Veckah's Tales

Huh?

Fingertips on skin sweat on a brow, husky encouragements spoken through clenched teeth.

"Yes, oh yea baby, right there. Oh GOD, that is sooooooooo good."

"Like this?"

"Oh yea, just like that. Yea, now, do it again."

"Again? Isn't once enough?"

"Is it ever?"

"You have a point."

More touching. More perspiration.

"Oh yea. Now, use this."

"With my hand?"

"It's better if you use your hand baby, other instruments just make more work and more clean up."

"Oooook, if you say so. EWWWWW, It's slimly."

"Yea, but it is worth it. Now, just put it in."

"My whole hand?"

"Yea. Just be gentle, you don't want to tear anything."

"No, wouldn't want to do that. MY GOD! It's so tight, I can't get my whole hand in there."

"Yes you can, just wriggle it around some. Ahhhhhhhh, see I knew you could."

"Is it supposed to be this warm?"

"Yea, feels good doesn't it?"

"Uh huh, kind of, squishy."

"Yea. Now just open your fist and pull your hand out. Oh yea. Perfect. I think a couple more should do it."

"Then what?"

"Then the fun really begins."

"That sounds promising."

"Just humor me and do it."

"Oh, alright."

A few grunts and groans.

"How's that?"

"Perfect! Now just put it in here and its done."

Brian places the newly stuffed turkey in the oven, and watches it through the small window.

"This is fun?"

"No." Curt takes Brian's hand and leads him out of the kitchen.

"Now what are you doing?"

"Now I'm going to stuff YOU"

Brian giggles. "Do I get celery?"

"That's just sick Bri."

Black Times

Obi-Wan crept on silent feet, not wanting to wake his Master. Even in the dark of the quiet quarters he kept his hood raised, appearing to be a thief scouting for booty, or a Padawan that doesn't want his master to know what he has been doing on a free night. There is a slight waver to his steps, indicating that all the alcohol hasn't been purged from his system.

Oh, Kenobi, you screwed up this time. The apprentice chastises himself. He is going to kill you.

"Who is going to kill you?" Qui-Gon's deep voice split the silence of the dark room like a cannon, causing Obi-Wan to jump.

"I was projecting, forgive me Master." Words slightly slurred with drink. Obi still doesn't turn around to face his master, keeping the hood of his cloak as a barrier between he and the older man. "I guess I am more tired then I thought." A ploy, and a bad one at that, to try and get his Master to just let him go to bed.

"Hmmmm, I see. Just how much have you had to drink tonight Obi-Wan?"

The younger man sighs, bowing his head. Entirely too much obviously. "Only a little Master. We were celebrating Bant's naming day. She insisted we have a few drinks with her at the club. I will be fine in the morning, I just haven't taken the time to purge it from my system yet." More like you can't Kenobi.

With a flick of the force, Qui-Gon turns up the lights in the room, much to his Padawan's disapproval. "Here let me help." He reaches out to lie his hands on Obi-Wan's shoulders, but meets only empty air.

"That isn't necessary Master." Obi-Wan says as he tries to escape into his room. "As I said, I should be fine in the morning."

"Obi-Wan!"

He stops short, a direct command from his master cannot be disobeyed, no matter how much it may want to be. He ducks his head lower. "Yes Master." He begrudgingly moves to the couch, setting himself lightly upon it, ready to flee the moment he is excused.

Qui moves up behind him, placing his hands on the tight shoulders. "Obi-wan, you are so tense. What happened while you were out? You didn't get into another scuffle did you?"

"No Master! I learned my lesson last time."

"Well then what is going on?" He starts to pull the hood of Obi's cloak back off of his head. Obi-wan shoots off the couch like a rocket, grabbing the hood as he does.

"Master, I am very tired, I would just rather go to bed."

"Obi-wan! What in all the little gods has gotten into you? Lower your hood."

"Master, please."

"Obi!"

"Master, PLEASE!"

"Padawan, now!"

With a sigh, Obi-wan lowers his head, then pushes the hood back and away, revealing his now BLACK Padawan haircut. Qui has to bite his lip to stop the laughter that threatens to bubble forth.

