***************
Title: Hitchin' a Ride, an ABH
Author: BJ Stahl
****************
Rating: NC-17
In other words, if the thought of *a lot* of gratuitous sex
offends you,
please run away screaming now. (O/f/Q,
mild slash)
Summery: You need a ride, the guys need a
mechanic. Such a deal!
Spoilers: Puh-leeze.
Archive: Darth Diebin's archive, JediHunks, the
Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan
Estrogen
Brigades, anyone else ask me first please.
Feedback: It validates my existence as a writer of
smutty fanfiction.
Disclaimer: Shana could I borrow your 'Bite Me'
sign? (I make no money
from my
endeavors BTW.)
---
"That
ought to do it," you say, stretching for the first time in hours.
You've spent
almost a full day in a repair-induced haze, concentrating
entirely on
jury-rigging a sublight engine back into something resembling
operational
status.
Qui-Gon
bends, folding himself into a ball small enough to fit into the
engine
compartment as he examines your handiwork.
He and his apprentice, a
guy named
Obi-Wan seem like nice enough fellows on short acquaintance.
After all,
they were giving you a way off of this cursed cheese hole after a
month's
enforced stay. Fix the engine and get a
ride to Galactic Center.
Not a bad
deal for an impoverished hitchhiker.
Although you
think now that maybe you should have held out for maybe a
little
money. They didn't just break their sublight
drive. They killed it.
Slagged it, fragged it, damn near
obliterated it. It had been on the tip
of your
tongue to ask why, but prudence kept your mouth firmly shut.
The engine
rumbles as Obi-Wan, working in the cockpit, sends it power. It
sounds
tired, like a pony ridden hard by someone with a pronounced lack of
common
sense, but the seals are holding. For
the moment anyway.
You
grin. "It works."
Qui-Gon,
extracting himself from the engine compartment, smiles down at you
proudly. You return his smile. He really is a charming fellow. Handsome
too, tall
and broad, with long graying hair and lovely blue eyes. And his
apprentice
isn't hard on the eyes either, smaller, leaner, with short ginger
gold hair,
shifting eyes, and the loveliest smile you've ever seen. Being a
guest on
board their ship shouldn't be at all unpleasant.
The two of
you stay put while Obi-Wan arm-wrestles the ailing ship into
orbit. The sublight engine creaks and groans in
protest, but it holds
together. You can almost hear it sigh in relief when
the ship jumps into
hyperspace
and power switches over to the hyperdrive.
You blow out
a breath you didn't even realize you were holding. Now that
you've held
up your end of the deal, you've got a ride.
And to Courscant no
less!
"What
do you have as far as supplies go?" you ask. You haven't eaten all
day.
"Just
ships rations I'm afraid," he explains as the two of you leave the
engine room.
Famous last
words, you think about two hours later as the three of you
polish off
the remains of dinner. Nearly three
years of living on the road
(bad
analogy) taught you wonderful things about making the most of ration
packets. Your hosts look impressed. And stuffed.
"Can we
keep her Master?" Obi-Wan asks, his jaded blue eyes sparkling.
You've spent
most of the meal subtly flirting with one or the other of your
hosts. They seem amused by your attentions and play
along.
"Well
that's up to her Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon teases. He turns to you, laughter
lighting up
his blue eyes. "May we keep you
miss?"
"That
depends," you drawl with a grin.
"On
what?" he takes the bait.
Your grin
widens. "On whether or not you two
do dishes."
"Touché
my lady," Qui-Gon acknowledges.
The three of
you clear away dinner and settle in for the evening, you
curling up
with a good book while your hosts do some studying of their own.
You're
curious, but you learned a long time ago that nosy hitchhikers tend
to be dead
ones before too long.
Qui-Gon
yawns, veiling it behind one hand.
"Are you ready to retire miss?"
he asks you.
You tear
yourself away from your book.
"Yeah."
"You're
welcome to the cabin. My apprentice and
I can make pallets in the
cargo
hold."
You wave
that off. "I haven't met a command
chair yet that I couldn't sleep
in. I'll be fine."
A gentleman
to the fingernails, he tries to argue the point further. You
hold up one
finger. "You're being kind enough
as it is. I'll be fine.
Promise."
He smiles
and you nearly melt into a slimy pile on the floor. "If you
insist."
