
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/185784.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Star_Wars_Episode_I:_The_Phantom_Menace
  Relationship:
      Quinton/Benjamin_(Qui-Gon_Jinn/Obi-Wan_Kenobi)
  Character:
      Qui-Gon_Jinn, Obi-Wan_Kenobi
  Additional Tags:
      First_Time, Alternate_Universe_-_Historical, Whipping
  Stats:
      Published: 2006-04-30 Words: 4445
****** The Hunter and the Rose ******
by Elayna
Notes
     My sincere thanks to Merry Amelie for the fast and efficient beta and
     giving me a title. This fic is based on a gorgeous picture by Fuumin
     and was originally published in the MA archive fundraising zine.
The club was considered almost crowded at this time of the afternoon, fully
half of the plush leather chairs filled with men drinking glasses of port and
smoking cigars, restoring their spirits before venturing home to their wives
and children. Philip knew where he would find Quinton, and headed unerringly
toward the massive brick fireplace located at the back of the room.
"Quinn?"
His friend glanced up at him, looking as impeccable and elegant as always in an
outfit of gray, his somber features and haunted blue eyes instantly revealing
that he knew the reason for Philip's visit. "Yes, it's true."
Philip sank heavily into an armchair, reaching out for the crystal decanter and
one of the glasses on the side table, pouring himself a healthy dose. "I'd
almost hoped that it was all wrong, all a terrible misunderstanding."
"Edward's lawyer contacted me this morning."
"No doubt then. Waverley never made a mistake in his life. I don't think the
word is even in his vocabulary."
"He's arranged for the bodies to be shipped back for burial. I'll send you the
details as soon as I have them."
"And the boy?"
"Is my responsibility now. I'm picking him up from school tomorrow. He'll stay
with me until after the funeral."
Philip shifted uneasily in the chair, knowing what he needed to say but
dreading the rejection. He hated anything that could be interpreted as arguing
with Quinton, even though the other man was never impolite or belittled him. He
was simply so…dashed absolute. "A young boy is a lot of responsibility."
"I promised Edward."
That was it then. When Quinton made a promise, he kept it. But Philip's own
loyalty to their departed friend drove him on. "Maggie and I would be willing
to take him. He's only a few years older than Letty, and she loves to play with
him. She'd love to have a big brother."
"I promised Edward."
"I know." He sipped the port, savoring the taste, staring into the fire,
remembering when Quinton had made that promise, seeing Edward's handsome face
smiling in wonder as he held his son. He's so amazing. Isn't he amazing? I'm a
father now.
And Quinton's retort, You'll have to be responsible now. Philip's own smile
must have been goofy in the extreme, sharing in Edward's happiness, all of them
knowing the absurdity of Quinton's response. Edward had been born with
responsibility entrenched in his very bones, almost as much as Quinton. Philip
was the thoughtless one of the three. But if anything happens, you'll be, won't
you? You'll take care of Benjamin and Vicky.
Of course. Not that anyone had expected anything to happen. Edward was young
and wealthy and handsome, with the perfect wife and the perfect son. He had had
the perfect life and would continue to do so, until he died a distinguished,
admired old man at his estate.
But now the bodies of him and his beautiful wife had been hoisted out of a lake
and his son was an orphan. "Still…if it gets to be too much, you'll let us
know?"
Leaning forward in his chair, Quinton clasped his hand around Philip's forearm,
squeezing in reassurance. "I will. Thank you, my friend."
Philip covered Quinton's hand with his other one, squeezing back, wondering if
he imagined the little hint of uncertainty in Quinton's blue eyes. "I have to
reassure Maggie I made the offer. But don't worry. I know you'll do fine
together."
~~~~~~
Quinton strode into his study, tired after a good day's hunting, and expecting
only to make a quick check on his correspondence before changing for dinner.
What he saw stopped him cold in his tracks. Cold… and hot. His ward, Benjamin,
was sitting with his buttocks perched on the table, his clothes in disarray.
