Fandom: Star Wars
Prompt: Written for jedi_mistletoe's exchange. Authors have been revealed so it's safe to post it here for archiving. (original post is here)
Word Count: 1932
Summary: Mace and Obi-Wan get frisky in the Temple Gardens.
Author's Notes: My first Obi/Mace fic. Be gentle ^_^ And since this is just a re-post, it was already linked in jedi_news, no need to re-list it, canceron_jedi!
Obi-Wan Kenobi ran a hand through his hair and sighed. His Padawan could be terribly trying at times. He cared deeply for the boy, certainly, but he couldn't pretend he wasn't glad Anakin had classes this morning, leaving him with several free hours.
Of course, there was another reason he was glad -- a reason of the tall, dark, and handsome variety.
Obi-Wan glanced at his reflection and patted his hair into place. He knew it was silly of him to fuss with his appearance but he couldn't help wanting to look his best. A familiar tingle of anticipation coursed through him. How long had it been – weeks or months? He wasn’t sure; he just knew it had been far too long for his taste. It seemed the stars had to align perfectly for their schedules to allow such indulgence. Obi-Wan smirked at himself in the mirror and headed out to the rendezvous point: a remote section of the garden.
Predictably, Mace Windu was already there. He sat cross-legged, hands on his knees, eyes closed, expression serene. Obi-Wan approached him as slowly and silently as he could, even though he knew the other man would sense his presence. He saw a hint of a smile tug at Mace’s mouth -- he’d been detected. Obi-Wan kneeled behind him carefully and lowered his lips to Mace’s neck, lightly enough to make him shiver. Mace exhaled but made no noise.
The game was on.
Obi-Wan kissed his way up his goose-bumping neck. Flicked his tongue over his earlobe. Still, Mace remained silent. He wasn’t completely unresponsive – he did incline his head to give Obi-Wan easier access – but it wasn’t until Obi-Wan’s hand crept down Mace’s chest to his crotch that he got the moan he’d labored for.
The younger Jedi withdrew his hand and quickly sprawled out in front of Mace’s crossed legs, head propped up on his elbow. “Hello there,” he said, sounding supremely smug. He never lost this game.
Mace grinned and finally opened his eyes. “You little slut,” he growled affectionately as he pushed Obi-Wan onto his back and straddled him. “Can’t a man meditate without you interfering?”
“Not when that man is you,” replied Obi-Wan. He made a half-hearted attempt to sit up but Mace wouldn’t budge. Obi-Wan grinned as his captor leaned over him, holding his arms over his head to effectively pin him to the ground, slowly grinding against his groin. “You gonna kiss me or what?” groaned Obi-Wan, already panting.
“You frustrated, little boy?” Mace snickered. Obi-Wan wasn’t a little boy, per se, but Mace liked to flaunt his extra years at times.
Just like Obi-Wan liked to flaunt his relative youth. “I certainly am, old man.” Obi-Wan sighed, purposely interpreting the question differently than Mace had intended it. “I think Anakin’s going to age me prematurely.”
Mace frowned and sat up straight. “What’s he done now?” he asked gently, all traces of playfulness gone.
“Nothing, really,” Obi-Wan answered. “Just more of the same. He knows how to get on my last nerve.” Obi-Wan knew he could talk to Mace about Anakin, about anything that was on his mind… but he didn’t often choose to discuss his young Padawan with the Jedi Master. He was annoyed at himself for broaching the subject; he knew Mace didn’t trust the boy, and Obi-Wan didn’t want to further that distrust. In spite of his grousing, Obi-Wan did believe that Anakin was extraordinarily gifted in the Force and would become a great Jedi one day. “Let’s not talk about him. You’re supposed to make me forget about him for a while, you know.”
Mace nodded, still serious. “I will. But you know you can talk to me if you need to."
Obi-Wan certainly did know that. Mace had been looking out for him ever since Qui-Gon’s death. Their friendship meant more to him than their physical relationship. At the moment, however, he was a little too horny for a heart-to-heart, whether it concerned Anakin or not. Grinning devilishly, he pulled Mace back down -- with a little help from the Force. “I know. I’d really rather you just kiss me.”
This time, Mace complied. He covered Obi-Wan’s eager mouth with his, their tongues tickling each other for a moment before mutual lust took over. The Force around them crackled with sexual energy as every movement intensified their desire. Moaning, grinding, writhing, groping… impatient hands seeking naked flesh, tugging at cumbersome tunics… ”There is no passion” disproved.
Mace managed to remove enough of Obi-Wan’s Jedi garb to undo the drawstring on his trousers. He slid these down carefully over the other man’s bulging crotch, shifting his own body downwards to nuzzle his face against it before freeing Obi-Wan’s hard cock from his underwear.
“Oooohhhh,” moaned Obi-Wan softly. He’d been hoping Mace would be in the mood to blow him today. He thrust his cock up against Mace’s lips, moaning louder when he felt the other man’s tongue dart teasingly over the head. “Suck me, Mace, please… suck me hard!” The plea was for Mace’s benefit as much as his own – Obi-Wan knew his lover derived pleasure from hearing him beg for it. Mace descended on his cock like a hungry nexu on its prey. Obi-Wan pressed his fingertips into Mace’s bald scalp and massaged it in rhythm with his voracious bobbing. He felt Mace’s thick finger creep back to his opening, and a spasm of pleasure shook his body. “Oh fuck!”
