Warnings: Explicit sex between two hot guys--although not the
usual two hot guys. If it's not your cup of tea, leave the pot
for the rest of us.
Disclaimer: The characters are George Lucas's, bless him for
having such a fevered imagination, even if it's not as fevered
as mine. Don't sue. My office is full of your merchandise!
Notes: Another piece of the Warrior's Heart series. Official
story order as follows:
"Rightful Owner"
"Crime and Punishment"
"Ecstasies"
"The Anger Exercises"
"The Geometry of Desire"
"But For Grace"
"Give and Take"
"Meditations"
"Master & Apprentice"
"Nomenclature"
"The Fear Exercises"
"Willing Vessels"
"An Accident Waiting"
"Cold Feet"
"Silk"
This story takes place about a year after "The Fear Exercises"
and six months after "Willing Vessels."
Thoughts in */*; telepathy in //.
Summary: Bruck and Obi-Wan meet up with each other again after
a year's separation and things . . . happen.
Feedback: The more I gets, the more I writes, so if you like
what you read, please feed the writer.Warning: Proportion of
writing to feedback may increase exponentially, unless I go up
in flames shortly. E-mail only, please.
I can't seem to stay out of trouble when Bruck Chun and I are
anywhere near each other. I don't know quite why that is, but
it's true. It's been true since he made my life miserable in
the creche, since we fought each other for Qui- Gon's attention
at the age of twelve, since I broke his collarbone seven years
later, since we first slept together not a halfyear after that.
Whenever he wanders back into my life, I expect some kind of
trouble.
The difficulty is that I can't blame him for it because I
almost always make it myself.
We haven't seen each other in almost a year since the night we
slept together. Since he's gotten a new master, neither Bruck
nor I are at Temple often or for long. It's not surprising our
paths haven't crossed since that first time. I was almost
hoping they wouldn't at all, for some time to come, if ever.
Not because I'd rather not see him, but because I knew it would
be too much of a temptation when I did, and I was right. The
night we made love, we made something powerful between us, and
connected with each other in a way I'd only ever connected with
Qui-Gon. I've been with enough other lovers before Qui to know
this doesn't always happen, even between two Jedi. I've missed
Bruck during the past year, not just as you miss a friend, but
as you would a lover. Almost as I would miss Qui. Almost.
When we parted, I told him not to wait for me. We both knew
the likelihood of our seeing each other very often was limited,
and I hoped he would find someone else--but how could he,
really? How can any of us, living the way we do, unless it's a
master and padawan pair like ours. Bruck prefers women, and his
master is a male Lanik. He's already had one bad experience
with a female human master. And if one prefers monogamy to
casual sex, as Bruck does, it leaves one with not many options.
Besides, I'm afraid Bruck truly loves me.
Worse, I'm afraid I love him as well.
And I'm only afraid because, well, I have a lover and it's
someone I care for more deeply than I've ever cared for anyone,
or suspect I ever will. I don't understand how I could love
Qui-Gon as much as I do--with every part of my heart and
soul--and still love Bruck. But I seem to. You might think it's
just lust, but that's only part of it. And it's far more than
infatuation. I know what real love feels like. This is as
real--as truthful--as what I feel for Qui.
We seem, when we're together, to be complements of one another
where Qui-Gon and I are more often reflections of each other.
By temperament, Bruck is what the Order used to call a Martial
Jedi. He's a soldier, first and foremost. His loyalty is to the
Order, to duty, to the defense of the weak. The Force is what
it is to him, a tool, a weapon, a guide, a master he serves. In
that sense, he's a very uncomplicated man, grounded in and by
his own rambunctious physicality, living very much in the
moment. By contrast, if Qui-Gon were not the swordsman he is,
he would be the classic archetype of the Philosopher Jedi. I've
watched him and Master Windu argue for hours over the nature of
the Force and its aspects. Left in peace, to himself, Qui is
bookish and meditative and tremendously gentle, though I know
he, like Bruck, has had his own escapades in his youth. In the
same way Bruck's sheer physicality grounds him, Qui's
meditative serenity grounds him.
