Summary: Obi-Wan believes that he failed Qui-Gon on a mission,
and Qui-Gon proposes a new lesson to help his Padawan regain
his self-confidence.
Feedback: yes, please. Any and all comments welcome.
Disclaimer: The boyz aren't mine, much as I wish they were.
They belong to George Lucas, who is a kind man for creating
such a wonderful universe for us all to play in.
Author's Notes: This story is dedicated to Alex and Amy, who
helped me tie up the nekkid Obi-doll and posed him with the
Dom!Qui-doll in such a way that my wicked little mind
immediately started hatching plot bunnies. Never let it be said
that I am immune to visual inspiration. ;)
Obi-Wan collapsed onto his bed with a feeling of resignation,
draping one arm over his eyes to block out the light. Of all
his failures in his training as a Jedi (and there had been
many), this was by far the worst. To fail was a part of the
learning process; he knew that, understood it, but even so, his
heart rebelled against the consequences that his disobedience
had almost brought to pass.
Memory rose up like a caged rancor in his mind, clawing at the
bars of his psyche with the full intention of drawing blood. He
could still feel the heat of the flames on his face, his arms,
prickling his skin and searing the air around him as he tried
to breathe. The roar of the fire was deafening, all-consuming,
until it was difficult to think past its inexhaustible thunder.
Each beat of Obi-Wan's heart had been painful, as he crawled
blindly through the riotous haze of heat and stench and noxious
black smoke, reaching out with his Force-honed senses to find
what survivors remained in the palace after the Ngalian
faction's terrorist attack.
Thinking back, he found it interesting to note that he had
spared no thought for his own safety in the beginning. There
had been the sound of the twins, screaming their terror in
their shared cradle down the hall, drifting to him in haunting
wisps and fragments during lulls in the fire's furious roaring.
There had been memory of the Vicar's niece, brave little thing
that she was, staring up at him with hollow eyes from where
he'd deposited her on the ground outside the building,
murmuring her nanny's name over and over as he turned to go
back inside the blazing torch that had once been her home.
There had been no tears for him then. They had come later,
after the immediate danger was over. He had behaved in every
way as a true Jedi should, reduced to mere training, forced to
leave his human heart behind as he fought his way through the
inferno, searching for lives to save.
It seemed that it went on forever. Even in memory, he was sure
that the nightmare had to have lasted for far longer than it
actually had. Tantalizingly, he remembered the trusting gaze of
two sea-blue eyes, gazing up at him from out of the curve of
his cloak where he had held his precious charge.
*Jump, Padawan...*
Obi-Wan squeezed his eyes more tightly shut, trying not to
remember. But the memory of those eyes would not leave him.
Little Johan, the Vicar's heir, barely three months old.
Obi-Wan had rescued him, shrieking, from the nursery where he
had been sleeping when the attack came. The roar of the fire
was even louder then, piercing into Obi-Wan's skull with bright
shards of pain and setting up a subdued ringing in his ears
that refused to go away even afterwards, when the fire was only
a lingering memory in his mind.
The babe had quieted in Obi-Wan's arms, exhausted, no doubt,
from its terror. Obi-Wan could feel the building groaning
around him, and he knew without having to think about it that
they did not have much time. The fire was implacable,
insatiable, and it would not rest until it had brought the
entire palace to the ground.
The Force-shield he had erected around himself was wavering as
his strength failed, but he ran through the inferno, dodging
bits of falling masonry that fell like water away from the
fire's touch. The heat was intolerable, and each breath was
agony now. What strength he had left he used to soothe the
babe. His entire being was focused on reaching the entrance of
the palace, where he would be free of the flames, free of the
pain, and there would be stars. Wild, brilliant, beautiful
stars that didn't roar or shriek or try to melt the flesh from
his bones. It was all he could think about.
And then, at the last, it happened. Between one breath and the
next, the floor in front of him crumbled away, opening up a
chasm as wide as life itself, the bits of flooring swirling
away into the flame-hued darkness below as if it were being
engulfed by the fires of Gehenna. Obi-Wan skidded to a stop,
the horror overwhelming him in a surge of almost giddy
laughter.
Qui-Gon was waiting for him on the other side. Obi-Wan could
still remember the look on his Master's face, the flame-tinged
horror in his eyes. *Jump, Padawan.* Obi-Wan clutched his
cloak-wrapped burden tightly to his chest, trying to shield it
from the worst of the flames. Eyes, wide and blue as the summer
sea, gazed up at him, quiet and blameless and full of trust.
Obi-Wan tore his gaze away from those uncondemning eyes and
looked out across the abyss before him. Fear, unleashed now
from the stresses of pain and physical weakness, brought him to
his knees. His heart pounded with an intensity that rivaled the
fire for volume. Even as his mind ordered his body to move with
an almost bestial ferocity, his body refused to obey.
