Two Q's on a Tatooine Side Street

Two Q's on a Tatooine Side Street
by: helgaleena
rated: R in spots
warnings: slash
disclaimer: Lucas owns everything; I am nothing

Authors note:  This is the first documented appearance of the character Quinlan Vos in Lucas films. It became the inspiration for John Ostrander/Jan Duursema expansion in Dark Horse Comics Star Wars: Republic series, eventually persuading Lucas to add Vos and his padawan, Aayla Secura, to the following prequels as well.

This is also the immediate prequel to my only Star Wars full length chapter fiction, Jaxxon's Twi'leks. It healed me immensely to write these.  Also it redeemed most of the horrid gaps in GL's understanding of his own characters, in many peoples' eyes.

These three chapters were broken up in order to exclude the sex scenes when shared at http://boards.theforce.net which has since purged much of its fan fiction in the EU, no matter what the rating. No reason for that anymore.





CH 1

Quinlan Vos sat in the cafe, under the awning outside the adobe tavern on a busy side street on the dried-out planet of Tatooine, waiting for his contact. Jedi on an Outer Rim Hutt world had to stay under cover, and not just from the relentless twin suns. It was crowded in the shade at this part of the day cycle; he had to share a table with complete strangers, and was lucky to have a chair. He scratched at his reddish chin, blanketed with jet-black stubble. Time to shave again already, blast it. Kiffar were cursed with sensitive skin.

He relaxed into the gloom, almost a shadow himself under the mane of matted locks, night without a trace of stars except for the occasional gleam of the whites of his eyes behind the yellow clan marking. Of all the bars on all the worlds in all the galactic outskirts of this screwed-up Republic, why would the Trade Federation bother with this one? Smuggling was not subject to regulation; that was its very nature. Most Hutts didn't try, and reaped the benefit. But they shouldn't expect anything solid in return except credits. Not loyalty, not tax, not alliance.

Soon he'd see exactly how naive this brown-nosing Commerce Guild underling on the make really was-- if he ever got here.

He idly noted a somewhat ill-assorted group strolling by-- good-looking teenage honey in a blue tunic, astromech droid rolling and tootling, and a tall blond drink of water with long silky hair and a goatee--- Qui-Gon? What was he doing here?

Where was his goody-goody padawan? And Quin spotted the gleam of a light-sabre under the ratty poncho. He wasn't undercover,then. Don't draw attention.

No worries on that; everyone's attention was on a dried bubo flying through the air and landing in a Dug's soup. Not just any Dug, either-- it was Sebulba, the pod-racing bully! This might get ugly. Quin warily sat back to watch.

But Qui-Gon and his group had stopped, too. It looked as if that weird six-foot amphibian, the one responsible for the flying bubo, was with them. Sebulba had already leaped up and floored the poor guy, and was bitch-slapping him with the bubo and two legs, then starting to choke him. He certainly didn't get much back-talk that way.

He wouldn't have anyway; evidently the moist guy didn't know a syllable of Huttese. Apology would get you nowhere with Sebulba in any case; Quin had seen him in action.

Next thing anyone in the cafe crowd knew, out of nowhere a local kid was in Sebulba's face, bearding him in Huttese, acting way older than he looked, which was about seven standard years. Telling him that he'd beat Sebulba in the next race-- huh? Humans didn't pod-race! Who was this kid?

But anyway, he got the bully off the giant salamander with ears. And now he and Qui-Gon were acting very chummy. The teenage honey couldn't take her eyes off him. There's definitely something about that kid... Never mind, Qui-gon was on it.

Quin settled back to wait some more.

His contact still hadn't showed when the motley group with Qui-Gon passed by in the other direction, this time led by the little local boy. Quin decided to take the time to shadow them. First, he sent out a tentative message through the Force.


The Jedi master immediately turned and spotted him.

Quin made as if to rise, eliciting a quick hand-signal from Qui-Gon to stay where he was. He turned and continued walking with the group, who had not noticed their exchange.



So instead of tailing them, he moved inside to the bar. It was getting too windy for comfort out there, anyway. Looked like a sandstorm coming.


CH 2

That evening, the worst of the storm was dying into the darkness, and the tavern's varied patrons began drifting out to their homes or other destinations. The Commerce Guild snitch still hadn't showed up, but it could be the storm's fault. Quin decided to give the being another sun-cycle to arrive, then report back to Master Tholme.