"Yes, well, a new look."

Obi-wan rolls his eyes as he looks up. His Master's mirth is unmistakable. "I'm glad I could be of amusement to you Master." He scratches at his dark spikes. "This isn't the worst part." He pulls something from behind his ear. The braid that marks him as a Jedi apprentice comes into view, it is the natural color of Obi-Wan's hair.

The laughter held in check now bursts forth from Qui-Gon's lips. "Oh Obi!" Reaching out he captures the weaved lock in his fingertips. With a gentle tug, he pulls his Padawan closer. "Tell me it isn't permanent die."

Obi-Wan sighs. "I wish I could. Bant thought it would be an interesting change, she didn't realize it wasn't a temporary die. I'm stuck with black hair and a rust braid."

"You could always die the braid too Obi-wan, it isn't that big of deal."

"NO!" Obi's eyes go wide at the mere suggestion. "Then what happens when my hair grows out and has to be cut, I am left with a black braid, and rust hair." He moans softly as he sits down on the couch again. "I'm doomed to be two toned."

Qui-Gon sits beside is overly distressed Padawan. "Obi-wan, this isn't that big of deal, as short as you have to keep your hair for the Padawan cut, the black will outgrow in no time." He reaches out and runs his hands through the short spikes. "Besides, I kind of like it."

Obi-Wan's head snaps up and he glares at the older man. "Master! I look like a Tribillian nor jumper."

Qui chuckles. "Only in the hair my one, you don't have a flat enough nose to pull off the part." His thumb grazes the younger man's cheek as he lets it drop back into his lap. "A month, perhaps two, and you will be back to yourself again."

Obi-Wan groans and leans against Qui's shoulder. "Two months? It may as well be a lifetime. I will be the laughing stock of the temple."

"Such melodrama from one so young." Qui gently chides. "Trust in the Force my one, in ALL things. This too will be a lesson"

"As always my Master." They spend a quiet moment, just being together, listening to the Force swirl around and through them. "Can we go to bed now Master?"

Qui-Gon nods. "Yes, but do you insist on sleeping in your room, or are you going to take your rightful place in my bed?"

"As always, preferably with you, but I didn't want to assume you would want to sleep with a stranger." He smiles up at the older man.

Qui chuckles and kisses the top of Obi's head. "Different perhaps, but never a stranger my heart." He stands up and offers his hand to Obi. "Come to bed love."

Obi takes the proffered hand and rises to his feet, arms going around the big man's neck. "I think you have some sort of stranger fetish and just don't want to tell me."

Qui rolls his eyes. "Yes that is quite it, I want to bed strangers when I have a willing Padawan at home." He clucks his tongue and gently shoves Obi toward the sleep chamber. "Get in there you imp, before I call one of my strangers."

Obi bows deeply as he backs away from the master Jedi. "Yes my Master, always willing Padawan at your service." He straightens and turns toward the bedroom door. Then as an after though he tosses over his shoulder, "Bant also thought it would be neat to get pierced. Wanna find mine?" He then dashes through the sleep chamber door, leaving Qui standing, open-mouthed, in the common room.

After a moment, Qui recovers and makes his way into the sleeping chamber. "I'll find it. But Obi, my heart, can you tell me why I have the sudden urge to call you Christian?"

MY

I watch him as he finally gets a katana he has been working on, eyes shining with happiness and not undue pride. I watch him as he struggles with an astrophysics lesson, grumbling with dissatisfaction in his poor mark. I watch him as he successfully helps to delegate a peace treaty between two warring clans on a mission, his serenity and compassion exposed like a beacon. I watch him training and becoming the Jedi I knew he would.
MY PADAWAN.

I watch his mouth twitch with amusement at one of my dry jokes, finally giving in and bursting out in rare laughter. I watch the mischief shine in his eyes as he plans some sort of surprise for my naming day, his joy of getting to do something special for me evident. I watch him console me when I have had a hard day in Council's chambers, his support never wavering. I watch him growing into the man I knew he would.
MY FRIEND.