The long-sleeved white shirt was opened to reveal his slim chest, while the red
hunting jacket was draped around his forearms. The top button of his white
breeches was open, and his shaft was defiantly pressing on the other buttons,
straining to be freed. A pink rose was tucked behind one ear, its many petals
looking as soft as Benjamin's skin.
"What do you think you're doing?"
"What I tried to do last year," Benjamin said more bravely than seductively,
though his very image was an enticement to sin. "And the year before. But which
you kept ignoring, just sending me back to school like nothing had happened."
Quinton had recognized Benjamin's previous attempts to seduce him, of course.
Known and ruthlessly ignored the lad's wavering gestures. "Embarrass yourself?"
He made his voice level and flat, knowing he must once again quash this
insanity, hoping that this scene wouldn't create a permanent disruption in
their relationship.
But Benjamin didn't rise to the bait as Quinton would have expected. He didn't
debate Quinton or appear flustered. His back arched a little, forcing more of
his shirt to drift further away from his chest, revealing one peaked nipple.
"I've never seen your eyes so dark. They're almost purple. Is that because you
want me?"
Shocked, Quinton looked into his own reflection in the mirror behind Benjamin.
He had changed little over the years of being Benjamin's guardian, his short
brown hair showing only small signs of gray, his beard and mustache always
neatly trimmed, the red hunting jacket hugging his broad shoulders as closely
as the white breeches conformed to his trim hips. But indeed his normally blue
eyes were darkened by passion, shaded to an intense purple. "I don't want you.
You're my ward."
Languidly plucking another rose from the vase on the table, this one as dark
red as their hunting jackets, Benjamin brought it up to his face, inhaling the
fragrance, twirling the petals against his lips before slowly drawing it down
the length of his chest, the action emphasizing the lean, shapely muscles
covered by luscious pale skin. "I think you do," he challenged.
Watching Benjamin's lazy, seductive spectacle, Quinton's hand clenched
desperately on the riding crop he still carried. As the red rose came to rest
on Benjamin's lap, nestling on the bulging front, Quinton's hand flashed out,
cracking the crop on the table. "Stop this."
The sharp noise made Benjamin flinch in reaction, but he gave a little
breathless laugh before taunting, "Am I hitting too close to the bone?"
The truth seared Quinton. He did want Benjamin, wanted him so badly he could
almost taste his lips, his skin… Sometimes he thought he would be driven mad by
the ghostly Benjamin who haunted his dreams, satisfying his every desire, while
his days were filled by the real person, the boy who had become more handsome
in his face and form, and more attractive in his character as he grew into a
man. "I made a promise to your father."
"To take care of me. And you have. Now take care of me completely. Show me what
it really means to be a man."
He spoke harshly, insultingly, needing to send Benjamin scurrying away. "You
have no idea what it means to be a man. You're only a boy. A boy playing at
being grown-up."
"I have some idea. I know what it's like to wonder what your lips taste like.
To want to know whether your beard would feel soft or rough on my skin. I know
what it's like to ride behind you, to watch your hips as your horse canters and
wonder what it feels like to have those hips thrust against me. I know what
it's like to wake up in the night, hard and aching and craving your arms around
me. I know desire. I know need. What I don't know is fulfillment."
The power of Benjamin's words made his shaft swell, filling his breeches,
mirroring Benjamin's own state. He stepped closer, as if his height could
intimidate Benjamin into silence. Snapping the whip on the table again, he
ordered, "Stop this. Stop this foolishness."
Benjamin laughed, a shaky, breathless sigh. Dropping the red rose to the floor,
he rolled his hips off the table and stood, leaning into Quinton's taller body.
"Maybe you should use that whip on something more vulnerable. If you really
want to convince me."
Quinton looked at their reflection in the mirror behind Benjamin. The drape of
the red jacket hanging from Benjamin's forearms hid the top of his white
breeches, but Quinton knew what he was missing. White wool caressing round,
firm buttocks, outlining tantalizing perfection. Buttocks that begged for his
hands to squeeze them, caress them… he groaned and shut his eyes, as if he
could bar the knowledge of what he wanted by closing himself off from the
vision.