The ending of the storm also meant that Qui-Gon would be able to get here and tell his story. Quin found his mind slipping back to their last meeting, on Ord Mandell. Obi-Wan had eaten some bad Phinndian take-out and was throwing up in the suite he shared with his master, so Qui-Gon and Quin had been able to share quite a lot of leisure time. Mmmm....they didn't spend it in a restaurant, either. They were in Quin's room, and there was that aromatic oil, and it was all Qui had been wearing...he wasn't the only thing on the menu, though. Quin found the corners of his mouth twitching with amusement at the memories.

As if in response to his train of thought, the tavern door gaped open to admit a tall human. It was Qui-Gon Jinn, Jedi master and major beefcake. Quin's dark gaze swept up from under his beetling brows, taking in the man's regal presence with a connoisseur's appreciation. After a few moments Qui located him among the remaining patrons and came over to the young man leaning ferally on the bar.

"Well met, old friend."

"Well met, indeed. What brings you to this corner of the galaxy, in the company I saw you with earlier?"

"We are stranded for a bit. My apprentice is looking after the--caravan for now, and I don't want to say more here. Have you a more private place for discussion?"

"I do." Quin smiled graciously, and led the way upstairs.

As soon as the chamber door closed behind them, Qui-Gon was upon him. Their lips met like two carts crashing in the market, spilling their passion out. Quin crushed the older man to himself, his back to the door, as they greeted one another fully. He loved the satiny texture of Qui's beard against his face, and rubbed his lips in it in appreciation as they parted slightly.

"It's been too long," murmured Qui-Gon, looking at his red-skinned young lover. They were just of a height, and of matching heavy bone structure, though both moved with grace. Sparring with Quin, on and off the dueling floor, was a delight. There was something untamed about him, no matter how decadently civilized the setting.

"News first or feasting first?" asked Quin, with a hungry flash of teeth.

Qui's blue gaze dimmed slightly as he bowed to the necessity of work before pleasure. He sighed.

"We're not supposed to be here at all, Quin. We were sent to mediate the Trade Federation blockade of Naboo. As soon as Obi and I arrived, everything blew up in our faces. They tried to asassinate us before we even reached the surface. Then, they disrupted communications with the rest of the Republic, and invaded. Before they could force the Queen to sign a treaty legitimizing their actions, we fled the surface with her and a few of her servants. But our craft sustained damage enough to strand us here, out of funds and too far away to appeal to the Senate to intercede."

"Naboo's a water world? That would explain the amphibian clown." Quin amused himself by playing with a lock of that silky hair, content to get information. For now.

"Jar-Jar incurred a life-debt to me, and is bound to accompany us until he receives a chance to repay it. It's a Gungan custom. The Nubian humans and the Gungans have separate domains on Naboo, with little interaction. It remains to be seen if this crisis will --unite-- them..." He smiled gently, putting an extra emphasis on the word 'unite', looking significantly at the man he was embracing.

"So-- where are this Jar-Jar and the others in your party? Will you be staying long?"

"You saw the boy we were with? He's a slave, actually, to a parts merchant, and has taken us in, in a manner of speaking. He and his mother have quarters enough to accomodate us, though Jar-Jar and I are on the floor. Remarkable boy, built his own droid from scraps."

"Yes, I noticed the boy. But of course, you need not sleep on the floor, here." And Quin pulled Qui-Gon's beautiful mouth to his, via the lock of hair in his fingers.

With no haste, they reacquainted themselves with each others' mouths. Quin's pulse began to race, but he wasn't quite able to put aside the debriefing of his guest.

Even as he busied himself with removing Qui's tunics for him, he continued the querying. "He sounds gifted, but still, it's a puzzle how an underage slave is going to help refit your ship in time to aid Naboo."

For his part, Qui was helping Quin out of his belt and trousers, causing the younger man to gasp at the heated touches to exposed flesh.

"We have a plan so crazy that it just might work," he murmured, and bent to salute an old acquaintance which had been revealed by his efforts. And Quinlan Vos let any further thoughts of speech fly off as he drowned in the flood of sensation. His hands clenched in Qui's discarded tunic as he gasped for breath, then let it drop in favor of fistfulls of that silky hair, now brushing against his exposed belly. Qui-gon's experienced tongue rolled all around his manhood until, with a growl, he unleashed the thrusting of his hips, to ram it down the waiting throat.

