Homecoming (Qui-Gon/Obi-Wan/Dooku)
This little fic is from a prompt received by @swpromptsandasks, who released it into the wild for other people to fill.
I figured I’d give it a shot. (Not beta read and I’m not wearing my glasses right now, so if there are any typos or grammatical issues, I’m sure I’ll find them later.)
Prompt: Can you please try writing Dooku/Qui/Obi-wan, with alphas Qui and Dooku
Obviously Mature|Explicit.
Obi-Wan twitches and shifts in his seat as he listens to the ship’s engines thrum, thinks about what waits for him on the other side of this trip. He jumps when a hand falls on his shoulder.
"You're nervous." Qui-Gon’s hand strokes down Obi-Wan’s arm, large, warm and just this side of proprietary.
"How could you tell?" Obi-Wan resists the urge to fidget more under his former master’s attention. Just barely.
"Sarcasm doesn't become you, young one."
Jaan raises an eyebrow as he settles back in his seat, hint of a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.
“This doesn’t have to happen, Obi-Wan.” Qui-Gon, always the voice of reason. “There’s still time to take your suppressors. Even if you choose to undergo the heat, you could spend it alone. Or…with someone else.”
Obi-Wan shudders. He’s spent two heats alone since he entered puberty. His first, which caught him by surprise, and another when he lost his suppressors in a skirmish. And the idea of anyone but Qui-Gon and Jaan being near him at a moment of such vulnerability makes his insides turn over, makes him feel as sick as a jump to hyperspace.
“No,” he says. “No. It’s time. I want to.”
“Then,” Jaan says, “We had best be on our way. I’d prefer to be at the palace before nature overtakes us.”
“How did you get Master Yoda to agree to this sabbatical to your family home?” Obi-Wan asks.
“I simply reminded him of the last time an omega with two chosen alpha mates was present in the temple during a first shared heat. Between the destruction done to the interior, the handful of alpha padawans who were taken to the healers after being unable to control themselves, the noise, and the potential for bad press when the omega found his way outside of the temple while his mates were preoccupied with the aforementioned padawans and he practically insisted we go.”
Qui-Gon snorts, ruffles Obi-Wan’s hair and excuses himself to the cockpit to assist the pilot in preparing for departure.
The palace on Serreno was opulent. Obi-Wan would've thought so even if he hadn't been a Jedi and used to humble surroundings.
He didn't get to see much of it, for as they left the ship, he caught sight of some of the staff sniffing and glancing his way. And Jaan and Qui-Gon noticed it too. In a moment, Qui-Gon had his arm and cloak draped around Obi-Wan and they were following Jaan though long, identical looking hallways until they reached a set of rooms that were, for all intents and purposes, their own house within the palace.
“...a stocked kitchen, two 'freshers and a sun room,” Jaan finishes as Obi-Wan roams the edges of the common room, touching furniture and décor, getting the feel and scent of the place.
“Obi-Wan, would you like tea?” Qui-Gon asks from the kitchen.
“Juice,” Obi-Wan says. “Please. I'm too hot,” he mutters as he unwraps from Qui-Gon's cloak and drops it on the sofa, missing the look that passes between Jaan and his former padawan turned lover.
As Qui-Gon pours the juice, Obi-Wan steps into the bedroom and lets out a sound of delight at the large bed that takes up half the room. Four posts on each end of the bed hold a dark, draping canopy that ends in curtains that can be pulled closed on every side, creating a dark cocoon. The bed is covered with a thick dark counterpane and a riot of jewel toned pillows.
“Go ahead.” Jaan stands at his elbow, as if he materialized there. “It's as much yours as ours. Or, it will be.” Obi-Wan glances at him and when Jaan nods, Obi-Wan launches himself towards the bed, kicking off his slippers as he goes and slithering over the edge of the mattress to roll into the soft pillows that smell of soap and sunlight and very, very faintly of Jaan and Qui-Gon. He buries his face in the scent, only raising his head when he feels a touch on his arm, Qui-Gon standing next to the bed with a glass of sweet smelling juice that flows cool over Obi-Wan’s tongue. He drains the glass and hands it back without a word, burrowing back into the pillows as a wave of warm drowsiness blankets him.
He’s peripherally aware of Jaan sliding onto the bed behind him, tucking Obi-Wan against his tall frame and then Qui-Gon pressing up against his front, stroking the short hair, just beginning to grow out of its padawan cut, at his temples. Obi-Wan drifts off surrounded by the familiar scent of his soon to be mates, by warmth and comfort.
Obi-Wan wakes hours later to a dark room, the sun long set. He’s shaking and sweating and slick between his thighs. He kicks off the blankets that are too hot, too scratchy, feels cool hands touch his face, his throat and presses his forehead into them, moaning softly.
He hears Qui-Gon whispering to him, murmuring in his ear, how good he feels, how sweet he tastes, as Obi-Wan’s head is tilted up and his mouth taken in a kiss that sends a surge of want through his body.
“Qui-Gon,” Obi-Wan hears Jaan murmur, the man’s normally refined voice sounding gruff and strained. “Hold him.”
“Obi-Wan.” Qui-Gon’s speaking. “Look at me.”
He does. Or tries to. It’s hard to focus. He finds himself captivated by the shade of blue around Qui-Gon’s pupil, the shimmer of light on his hair, the shadow beneath the curve of his lower lip.
“It’s okay. Shh.” Qui-Gon’s thumb strokes across his mouth and his hands flow down Obi-Wan’s neck and torso, to fasten tight on his waist. Obi-Wan realizes he’s been whimpering and pressing his hips back into open air and that’s when Jaan slides into him in one long, steady move that makes Obi-Wan’s eyes go wide and his breath catch in his throat.
