and a blue sweater, with his arm around your shoulders. Seeing the women glaring, you smile sweetly, take Ben's hand and give him a nice wet kiss. Qui-Gon stifles a chuckle at the outraged gasps. You giggle then wrap an arm around the guys' waists and walk into the theatre.

Once inside you raid the concession stand. They both size up the offerings carefully. You send them to the auditorium, telling them you'll pick up the munchies. Since they trust your judgement, away they go.

Your intstincts were right on. Ben is a popcorn fiend. Qui-Gon loves M&Ms. You sit between them with your soda and sample from both trays of goodies. The lights dim, and overture starts. Pretty soon you, Ben and Qui are howling with the rest of the audience, screaming at the screen, and singing along to 'Kyle's Mom's a bitch."

After the show, you link your arm through Qui-Gon's and hold Ben's hand, twining your fingers in his. They're too busy making you laugh singing "Kyle's Mom" in Huttese, Mandalorian, and a few other languages you don't understand and you realize the words 'Kyle' and 'Bitch' have no standard translation. So you're all linked together walking by people, the two of them singing, "Kyle's blah blah blah bitch, blah blah blah blah bitch," you laughing your ass off.

You are struck with inspiration and start leading them to one end of the mall. "Ney," you ask. He answers with a look. "Would you mind if we went to Fred's and Vic's."

Qui-Gon smiles widely then. "Of course not. As a matter of fact, I believe I owe you."

"I'd forgotten about that," you answer. You look to Ben. "Darlin, do you mind?"

"No," he answers, "but who are Fred and Vic?"

You grin devilishly. "You'll see."

Around the corner is the hot pink, black and white sign: Frederick's of Hollywood. Ben pales a bit as you and Qui-Gon drag him in.

~~~~~tbc~~~~~~~~

The whole series is Archivable just let Aya know where.

DISCLAIMER: This story is a work of fiction written in appreciation of Star Wars; to promote the franchise and to keep it alive. All characters and settings original to Star Wars are copyright to Lucasfilm, Ltd. The rest is copyright to the author.