Title: Kink
Author: Oncidium (hellsmouth@sympatico.ca)
Archive: M_A
Category: Qui/Obi, PWP, mild Bondage and kink
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: random abuse of culinary tools…
Summary: Cooking… the next erotic art?
Disclaimer: The characters in this story do not belong to me; they belong to George Lucas. I just like to play with them and will try and return them in somewhat the condition in which they were found. No money has or will be made from this.
Feedback: Oh Yes!!!!!...please
In the two years since they had become lovers, Obi-Wan had discovered two things. One, that Qui-Gon was an accomplished and adventurous lover, more so than any other the young knight had ever been with (and that included the double-jointed Corellian Snake-Dancer). The other was that Qui-Gon liked to watch him and not only when he was doing something overtly sensual such as lingering in the shower putting on a small show of running a soft cloth teasingly over his body, but he also seemed captivated by the every say things too.
He could be performing a kata or sparring with a friend when he would suddenly feel the older man’s eyes on him, his gaze mapping every movement Obi-Wan’s lithe body performed. He could also be completely still, in meditation or reading, and when he would open his eyes or look up he would meet the intense azure stare that had been studying his relaxed features. Very often, afterward, they would make love, Qui-Gon claiming that even the simplest gesture from him was more arousing than all the erotic poetry of Alderaan.
Those times, Qui-Gon’s silent study of his lover did not bother the young man. In fact, he welcomed it and basked in the knowledge that he was still cherished above all by his former Master. There were also times that the seemingly constant scrutiny was not so welcome. Usually, when Obi-Wan was doing something he thought was decidedly un-sexy, like the laundry, his lover’s fixation suddenly felt oppressive and he would just stare back and finally grind out an impatient "What?" This was one of those times.
"Ow, Sith," Obi-Wan waved his arm and quickly went over to the sink to run his forearm, where the boiling contents in the pot on the stove had bubbled up and splattered him, under the cold water. His cheeks were flushed and his hair, which had just started to grow out nicely from the Padawan cut, was hung lank against his head. Small rivulets of perspiration ran from its tips down his neck. His tunic and leggings were stained with the juices and fluids from the ingredients he had been chopping at the thick legged butcher’s block at the centre of the room. He was beginning to question his own sanity for offering to create the Life-Day meal for their friends and some select members of the Jedi Council.
Not that he hated to cook, generally hw quite enjoyed it; but this foray had been a study into a comedy of errors that had culminated in the climate control unit in their quarters breaking down, leaving Obi-Wan in an increasingly stifling sauna.
Qui-Gon sat at the edge of the kitchen watching Obi-Wan and sipping a cold drink. He looked cool and serene as ever, the only think belying that he truly did feel the heat was a small trickle of perspiration running down his temple into his beard.
As Obi-Wan turned off the faucet and looked over at Qui-Gon, meeting the other mans silent gaze, whatever had been left of his patience left him. "What?" he said, clenching his teeth in irritation.
"Oh, nothing. I was just thinking," came the even toned reply.
"If you tell me I am beautiful like this, I might just punch you!" Obi-Wan said as he applied some salve to the wound on his arm.
"Whether you believe it or not, you are," Qui-Gon answered simply with a shrug.
"Don’t you have something better to do? File a report, gather information for your next mission or anything that involves being in another room?"
"Don’t get angry with me because you bit off more than you can chew, Obi-Wan." the tone was still even but the increase in the brogue told the young man he was starting to test his former Master’s patience.
"You could have at least tried to talk me out of this!"
"I did try, you weren’t listening. Too busy trying to make a good impression on the Council…"
"Well if you are planning on sitting there, the lest you could do is help."
"You seem to have everything under control and besides too many cooks spoil the broth."
"Listen, just because you can’t cook doesn’t mean I want you sitting in here like a great lump, Qui."
To be continued....
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