I suppose I fall somewhere in between the two and that's what
attracts both of them. Between the two of them, I don't feel
very grounded at all--more like a ball tossed back and
forth--and I've always had trouble living in the moment, as my
master constantly reminds me. He also tells me I act far too
old for my age, and Bruck claims I've kept him out of more
trouble than I know. Now, if only I could keep myself out of
it. Like the fix I'm in now.
I look over at Bruck, who's sleeping belly-down, his beautiful
brown body like caramel on ice cream, tangled in the white
sheets, white braid a streak of frost over his shoulder. I'm
sitting on the edge of his bed, in his room, just as naked, and
it's barely past dawn. We spent the night making love. Qui-Gon
is back in our quarters, waking up alone in bed, for the first
time in a year.
As Bruck would say, Shit.
And I'm not quite certain how it happened, to be truthful. We
met up with one another again quite by accident, or at least by
accident on my part. I suspect that Bruck has checked the
roster each time he's made landfall here, to see if I'm in
Temple, in the same way I've avoided doing so. And last night,
finally, I was here. We'd only been back a few days, and we're
due out again in a few more. It's been a busy year. Ironically,
he found me in the refectory, the same place everything started
two years ago.
"Mind if I sit down, stranger?" he said, appearing out of the
blue with a mug of tea as a feeble pretext. I was wolfing down
a late dinner, after a long, leisurely swim. It's one of the
first places I head when I come back to Temple, to the pool,
and make a point of using it every day when we're here, and I'm
always starving afterwards. My hair was still wet. Bruck
ruffled his fingers through it, familiarly, scattering droplets
across the table, and sat down beside me, straddling the chair.
"It's good to see you again, Ben. I've missed you. You look
well."
He did, too. And he looked good--enough to eat. My heart had
jumped when I'd heard his voice and it was beating a little
faster with him sitting beside me. I think his was, too. In
fact, I'm sure of it. He was wearing his cocky grin and his
eyes were shining. Ice blue, I'd thought of them before. But
they were really the color of desert sky when the sun is so hot
that it bleaches everything. Pale blue like the hottest part of
the flame.
We didn't kiss, not yet. We didn't even touch each other. We
talked. What missions we'd been on, what new katas we'd
learned, where we'd been, what competitions we might enter,
what classes we'd finished, how we'd done on our exams, what
we'd take next, who we'd seen since being back, who'd been
hurt, who was sleeping with whom . . . dangerous waters, that
last topic. We saved it for last, when nearly everyone had
cleared out of the refectory and we were more or less alone in
a corner.
"So how are things with you and Qui-Gon?" he said, taking a
sip of his tea and very carefully not looking at me.
I knew he didn't mean, "how's your training going with your
master?" Bruck was one of the few people who hadn't given me
grief over the way Qui-Gon had marked me, the way I'd asked him
to mark me when our bond had been broken. He was one of the few
people who understood. Even Bant had thought I was crazy and
maybe even a little twisted, though she wouldn't have said so,
not in so many words. But Bruck knew what it meant, knew how
we--Qui- Gon and I--had needed it. More than anyone, he knew
how much Qui-Gon meant to me, how much we meant to each other.
"Good," I answered quickly. Maybe a little too quickly.
"Really good. We sort of started over again, and it's been very
different. Better."
"Qui-Gon over his little fit of possessiveness?"
"Seems to be," I admitted cautiously.
"You never did tell me what he said about us sleeping
together." And then he did meet my eyes. "Was he torqued?"
I wanted to lie. It would have been safer to say, "yes, it
hurt him," but it hadn't, not really, and Bruck deserved the
truth.
"For a moment, I think. And then he actually seemed
almost--relieved."
That surprised him. "Relieved? He sleep with someone else,
too, while he was gone?"
"No. He said . . ." It took everything I had to repeat Qui's
words, because I knew once they were said, there was no denying
them, and I'd have no excuses but my own scruples. "He said he
was glad I'd found someone my own age, as well. Someone who
would . . . love me when he was gone." I wish I were a better
liar. I wish I didn't always feel so compelled to tell the
truth, and all of it. Qui-Gon's tried to teach me that, that
sometimes it's better to just say nothing, or say as little as
possible. I wonder if I'll ever learn?