"I
insist."
"Very
well. Good night."
"Are
you sure you'll be all right?" Obi-Wan pipes up.
You give the
younger man an amused look.
"Gentle Kenobi, I've spent the
past month
trying to sleep on a shelf in an overcrowded hostel over a
perpetual
bar brawl. I'll be fine."
He grins,
flashing dimples. You fight the desire
to melt into the floor and
make a
mental note to have a long talk with your body when next the
opportunity
presents itself. "Good night
then."
"Good
night gentlemen," you say as they exit the room together.
You
smile. Nice people.
You grab
your bag and head for the 'fresher to get cleaned up for the night.
Grabbing a quick shower, you dress in your
usual sleep clothes, loose
ragged shirt
and snug shorts. Ordinarily you'd be
worried about
interruptions,
but for some reason you don't think your hosts will be going
anywhere
anytime soon, if the soft breathy sounds coming from their cabin
are any
clue. You extract a blanket from your
bag of stuff and tuck
yourself in
as best you can in the command chair.
Where you
can't sleep.
At first you
think that it's because of your position.
You're used to
sleeping stretched
out on a hard shelf surrounded by noise.
It's too quiet
and too
comfortable.
You
sigh. Oh well. As if you haven't had to deal with this sort
of thing
before.
A few
minutes later you stretch out on the floor, the cushions from the
cockpit
seats giving you a little protection from the hard deck. Much
better. You curl up and drift off.
Warm hands
and accented voices greet you down in sleep, guiding you through
longing
dreams. Longing and unspecific; you've
never made love and you're
not entirely
sure of the specifics of the act. Sure
you've heard plenty,
but hearing
and doing are eternities apart.
To coin a
phrase.
---
"How
many?"
"What?"
"How
many places have you been?"
Obi-Wan glances up from an astronavigation
text
awaiting your answer.
You quickly
count backwards. "Seventeen, not
counting layovers. I've been
hitching for
almost three years."
"Why?" He indicates the terminal you're working
on. You're a mathematician
by education
and you're working on several graduate projects whilst seeing
the galaxy
for less than ten credits a day.
You
shrug. "Why not? I don't exactly have a boatload of
commitments."
He mulls
that over. You spend a moment marveling
at how regulated his life
must be,
told constantly where to be and what to do.
It's for a higher
purpose, or
so he believes, but to a young man infected with that feeling of
adolescent
invincibility, it must be stifling.
Not that
your lifestyle is without drawback.
"Doesn't it get lonely, being
out on your
own so much?"
He's asked
the question and you'll tell him no lies.
"Very."
"You're
awfully young to be out on your own," Qui-Gon observes from the
doorway.
You
jump. "Make noise when you walk,
will ya please? You scared me!"
"How
old *are* you anyway?" Obi-Wan asks curiously.
"It's
impolite to ask a lady her age," you say primly.
He raises
his right hand, "I, Jedi Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi, declare before my
Master and a
responsible witness that I am impolite.
Now how old are you?"
His
flippancy makes you snort. "What
in the name of the Five Rings made you
think of me
as a reliable witness?"
"Must
be your honest face. Now answer
me."
Admit defeat
gracefully. "Twenty."
That seems
to come as a bit of a shock to Qui-Gon.
"You're kidding!" he
blurts.
"No I'm
not. I'll be twenty-one in a few
weeks."
He seems to
flail for a moment. Of all the things
that could throw this
utterly
placid man off balance . . .
"Why? How old did you think
I was?"
Obi-Wan
smiles. He takes your hand and kisses
the knuckles gently. "Not a
day over
seventeen my dear lady."
"Don't
be cute," you order, but you grin.
---
Later that
night, you drift in your little makeshift bed.
Dreaming of them.
Again.
Half-awake
and half-asleep, it takes you a minute to realize that the warm
hand
caressing your hair is real, not the product of your overactive
imagination. When that information finally worms it's way
through your
thick head,
you jerk awake.
It's
Qui-Gon. You catch your breath when you
notice he has no shirt on.
He's
kneeling by you, dressed only in sleep pants, the dim light shadowing
his
skin. His chest is broad, powerful,
rising and falling like the tides
with his
breathing. You swallow. Maybe you *are* still dreaming.
"This
has gone on long enough, I think," he declares, sliding one arm under
you. "C'mon, up with you."