Suddenly a young voice was heard in the distance. “Master?”
Obi-Wan and Mace instantly froze and exchanged wide-eyed looks of pure panic. What was Anakin doing looking for him now when he should have been in class?! He must have followed Obi-Wan’s Force signature out here.
Mace recovered first. He pulled Obi-Wan’s pants up and sat back to adjust his own tunics. “Hurry!” he urged Obi-Wan as his fingers flew into action.
Obi-Wan fumbled with the drawstring of his pants and thanked the Force that they hadn’t removed their boots – those took long enough to get into even without being hindered by a raging hard-on. Speaking of which, he really needed to do something about that before Anakin reached them. “Let’s pretend we were meditating!” he hissed to Mace, who nodded and quickly resumed the position Obi-Wan had found him in earlier. Obi-Wan reached out to the Force to diminish his lust even as he scrambled to fix his tunics. There is no passion... there is no passion... why isn’t Anakin here yet, what’s taking him so long… there is no passion…
Through the Force, Obi-Wan felt someone else approaching. Someone who was definitely not his Padawan. He cracked an eye open to peek at Mace, who was frowning – he’d sensed it too.
They were fucked.
“Masters Windu and Kenobi. My intrusion, please forgive.”
Obi-Wan blinked his eyes open slowly and exhaled, trying to appear as though he’d just brought himself out of meditation. He had been quasi-meditating – enough to rid himself of most of his lust, and his trousers were loose enough to hide the rest of the nearly-flaccid evidence. Mace greeted Yoda with his usual stoicism intact.
“Hello, Master Yoda,” said Obi-Wan while respectfully bowing his head. Maybe Yoda was simply out for a stroll… in the most remote corner of the Temple Gardens. Sure he was.
“Master Kenobi. Seeking you, your Padawan was.” Yoda leveled his wise gaze on Obi-Wan.
“Was he?” Feigned innocence. “That’s odd. He should be in History of the Republic now.”
“Cancelled today, his class was. Remind you this morning he did, says Skywalker. Only his flimsi assignment he needed to submit.”
Shit! That was today? He vaguely recalled Anakin mentioning that several days ago; Obi-Wan had suggested that they use that period of time for extra sparring practice. It had completely slipped his mind when he’d agreed to meet with Mace, and as for this morning, Obi-Wan honestly didn’t remember Anakin saying a word about it. However, he did recall – a bit sheepishly -- tuning out the boy when he’d started his familiar whining about how impractical his written assignments were. Obi-Wan had begun an equally familiar lecture on how such work would serve him later in life – and yes, his thoughts had wandered to Mace, even as he spoke to his Padawan.
Now Mace was glaring at him disapprovingly. Obi-Wan knew Mace wouldn’t betray any sentimental feelings toward him in front of Yoda, but Mace’s murderous glare probably wasn’t entirely an act, either.
“I forgot,” he said simply, truthfully. He knew better than to try to concoct a plausible lie to fool Yoda. In fact, he was sure it was only a matter of time before Yoda addressed the true reason he was here with Mace. He unfolded his legs and started to stand up, but Yoda motioned for him to stay seated.
“Covered for you, I did,” said Yoda, his expression unreadable. “And on a task, your Padawan did I send. Discuss it we shall in the Council chambers. Master Windu, you as well. See you both I will, at oh-nine-hundred.”
Yoda waited for them to nod their assent, then started hobbling away. After a few steps he turned to look back at Obi-Wan over his shoulder. “Brush the grass out of your hair first, you should.”
The expression that followed was most decidedly a smirk.
Mace and Obi-Wan waited silently for the diminutive Jedi to disappear from sight. Obi-Wan swatted at his hair and shook his head to dislodge any stray blades of grass. He could feel that his face had turned bright red; he dared not look at Mace until it was safe. That was a wise decision -- the second their eyes met, both men broke into anxious laughter.
“Could you not have just… I don’t know, Force-flicked the grass out of my hair or something?” Obi-Wan lamented. That would have been an inappropriate application of the Force, for certain, but no more so than some of the other “creative” uses the two had found. He leaned over to punch Mace’s arm.
Mace, still laughing, accepted the hit without blocking, but he did reach out to pull Obi-Wan into his arms – and essentially across his lap. “Yoda was here before I noticed it,” Mace explained, ruffling Obi-Wan’s thick hair. “There was no need to attract even more attention to your rumpled appearance. You should just shave your head like me, then you wouldn’t have a problem.”
Obi-Wan snorted. “Some of us can’t pull off ‘bald’n’sexy’ as well as others,” he said wryly. “Seriously, though… what do you suppose Master Yoda is going to do about this? About us?”
Mace stroked Obi-Wan’s hair and sighed. “I don’t know. I have to wonder what the fuck he was doing all the way out here in the first place. And how he just happened to be in the right place at the right time to head off your Padawan.”
Obi-Wan’s eyes widened with alarm. “You’re right! Do you think he was watching us?”
“Possibly,” Mace mused, his expression grim but his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Maybe he still is. Maybe that’s why he gave us half an hour before we’re supposed to meet with him.”
A slow smile tugged at the corners of Obi-Wan’s mouth. He could fret about the outcome of this in another twenty minutes or so. Clearly the wisest course of action at the moment was to take advantage of what little opportunity remained for them to enjoy each other. “Well, I’d hate to keep Master Yoda waiting,” he said coyly. “You gonna kiss me or what?”