The Bruck I thought I'd known some years ago would have taken
a remark like that and used it to justify what we'd done, and
what we could do now. The Bruck I'd come to know just looked at
me with shock, surprise, wonder, admiration, and a touch of
envy--not jealousy, but envy. "Do you know how lucky you are?"
he said finally. "Do you really know?"
"Yes," I said softly, and looked away.
"No, I don't think you do, Ben."
"It's not as though he's given me a free rein to sleep with
whomever I--"
"No, of course not. Don't be stupid. Do you understand what he
did give you?"
I looked up, not knowing what he was talking about. Bruck
stroked the backs of his knuckles across my cheek. "He's given
you a lifetime of love."
"That's hardly fair to you," I protested. "Don't wait for me,
Bruck. I told you--"
"You moron," Bruck grinned. "He's the one who told me where to
find you tonight. He told me to find you, when I wasn't sure I
should." Then he leaned forward and kissed me, very gently,
like Qui might. I must have made some noise, because he pressed
his fingers to my lips afterwards and said, "Wait until we're
somewhere more private. Then I'll really make you scream," and
grinned again, wider, the smug, shit-eating version that
usually paralyzed my brain.
I pushed him away. "Look, just because Qui told you where I
was doesn't mean he expects us to sleep together. I'm not going
to, Bruck. I can't."
Predictably, he looked hurt. Then he shrugged and slammed his
shields down. It made me jump. And it hurt me, too. I hadn't
realized how open he'd been with me, how open we were used to
being with each other. "I guess I should understand that if
anyone should. I don't much care for sleeping with people I'm
not in love with, either. I'm sorry, Ben. I won't bother you
again." He said it so matter-of- factly that I almost believed
he was all right.
But when he got up to leave, I pulled him back down into his
seat. Then he looked torqued. I didn't know what to say, or why
I hadn't just let him leave.
"Look, you can't have it both ways," he snapped. "Either let
me go, or fucking kiss me already."
So I kissed him. Hard. Our teeth banged together with such a
crack we both thought we'd broken a tooth. His hand went to the
back of my head, grabbed my tail and held me there while we
pushed back and forth into each others mouths, greedily
scuffling for the right to taste the other at leisure. I wanted
him and I couldn't deny it. I wanted him right there on the
table in the refectory. It was lust and love and joy at seeing
him again, and fear of losing him and any number of other
things all rolled into one, all breaking loose with that kiss.
When we both started to make fairly desperate noises, Bruck
pulled back and grabbed my hand. "Come on," he said. "My
Master's out for the night. You can be as loud as you want." He
wasn't grinning now. His face was just as serious as mine. I
don't remember how we got back to his quarters, or if we saw
anyone on the way. I don't even remember actually thinking
until we were inside his room and his hands were undoing my
belt and I was doing the same to him. He loosened my sash
enough to just slip it off over my hips to the floor and pushed
the outer tunic off after it and stripped the undertunic away
over my head with a ripping sound. I hadn't gotten as far with
undressing him but I got my hands up under his tunics and down
his pants and grabbed a double handful of his ass and pulled
him against me. It felt so good to grind our cocks together
even through fabric. Bruck moaned and shook and I wondered if
he were going to come right there.
But he pulled back in a moment, bent his head and closed his
mouth over my right nipple, sucking and licking and biting like
he was starving. Whatever second thoughts I might have been
having disappeared then. Heat and desire and a delicious little
prick of pain jolted into my groin. All I wanted was him. He
came back up for air and bit down on the spot where neck and
shoulder meet. I thought even then that he'd broken the
skin--he had--and I didn't care.
"Fuck me, Ben," he growled in my ear, one hand pulling my head
back by the hair so he could suck and bite a line of marks down
my neck to the left nipple.
It was just what I wanted to do. It was certainly just what my
cock wanted. I didn't fight it. The fastenings on Bruck's boots
popped open all at once with just a little touch of the Force
and I pushed him back hard onto his bed, picking up his legs
and yanking his boots off. The pants followed a moment later.