"What
in the . . ." you trail off as he pulls you against him. Your breasts
press into
his chest with only the worn fabric of your nightshirt to protect
you from his
heat. You don't have time to get your
bearings before his
mouth comes
down on yours for your first kiss.
Your
startled exclamation is muffled by his lips, moving against yours, warm
and dry and
demanding. You open your mouth a little
and jerk in his arms as
his tongue,
hot, wet velvet, invades your mouth, sweeping and spiraling.
"You've
been dreaming about us for days," a new voice says behind you. You
try to get
free of Qui-Gon's arms and kiss as Obi-Wan's hands land on your
shoulders,
caressing you with feathery touches.
When you're
firmly convinced you're about to pass out from lack of air, the
kiss
breaks. Qui-Gon's lips brush over your
cheek. His beard rasps at your
face. "Jedi can read thoughts young lady, and
you've been projecting to us.
Clearer and clearer as the nights go
by."
"Have
you any idea how hard it is to sleep with you so close?" Obi-Wan
whispers,
his breath caressing your ear.
"When someone's dreaming of . . .
this?" He turns your head roughly and plants his
mouth on yours. Qui-Gon,
denied your
lips, starts stroking your throat with his lips and beard,
kissing and
nipping at the fluttering pulse-points.
Your hands tangle in
his long
loose hair.
New
sensations take hold of you as their hands move over your body, pressing
and stroking
through your nightclothes. Your head
rocks back at a gasp when
Obi-Wan cups
your breasts, running his thumbs over your nipples. Qui-Gon's
hands run
restlessly up and down your spine, trailing down to rub your hips.
You sag bonelessly between the two of them,
your heart jackrabbiting in
your ribs.
"No no,
no fainting. You're not escaping us
that easily," Qui-Gon scolds.
His tone
promises . . . something, you haven't the vaguest idea what. Until
you glance
downward and see a frightening bulge in his sleep pants.
Great Gods
you're getting raped by Jedi Knights!
Icy panic dashes over you
as your mind
coughs up terrible stories of pain and death.
Tears prick your
eyes and you
fight Obi-Wan's embrace. Oh yes. You've heard much. "Let go
of me!"
Obi-Wan
quickly wraps his arms around you, rocking you gently. "We would
never harm
you my darling. Ever." He looks over at Qui-Gon. "Something's
not right
here Master. She's scared almost
witless."
You sniffle,
scared out of your skin and ashamed that you're not acting in a
more
dignified manner. Well what's dignity
when you're about to be . . .
your mind
shies away from that train of thought.
Qui-Gon's
hand cups your face, forcing your head up.
His eyes search you,
burning with
desire, bright with concern.
"You've never had a man before."
It's not a
question exactly, but you manage a nod.
"Oh
lady," he breathes, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and holding
you against
him again, soothing you with his warmth.
Obi-Wan stays with
you,
pressing his chest into your back, his hands clasped around your waist.
Their body heat and their smells envelope
you, surround you. You can feel
their hearts
beating, steady and strong.
The fear in
your heart backs away, crouching somewhere in your stomach. As
thoughts of
violation recede, reaction to their nearness sets in. You
wiggle a
little against Obi-Wan, feeling a *very* pronounced hardness spring
to life in
the small of your back. You trace your
lips over Qui-Gon's
chest,
letting the hair there scratch at your face.
Qui-Gon's
hands drop, sliding down your arms. Obi-Wan's
fingers find the
buttons on
your shirt and start popping them open, baring your belly. He
leaves the
top four in place as his hands rub your stomach, creeping around
to slip up
your back.
Qui-Gon
rises to his feet. You drag your gaze
up to his face. "Where . .
."
"I'm
not leaving little one." He
glances at his Padawan. You feel
Obi-Wan
nod. He gathers you up into his arms and stands,
carrying you easily. You
nuzzle at
the dimple in his right cheek. He
smiles, giving you a tiny,
cherishing
kiss on the nose.
Before you
know it, you're lying on their bed, Qui-Gon holding your feet,
tracing the
blue flames tattooed up the sides of your calves with a
fingernail,
Obi-Wan removing his shirt. He kneels
next to the bed and
flicks open
the last buttons on your shirt, pressing hot dry lips to your
chest.
