Affection

by RavenD (ravendreams@earthlink.net)

Archive: master_apprentice, anyone else, pls. ask

Author's web page: http://www.ravenswing.com/ravendreams/

Category: POV

Rating: R

Warnings: none

Spoilers: none

Summary: This is just a wee pov piece in response to Ruth's first line challenge.

Notes: Eternal thanks to Pumpkin for the beta. All mistakes are mine.

Feedback: Waited for with bated breath.

Disclaimers: I don't have enough to pay attention. Lucas owns everything.

It's a little bit funny, this feeling I have discovered -- this feeling you have gifted me with -- close to anger, closer still to the harsh jangle of sensation left when a 'saber blade kisses the air too near bare skin. My mind is left grasping for meaning along neural pathways that you have seared with your guilty secret.

I felt you, Qui-Gon, felt the hot pulse of lust and need and you, screaming down my spine on a one-way trip to my groin. I felt the heat of your sweet mouth, the want that thrums within your thin skin. I felt it for a moment before you clothed your need in heavy beige linen and branded it falsely as affection.

Affection. Caring. I'm your padawan; of course you have warm feelings for me. You are my master; you would never take advantage of my vulnerability, my position, my youth.

Tell me, is it simple affection that has you gasping my name in the night, spilling your seed and your shame in the darkness? Is it still affection when you're standing there, watching me breathe? How fascinating the lies you tell yourself become when cornered by the truth.

If I was looking for affection, looking for anything less than everything you have to offer, willingly or no, I would have taken up with one of your pet projects, your lost children of the galaxy.

In truth, some of them were exceptionally educational.

I find the time for playing is past. My true master, the Force itself, pushes us beyond these empty steps around forbidden subjects. We have a path to walk and precious little guarantee where we'll find an end.

I touch you, just on the back of the hand, just enough to assure my scent is mingled with yours. Yes, the oils of my skin on yours. The smell of my need next to yours.

You rub the spot absently, whether to erase or remind, I'm not sure.

I am, however, quite sure it doesn't matter.

Do you want to tell me again how I don't understand? How I've misunderstood the catches in your breath and the heat in your eyes? How I am but an apprentice, unable to read the harmonies we create together within the Force? I am a patient man, Qui-Gon Jinn. I have learned to bide my time.

Passion, when mixed with control, is a long burning fire. You taught me that.

Master. Qui-Gon. Lover.

Mine.

Denial smells foul on your breath, especially as you walk away. Your goal, your occupation is to strip my defenses, bare my soft spaces, and rub them raw on doctrines and codes that you only follow as they appeal. This is what a master does. We both understood that.

You need your distance. You need control. You need to pretend that I am an innocent boy needing protection from carefully hidden whispers of lust threaded through with pleasure-pain.

Now, let me show you what else you need.

I can hear you, hear your thoughts gibbering behind your carefully constructed wall of white lies as you hide in your bed. I will not follow you. I will not go and demand your surrender, no matter how much you wish it. I have to remind myself that to search for your fears will lead me down pathways I have no wish to travel.

Instead I will allow you to bring them to me, offer them up in penance for your months of silent denial. Then, once that is done, I will sink myself into your mouth, your ass. I will take you and hold you to me. I will love you and make you mine.

There is reward for sacrifice.

I know now, know where to sip at the essence of you that seeps from the cracks of that carefully constructed shell you call control.

Watch yourself carefully, now. I am no longer a boy and, in truth, you are simply a man.

The end.