He wasn't wearing anything under them.
"Surprise!" he laughed, seeing the looking on my face and
already breathing hard.
"You shit," I told him, grinning.
"That's just the first of many. Don't let it stop you."
I slicked a finger with spit lifted one of his legs against me
and pushed inside him. Though he was tight, he was slick and
ready inside. That I hadn't expected either. He arched his back
and pushed against me, moaning, using the movement to unwind
his own sash. "Oh gods Ben! Deeper! More!" he keened. "Want
you--"
"Don't want to hurt you," I gasped. He was so beautiful, body
arching, slender hands opening his tunic frantically, pulling
the inner one up over his nipples, where something glinted.
"Here," he demanded. "I want your mouth here!" A tiny rod with
knobs at both ends pierced his right nipple.
I gawked for a moment, and then I only wanted to taste it and
play with it.
Still working a finger in him, stretching him gently, I licked
back and forth over his nipple, then bit down, teeth sliding
under the ends of the rod between it and his skin. I tugged a
little and he followed me, crying out, hands fisted in my hair,
pushing back onto a second finger.
"Oh gods you're ready, aren't you?" I growled, and flicked my
tongue over his nipple again. I could feel how slick he was
inside. He'd gotten himself prepared. Wanted it. Planned it.
Scheming bastard.
"Yes!" he hissed. "Fuck me, Ben. C'mon, please . . . All I've
been able to think about . . . Ah!"
My hands were shaking as I unfastened my pants and pushed them
down around my knees, sliding onto them in front of Bruck,
between his legs. I lifted his legs onto my shoulders and
pushed inside. At first he gasped and arched up and I knew I
was hurting him and then he impaled himself on me until I was
buried to the balls in him. He was so tight, so tight, so
ready, so needy, his cock arched against his stomach, leaking
and twitching. His muscles spasmed down tight around me and I
let him get used to me as I stroked him, working the foreskin
down under his crown, circling my thumb around the tip. When I
started to move inside him, still stroking him, he threw back
his head and howled.
The sound was astonishing. I didn't know whether I was hurting
him or driving him crazy. He hadn't been this loud the last
time; I'm usually the one who's noisy. "Oh gods Ben!" he cried.
"Harder! Make me come! I can't wait!"
It didn't take long for either of us, but Bruck came first. I
made sure he did, fisting his cock as I moved inside him. He
rocked up into my hand and back onto my cock and the look on
his face was so full of desire and need and hope and love that
I couldn't breathe. He came hard, in a few moments, thrashing
against me and crying out, muscles clamping so tightly around
me that I couldn't move, cum spurting over my hand and his
chest and neck. I wanted to rub it into his skin, rub my face
in it and then lick it off him but I was so close now and his
spasms were pushing me over the edge. I drove into him once
more, twice, held him against me and emptied myself inside him,
deep inside him, so deep I never wanted to come out, while he
pulsed around me. I came just as hard, howling as he had,
shaking, out of control.
I fell onto my elbows, braced on either side of him, his knees
sliding up over my shoulders with me still inside him, body
bent nearly double. He locked his ankles behind me, reached up
to run his hands through my sweaty hair. I leaned down and
licked his chest, tasting cum and sweat, rubbed my face in it
like an animal marking territory. I wanted that smell on me,
musk and sweat, Bruck's smell.
"C'mere," he said, voice deep and gravelly. He nuzzled against
my face, the smell of both of us mingled there with my sweat,
licked my ear and kissed me. "It feels so good to have you
inside me. Stay there."
"It's going to hurt," I told him, "when the endorphins wear
off."
"Then you can move. Right now I want you in me. I've waited a
year for this. I don't want it over so quick."
"We can start again. Take it slower."
"You'll stay the night?" There was a bit of fear in his eyes,
and a lot of hope.
"Yes. Yes, I'll stay the night." And I wanted to. I wondered
what Qui-Gon would think, briefly, and then I pushed it out of
my mind. He'd sent Bruck to find me. He'd guess where I was.
How he felt about it was best dealt with later. It was already
too late to be worrying about it.