In response, Qui grabbed at his muscular buttocks, mainly to keep from being tossed backward with every thrust. The hairs of his chest rubbed tantalizingly accross Quin's inner thighs. He's begging for it, and I'm going to give it up, thought Quin vaguely; as if in answer a large hand crept closer to his most private place and insinuated a fingertip, then two--

The contractions of release began, along with a white-hot flash of ecstacy from toes to head, and he grunted a discreet exclamation, then trembled, pleasure leaking out of every pore.

They had traveled halfway accross the room on the battering force of Quin's generosity. If Qui hadn't stll had his pants on, his knees would have been abraded by the tiles. Quin sank down to his knees with him. The face of his lover was rosy and softened now by his attentions, and Quin delved once more into that delicious mouth, to see what his passage there had wrought. Qui-gon met his lips glady, kissing back with a grateful fervor. Quin's hands roved that back and shoulders, feeling the muscles clothed in skin nearly as satiny as the man's hair.

When their lips parted again, Qui-Gon's hands ceased their own fascinated travel under the Kiffar's shirt and slipped it off his shoulders. Quin's brick-red nipples stiffened in the cooler air as Qui's tongue approached, to trace patterns in the sweat of his chest. His fingertips against Qui's back were replaced by the rake of Quin's nails in response, as he let another groan escape. Where was that tease's cock? But Qui kept his crotch away from the younger man's questing hands. Quin arched back instead, to offer himself more fully to the work of art his lover was creating on his skin--and lost balance, reeling backwards onto the floor.

Qui-Gon paused in his ministrations to gaze down admiringly upon his handiwork. Quinlan's hair was spread out around his handsome head like a negative sunburst of blackness, the sheen of passion glazing his flesh. His eyes were fixed resolutely upon Qui-Gon like blazing chips of obsidian, steady though his chest was heaving, under its swirls of matte and shiny licks. His nostrils appeared like treasure caves above the parted lips and the Kiffar's slab-white teeth.

Pleased with his creation, he paused to pull off the remainder of his clothing. Quin, at ease on the floor, enjoyed the show. The pants bunched around his own boots didn't inconvenience him, so he left them where they were.

Qui pulled off first one boot, then the other, letting them crash where they would on the floor, then slid out of his trousers and socks as if they were all one epidermis he was shedding. He stood gloriously naked, straddling the dusky pool of Quinlan below him, his shaft absolutely perpendicular to his flat abdomen, with only a few thin scars as reminders of the Jedi life. Splendid. Quin's eyes burned like landing beacons; he licked his lips in anticipation. He thought he saw a delicious drip of arousal upon the tip of Qui.

With great deliberation, the magnificent mass of Jedi Master Qui-gon Jinn descended to hands and knees over him. Quin's breathing accelerated still further, and his hands, still gauntleted, began to roam up and down the blond fuzz on the backs of those thick thighs. And the giant organ of Qui-Gon Jinn slid just as deliberately into his open mouth.

Qui-Gon could not help crying out at the touch of Quin's tongue, rough as a cat's, upon him. His slow-motion flight plan was hurriedly scrapped in favor of double time in and out, with Quin supplying both lubrication and suction. Quin was raising his head off the floor to meet every stroke---he was insatiable! And his powerful arms were pressing Qui ever closer. Somewhere down toward his toes he felt Quin's legs splaying wide, forcing his own legs further out. It was like being devoured completely, without any pain, only pleasure upon pleasure.

His arms and legs began to fight him in their need to thrash wildly. The result was a keening moan and a trembling like an earthquake, and then Qui let go, dissolving himself and all his cares into the voracious Quinlan Vos. In his joy at the gift he was receiving, Quin's own release was triggered, and he brought his knees up suddenly, to butt Qui-Gon deeper into his throat. They were both splattered by the force of his coming.

In the aftermath, as Quin lay beneath the blanket of his lover's body, both of them corraling their runaway breathing and thoughts, he gazed contentedly into the blue eyes at his shoulder.

"So, you prefer the floor?" he asked, with a small smile.

"Quin, has anyone ever told you how hot you are?"

"Yeah, only half the galaxy. But you were the last."

Qui-Gon chuckled, then roused himself enough to capture those brick-red lips again. Quin let in his tongue, and it leisurely made inventory of his teeth for him. It was a tasty tongue, so he sucked at it a little, causing another moan to escape his lover.

Qui-Gon stopped to gasp for breath, then said, "The bed will be fine."

