A/N: Another QuinFer. Our favorite Jedi boys make it out of the shower and back to somebody's quarters ...
Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars, and I am not making any profit from this work of fanfiction. But I do definitely appreciate a review. :)
"Well, come on in, Mas -- Quinlan." I smile up at him, which I have to duck my head to do because we're almost exactly the same height. "Can I get you - uh - anything?"
It would have been easier, safer, to go to his quarters. But I wanted him to come to mine. It seems symbolic, somehow, of how badly I want him to invade me in a more personal way. A sort of foreplay-by-metaphor.
"Ferus." He reaches up to brush back the gold streak in my hair, and my stomach turns very un-Jedi-like flip-flops. "I'm not here to eat or drink."
Oh. Right. I clear my throat. That would be because I invited you back to finish what we started in the shower. "The ... my room is this way."
I lead him past the living area I share with my own master, grateful that she's never home during the day and hit the release to my door, revealing the impeccably neat, even impersonal, place where I sleep when I'm at the Temple. There is so little of me here, so little to show for my life, and I feel woefully inadequate next to Quinlan Vos's overstock of personality. He has to have been with more interesting people, even more interesting boys ...
He cups my cheek in his hand. "Just right, Ferus."
He leans in to kiss me, and I feel the gentle scratch of his stubble and try not to gasp. But he can feel my pleasure spiking in the Force, and he laughs softly against the corner of my mouth. "So eager."
"I ... uh ..."
"So let's not wait." He reaches to remove my hastily-fastened tunic, unwrapping me like a gift, and for the first time I can remember, I just let the clothes hit the floor in a heap. I'm too busy returning the favor to worry about folding them neatly. His hands cup me where I'm quivering in anticipation, and I grow stiff. Well, stiffer, and still.
"Do we ... ah ... do we need some kind of ..." My mind races, but I can't think of anything cleverly naughty to call it. "Lubrication?"
Quinlan strokes his hands down my belly, teasing and gently massaging at once. "We don't have to do it that way. We can take it slow. Whatever you want. Whatever you're comfortable with."
In the strictest sense, I'm not comfortable with anything of this. But that doesn't mean I don't want it.
"I - I - brought you here because I wanted ... you know ..."
Quin's hands ease their stroking and he pauses everything for a moment to look deeply into my eyes. "Are you sure, Ferus?"
"I'm sure," I say. I sound shaky, but I really do mean it. "Here. I think there's ... yes." I reach past him to pick up a soothing ointment. "Will this ... you know ... work?"
Quin smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "It'll do fine, Ferus. If you're really sure?"
"I'm really sure. Quinlan."
"Then bend over the edge of the bed."
I follow his instructions, letting him position me as he wants and loosen me with the Force and his gently tapping, then probing, finger. The ointment is cool and slick, and I shudder as I feel it inside, my body resisting even as somehow it begs for more.
"Shhh," Quinlan murmurs in my ear. "Take it slow. There's no hurry, all right?"
No hurry, I remind myself. "All right."
He keeps on stretching, slow and careful, cupping my sac occasionally to remind me how good it's going to feel once we finally get there. "Let me know when you're ready."
A long while later, I say, "I think I'm ready now, Quin?"
"Quin?" He laughs softly at the name, and I feel his breath on my nape.
"I'm sorry, Mas--"
"It's fine, Ferus. I like it. It feels good, your name for me." I feel him pressing against my entrance, except it's never been an entrance until today. "I want to hear you moan it when you come."
That makes me twitch with unexpected pleasure, and he laughs again, only this time I know it's not a criticism. I can feel his appreciation in the strong tanned hands he presses to my hips, gently massaging, relaxing my muscles with his hands and the Force.
And then, finally, he's inside.
Quin is inside me.
He holds still for a couple of minutes, giving me time to adjust to the sensation. "Let me know when you're ready for me to move."
"Move now," I say, "but do it slow."
And he does just as I've asked, barely rocking at first, a tiny rubbing in place, and then he works up to slow, deep thrusts with not much force behind them that rake across something so good the pressure builds behind my eyelids every time and I gasp and I'd cry out if I could, but I'm breathless with need.
"There?" he asks, leaning forward to speak in my ear, his voice husky and strained.
I nod helplessly and make a groan of assent.
He eases one hand off my hip to trail down and grip me, firmly but not too rough, and then he strokes me inside and out until I cry out his name -- Quin-- just the way he'd asked me to and come hard, all over the bed, and take him with me, hearing his deeper groan of satisfaction. Ferus.
He takes his time easing out of me, and helps me clean up, after, before he kisses my cheek and pulls back to look me in the eye.
"Was that ... all right?"
"That was ... wonderful," I say, although I'm so sore I can't imagine how I'm going to sit through dinner with Siri tonight. I'll figure it out. The Force will help me. "Quin."