Obi-Wan
guides your arms out of your shirtsleeves and drops his head to your
neck. His hands fall to your breasts and stroke,
calluses catching on the
tender aureoles
of your nipples. Your mouth drops open
as Qui-Gon's lips
flow over
your ankle.
Qui-Gon's
lips stretch in a smile. "You're
awfully quiet."
Your muscles
all do something incredibly stupid as his hand rubs hard
against your
dampening crotch. You groan
breathlessly as he grinds his hand
against
you. Obi-Wan, not to be outdone, takes
your breast in his mouth,
suckling the
nipple, teasing it with his tongue. He
grips the other nipple
between the
first two fingers of his hand, pinching and wiggling.
"You,
my lady, are decidedly overdressed for the occasion," Qui-Gon states,
low and
rough, the accent adding a layer of silk to his voice. He works his
fingers
under the waistband of your shorts and yanks them over your hips.
Obi-Wan's
head moves lower, kissing the rune-inlaid dagger tattooed on the
left side of
your waist. He looks up at your face,
eyes smoke-gray with
passion. "I like this." More kisses. "It compliments your shape."
All of a
sudden, they retreat, leaving you writhing on the coverlet. You
watch,
wide-eyed, as the two men kiss and embrace.
Ah, so that's what you
were hearing
that first night. You eyes open even
wider as Obi-Wan
unfastens
Qui-Gon's sleep pants. They droop to
the floor around his ankles,
displaying
your first sight of a naked man.
Your eyes
fasten themselves on his erection, hard and eager, nested in a
tangle of
dark brown hair. You gulp. Whatever the man's intentions, this
thing means
nothing but business, and that business has nothing to do with
your
pleasure or your pain. Only with its
own.
Your
apprehension must be showing. Both Jedi
flash you reassuring smiles.
Obi-Wan
asks, "Is this the first time you've seen this?" He takes his
Master's
cock in one hand, displaying it for you.
You
nod. Your neck feels rubbery.
"Move
over," Qui-Gon commands.
You
obligingly scootch over. Qui-Gon lays
out full-length, one arm thrown
up over his
head, letting you examine him, stretched out and ready. Obi-Wan
climbs onto
the bed beside him, kneeling on the mattress.
Your hand
creeps over to the man lying next to you, watching you, blue eyes
curtained
behind dark lashes. Moving faster than
thought, he grabs your
wrist and
pulls you close, the upflung arm coming down around your back. A
tiny whimper
escapes you as your skin connects with his.
"You
will learn, young lady, how to please a man tonight," Qui-Gon whispers.
You shudder at the ideas his words
awaken. What in the name of the Seven
Dragons do
you know of pleasing anyone?
"You'll
learn." You glance up at
Obi-Wan. His smile isn't entirely
without
sympathy. "You did mention that you were a fast
learner."
"I
lied," you croak, tensing in Qui-Gon's arms.
Obi-Wan
takes your hand out of Qui-Gon's grasp, kissing your knuckles. He
slips your
fingers into his hot mouth one by one, wetting them and tasting
them. He blows on your damp hand, causing
gooseflesh to waltz across your
skin. Qui-Gon's hand on your back traces idle
patterns, drawing fiery lines
across your
skin.
He takes
your hand and presses it to Qui-Gon's chest, guiding you over the
tense
muscles. You gently pinch and tweak at
his flat brownish nipples,
marveling at
his soft sighs of enjoyment. Getting a
little bolder, you
snake your
tongue out and tease the other nipple.
It stiffens under your
tongue. You lock your lips around it, sucking on it
gently.
Obi-Wan's
fingertip traces your jaw, drawing your attention away from
Qui-Gon. You lean your head over to receive his kiss,
returning it without
hesitation.
As his mouth
leaves yours, his hand turns your head to face Qui-Gon's
swollen
cock. You gulp. It's huge, especially to your inexperienced
eyes.
Huge and
intimidating.
"It's
all right. Here," Obi-Wan takes
your hand again and places it on
Qui-Gon's
erection. Your eyes widen again as you
feel its texture, closing
your
fist. A light sigh escapes the Master's
mouth. Obi-Wan's hand guides
you lower,
sliding your palm over the engorged flesh.
He cups your hand
gently under
Qui-Gon's testicles.