With a smile, Quin led the way there. On the journey, Qui helped him off with his boots, getting in a few toe tickles and receiving a few pretend kicks. Now they were evenly matched for a good sheet-wrestle, winner take all.


CH 3


After an early breakfast at the tavern (even Jedi masters can't live on spunk alone), Qui and Quin were strolling through the Tatooine dawn. There was a surprising amount of activity on the streets at this hour, before the opressive heat of full day. They were just two more humans in the crowd.

"I don't know, Qui-Gon; it's one thing to influence the fall of a chance-cube, and another to bet the entire ship on a pod-race. The odds are terrible. You know half the crowd at these events is there to see the contestants die."

"And die spectacularly, yes. But you don't know this boy, Quin; he's more than just lucky. He can see the future for that crucial ten seconds ahead, and change it."

"Really?" Quin scowled from under his sooty brows.

"Really." Qui truly believed what he was saying. His baby blue eyes were as steady as a mountain range.

"That would certainly come in handy." Quin scratched at his chin, more out of reflex than anything else; it didn't itch anymore. Qui had shaved him in the fresher this morning.

"Did you get his midichlorians?"

"I'm having Obi-Wan do the test tonight, before the big race."

"How is my old student chum, by the way?"

"Fine, fine, probably amusing himself with the Queen's Handmaidens even as we speak. But to get back to the boy again-- if he were going to juggle live thermal detonators on stage, I'd still bet on him. He bends the Force to his will, without even realizing what he's doing."

"This I have to see."

"Well, don't come to the Skywalkers' quarters with me. I don't want to have to explain you."

Quin grinned smugly. "I am pretty inexplicable."

Qui's eyes twinkled. "That you are, Quin. But I meant that I have already had to admit to them that I was a Jedi. Anakin could tell. No need to complicate things with another of us popping up, not to mention possibly compromising your mission."

"Agreed. But I am obliged to hang around here until my contact shows, so I may have to miss the actual race. Guess I'll just have to take your word for it about your prodigy--- unless, of course, it all falls through and you're still here in a week, consoling a bereaved mother."

"It won't fall through, Quin."

The Jedi master paused, on the covered porch of a dwelling whose inhabitants were either absent or still asleep. Quin stopped, too.

"Are we almost there?"

"Yes; let's make our farewells now."

He took Quinlan into his arms. Their eyes were exactly level; night-dark gazed into sky-blue.

"Thank you for making yourself known to me, Quin."

"Anytime." And Quinlan brought his lips to Qui-Gon's for a lingering kiss. Both were pleasantly reminded of all the other things their lips had been doing previously. Then Qui-Gon gently pulled himself away, and walked around the corner, disappearing from view.

Quin sank into the shadow and shut his eyes, becoming part of the shadows himself, Force-extending his sense of hearing to detect the retreating footsteps. They stopped not far away. He caught the start of a conversation.

"Master Qui-Gon, I want to talk to you about Anakin." It must be that teenage cutie, the Nubian queen's tag-along Handmaiden. She was up early and waiting for Qui.

"What is it, Padme?"

"Master Qui-Gon, he's only a child. I'm not sure if the Queen--"

"The Queen is not here. And we have had this conversation before. The boy's mother has given her permission, and the boy is willing."

"But--" Qui-Gon's footsteps disappeared into a dwelling. Quin hadn't heard any footsteps of this Padme in pursuit of him; she hadn't left.

She was muttering to herself. "Not here? That's what HE thinks." Lighter footsteps hurried inside, followed by the piping voice of a young boy, too distant to make out.

Quin sighed and turned to leave. That whole drama would have to unfold without him. Back to the spy business.








We finally see who the snitch is.. Everyone please check out Jaxxon's 11 at theforce.net humor section!


 CH 4


Quinlan was just getting up in search of some lunch, when his contact finally showed. A very tall, deeply hooded and cloaked figure, who would have been mysterious-looking if not for the loud brocade his cloak was made of, sidled up to his table on the tavern patio.

"Hey, man, I heard you needed a nerf?"

How about that--it was the password. Quin sat down again, his dark brows twitching as he sized up the lanky stranger. He gave the proper response.

"Only a mating pair, er, man." His contact had on a garish red flight suit and full gauntlets under the cloak, even in this heat. Probably not a human.

The stranger sat, and pulled back the hood. Foot-long ears sprang up, erect as antennae, only definitely not insectile-- they were furry. He was a Lepi, of that smuggling race also known as Lepus carnivorous, and he was obviously quite young, and very green--literally.

