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A Valentine Present

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Obi-Wan Kenobi drove the twisty mountain roads with careless ease, his hands sure and capable on the steering wheel of Sam's Toyota. He winced as the tires squealed while accelerating out of a curve and promptly slowed his speed. He hadn't expected to miss flying so much while stationed on Earth. The superb responsiveness of a fighter reacting to his touch, soaring through space under his command. Cars simply didn't compare, particularly not four door automatics.

Maybe he should ask around, see if anyone owned a sports car he could borrow for an occasional drive. He certainly wouldn't ask Daniel. Through their accidental bonding, he regarded the scientist virtually as a brother, closer to him than any person except Qui-Gon. In some ways, he had little in common with Daniel, he thought, cringing at the memories of the dilapidated vehicles owned by the scientist, cars bought for their cheap price and reliability more than power, immediately sold when the chance to work on a dig appeared.

Catching sight of the exit he needed, he flicked on his turn signal and turned off the highway. He checked the map again, continuing to follow the directions for several more miles before arriving at a small collection of cabins nestled in the forest.

He pulled to a stop in front of Number 14, taking a last opportunity to check his appearance in the rear view mirror, brushing his hands through his short hair. He wasn't vain about his looks, but Qui-Gon had taught him the importance of neatness in presenting a dignified appearance. Even more vital, he had seen himself through Qui-Gon's eyes, through their mental contact, and knew how much his mate enjoyed looking at him.

Stepping out of the car, he smoothed the line of his black dinner jacket before leaning back in to grab the single red rose from the passenger seat. Waking this morning, he had found himself alone, only this rose and the small map on the pillow beside him, the new suit hanging in his closet. He smiled, breathing deeply of the rose's fragrance. It was February 14, their first Valentine on this planet, and Qui-Gon had promised him a memorable event.

Obi-Wan smiled, his happiness lighting his entire face. Qui-Gon always fulfilled his promises.

The cabins combined rustic country charm with a privacy that offered a peaceful retreat from busy Earth lives. He crunched through the faint remnants of snow on the path. Qui-Gon opened the door immediately, standing in the doorway, also dressed in a black dinner suit, white shirt, and red bow-tie.



Simple words of greeting, to say each other's names. The electric look in their eyes said so much more. Love, passion, desire.

"You brought the rose?"

Obi-Wan held the flower out to Qui-Gon, who took it and slowly ran the petals along his lips.

"Master?" Obi-Wan asked, bemused at the sensuality in Qui-Gon's intent appreciation.

Qui-Gon didn't respond verbally, simply wrapped one large hand around the back of Obi-Wan's head, bringing their lips close, rubbing them together teasingly. Muscles slack, Obi-Wan let himself be manipulated. Stepping back, Qui-Gon repeated his actions, feeling first the rose petals then Obi-Wan's lips. He smiled as if an important realization had been made, then gathered Obi-Wan into a full embrace, kissing him lingeringly, their tongues ravenous for the taste of each other.

Obi-Wan arched his body, molding his frame to Qui-Gon's larger shape. His arms twined around Qui-Gon's broad shoulders. The two kissed with a passionate intensity as if they had been separated for a month rather than a day.

Lips reluctantly separated, the fire dimming to mere embers. "Master?" Obi-Wan repeated.

"I had to know, Obi-Wan."

"Know what?"

"Which was softer - the petals of a rose or your lips." A forefinger traced Obi-Wan's lips. "Your lips definitely win, my love," Qui-Gon purred.

His Padawan blinked in surprise. While Qui-Gon could be extremely romantic when their duties permitted, he hadn't even realized his Master had seen a rose, much less was aware of their connection of Valentine's Day. "You're trying to make me swoon," he accused.

"I hope I'm succeeding," was the unrepentant response. Qui-Gon leaned forward to take an unexpected nip at the sensitive lobe of Obi-Wan's ear. Whispering, "Yes, I'm trying to make you swoon. Then I'm going to make you dizzy with desire. But first," he blew into the ear, "I'm going to feed you." The last was stated in a practical tone as he tugged a dazed Obi-Wan into the cabin.