So I stayed. We made love off and on through the night. Sucked
and licked and fucked and bit and tickled and stroked and
kissed. It wasn't often very gentle until afterwards, and both
of us were covered with bites and bruises, our asses sore by
morning. We learned some things about each other, in the night,
that we hadn't had time to learn before. He likes it better
face to face, I like it better from behind. He thinks being
rimmed is disgusting and he won't do it to me, though I love
it. He told me the nipple piercing hurt like hell and but gave
him a hard-on for a tenth because all he could think of was my
mouth on it, so I obliged as much as I could. I love it. His
cock's so much bigger when he's hard, and it has a little bend
to the right and fits in my ass like . . .
I kept trying not to compare him to Qui, in my head, but it
was almost impossible. They're so different, and it feels so
good with both of them. And I tried not to regret it, but it's
harder not to, now, in the morning light. But he's so
beautiful, and I love him.
I lie down beside him again, pull him close, kiss his face. He
starts to wake and nuzzles into me sleepily, hands gliding down
my ribs and hips. Bruck wakes like I do, slow and groggy,
reluctant. Except for his cock. He's hard again and rubs
against my thigh, languidly. I feel myself filling and rising
too, wanting him again.
"Little gods, we smell like a whorehouse," he mumbles. "I can
hardly move. Kiss me."
I do. "I have to go soon."
"Not yet. Please," he pleads, eyes opening and looking into
mine. Furnace blue. Fire blue. Not ice at all. "I don't get to
wake up next to you often enough." His arms slide around me,
pull me close. I know he feels my cock getting hard between us.
He kisses me again, murmurs, "How can it feel so good to be
with you and still hurt at the same time?"
"I don't know," I answer. "But it does, doesn't it?"
"Do you love me, Ben?"
I wondered when he'd ask, if he would. Neither of us has said
it. "Want you, need you"; we've said everything but. He sounds
so afraid. I never thought Bruck was afraid of anything. But
he's afraid of this, of losing me. It seems very strange to see
him needy.
"Yes, Bruck. Yes, I do. I love you," I tell him, punctuating
my words with kisses. And it's true. He sighs into my mouth,
tension draining out of him like water. I don't have to ask
him. I know.
"Let me love you again," he says, nibbling my stubbly jaw,
rubbing his own--not stubbly at all--against me. "Let me ride
you the way you like it."
"Yes. Please," I murmur against his lips, wanting him.
He rolls me over onto my stomach and spreads my legs, kneeling
between them, pulls my hips back and puts a pillow under them.
Then he kisses his way down my back, over the pictograms,
nibbling along my ribs, almost tickling, down to the spot right
above the cleft, the spot that always drives me wild. He stays
there for a while, licking and sucking. I know I must have love
bites there from last night, and he's adding more. Very
shortly, I hear myself make ridiculous noises, my hips moving
against the pillow.
"Stop teasing!" I gasp.
He pushes two fingers inside me. I'm still wet inside from
last night, but it hurts a little. I fumble under the bed for
the lube and hand it to him. "Sorry," he says. "I thought it
would be all right." I know he didn't mean it; he just doesn't
have the experience with men. When he slides them in again
there's no pain at all, and he flicks across my prostate,
making me cry out. "Is that it? Right there?" He does it again
and I buck against him, moaning. "Can I make you come just
doing this?" I feel his fingers flicking and stroking inside me
over the sweet spot, his other hand circling the spot at the
base of my spine. I don't know whether to purr or growl, but
he's got me writhing on the pillow. He's going to torture me, I
can tell. I'm panting already and whining, squirming against
him, bucking, fingers clenched in the stiff sheets. My balls
draw up a little tighter each time his fingers flick across my
prostate.
"Bruck! Fuck me already, you bastard!" And I feel his cock
slide into me at last, beside his fingers, hard and slick and
hot, filling and stretching me. It's almost too much. My hips
pump involuntarily into the pillow, and his weight presses me
down into it. "Oh gods you're so tight!" he growls and bites my
shoulder. I don't even feel it. All I feel is his cock inside
me, fucking me hard. So little time together and he knows so
well what I like.