"Whew! Sorry about the getup, but this bright sun is murder on my symbionts. If I don't cover up I get pretty day-glow, and the honeys don't go for that so much."

Quin found himself amused by the forthright young being's attitude.

"What, not even Twi'leks?" He'd been bothered by a lot of predatory Twi'lek females on this world, most probably former slaves.

"Well, you know Twi'leks; they're used to green, and they're pretty exciteable anyway. Almost as good as a doe. But enough small talk, huh? Sorry it took me a couple extra days of Hutt duty before I could get here-- my supposed boss, Jabba, is setting up a new operation on this dustball, and kept me kissing tail a bit longer than I expected."

"Oh, I kept myself amused." Quin smiled to himself in private reminiscence. "But I thought you were with the Commerce Guild?"

"So I am, indeed; the Coachelle Commerce Guild."

"Indeed." This was a new wrinkle on things.

"Yes, I'm pretty intimate with the people in charge." Quin stared at him. The young Lepi's brash act didn't fool him. He kept staring until the guy began to twitch a bit.

"Er, actually I am the entire Coachelle Commerce Guild. For the moment. Gotta start somewhere, don't I?" he added defensively. "But I recently acquired my own vessel, and I have the contacts for all your smuggling needs, throughout the entire Rabbit Sector. Funny, outsiders don't visit our system all that much; why is that? My people are hospitable."

Quin snorted. "Probably because your people have the reputation of kicking the poodoo out of anyone who messes with family."

"Yeah, and we do have big ones. I see where you're going with that. But that's also our strength-- the sheer volume of the market. I figure we're a largely untapped resource ripe for development, and I'm your buck. And, as an added bonus," he leaned forward on this, "I am very willing to kick the poodoo out of anyone who messes with the C-C-G." As he enunciated the letters, his fangs gleamed.

He leaned back again. "So, Mr. Kiffar, what sort of merchandise do you need moved?"

"Call me Kim. I deal in information, Mr.--"

"Jaxxon. Just Jaxxon. I can get you that. It would be nice to have some kind of actual cargo, though. Something to tickle the taste-buds of the folks back home."

"How about Twi'leks?"

Jaxxon's nose twitched as he cogitated. "You mean like an exotic escort service type of thing?"

"Great minds think alike, son."

"I'm not your son and never will be."

"Sorry, Jaxxon."

"Also, I need to know if it's a slave thing or not. I can't afford to buy 'em. Can you?"

"I believe you will find many independent contractors willing to work on a commission basis." In fact, he saw a couple of them through the open tavern door, over Jaxxon's shoulder.

"You know, Mr. Kim, --can I call you Kim?-- I think I know a few myself, now that you put it in that light."

"Local gals?"

"Yeah, Jabba goes through Twi'leks pretty fast. Tragic if you think about it too hard. But a lot of them wise up and buy themselves free before they hit the rancor pit."

"Gruesome."

"You said it. Yet one more reason why I'm anxious to start up something independently like this."

Quin actually liked this character. He was totally unexpected in some ways, in others reassuringly predictable. He decided Master Tholme would approve of a course of extended research in this area.

"I think we can do business, Jaxxon."

"Okay. I look forward to showing you around 'The Rabbit's Foot'. By the way," he continued, removing his right gauntlet to reveal a large, green, hairless palm, "it's customary among my people to press palms at this point."

Quin complied, steeling himself for the inevitable barrage of impressions that would be imparted by his special Force talent through the contact. It was his first experience of the Force signature of one of Jaxxon's race. The information was surprisingly concise.

Lepi were constituted to value the sense of touch above all others. He was conveying almost as much information as he was receiving. Quin instantly redoubled his shields, and broke the contact as soon as possible. Still, he caught a suspicious narrowing of Jaxxon's eyes. He quickly changed the subject.

"What do you say we go scout out some of those independent contractors? But first, a little lunch..."

"There's a place a few doors down that does a great nerf steak with mushrooms."

"Okay. But before we look up Twi'leks, I have a favor to ask."

"What?"

"Lose the cloak with the flowers."

"I can turn it inside out, I guess. Hey, man, this could be the start of a beautiful friendship. Ever had a doe?"

Quin chuckled, and decided to press a few buttons for the fun of it.

"You mean your sister?"

"Don't go there, man." But then Jaxxon wiped the scowl off his muzzle and grinned.

"Let's eat."

the End--?

originally posted at Swfanfic community June 2005