As Qui-Gon settled the rose into a bud vase, Obi-Wan assessed the cabin's interior. Daniel was woefully ignorant of modern interior design, but the furnishings were definitely higher quality than the cheap motels usually frequented by the scientist. Nicer even than the more expensive hotels where academic conventions had been held. The bland impersonality featured in most chain hotels was replaced by a comfortable homey feeling, achieved with plush pillows, natural woods, and an old-fashioned quilt on the large bed.

"I thought we would eat in front of the fire," Qui-Gon suggested, removing two salad plates from the refrigerator in the small kitchenette.

Obi-Wan sat on the floor, back resting against the couch. His Master sat the plates and silverware on the floor and returned to the kitchenette to retrieve a bottle of champagne and two flutes. The bottle was quickly opened, only the merest whisper of air escaping as the cork was removed, and the bubbly liquid poured into the glasses. Qui-Gon sat beside Obi-Wan, offering him a glass.

“Shall we?” the older Jedi asked, holding out his arm.

Bemused, Obi-Wan simply nodded and the two linked their arms at the elbows before drinking, the slight alcoholic fizziness tickling their noses.

Leaning close before Obi-Wan could swallow, Qui-Gon pressed an open-mouthed kiss on his lips, the champagne mingling as their tongues danced. Setting his glass down, Qui-Gon calmly picked up his plate and fork to begin eating.

“All right, explain,” Obi-Wan demanded.

“Explain what, Padawan?” Qui-Gon was apparently oblivious to Obi-Wan's confusion.

“The roses, the champagne…who’s been coaching you? You don’t know this much about Earth traditions.”

“Really, Obi-Wan, I promised you a Valentine treat. Didn’t you expect me to take the initiative to ensure a proper Earth celebration?”

“Yes,” he replied hesitantly, as if realizing his error in doubting his Master’s abilities. More firmly, he added, “but I also know how busy we have been, how many planets we’ve researched for the Stargate project. You must have had help. Someone coached you, bought the clothes, the rose, the champagne…”

“Use your logic, Padawan. Who do you think helped me?”

Obi-Wan almost groaned at his Master’s tone. His suspicious questioning had triggered a lesson. He should have kept his mouth shut. While seemingly mild and calm, his Master wouldn’t let this issue die until his apprentice demonstrated a logical course of reasoning. “Very well, not Teal’c. You would have done something monstrously wrong if you’d based your actions on Teal’c’s unique interpretations of Earth culture.” At Qui-Gon’s nod, Obi-Wan added, “Not Daniel. His romanticism is less traditional, though extremely sincere. Occasionally awkward.”

“I would have to accept your word for that, Padawan, but yes, not Daniel.”

“You spend a lot of time with Hammond but I don’t think you talk about our relationship with him.”

"Correct. We usually talk more of military matters. You and his late wife have arisen only infrequently as a topic of conversation."

"Late wife…? Never mind. Jack then. You've spent time with him, he probably courted his wife with such gestures." Obi-Wan's doubting tone undermined his conclusion.

"But?" Qui-Gon prompted.

"But Jack is still hesitant about expressing his feelings for Daniel, even though I believe those feelings to be very true and deep. I have a difficult time envisioning him as a co-planner in my seduction."

"Yes, for such a bluntly honest man, Jack does have odd moments of reticence. And this isn't your seduction, Obi-Wan."


"No." Qui-Gon's long fingers tugged on Obi-Wan's braid, pulling him into another greedy kiss. "I'm your present. This preparation is just part of the packaging."

Obi-Wan gave a soft moan and shivered as Qui-Gon blew into his ear. "Who then?"

Shaking his head ruefully, Qui-Gon responded, "You're limiting yourself, Obi-Wan. As your Master, I should make you contemplate all the possibilities until you arrive at the correct determination. But tonight, as your lover - "

Fingers were rapidly pressed against his lips, stopping his words. "No, Master, never tell me anything as my lover. I am your Padawan before all other considerations. Neither of us could live with ourselves if we forget that fact." The pressure of the fingers loosened, stroking the soft lips, brushing the neatly trimmed mustache. "Allow me a little time to review the possibilities, please?"

