Since
batagur is getting back into Q/O, a little romantic microficlet for her. :)
“Here, Master,” Obi-Wan said. “The Antorien Tomes. If the archive has them, they’ll doubtless provide exactly the information we need.”
“Very good, Padawan.” Qui-Gon rose to his feet and discarded his robe. “I believe they do have a copy. Somewhere over here….” He moved toward a narrow slice of walkway between stacks of ancient books and ascended the first step of a moving ladder to find the books Obi-Wan sought.
He glanced back at his apprentice and saw nothing but interest and curiosity in the task at hand. Obi-Wan had learned the art of diplomacy well – or perhaps he only felt interest and curiosity in the task at hand, Qui-Gon thought with a sharp pang of need. Painfully, he imagined Obi-Wan rising, moving slowly toward him, stroking his back, his legs, kissing the base of his throat, the nape of his neck.
Leaning his head against the row of books, he smelled the pleasant aromas of dust, of sunlight, of ancient and crumbling bindings. The very air seemed dense and sultry with his longing, but the space he had so carefully and correctly constructed between them was solid, adamant, wholly impenetrable. They had become paralyzed by habit, by long-established and measured ethics. If there was anything besides a student’s admiration in Obi-Wan’s grey-blue eyes, he hid it well.
Qui-Gon bit his lip in a fever of mingled impatience, self-recrimination, and lust. Wishful thinking, you fool. Enough now. He heard Obi-Wan’s chair scrape against the floor and feigned attention to his chore. “I’ve not found them yet, Padawan. Give me a moment.”
Obi-Wan’s footsteps drew closer, and suddenly, Qui-Gon felt strong arms clasping his waist, and felt a kiss pressing against his back, warm even through a double layer of tunics. He could neither move nor speak as he felt eloquent hands sliding down, caressing him intimately; trembling, he braced himself against the ladder and stepped down to the floor.
He turned and saw Obi-Wan’s eyes, sparkling, alive with emotion. Gently, Obi-Wan pushed him back against the stacks. “Qui-Gon…will you?”
Qui-Gon took Obi-Wan’s face in his hands and kissed him. “Yes. Yes.”
*

“Here, Master,” Obi-Wan said. “The Antorien Tomes. If the archive has them, they’ll doubtless provide exactly the information we need.”
“Very good, Padawan.” Qui-Gon rose to his feet and discarded his robe. “I believe they do have a copy. Somewhere over here….” He moved toward a narrow slice of walkway between stacks of ancient books and ascended the first step of a moving ladder to find the books Obi-Wan sought.
He glanced back at his apprentice and saw nothing but interest and curiosity in the task at hand. Obi-Wan had learned the art of diplomacy well – or perhaps he only felt interest and curiosity in the task at hand, Qui-Gon thought with a sharp pang of need. Painfully, he imagined Obi-Wan rising, moving slowly toward him, stroking his back, his legs, kissing the base of his throat, the nape of his neck.
Leaning his head against the row of books, he smelled the pleasant aromas of dust, of sunlight, of ancient and crumbling bindings. The very air seemed dense and sultry with his longing, but the space he had so carefully and correctly constructed between them was solid, adamant, wholly impenetrable. They had become paralyzed by habit, by long-established and measured ethics. If there was anything besides a student’s admiration in Obi-Wan’s grey-blue eyes, he hid it well.
Qui-Gon bit his lip in a fever of mingled impatience, self-recrimination, and lust. Wishful thinking, you fool. Enough now. He heard Obi-Wan’s chair scrape against the floor and feigned attention to his chore. “I’ve not found them yet, Padawan. Give me a moment.”
Obi-Wan’s footsteps drew closer, and suddenly, Qui-Gon felt strong arms clasping his waist, and felt a kiss pressing against his back, warm even through a double layer of tunics. He could neither move nor speak as he felt eloquent hands sliding down, caressing him intimately; trembling, he braced himself against the ladder and stepped down to the floor.
He turned and saw Obi-Wan’s eyes, sparkling, alive with emotion. Gently, Obi-Wan pushed him back against the stacks. “Qui-Gon…will you?”
Qui-Gon took Obi-Wan’s face in his hands and kissed him. “Yes. Yes.”
*

no subject
Date: 2011-12-03 02:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-12-03 02:32 am (UTC)