The ice
broken, after all, you've been properly introduced now, you run your
hand all
over Qui-Gon's groin, feeling his cock get stiffer and stiffer.
You run your
finger through the creases between thigh and sac, the tightly
curled hair
scratchy against your fingers. Obi-Wan
takes your hand again,
showing you
how hard to grip and where to stroke.
A droplet of
fluid oozes out of the slit in the head.
In automatic
reaction,
Obi-Wan bends and licks it away, dodging as Qui-Gon's hips buck
up. "Oh I'm sorry! Did you want that?"
Want
*what*? Your jaw drops open.
"I
sense hesitation," Qui-Gon rasps.
"Obi-Wan?"
"Yes
Master," he replies.
"Here," he wipes a little more moisture off of
Qui-Gon and
holds it before your face. You examine
it, sniff at it, like
it's a
vegetable dish in disguise. You watch
in wonder as Obi-Wan licks it
off his
fingers, casting both of you a sultry look.
Gathering
your courage, you stick out your tongue and touch the underside of
Qui-Gon's
cock. The muscles in his hips and groin
jump and flutter under
his
skin. You take the head into your
mouth, sucking at it timidly. He
groans. More wetness leaks out across your tongue. You pull away, rolling
the taste
around in your mouth. Salty, and sort
of sweet. Not bad.
"In
your mouth, little one," Qui-Gon bites out. You look up at him. The
lust in his
piercing gaze scares you, but fright's starting to give way to
desire. You want to please this man. You need to. "In your mouth and in
your
throat. Now."
You nod and
slide your mouth down on his cock. When
the tip reaches the
back of your
throat you pause. You're not sure if
you can take him any
deeper.
"Just
start swallowing," Obi-Wan instructs.
You try, and only get another
inch or so
down. You try again, and nearly choke
yourself. Obi-Wan stifles
a
giggle. "I said swallow, not
inhale. And if you can't, you
can't." You
sense he's
grinning. "You're nearly killing
him as it is."
"Gods
know," Qui-Gon groans. You take
him out of your mouth and run your
lips and
tongue over and over his erection.
"Use
your hands too," Obi-Wan suggests.
You wrap one fist around Qui-Gon's
slick cock, stroking
and pulling. His hips rock in time with
your caresses,
thrusting
into your hand. His moans get louder
and louder, until he's
nearly
shouting in the small cabin.
Suddenly he
twitches in your hand, spraying hot seed all over your hand and
face. Obi-Wan ducks in, covering Qui-Gon's cock
with his mouth, sucking him
dry. You pull back and watch the Jedi master
climax, his face slack, every
muscle in
his body clenched, his eyes closed, a mighty groan tearing out of
his lungs.
Qui-Gon's
hips heave up one last time and collapse, panting to get his
breath
back. "Gods children, that was
incredible." He strokes your cheek
with one
hand and his Padawan's with the other.
"Thank
you," you say, smiling. That
wasn't so bad.
Obi-Wan
looks over at you, eyes shifted to green.
"Your turn."
Crawling
over Qui-Gon's legs, he tackles you and wrestles you gently to the
bed. Your legs open and wind around his waist,
his erection obvious through
his sleep
pants.
He grabs his
braid and runs the end over your lips and jaw, tickling you.
He smiles
when you giggle, pressing his lips against yours in another
draining
kiss. You taste Qui-Gon's semen in his
mouth. Not that you mind,
exactly, but
he himself tastes better.
"I'm flattered,"
Obi-Wan says against your neck, kissing and nipping his way
slowly
down. He takes each of your nipples
into his mouth, sucking and
nibbling. You moan and writhe against him, arching
your back.
One hand
moves to your crotch, fingers easing between the folds. Bolts of
utter heat
flash through your body as he finds your clit, pressing and
brushing it
expertly. He licks the outline of your
tattoo again, blowing on
it, watching
your muscles twitch. He gives you a
naughty look. "I never
thought
you'd be one to go for tattoos."
"Seemed
like a good idea at the time," you breathe.
Qui-Gon's
face comes into your line of sight, lips claiming yours in another
fainting
kiss. One arm goes under your head,
keeping your head against his
as he rains
kisses all over your face. You fight
for breath as Obi-Wan's
fingers keep
stroking your clit and Qui-Gon's free hand engulfs your breast.