Nuzzling into Obi-Wan's hand, Qui-Gon replied, "You are a wise man, Obi-Wan. You have your time. Though as your Master, I should note that you may not have the luxury of lengthy analysis in many situations." A subdued nod met his words. "But in most diplomatic negotiations, you will be evaluating the participants from an outside perspective. Your bond with Daniel still influences your view of this world and her people."

"On this occasion then, I thank you for allowing a deviation from your normal high training standards." The elegant accent deepened into a throaty purr. "Master, I'm not very hungry tonight…for food. If you are my present, can I simply choose to rip off the wrapping?" His other hand tugged at one end of Qui-Gon's red bowtie, until the careful knot was dismantled and the silk fabric hung free over the white shirt front.

"We can advance to the final course, if you would like. Grant me one last moment of preparation. Close your eyes."

Slight kisses fell upon his eyelids as Obi-Wan obeyed. The currents of air whispered around him, signaling that Qui-Gon was using super speed to complete his plans. He heard a droning noise - ah, a microwave - and the tiny ping that announced the machine was finished. Something had been warmed but not heated. The rustle of fabric caused Obi-Wan to pout. He really did prefer to undress Qui-Gon himself.

"You may open your eyes."

His Master wasn't visible from Obi-Wan's location in front of the fireplace. He stood, looking around the cabin. There, on the bed, Qui-Gon laid, naked for Obi-Wan's delectation. His long, well-defined limbs stretched out, his fingers interwoven behind his head, hair loosened from its customary tie. The covers were bundled on the floor at the end of the bed, and the cabin's mundane white sheets and pillowcase were replaced with red satin, forming a perfect background for Qui-Gon's lean, graceful body.

With a jerk of his chin, Qui-Gon gestured to the nightstand. "Your chocolate, my love."

"If you won't permit me to rip the packaging off my present, I shall have to satisfy the urge to tear by removing my own wrapping."

"Please do," was the smoky permission. Buttons went flying as Obi-Wan tore at his own clothes, the tie, jacket and white shirt tossed aside, belt loosened, slacks and briefs shoved down his hips, shiny black shoes sent sailing, socks tugged off. Qui-Gon smiled with relish, watching the enthusiasm and speed with which Obi-Wan disrobed. "My coach said buying a suit was a wiser choice than renting a tuxedo. Though the reasoning wasn't to avoid explaining missing buttons to a sales clerk."

"Ah, a vital clue," Obi-Wan smirked. Leaning forward, he flipped head over heels, landing lightly on the bed, knees dropping to each side of Qui-Gon's hips, pinning the other man to the bed. "Your coach has firm opinions on clothes shopping. Definitely not Jack." Picking up the container on the night stand, he examined it and quizzically arched his brows on Qui-Gon. "This is a gravy bowl. A china gravy bowl."

"From my coach. It was deemed a nicer container than anything we could borrow from the project's kitchen."

Obi-Wan simply smiled, both amused and flattered at the care and attention to detail. He dipped a finger in the brown fluid, collecting a taste, and licked it off. "Excellent flavor."

"See’s ice cream topping. Just as good as Godiva and not as ridiculously overpriced."

"According to your coach." He stirred the chocolate with the small ladle, watching the surging ripples before pulling the scoop out. Licking his lips, he contemplated his canvas. He exulted in lingering over their loving, as every time with Qui-Gon was more precious than the last. So many years spent being patient, waiting for his Knighthood to approach his Master, until that blissful night when Qui-Gon used the physical merging of their bodies to bond their minds, dissolving Obi-Wan's inadvertent link to Daniel. A wholly new side of Qui-Gon had opened to his apprentice when their souls touched. Obi-Wan had always known Qui-Gon was a strong, capable, dedicated man, with a gentle spirit and a fierce compulsion to protect innocents. He'd never realized Qui-Gon would be so astonishingly generous with his body and his love, receptive and attuned to his partner's desires to a degree that staggered and humbled Obi-Wan.

Slightly warmed chocolate splattered on Qui-Gon's nose. "I love your nose, Master."

