Title: Any Other Night

Author: Nicole D'Annais (ndannis@fbi-agent.com)

Author's Page: http://adult.dencity.com/ndannais/

Pairing: Q/other

Rating: NC-17

Category: Angst, drama

Archive: Master and Apprentice--anyone else ask please

Summary: Qui-Gon goes looking for someone, he's just not sure who.

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone, much less these fine characters--although I own a couple of action figures of them, does that count? Probably not. Oh well, I refuse to make any money off them in any event, so please don't sue me.

Notes: Thanks to Holly and Kristi for quick betas, and to besinke for naming Qui-Gon's drink! Oh, and to the American Psycho soundtrack for somehow inspiring me to write this.

Any Other Night--by Nicole D'Annais

The muted pulse of the drums. The hard, deep sound of a synthebass. Qui-Gon stood outside the door, eyes closed, and listened. This was the right place.

He opened the door and his senses were immediately assaulted by music, voices and scents. Any other night he'd be annoyed by the loud music, the crush of people. Any other night, he'd be at home with a nice story, or a holovid.

But not tonight.

As he made his way to the bar, he scanned the crowd, searching for...well, he wasn't quite sure what he was searching for. He never was. It wasn't something he could define. It was a feeling, a sense, something he recognized instantly when it hit him. And he would find it. He always did.

"Blue shrrsan," he said as made it to the bar. The bartender nodded and hurried off to get the drink. A moment later he returned, handing the drink to Qui-Gon and taking the credits before moving on to the next patron. Qui-Gon leaned back against the bar and watched the room. The club was definitely a mix of creatures from all over the galaxy; there were at least twenty different species represented in his immediate area. But none of them were quite right.

His eyes moved up, scanning the second level of the club as he took a long drink. Several attractive humans caught his eye, but none of them kept his attention for more than a moment. He wasn't looking for just attractive. He was looking for--he stopped, fixated on a figure standing on the stairs. Dark hair to his shoulders, dressed in black, and staring back at him.

This was the one.

The man started moving again, down the stairs, threading his way through the crowd. Qui-Gon never lost sight of him, but even so, he was still surprised when the stranger was suddenly standing before him. Now he could see that the dark hair framed a rather pale face only a few years younger than himself. Two eyes that looked rather more like chips of ice they were such a light blue. But how those eyes burned into him....

A memory of darker and far more intense blue eyes flashed into his mind, but he drove it back, forcing himself to focus on the man in front of him as he realized the stranger had spoken. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"I said, can I buy you a drink?"

Qui-Gon raised his glass to his lips and finished it off, placing the empty glass on the table. "Now you can."

The young man nodded to the bartender, then in Qui-Gon's direction. A moment later, his glass was refilled. "I haven't seen you here before," the stranger commented, casually moving closer, the back of his hand brushing against Qui-Gon's thigh.

"That's an old line. Your pick-up techniques could use some work," Qui-Gon commented.

"Did I say anything about picking you up?"

One eyebrow shot up. "If that's not your intent, you might want to take your hand off my thigh."

"True," the stranger agreed. And the hand stayed where it was.

Qui-Gon smiled. "What's your name?"

"Lehr. Lehr Ling." The hand crept further up his leg. "And yours?"

"Qui."

Lehr nodded, hand stroking the smooth leather covering the inside of Qui-Gon's thigh. "Have you ever seen the back rooms in this place?"

"No." A lie. He'd seen them before. Four times; once each year. But they always seemed to find it more of a challenge if he was new to this.

"Ah." Lehr leaned in close, a predatory grin on his face. "They're quite spectacular," he purred into Qui-Gon's ear, the sound of his voice erotic, even at the level he had to speak just to be heard. "Allow me to show you?"

The request was finished off with a nip at Qui-Gon's earlobe, a particularly sensitive spot. Qui-Gon shivered, downing his entire drink in one gulp before letting Lehr lead him to the back of the club.

Relat was not your average club. In certain circles it was known more for its unadvertised specialties than for anything the average Coruscant tourist saw in the brochures. The back rooms were one of those items. You learned about them by word of mouth. Or by accident, at least in Qui-Gon's case. He'd certainly never thought he'd be using them, not when he'd first found out they existed.