Suddenly
both men stop their ministrations, leaving you writhing in their
arms. What . . . ?
And your
universe ends as Obi-Wan plants his mouth, tongue extended, between
your legs.
You cry out
a prayer as the slithery velveteen of his tongue dips and swirls
over your
flesh, tasting skin and juice. You'd
bounce off the bed if it
weren't for
Qui-Gon's mouth on your face and hand on your breast. Obi-Wan's
tongue plays
over your wetness, finding all the sensitive spots and paying
special
homage to each and every one.
Your every
breath comes out in a moan. You feel
like your body's become a
floodgate,
holding back fire and light and insanity and bliss. Your hips
wiggle under
Obi-Wan's mouth, trying to coax him into giving you release.
He backs
off, waiting until you look down and meet his eyes. He lifts one
finger, wets
it with his mouth, and traces it over your folds. Your eyes
fly open as
he slides it inside you. It doesn't
exactly hurt, but it's an
intrusive
feeling nonetheless. You're not sure if
you like it or not.
Obi-Wan
draws his finger out a little and thrusts it back in again. Your
muscles
clench, squeezing his finger.
"Easy
sweetheart," he coos. His eyebrows
draw together, the slash between
his eyes
deepening. You gasp as you feel . . .
something . . . easing your
tense
muscles, letting his finger in.
Qui-Gon,
deciding he needs to distract you for a moment, lowers his head
onto one
breast, tickling it with his mustache and beard. He sucks your
nipple into
his mouth and toys the tip with his tongue.
By the time
your senses return, Obi-Wan's pushed a second finger inside you,
rotating
them, stretching your muscles apart, his mouth locked over your
throbbing
clit. Qui-Gon comes up and kisses you
again, muffling your moans
and cries.
Obi-Wan
moves away from you. "No!"
you cry out, reaching for him.
"I'm
not going anywhere," he purrs, stripping off his sleep pants. Your
eyes feel
like they might melt out of their sockets when his cock, almost
purple with
suppressed need, springs free. He kicks
the offending clothing
away. Qui-Gon moves away from you a little,
keeping your head nestled in
the bend of
his elbow.
Obi-Wan
moves over you, dropping onto his hands.
You spread your legs as
far as
they'll go. He takes your lips with his
as his cock presses into
you. He swallows your gasp of equal parts pain
and bliss. With a sigh, he
rests his
hips on yours, buried in you to the hilt.
"Am I
hurting you?" he asks after a moment.
You shake
your head numbly, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.
Obi-Wan
waits for a moment, letting you stretch, and he draws his hips back
and forth in
slow, easy thrusts.
A tide of
utter pleasure rises throughout your body, chasing away any pain.
Your back
arches as his thrusts speed up and get rougher. Your hands clench
in the small
of his back, digging bloody crescents with your fingernails.
Your feet
and toes curl, sending your calf muscles into spasms.
Qui-Gon runs
his hand over you both, admiring the lines of your bodies. His
hand comes
between you and flicks lightly against your clit. You gasp in a
scream as a
fresh bolt of pleasure arcs through you.
He leans over and
takes
Obi-Wan's mouth in a deep, passionate kiss, his fingers massaging the
sensitive
skin around your clit.
You feel something
inside you start to break. "What .
. . what is . . .
happening to
me?" you scream between breaths.
"Just
ride it!" Qui-Gon orders. Obi-Wan,
his hips pistoning against yours,
his cock
rubbing all along your insides, is beyond speech by now, gasping
for breath
above your face.
The
floodgates open and a wave of fire, light, and absolute bliss catapults
you into
oblivion. You scream release, your
entire body spasming under and
around
Obi-Wan. He finishes mere seconds
later, shooting liquid fire into
your waiting
body.
He sprawls
over you for several minutes as your breathing normalizes.
"Padawan?" Qui-Gon's voice is rich with amusement.
"Hmm?"
"You
might want to move. You'll smother
her."
"I
don't mind," you comment. You
don't. As far as you're concerned right
now, you
could die like this and go to the Fortunes perfectly happy.
Obi-Wan
levers his body up off of you and rolls over, dropping one arm
around your
waist. You turn and snuggle into his
chest. Qui-Gon spoons
himself
behind you, chest against your back, and the three of you let sleep
claim you.
-----
Well?