"Broken and badly healed, Obi-Wan. You have odd taste."

"Superb taste," Obi-Wan countered. A steady stream of chocolate followed his words, "Every part of your body is perfection. The hollow of your throat, those broad shoulders, that dark nipple…"

"Not both?" was the quirky question.

"This one over your heart…this one stays pure Qui-Gon." Obi-Wan drew a heart around Qui-Gon's left nipple, careful to prevent any chocolate falling within the outline. "That flat abdomen, your navel…" Scooting back to rest on Qui-Gon's thighs, both men hissed as the underside of Obi-Wan's cock drifted over Qui-Gon's erection. "Your hip bones, and oh yes, this definitely…" he murmured, covering Qui-Gon's erection with a full scoop of the ladle.

The bowl placed back on the night stand, Obi-Wan's hands rested on each side of Qui-Gon's head. He leaned down to lick at the chocolate drops on Qui-Gon's nose, warm tongue cherishing the noble feature with its slight bump.

Qui-Gon shivered as Obi-Wan methodically traced the path he’d drawn, interspersing each taste of chocolate with a savoring of the uncovered nipple. His nose was thoroughly cleaned before Obi-Wan refreshed his taste buds with suckling the flat brown disc with its pebbled center. The hollow of the throat, another cherishing of the skin over his heart. The chocolate smeared nipple was devoured with open mouth and greedy tongue before returning to its twin. The journey of discovery continued, Qui-Gon flinching and trembling as Obi-Wan loved every inch of his Master’s frame, dipping his tongue into each hollow and indentation, seeking the tantalizing flavor of Qui-Gon’s skin and chocolate syrup.

Obi-Wan sat back, his bottom resting on Qui-Gon’s knees as he studied his canvas one last time. Only the blurred outlines of the stenciled heart on Qui-Gon’s flat chest and the chocolate dripping off his erect penis remained. “I’m afraid I wasn’t quite fast enough, Master. The sheets are a mess.” The chocolate had slid off Qui-Gon’s body, leaving streaks on the red material. With one finger, he scooped a drop of chocolate off the sheet, sensually sucking his finger into his mouth.

“You needn’t worry about sleeping in a mess, Obi-Wan. There’s a spare set in the closet, blue to match my eyes.”

“Your coach again. You never think about the beauty of your eyes.”

“My eyes are plain indeed, compared to yours. Boring blue next to the delight of yours, which change to reflect your moods, the color of the sky, the lushness of the forest…”

His heart overflowing with tenderness, Obi-Wan whispered, “You are a poet, Master. To think that you see such beauty in me is the best wonder in this universe.” He shook his head slightly, smiling to dissolve the seriousness. “But now I definitely know your coach. Or shall I say coaches?”

He swooped before Qui-Gon could answer, swallowing his erect penis. His head bobbed up and down as he sucked with the full force of his mouth. He released Qui-Gon’s cock to lick it clean, appreciative noises emitting from the back of his throat as he relished the fine flavor of pre-ejaculate and chocolate.

His hands moving restlessly over Obi-Wan’s firm shoulders, Qui-Gon moaned and exclaimed, verbally sharing his excitement with his lover. Expressing their feelings toward each other strengthened their bond, and each man took care to satisfy his lover’s emotional needs. Qui-Gon’s cock was completely cleaned by deft swipes of Obi-Wan’s tongue before his Padawan’s mouth claimed him again, the moist warmth surrounding his sensitive flesh. Qui-Gon frantically stroked Obi-Wan’s tight, muscled back, desperate to communicate his joy in being a gift so eagerly cherished. He screamed hoarsely as the voracious sucking swiftly pushed him beyond control, the red haze of his orgasm claiming both his heart and body.

Obi-Wan’s smile was gleeful as he settled between Qui-Gon’s spread thighs.

“You look quite pleased with yourself, Obi-Wan.”

“And you look deliciously debauched, Qui-Gon. Not my serene and proper Master.” Obi-Wan’s words were truth, as Qui-Gon relaxed on the bed, his muscles heavy and languid after his release, a fine sheen from his own sweat and Obi-Wan's saliva coating his body. The dimmed lights of the room shadowed his form, the scarlet background contrasting with his creamy skin. A strong man, strong in both body and soul, strong enough to offer himself unhesitatingly to his lover.