I watch the sweat slide over his cheeks as we are locked together in passion, my name escaping his lips. I watch him serve me breakfast in bed on an unusual day of him rising before me, just because he wants to. I watch him brush my hair with loving care after a bath, because he says I can't do it right. I watch him love me as I knew he would.
MY LOVER.

I watch him share a joke with his friends, his eyes sparkling as he includes me in the banter. I watch him quietly reading a trashy space pirate novel, enjoying a quiet moment alone. I watch him bow to a senator at an official gathering, never putting himself in a subordinate placing to them. I watch him becoming the person I knew he would.
MY OBI-WAN.

Snip Snip

"Shit Brian", Curt exclaimed.

The two of them sat in the bath. Curt on the toilet, Brian perched precariously on the tank behind him. In Brian's hand was a fine-toothed comb, and a pair of scissors.

"Jesus Curt, for being such a tough guy, you can be such a wanker. It was just a small tangle. Now sit still or you are going to make me fuck this up."

Brian pulled the comb through the top of Curt's hair, standing it straight up. With the scissors he snipped over an inch of the bleached strands, letting them fall where they may.

Curt's eyes widened as he saw a large clump fall through his vision on it's descent to the floor.

"What the hell are you doing to me? You screw up my hair, I sweat I'll never forgive you Bri."

His only response was the snip of the scissors and another clump falling before his eyes. With a sigh he closed his eyes and waited for the final result.

Curt didn't think Brian was serious when Brian asked to cut his hair. In fact, he thought Brian was just playing one of his kinky games, like the time they played Cabby and Fare. He couldn't help but smile at the memory. There was something about Brian in that stupid cap, trying to use a Brooklyn accent was so sexy. They had gone through an entire bottle of lube that night.

Brian had moved to the bottom of Curt's tresses, and was happily snipping at the length of it.

"Brian, baby, please!" Curt pleaded. "Don't cut it short. I look like shit with short hair."

"Shhhhh," Brian hissed. "I'm just getting rid of the stuff that the bleach has burned. Besides, don't you trust me?"

Curt had to think about that one. Did he trust Brian? He wanted to, he tried to, but did he? To cover his hesitation he coughed into his hand.

"Yea Baby, I trust ya." He didn't finish the thought by adding
~with my hair~.

A few moments later, Brian announced the completion of his task by leaning down and whispering in Curt's ear. "You look fantastic." Then nibbling on Curt's earlobe.

Curt moaned softly at Brian's attentions, then pulled away.

"I want to see," he said gruffly, his whisky and cigarette voice betraying his sudden rush of desire.

He walked to the large mirror over the double sink. He almost didn't recognize the handsome man reflected there. His formally long, lank hair now framed his face with soft waves, gently layered and feathered back from his forehead. Gone where the ratty ends, frayed by chemicals. A soft edge, which still fell below his shoulders, now took their place.

He couldn't help himself he had to touch it. Running his fingers through it, he smiled. The coarseness was gone; it now was soft like corn silk.

"God Brian, this is fucking fantastic! Where did you learn to do this?" He asked, still running his fingers through his hair.

Brian hopped off the toilet and strode over to Curt, appearing over his shoulder in the mirror.

"I just picked it up over the years. You really like it?" His voice sounded very young, his bottom lip protruding more than usual in a pout.

Curt met Brian's eyes in their reflection. "Yes, I really like it," he said softly. "Jerry isn't going to though. He is going to say it makes me too pretty."

"Fuck Jerry!" Brian said, spitting out the words like something distasteful.

Curt turned and took Brian into his arms, nuzzling into his neck. "I'd rather fuck you," he said, voice husky.

Brian smiled, his hands reaching for Curt's belt. "I'd rather you did too."

********************

Several hours, a bottle of lube, and many orgasms later, Curt and Brian lay tangled in each other's limbs, the sleepiness of afterglow making their eyelids heavy and their voices thick.

"Curt?"

"Hmmmmm?"

"Do you really trust me?"

Curt pulled Brian closer, kissing him softly. "Yea Baby, I trust you."

Sleep took him before he could finish the thought...

~With my hair~