Benjamin's head came to rest on his shoulder, his body touching the length of
Quinton's, one of his legs between Quinton's. There was a rustle of material
and something settled around their booted feet. "We're beautiful together,"
came Benjamin's soft voice.
At that, Quinton had to open his eyes and look at the two of them. Benjamin's
jacket was on the floor, leaving him clothed all in white except for the black
boots. His reddish-blond hair was tousled, resting on Quinton's shoulder but
turned so that he could see their reflection. The pink rose was caught between
them, the color a perfect transition between the bold red of Quinton's hunting
jacket and the creaminess of Benjamin's face. Benjamin's eyes were bright
green, their color clearer and more defined than Quinton had ever seen them.
Quinton tightened his grip on the whip, trying to release his desire to squeeze
Benjamin into the inanimate object. Its thin shape was unsatisfying.
"Don't you think we're beautiful?"
"You're beautiful," Quinton whispered. As if in a trance, he watched his hand
float through space, carrying the whip toward Benjamin, the tip finally coming
to rest on his buttocks. He poked the firmness, then rubbed the tip over one
cheek. "We need to stop this."
The response wasn't the deterrent that Quinton sought. Benjamin reached up,
clasping the pin that held Quinton's cravat in place, slowly undoing and
tossing it to land on top of the table. The removal of the cravat followed,
floating to rest on Benjamin's red jacket.
Did Benjamin think Quinton would simply stand quietly and let him strip off his
clothes? Quinton wanted to, oh how he hungered to let Benjamin have what he
wanted, what he'd wanted for the last few years. "Stop this," he tried again.
"Make me," was the fast taunt.
Without thought, his hand holding the whip rose, bringing it back down
forcefully on Benjamin's rear, protected only by the thin white breeches. The
whip connected, making a fast, sharp noise like a slap.
Benjamin moaned, his pink mouth open, his cheekbones flushed, his eyes wide and
emerald bright. "Again."
Quinton obeyed, giving Benjamin's buttocks another good crack, trying to
command obedience, trying to stop him from being the living embodiment of
temptation. The strike made Benjamin's entire body writhe, his hips bucking,
trying to escape the whip by thrusting urgently into Quinton's body, Benjamin's
young hardness digging into Quinton's hipbone.
Benjamin laughed, his breath exhaling on the skin of Quinton's neck. "Of all
the lessons I'd hoped you teach me, I never pictured starting with this one.
But our relationship started like that, didn't it? One day everything is normal
and the next day I'm yours. Make me completely yours, Quinton. Please."
At Benjamin's quiet pleading, at the thought of all he could teach Benjamin,
all that he'd craved to teach him for years, Quinton lost a little of his
struggle against temptation. Touching the tip of the whip to Benjamin's chin,
Quinton tilted his head back. "You're right. We started too fast, didn't we? I
want to start here, with your mouth, your sweet succulent mouth." He brought
his lips close to Benjamin's, their breath mingling for an eternity before
Quinton allowed himself a taste. Benjamin's lips were everything that Quinton
had dreamed they might be. Soft, warm, and oh so sweet…the purest masculine
innocence melded with Benjamin's unique spark and fire.
Quinton kept the kiss slow and hesitant, still fighting his base impulses,
trying to allow Benjamin time to consider, to withdraw if he desired. Tossing
the crop onto the table, he embraced Benjamin, loving the feel of having this
man wholly in his arms. Benjamin met Quinton's hesitancy with impatience,
thrusting his tongue into Quinton's mouth. His kiss was untutored, his tongue
awkwardly stabbing into Quinton's mouth, an inexperience that thrilled Quinton.
His tongue met Benjamin's and coaxed it along, showing it how to explore the
depths of Quinton's mouth, how to combine demanding need with sensual pleasure.
They were both breathing heavily when Quinton separated their lips, staring
intently into Benjamin's eyes. "One last chance. One last time to say no. I
don't know if I can stop if we go farther."
"I won't want you to. I want to know."
His sense of responsibility drove Quinton to fight against Benjamin's total
capitulation, to try to force him to retract his wishes by throwing the past at
him. "You've always been so like your father, except that you're more reckless.
He was rarely reckless. The last time was the day he took your mother out
boating."