“So who are my coaches, Obi-Wan?”

“It must be Sam and Janet, Master. The combination of romanticism with logical organization is a dead giveaway, to use the Earth idiom.”

“You’ve reached the correct conclusion, but you still seem a bit perplexed, Obi-Wan.” A hiss escaped as Obi-Wan’s finger, lubricated with saliva, found the tight opening to his body.

“In American culture, Master, men like to watch women together sexually, but women do not like to watch men.”

“American culture as…”

A rueful grin answered his leading statement as Obi-Wan instantly divined his Master’s direction. “American culture as defined by American men. I’m delighted to hear that Sam and Janet have the intelligence to be receptive to love in all forms, though I confess to surprise. The fact that Sam accepted the one occasion when Daniel, Jack and I were together seems quite different from actively encouraging a relationship between two men.” A second finger joined the first, stretching and probing the taut muscles.

“Let’s not forget Aostara in Accounts, Angela from SG-2, Vivian on the cooking staff…” Qui-Gon’s words ended in a gasp as Obi-Wan stroked his prostate, sending shafts of pleasure through his senses until even the tips of his fingernails tingled.

“Please, Master, don’t tell me the entire female contingent of the Stargate project assisted in my seduction.” A quirk of his lips accompanied the mocking plea.

Qui-Gon’s eyes shut as the snub end of Obi-Wan’s cock edged into his body. “Right now, Obi-Wan, I’ll say or not say anything you like…” The soft gasps between his words undermined the authority of his correction as he continued, “But tonight is your present, not your seduction. You keep confusing the issue.”

Obi-Wan’s strong hands grasped Qui-Gon’s powerful thighs, spreading them wide and using his clasp to manipulate the older Jedi’s body as he thrust deeply. Words were lost, transformed into plaintive moans as the two men easily fell into a gliding rhythm. The muscles in Obi-Wan’s thighs rippled as he lunged powerfully into Qui-Gon, sliding slowly out before thrusting again. His Master’s hips rose and fell to meet Obi-Wan, his ankles locking behind his Padawan’s back.

Questing thoughts reached out from both men as their shields fell, minds uniting, sharing sensations of being both the possessor and the possessed until their feelings were blended and indivisible. Laughter erupted from Obi-Wan as he caught the visual image of Qui-Gon, studiously taking lessons in the proper method of drinking champagne from a cluster of women in the Stargate cafeteria during off-hours. His chuckle strangled into a moan when Qui-Gon clenched his buttocks, squeezing Obi-Wan’s cock. Their climax was simultaneous and explosive, fiery streaks shooting through every nerve, cries of pleasure drowning the muted crackling of the fire. Obi-Wan collapsed on top of Qui-Gon, their legs straightening, bodies rubbing together, the chocolate heart drawn on Qui-Gon’s chest smearing onto Obi-Wan’s flesh.

Neither spoke for ageless moments, hands gently petting as their breath steadied. Obi-Wan finally placed his elbows on Qui-Gon’s chest, raising the upper half of his body to meet Qui-Gon’s eyes. “Thank you Qui-Gon. I loved my present. I love you.”

Qui-Gon’s broad hands stroked Obi-Wan’s sides. “I’m delighted you enjoyed yourself, my love. May I ask if you would like to reciprocate?”

“Reciprocate, Master?”

“I have another jar, Obi-Wan. Chocolate raspberry sauce.”

In response, Obi-Wan simply rolled over and pushed, knocking Qui-Gon out of the bed. His Master flowed with the shove, landing nimbly on his feet. Obi-Wan teasingly wiggled his hips as he positioned himself on the satin sheets, one arm arched over his head, legs spread, the other hand laying on his chocolate streaked chest. “Go warm it up, Master.”

“Yes, Padawan,” was the amused answer. “While I’m doing that, start contemplating.”

“Contemplating what, Master?”

“The next holiday, of course, Padawan. The next holiday.”

~ the end ~