In a very short time, the world greys out around me and all I
feel is Bruck's cock moving in me and the friction of the
pillow I'm pumping into and then nothing but a wash of fire
from my groin to the top of my head. I feel my spine arch and
the top of my head come off, I hear myself screaming,
wordlessly. I feel Bruck shudder against me, deep inside me,
and fill me with his hot seed.
When I come to again, we're both on our sides, Bruck spooning
up against me, petting me. "That's what I wanted, love. That's
what I wanted," he murmurs into the back of my neck, nuzzling
there.
"What?" I say sleepily.
"To make you scream."
"Mmmm, happy to oblige. Anytime you'd like."
And suddenly his hand comes to rest on my hip and he's very
serious. "Do you mean that?"
I roll over in his arms. "As long as it doesn't hurt Qui, yes,
I mean it, and even that won't change how I feel, just whether
we . . . I'm sorry. Maybe we shouldn't have--" and I start to
get up.
"Talk to him first. Just talk to him," Bruck says gently,
kissing my cheek, pulling me back down. "Let's get showered,
and you can go home for breakfast. I know you're not going to
feel right until you talk to him. Do you want me to come with
you?"
I have trouble switching gears so quickly, from afterglow to
serious conversation, so it takes me a moment to decide. Part
of me thinks yes, and part of me thinks I'd better face it on
my own, since I made the situation what it is. I don't want
Bruck getting hurt either. It's not his fault. I wonder if,
somehow, I can get away without either of them getting hurt.
It's probably wishful thinking, but I won't know until I talk
to Qui, will I?
"No, love, but thank you," I tell Bruck, rebuffing his offer
as gently as I can. "I think I'd better see him alone."
"I'll be waiting, then. Tell me what he says. Promise?"
"Yes. I promise." It's all I can promise right now, but it
would be cruel to say that, so I don't.
We shower together, taking our time, soaping each other from
head to foot. At first the steam makes the smell of sex thicker
in the air, makes me want him again, and then there's nothing
but soap and shampoo and skin. I go to my knees and rinse the
soap gently from Bruck's genitals, nuzzle in against his cock
and balls and lick him when the soap is gone. We haven't done
this yet. It's been all penetration with fingers and cocks or
jerking one another off by hand. I think he's a little afraid
of asking me to do this because he's a little afraid to do it
himself. Not surprising since his preference is women. But I
want to, I want to taste him this way. I want to know him this
way if it's the last we see of each other. I want to do this
for him for the same reason.
I take his cock in my mouth, tongue circling under the crown
and then slipping in beneath his foreskin. It's odd to feel him
not just growing hard but growing longer and thicker until I
either have to let him slide down my throat or back off. I
can't hear him breathing faster over the water, but I see his
diaphragm moving quickly beneath the skin and his hands are in
my hair, clenching and unclenching. He leans back against the
stall wall, and now I feel him shaking, hearing soft keening
noises coming out of him. I look up at him, holding him at the
root while I suck him gently and fondle his balls. His eyes are
closed and there's an expression of complete abandon on his
face, nostrils flared, mouth open, head thrown back. So
beautiful.
I push his foreskin down with my tongue, lick over the tip and
into the slit there, tasting his salty pre-cum, then curl my
tongue around the ridge to the sensitive spot underneath. Bruck
shudders almost convulsively and moans. I close my mouth around
him again, teeth behind my lips and move down to the root and
back up and down and up again, give the crown another lick and
down again then come back up with my teeth scraping lightly
against him, and squeeze his balls gently. He bucks into my
mouth, hard, and I let him slide into my throat and swallow
around him. That's all it takes to make him come. I drink him
down and lick him clean and then pull him down onto my lap on
the floor of the shower. Water washes over both of us, hitting
us both low in the chest and back. We kiss and I know he can
taste himself in my mouth. His tongue licks the inside of my
mouth like he's trying to lick it clean.
After a moment he leans back and kisses my forehead. "I'll say
this for guys who swing both ways: they give great head."
"How would you know? I'll bet that's the first time anyone's
ever sucked you off."
Even in the heat, I can see him blush. "That obvious, huh?"
I laugh. "Yes, that obvious. I'm good, but I'm not that good."