But here he was, following a man he'd known for less than five minutes through the crowd, down the maze of hallways to the entrance. He waited while Lehr paid their entry, then continued behind him to their room.

It looked the same as the others he'd been in. A big bed, a table beside it, a couple of chairs and a table, and the rest of the space just barren. Most of the rooms were pretty much identical, though he'd heard about a few special ones that were available for the right price. He didn't think he'd ever see them.

Of course, he'd thought he'd never see the inside of these either, at least not with his own eyes. He closed off those thoughts, shoving them in an inner room with the part of him that was distinctly Jedi, and locked the door. He wasn't a Jedi tonight; he was just a man.

Lehr was standing next to the bed, leaning against the table there, a smile on his face and an obvious bulge in the front of his pants. Qui-Gon crossed the few feet between them and trapped him there, attacking the stranger's mouth with hard kisses, his hands bruising the other man's skin as he grabbed at his clothing, working to tear it off.

The challenge was issued, a pace demanded and accepted, as Lehr pushed, landing Qui-Gon on the bed. The younger man yanked his shirt off quickly before he jumped onto the bed and straddled Qui-Gon's thighs, grabbing his arms and pinning them to the mattress. Their lips met, not nearly enough pressure in the kiss, but when Qui-Gon tried to get closer, he found himself restricted by those hands on his wrists. Unwilling to give in that easily, he bit down on the other man's lip.

A soft laugh echoed off the walls as Lehr rose up and smiled down at him, tongue reaching out to wipe away the faint trace of blood from the bite. "So you want to play rough, do you?"

"Don't you?"

Qui-Gon's enemies would run from that deadly tone, but Lehr just laughed again. "Oh the rougher, the better," he said before he leaned in, laying brutal claim to Qui-Gon's lips, grinding them against the Jedi's teeth. Then he softened the kiss again, tongue delving into the older man's mouth as he searched out Qui-Gon's tongue, drew it into his own mouth, sucking on it a little as he pulled away to trail kisses down his cheek and neck.

His destination seemed to be the base of Qui-Gon's throat. He stopped there, sucking on the skin, letting out a frustrated growl before he began biting, causing just enough pain to have Qui-Gon writhing beneath him, his erection feeling the heat of the swollen cock in Lehr's pants, but unable to get the skin on skin contact he craved.

"Please..." Qui-Gon managed as Lehr's lips lifted just enough to move to the middle of his shoulder and start biting again. The younger man slid off to the side, mouth still fixed to Qui-Gon's shoulders as he reached down without missing a beat to work at the ties on the older man's pants. A warm hand found his erection, enclosed it, tried to prevent the surge of his hips as the grip encased him, but didn't quite succeed.

The mouth left his shoulder, moved down to one hard, brown nipple and bit, teeth tugging until it went just past the point of pleasurable pain. Before he could do more than cry out, however, the teeth let go, and a warm tongue was lapping at the slight injury, taking away all but the memory of the brief pain and leaving behind pleasure.

Lips traveled further, down to the waistband of Qui-Gon's pants and below, the leather hard to tug off over damp, sweaty skin. Inch by torturous inch, the material slid over him in starts and fits, rubbing against his erection until he thought he might explode from that sensation alone. Before he could, Lehr seemed to get frustrated at the slow progress, and moved back to pull at the pants. Qui-Gon heard a rip as the fabric gave way, and seconds later, he was naked under the other man's gaze.

The ice blue eyes burned as they trailed up his legs, across his stomach and chest and up to rest on his face. Slowly, Lehr leaned in for a kiss much gentler than the others they'd shared before he tugged Qui-Gon's arm, rolling him over onto his stomach. There was a rustle of fabric, and then warm skin on his own as Lehr straddled his thighs, his cock nudging at the crevice between Qui-Gon's cheeks.

Lehr leaned over, covering Qui-Gon's back in skin as he nibbled across the shoulder he'd neglected earlier. Then he slowly rose, nails leaving trails of burning fire down Qui-Gon's back as he traced the length of it. Faint noises above him, and then Qui-Gon felt cool gel sliding between his cheeks, and a finger probing at his opening.