“Beautiful,” Qui-Gon says.
For a moment, the burn beneath his skin is soothed as he sways between his two mates. Qui-Gon returns to stroking his face. Jaan curls over him, coarse beard teasing the sensitive skin of his shoulders, pressing his hot mouth to Obi-Wan’s skin, whispering words that are mostly unintelligible to Obi-Wan, though he can make out his own name and “love” and a few endearments in the dialect of Serreno.
Then he feels Jaan sinking into his mind, not unlike a training bond but deeper, more intimate. When a surge of heat shoots through Obi-Wan again, Jaan grips him tight and moves with purpose, driving his hips forward so hard it feels like he's trying to climb inside Obi-Wan. His teeth fasten on the meaty area between Obi-Wan’s shoulder and throat and it takes only a few well timed thrusts to send them both over the edge, locking them together, body and mind.
When the haze finally clears from Obi-Wan’s head, he's lying on his side with Jaan still swollen inside him, stroking his big hands over Obi-Wan's flanks, pressing his lips to the back of Obi-Wan's head, murmuring softly about how good Obi-Wan was, how good he felt, how well he took the knot, the bond. After a time Jaan softens and pulls away and Obi-Wan feels a lick of heat shoot through him as he's left slick and open.
But Qui-Gon’s there to roll him onto his back, press him into the mattress with a soul deep kiss and warm tendrils of his Force signature curling into Obi-Wan’s mind the way Jaan's had moments before. He hooks Obi-Wan’s legs over his elbows and slides home, his mouth feeding at Obi-Wan’s lips and it’s not long before Obi-Wan’s keening sharply against that mouth. Qui-Gon swallows the shattered sound Obi-Wan makes when he comes, slows and rests on top of him, still hard.
Obi-Wan blinks. “You didn’t—“
“When you’re ready,” Qui-Gon says, “I want you to ride me.”
The words send a frisson of warmth down Obi-Wan’s spine and he shifts on the nest of blankets, his eyes find Jaan’s, the man lying next to them, head propped on his hand, looking as if they are the most engrossing thing in the universe.
Jaan reaches out, swipes his fingers through the mess Obi-Wan left on Qui-Gon’s belly, raises them to his own mouth and sucks them clean. When he leans in and kisses him, Obi-Wan can taste himself on Jaan’s lips. Arousal stirs deep in his belly and he shifts, nudges Qui-Gon with his hips and the man rolls onto his back, taking Obi-Wan with him.
Obi-Wan gasps as he settles atop Qui-Gon, his weight pulling him flush against Qui-Gon’s hips, pushing the alpha’s erection further inside him until all he can focus on is that hot, sweet fullness. Then he starts to move.
Reaching blindly for something to hold onto, Obi-Wan feels fingers teasing his palms. He opens his eyes to find Jaan behind him, arms curving around him, offering his hands as leverage. Obi-Wan curls his fingers around Jaan's, uses Jaan's hands to hoist himself up further on his knees and slide down until his and Qui-Gon's hips are flush. He repeats the motion, feeling Qui-Gon twitch hard inside him, feeling the slick, soft tip of Jaan's cock brush against his ass, hard and ready again.
The orgasm, when it hits, takes him by surprise. It tears through him on a downward slide, making him drop hard onto Qui-Gon's body. That's all it takes for Qui-Gon to groan and grip Obi-Wan's hips so hard Obi-Wan's sure he'll have fingerprints for weeks.
Qui-Gon thrusts once, twice more and surges upward as he comes, biting into the other side of his neck and triggering the aftershock of Obi-Wan's orgasm that leaves Obi-Wan gasping and shivering as he feels Qui-Gon swell inside his body, inside his mind.
Qui-Gon releases his neck, licks once over the teeth marks he’d left behind. Then says, “Come here,” and pulls Obi-Wan down to his lie securely atop him. Obi-Wan turns his head, finds Jaan snuggling in close, his hand trailing down Obi-Wan's back, stroking the sensitive skin above his tail bone and, occasionally, drifting lower, to brush a long finger where he and Qui-Gon are locked together. The touch, gentle and firm, but just this side of teasing, makes Obi-Wan groan.
“What do you think, my Qui-Gon?” Jaan says, voice low and private. Obi-Wan thinks he could come to really like that tone of voice. Then Jaan presses his finger more firmly against his ass, the tip sliding into him and his thoughts stutter to a halt even as Qui-Gon lets out a restrained whimper. “With a little preparation, and at the height of his heat, do you think he'd be able to take us both?”
Obi-Wan's head jerks up and he turns to Jaan. The look on his face must be such a cross between shocked and aroused and terrified because the normally austere Jedi master breaks into a teeth baring laugh.
“You shouldn't tease him so,” Qui-Gon murmurs, caressing Obi-Wan's flank. “Besides, now that the necessities are out of the way….” Qui-Gon strokes his thumb over Obi-Wan's bottom lip, slips just inside to tease the tip of his tongue and Obi-Wan sucks lightly. “I'd love to see this mouth wrapped around a cock. And I'd really like to see his face covered in cum as he rides one of us to completion.”
Obi-Wan drops his head with a groan and hides his burning face against Qui-Gon's chest, even as a spear of arousal shoots through him, makes him tighten around Qui-Gon's cock.
“Force help me, I didn't know what I was getting myself into,” he pleads to Qui-Gon's breastbone, half smiling as his alphas laugh and gather him close, wrapping him in the warmth and scent of home.
