tpm_flashback | Danger, Little Stranger by Lilith Sedai and Cori Lannam

Danger, Little Stranger:

Lilith Sedai and Cori Lannam

Rated NC-17

Qui-Gon/Curt, Obi-Wan/Curt, Qui-Gon/Obi-Wan.

Warnings: nada.

The story:
Danger, Little Stranger

Reasons for recommending:

Crossovers are so rarely done well, but there are two TPM-Velvet Goldmine crossovers and both are wonderful, and if no one recs the other, then I will do that one too. But today, this one, one of the hottest stories on the m_a archive.

Qui-Gon is searching through various dimensions for his lost Obi-Wan when he happens across Curt Wild's TV Eye performance, and is astounded and aroused and a little bothered by the raw sensuality of this alternate version of his padawan. Did Qui-Gon crush this sensuality out of his student? Could Qui-Gon allow himself to indulge in this alternate version of Obi-Wan? Yearning!Qui-Gon is lovely and the Raunchy!Curt and ProperDevotedPadawan!Obi-Wan are perfect to screen characterisation.

I'm sure someone will disagree if I call this pwp, and think I'm classifying it as throwaway porn. It's not that at all. This is my ideal pwp. There's lovely yearning angst and interesting character stuff and a little plot but it all hangs around the delicious sex scenes, and when they're not having sex then they're thinking about it, and sex drips from the description in every line. Rowr. This is hot.

I've lost count of how many times I've read this.

Quote from the story:

This close, the music seized (Qui-Gon) like a living thing, driven by the reckless energy of the shining creature above him. Around him, the listeners responded with frantic shrieks, and the man fed their excitement into his own sensual frenzy. It seemed not to be enough, and one slender white hand found its way into the tight black pants, rubbing, teasing, building the arousal of his audience as much as his own.

Qui-Gon's throat dried until each breath came as a rasp as he watched. Never. Never, not if they lived until every sun had burned down to an ember, would he see this display, this need, in Obi-Wan. If such a need lurked within the young Jedi's soul, it was and would always be buried beyond the reach of anyone, including himself.

Including Obi-Wan's master.

His master, who had trained him so well in the ways of serenity. His master, whose clumsy error had sent the person he treasured most in all the universes tumbling into nothingness. His master, whose own need they never spoke of, never acknowledged, but which now boiled up in him with every twitch of this doppelganger's body.