Benjamin obviously recoiled at the mention of his parents. His eyes jerked away
from Quinton's face, staring absently at the floor. He shuddered a little, his
face contorted with remembered grief, but when he glanced back at Quinton, his
green eyes were alight with revelation. "You're really scared of me, aren't
you?"
It was Quinton's turn to feel a flinch shudder through his body at Benjamin's
accuracy. "Not of you…but of letting you down. Of letting your parents down."
Benjamin smiled, looking wiser than Quinton had felt in his entire life. "You
won't. Don't worry. This isn't reckless or ill-considered. I desire this. I
desire you."
No sane man could fight such pure, determined sincerity. Quinton groaned as he
pulled Benjamin to him, murmuring, "This is insanity," before his lips claimed
Benjamin's again. This time Quinton's kiss was hard, needy, and Benjamin
responded unreservedly, exploring Quinton's mouth aggressively.
Benjamin's lips slid down Quinton's face, rubbing into Quinton's beard before
latching onto his throat. Quinton gave an urgent hiss of pleasure as Benjamin's
lips and teeth sucked on a small patch of skin. He cradled Benjamin's head in
his palm, seeing the two of them in the mirror, and knew what he wanted for
this time, their first time, a way to make certain Benjamin's participation was
whole-hearted and informed.
"Turn." There was no response to his command, so Quinton took Benjamin
forcefully by his shoulders, turning him to face the mirror. "Look at us." He
splayed his hands on Benjamin's chest, his thumbs not quite touching his
nipples. "Do you want this?"
"Yes."
He drifted his hands up and down Benjamin's torso, feeling the lean muscles of
his stomach, caressing the peaked nipples. "Do you want this?"
"Yes. God, yes."
He brought his hands to the front of Benjamin's breeches, slowly undoing the
buttons. "I'll do nothing that you don't want."
"I want this. Please, Quinn, please."
Quinton shoved Benjamin's breeches and undergarment down, away from Benjamin's
lean hips, exposing his groin, the already swollen shaft swinging out toward
the mirror.
"Quinn, please." Benjamin grabbed onto one of Quinton's big hands, and curled
it around his penis. "Touch me, damnit. Stroke me."
"Like this?" Quinton asked, his touch a mere token, his fingers holding the
shaft too lightly.
"Harder," Benjamin pleaded.
Quinton conceded to the request, tightening his grip, his hand moving surely
and firmly up and down Ben's length. His shaft was so like Benjamin himself.
Warm and vibrant, firm and solid inside, soft skin, delicate in surprising
places… Quinton used his other hand to explore the hanging sac, rolling it
through his fingers. Already he could feel the tightening that signaled
Benjamin's ultimate explosion. For all his determination, the younger man had
little control over his body and its need.
"Are you ready for this?"
"Yes. Yes. Yes." Benjamin's eyes were wild, blazing green, his lower lip
reddened from where his teeth had bitten into the skin. "Please, Quinn."
"Then come for me, Benjamin. Come and watch yourself in my arms."
On command, Benjamin's entire body quaked in Quinton's arms, pearly fluid
splashing from his shaft, caught in Quinton's palm. Benjamin gave a wounded
cry, a sound that Quinton treasured and knew he wanted to hear many more times.
Collapsing in Quinton's arms, Benjamin was the picture of youthful decadence
and passion with his shirt dangling open and his breeches twisted around his
thighs.
Quinton uncurled his hand from Benjamin's shaft, bringing his fingers to his
lips. He took one lick at the moisture there, learning Benjamin's flavor,
knowing it would be even sweeter when he drank it the first time with
Benjamin's shaft in his mouth. "Do you want more?"
Benjamin leaned forward, pushing the vase of roses aside to rest his forearms
on the table. "I want it all." His bare rump jutted out at Quinton.
The intent was plain, the declaration impossible to resist. One-handed, Quinton
unbuttoned his own breeches, shoving them down, taking himself quickly in hand,
coating his hardness well with Benjamin's seed. He bent his knees, lowering
himself, and in reaction, Benjamin spread his legs slightly apart, granting
Quinton access, but rising a little on his toes to lift his buttocks.
