Qui-Gon was ashamed to admit he hadn’t realised quite what was happening at first.
He hadn’t noted the significance of his Padawan’s confused awkwardness on the way home from Tatooine. Obi-Wan’s abrupt turn to bristly irritability after that disastrous council meeting should have been a clue, but wasn’t.
Even the young zabrak’s Force presence – powerful and shielded only by his own rage – didn’t hint at the maelstrom to come.
In Qui-Gon’s defence, it had been almost a decade since he read those pamphlets.
Thus it was only when they were being lured into the Palace’s generator complex – when Obi-Wan snarled deep in his chest at their opponent’s careful retreat; when Obi-Wan launched himself ahead and tackled the zabrak to the ground; when the sith reacted to this assault by dropping his lightsabre as they crashed to the floor – it was only then that awareness dawned on Qui-Gon with all the blazing intensity of Tatooine’s twin suns.
His thoughts at that moment could more or less be summed up as: !!!
In the moment Qui-Gon lost to shock the zabrak managed to roll atop Obi-Wan, pointed teeth bared and hips stuttering for a brief second.
Obi-Wan didn’t seem worried by this vulnerable position. He had one hand fisted in the zabrak’s robes and the other gripped tight on his hip as he coaxed his unforeseen meal back into motion.
The sith’s Force presence owed less to rage now than to startled lust and even as Qui-Gon watched uncertainly that startlement was fading in favour of a very specific sort of bliss.
Obi-Wan moaned in satisfaction as the zabrak thrust their hips together again. “Yes,” he sighed, and “good” and “fuck, that’s right” and Qui-Gon shook off the second-hand arousal briskly. An awkward glance over his shoulder followed and then he stepped through the door as well and palmed it closed.
This was probably a big enough mess without a squadron of battle droids dropping by unannounced.
The zabrak froze at the sound of the door closing with a furious glare at Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan simply tipped his head back and wrapped a leg around his unplanned snack. His hips never stopped moving.
“Trust me he’s all yours.” The Force was wrapped so tightly around the pair that every hair on Qui-Gon’s body tried to stand on end.
As did his cock, but some things were only to be expected from a cubarii feeding frenzy and at least Obi-Wan had enough control - or enough trust in his Master - to leave Qui-Gon unsnared.
“We will be talking about this later,” he added, more to make himself feel better than out of any expectation Obi-Wan was lucid enough to understand.
Obi-Wan huffed and turned his attention to nipping at the zabrak’s tattoos. Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow at how the zabrak’s Force presence reacted to that because as long as he was analysing he wasn’t reacting.
Moving carefully he settled into the corner by the door and settled into a light meditation. He was a grown man and a Jedi. He’d had more ill-timed erections in his life than the young men in front of him had had hot dinners.
Which meant that no matter how the Force pulsated with life and desire he was not going to stroke himself to Obi-Wan’s shameless moans as his first and then second orgasm ripped strips of power from the zabrak.
He was not going to remember Obi-Wan’s eyes fluttering as he opened around the zabrak’s cock or how he begged for more, and harder, and please with every inch.
He was a Jedi and so, mouth dry and fingers digging into his thighs, he didn’t imagine himself falling under his Padawan’s sway instead.