"You'll have to teach me."
"When you're ready." I kiss him, not knowing if I'll ever get
to.
Eventually, we stop fooling around and finish in the shower. I
get dressed, and Bruck hugs me before I go. He doesn't act like
he might never see me again, so I try not to either. The only
thing he holds me to is my promise to tell him what Qui says.
The walk back to my--our--quarters seems both too long and too
short. By the time I arrive, my hair is still wet from the
shower and I still have no idea what I'm going to say to Qui. I
know he'll be up because he always is, if it's past dawn. And
he is, sitting at the small table in the kitchen over a last
cup of tea, datapad in hand. It's startling to not see another
place setting across from him, almost painful. He looks up at
me with a raised eyebrow and an unreadable expression as I come
through the door and hang my cloak up.
"I take it Bruck found you last night?" he says mildly,
sipping his tea and regarding me over the rim of his mug.
"Yes. You did tell him where to find me then?"
"Didn't he tell you I did so?"
"I wasn't sure--"
Qui-Gon shakes his head as though he's disappointed in me.
"Bruck has his faults, Padawan, but I don't think lying is one
of them. Not even to get you to sleep with him again. Don't you
trust him?"
It's a shock to realize a part of me still doesn't, and I feel
ashamed then. I'll fuck him but I don't trust him?
"Or is it me you don't trust?" Qui finishes. "Do you think I'm
pushing you away?"
"I don't know what to think," I tell him, just barely able to
find my voice. I've never felt quite so confused.
He gets up from the table and comes to me, cupping my cheek,
making me look at him. "I would never push you away, Obi-Wan.
But I can't hold you to me, either. The only claim I have on
you is as your master, and what you choose to give me as your
lover. If you decide to share yourself with another, what right
have I to complain?"
"Would you do the same?" I ask him, stupidly hurt somehow.
Qui laughs. "I'm nearly an old man, love. I can barely keep up
with you, let alone another as well. But I've done so in the
past. Jedi value monogamy as much as we can--mostly in others
outside the Order. It's so seldom possible for us that we
cannot afford to require it of each other. I have you right
now, in this moment, and I suspect you are all I shall want
until I am one with the Force. But in a few years you will be a
knight and we'll quite likely be separated. I will not chain
you to me with promises when I may only see you once a year.
That choice is yours. And one day, Obi-Wan, you will be without
me entirely. And I do not want you to be alone. I think Bruck
loves you very much. More importantly, I think he always will.
As I will."
"I don't want to be without you," I tell him, sinking into his
arms, feeling rather miserable.
"As long as I am your master, you will never be without me.
When you are a knight, you will only be without me from your
own choice, or duty. And when death finally comes, I will
always be with you, in the Force. But when that time comes, I
want you to have someone to hold at night. Someone who will
care for you as I do. If that means sharing you with Bruck in
the meanwhile, so you can build a strong relationship with each
other, so be it." He leans back and holds my chin, making me
look up at him. His eyes are full of humor. "Besides, the two
of you are just an accident waiting to happen. I'd prefer you
slept with one another than took out your frustrations on each
other. You're young and there's certainly enough of you to go
around."
He says this last into my ear, biting it a little and
squeezing my ass. "You smell good, love. Kiss me."
I pull back, a little panicked, realizing I'll still
taste--but Qui-Gon covers my mouth with his own, licks my lips,
pushes inside and kisses me the way Bruck did, tasting,
licking. "Mmmmm," he growls and pulls away. "I take it you've
had breakfast?" he says, eyes glittering with mischief.
I can feel myself blushing the way Bruck did. "In a manner of
speaking," I stammer.
"Let me get you some fruit and carbohydrates to go with the
protein," he says, almost laughing.
I pick up a pillow from the couch and throw it at him as he
goes back to the kitchen. It hits him squarely in the backside
and fails to break his stride. He ignores it with great
dignity.
After breakfast, I call Bruck. We're going for a swim together
tonight. After dark. Qui-Gon announces he will be off "catching
up" with one of his own friends in another district of the city
tonight, and doubts he'll be back before morning. There are
fresh sheets on the bed, he says.
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