"You understand what we're going to do."
"I've listened to my friends at school talk. I know what I want."
"Good." Quinton's hand almost trembled as he reached forward, finally touching
the supple curves that had invaded his waking dreams long before they should
have. He traced the dark valley, unerringly finding his destination, one slick
finger breaching the muscled opening, pausing to judge Benjamin's response.
There was no fear, no doubt in the green eyes that met his in the mirror, only
nervous impatience. Quinton breathed a little easier and twisted his finger,
massaging the muscle and loosening it.
They were both trembling by the time Quinton determined Benjamin was well-
prepared, and removed his fingers, leaving the opening empty for only a second
before inserting the tip of his shaft. Benjamin moaned and Quinton froze.
"More, damnit Quinn. More. Please. Are you determined to make me beg?"
Quinton rolled his hips, his shaft inching a little deeper into Benjamin. "You
never have to beg me, love. You only have to ask. Ask me."
"Then all the way, Quinn. Let me know all of you."
Steadily, inexorably, Quinton gave Benjamin what he asked for. The difference
in their heights could have been awkward, but Quinton held Benjamin's hips in
his big hands, keeping him on a good level. Quinton pushed with his hips,
thrusting himself further and further until he was completely enclosed within
Benjamin's body. He watched Benjamin's eyes the entire time, waiting for any
hint of pain or resistance, but seeing only the wonder of innocence becoming
experience.
Quinton laughed, his hands squeezing on slim hips. "I have never felt so good
in my life."
"Finish it, Quinn. Show me the rest."
"Yes, Benjamin. Yes." And Quinton took Benjamin, took him hard and long,
claimed him over and over, plunging forward tirelessly, his shaft plowing into
Benjamin, his hands moving Benjamin back and forth, to meet him, to retreat
from him, to meet him again with the full force of their bodies. Benjamin's
forehead pressed against the mirror and his panting breaths misted the glass,
but he kept his head up, kept his eyes meeting Quinton's, vouching for his
continued desire.
It could have taken only a few seconds; it could have lasted for infinity.
Quinton couldn't measure the time, only knowing that it was painfully sweet and
immensely powerful, seeing Benjamin shaking with sweat and desire, feeling the
tight, hot grip surrounding his shaft, clasping him close, aware that this was
the true beginning of their lives together. His entire body contracted and
spasmed as he pulsed deep inside Benjamin, filling him with his seed, groaning
in a pleasure close to anguish as Benjamin's muscles squeezed, milking the last
drop from him.
Benjamin's seed spilled forth, landing in a white streak on his red jacket, as
Benjamin gave another wounded cry, a longer, more broken one. Quinton rested
his chest on Benjamin's back and cherished the sound. It almost hurt to
withdraw from Benjamin, to step away and lean against the wall to prevent
himself from falling as he restored his breeches into place. He watched
Benjamin, still concerned, alert for signs of regret.
Benjamin's every move was lazy, as if he was too satiated for quick action.
Standing straight, he kept his hands on the table a moment longer to assure his
steadiness. Finally, he pulled up his underclothes and breeches before tucking
in his shirt, and doing all his buttons. He shrugged into his jacket from the
floor and picked up Quinton's riding crop, all without speaking, as if
realizing Quinton was waiting for his first words. His hands caressed the
length as he gave Quinton a look that combined adult sensuality and mischievous
glee. Striking the whip on his boot, he murmured, "I'll be upstairs, in the
master bedroom. I trust you can send our excuses on the hunt dinner?"
"I'll let them know we're very sorry for our unexpected absence. Something…came
up."
Benjamin laughed. "Something certainly did. And will again." Whistling the
trumpet call played to sound the beginning of the hunt, Benjamin swaggered out
of Quinton's study, idly tapping the crop on his boot.
Quinton retrieved his cravat from the floor, tying it loosely, using his gold
pin to keep it in place. He smoothed his jacket down, covering the front of his
breeches. Except that the cravat was less elaborately tied than before, his
appearance was exactly the same as when he had walked in the room. Nothing
revealed that his entire world had been turned upside down and remade into
heaven. Nothing except his eyes, which glittered with an intense purple hue
overlying the normal midnight blue.