He thrust back onto that finger, wanting more immediately. Two fingers entered, enough to cause a slight burn, but still he wanted more--three fingers were better, but still not enough. Qui-Gon twisted impatiently, wanting it all now; wanting to feel a little pain, especially in this.

The fingers left him, Lehr obliging willingly as he hovered at the opening for only a second before sliding inside with one quick thrust. It hurt, by the Force it hurt, but it felt so good, so perfect, exactly what he needed that he began to shove back against it, his own cock rock hard against the mattress, ready for release as the sheets created unbearable friction.

But not yet. Not until he felt the other's release inside him. Only then would he let himself go over the edge. He didn't think it would be long. Lehr was pounding into him, his hands sliding up Qui-Gon's back to his neck, gripping, restricting air flow, but not enough to kill him. At least not unless the man didn't let up soon.

The grip was enough to make the world go slightly hazy, but it only made every sensation inside his body that much clearer. He felt droplets of water he guessed were sweat dripping off Lehr's face onto his back, felt the fingers on his throat, and most of all, felt the hard heat, covered by soft skin, invading him, plunging in again and again.

Finally, too soon, Lehr went perfectly still, his hands tightening just a fraction, and then Qui-Gon felt the pulse of the younger man's release inside his body. His own release came as the world began to gray out around him, and then suddenly his neck was free, and he gasped for breath as his orgasm was only just beginning to fade.

When it was over, Qui-Gon lay there, not yet able to move enough to turn his head. He could hear the sounds of Lehr dressing, then other noises just before a clatter of duraplast sounded beside his shoulder, next to the back of his head. He continued to stare at the wall as he listened to the footsteps, and the closing of the door. And then he was alone.

After five years, he still had no idea what he was looking for when he came here. Penance? Hardly. Perhaps he was waiting for one of them to do something to wipe out the pain. One of them to actually kill him. Maybe he even wanted one to stay.

No matter; whatever he wanted, it wasn't what happened. Each time he ended up the same as before. Alone, and still keeping company with his demons.

With a sigh that hinged on a sob, he raised up and saw what had caused that clatter. A small pile of credits. Perfect. Just perfect. Payment for services rendered, for offering up his body like a cheap whore. How poetic.

He dressed quickly and left without looking back at the money still lying on the bed.

***

The knock at the door was answered with a muffled, "We're closed."

"You'll bloody well open for me, Marsau!" the man outside hissed.

Eyes peered through a hole in the door, and then it sprung open, "Of course, sir, I'm sorry, I did not realize it was you. Please, come in."

"That's better." Lehr stepped into the room, reigning in his anger for the moment. "Let's get this done, shall we?"

"Of course. If you'll just have a seat over here...."

He dropped into the chair, familiar with the process by now. A short time later, it was done, and he took the mirror from the table beside him before it was even offered. "Remarkable," he said, his smile not quite reaching the dark blue eyes.

"I cannot take credit for the face," Marsau said, "as it is your own. However, I will admit my skill in manipulation is quite good. I wish you would let me remove the scar," he added, reaching to touch the broken circle just below the eye. "You could be perfect--"

A hand grabbed Marsau's wrist in a crushing grip. "The scar stays. And I am far from perfect."

"As you wish, sir, of course."

The man smiled, feeding off the fear in Marsau's voice, the fear he was feeding off into the Force around him. "Of course." He pulled credits out of his pocket and dropped them on the chair as he stood. "As usual you never saw me."

"I never do," Marsau agreed, grabbing the credits up greedily. "Until the next time, when I will not see you again."

"Until then," the man agreed, shouldering his coat and hurrying out the door. He wanted to be alone, to relive the evening, the feel of that life starting to drain away. But more than that, he wanted to go back, force himself to finish what he'd started, to kill Qui-Gon Jinn with his own hands. He hadn't been able to do it; for some reason, he'd stopped himself at the last minute.

But he would. One day, he would kill his former master. And he would enjoy it.

Turning his collar up against a sudden wind, Xanatos disappeared into the night.

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