Amazed at what had occurred, anticipating the pleasures that the rest of the
night promised, and tasting Benjamin on his lips and in his mouth, Quinton sat
at his desk and scrawled a brief note. He stuffed the card in an envelope, and
melted the red wax to seal the flap.
After dropping the card on the silver platter, he started to walk toward the
door but stopped and returned, picking up the vase of flowers. He breathed the
heady fragrance, wondering how their petals would feel rubbed on Benjamin's
skin. Which was softer?
His eyes caught his reflection and he grinned. It was time to continue
Benjamin's lessons, and Quinton had a feeling that both teacher and pupil would
learn many new facts about themselves, each other, and the world around them.
~~~~
The club was considered almost crowded at this time of the afternoon, fully
half of the plush leather chairs filled with men drinking glasses of port and
smoking cigars, restoring their spirits before venturing home to their wives
and children. Philip felt slightly desperate as he searched for a good chair,
ready to join his fellow club members for some quiet relaxation and a stiff
drink. A very tall stiff drink.
Letty was getting married in six months, and since the engagement had been
announced, their household life had revolved around arrangements for the big
day. Philip had never realized how much his dearest Maggie could put Napoleon
to shame for sheer tactical organization. For the first time in his life, he
was quite glad that only his oldest was a girl. When his boys got engaged, he
would be thrilled to let the mothers and fathers of their fiancées have this
joy.
Sighting Quinton and his ward, Philip smiled and headed toward the leather
chairs by the massive fireplace. "Mind if I join you?"
Quinton smiled in return, raising his glass of port in acknowledgement, but
Benjamin stood, shaking Philip's hand. "Uncle Philip, it's so good to see you."
"I saw that Quinton had sponsored you to the club. Pleasure to see you here."
"It's a pleasure to be here. I've always wondered where Quinn spent his time
away."
"Thank God women ain't allowed." Philip shuddered. "I don't think I could
handle another discussion of wedding ribbons."
Benjamin laughed, his smile so resembling his father's that Philip's heart
ached, remembering his dear friend. "Letty's always talked about her dream
wedding. I'm glad she's enjoying it."
"Yes, damn yes. Maggie and Letty are over the moon. I never knew there were so
many things to discuss. Colors and styles and who should sit where and what
should be played… it's enough to drive a man mad."
"Sit down and share some port with us, Philip," Quinton offered.
"Don't mind if I do, but I need something a little more bracing." He raised a
finger toward one of the white-jacketed attendants. "Whiskey, please. A
double."
Sitting down, Benjamin asked, "So when is the wedding?"
"Mid-June, I think. All depends on the vicar and the organist and the church
and all sorts of nonsense. But seems to be settled for mid-June."
"Quinn's taking me on a tour of the continent, but we'll be back in plenty of
time."
"You'd better," Philip threatened. "I'm going to need the support." The
attendant handed him a whiskey and Philip sipped, sighing in blissful relief.
Feeling more fortified, he took a closer look at his friends, pleased and a
little jealous. They were both dressed impeccably, Quinton in gray and Benjamin
in dark blue. They appeared happy, healthy, and extremely comfortable, enjoying
their afternoon port. "You're dashed lucky, you two."
"Are we?"
"A bachelor household. Trust me, it's the best thing ever."
"We were sitting in the same chairs that day," Quinton said unexpectedly.
"What day?" Philip asked, confused. The only day he'd been thinking about was
Letty's wedding day.
"That day that we heard the news about Edward. That day that I knew I would
become Benjamin's guardian. You said we would do fine together."
"Yes, I did, didn't I? And I was right." Philip felt a glow of satisfaction. He
might not appreciate why pearls couldn't be worn on a wedding day, but he'd
predicted that Quinton and Benjamin would get along well, and he'd been right.
A man had to cherish these little victories.
"Yes." Quinton and Benjamin spoke the word in unison, and clinked their port
glasses. "You were right," Quinton added. "We've done very well together. We
always will."
~ the end ~
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