Then Qui-Gon was there, and Obi-Wan looked up into the deeply
concerned and all-too-forgiving eyes of his Master. Obi-Wan was
ashamed to remember how wonderful Qui-Gon's arms had felt
around him, supporting him, shielding him from the flames. Some
of the heat receded as Qui-Gon added his power to the
Force-shield that surrounded them. A whispered word of
endearment, more sensed than heard, and Obi-Wan found the
strength to rise to his feet again. Drawing in a deep,
shuddering breath, he allowed Qui- Gon's power to support them
as they jumped.
It was days before the final body count was ascertained. The
number of dead was surprisingly small, a blessing that the
Vicar attributed entirely to the courageous acts of the two
Jedi who had been charged with the protection of his family.
Qui-Gon accepted the praise and gratitude with calm dignity,
but the accolades soured in Obi-Wan's hearing, driving home the
knowledge that he had failed. He had disobeyed his Master, and
he had failed.
*Jump, Padawan.*
The negotiations were concluded in only a handful of days; all
parties were equally repulsed by the Ngalians' terrorist
methods and decided (with Qui-Gon's help) to band together in
order to defend against them. By nightfall of the final day of
negotiations, the Jedi were being escorted to the Vicar's
personal corvette, which would carry them home to Coruscant
with all possible speed. Almost too quickly to believe, they
were taking their leave of the planet, leaving the fragile new
government and its sundry politics behind.
The majority of Obi-Wan's physical wounds had been tended to on
the planet - the numerous heat-injuries to skin and lungs, as
well as the assorted bruises and strained muscles that came
from crawling through a collapsing building. The Force had
served him well; there were very few actual burns. The
extensive medical facility on board the ship ensured that he
and Qui-Gon would be completely healed by the time they
returned home.
Even so, the greater part of Obi-Wan's agony never truly went
away.
Qui-Gon said very little to him, seeming to recognize that his
student required time to recover from the horrors of their
mission. Obi-Wan submitted to his Master's pampering without
comment, and they slept wrapped in each other's arms, sprawled
across the wide bunk that they had chosen to use for the
duration of their voyage. There were no dreams, which Obi-Wan
attributed solely to his Master's calming presence.
They gave their report to the Council immediately upon their
arrival, and now Obi-Wan was ridiculously glad to be home. The
bed that he shared with Qui-Gon had never felt more comforting,
and although it had only been jointly his for two years now,
its contours were familiar to him. Part of him was ashamed at
the fact that he'd felt it necessary to retreat into this room
to avoid talking to his Master, but the rest of him simply
basked in the soothing Force-sense of the man that he loved. It
clung like a fragrance to the room, enveloping him, and he
breathed it in deeply, trying to banish the memories that
plagued him.
A heavy silence at the other side of the room alerted him to
another's presence, and Obi-Wan sighed inwardly. He had escaped
this conversation for the past three days, but the inevitable
now seemed to be upon him. Qui-Gon was apparently unwilling to
let his Padawan rest and continue to avoid the issues between
him. Slowly, Obi-Wan let his arm drop away from his eyes.
Qui-Gon stood in the doorway, regarding his apprentice with an
expression of narrow concern. There was no condemnation there,
much as Obi-Wan would have welcomed it. Instead, there was a
hint of sadness in Qui-Gon's eyes that was somehow even more
quelling.
"Aren't you going to say anything?" Obi-Wan said after a
moment.
Qui-Gon smiled. "May I come in, Padawan?"
"Of course." Obi-Wan sat up on the mattress, pulling his knees
up to his chest to make room for Qui-Gon beside him. Qui-Gon
came in and sat gracefully, his eyes never leaving his
Padawan's face.
"What is it that troubles you?" Qui-Gon asked, one hand lifting
to tuck the braid back behind Obi-Wan's ear.
Obi-Wan's gaze dropped, unable to meet his Master's eyes. "You
know the answer to that."
"You assume too much, Padawan. I would think that memories of
the fire are haunting you, but somehow I think the wound runs
deeper than that."
For a moment, Obi-Wan had to resist the ridiculous temptation
to burst into tears. His emotional stability was completely
off- centered since the fire. "I gave into fear, Master," he
said at last, the words a softly murmured confession. He kept
his gaze securely rooted to the floor beside the bed. "And a
child almost died because of it."
Qui-Gon was silent a moment. Then, "You saved a great number of
lives, beloved."
The endearment made Obi-Wan wince before he could stop himself.
"I disobeyed you. You told me to jump, and I did not."
"You could not." Qui-Gon's voice was firm. It softened as he
continued, "If you could have seen yourself, standing there,
the child held securely in your arms. You looked like an
avenging angel. I have never been more proud of you than I was
at that moment, Obi-Wan." His fingers trailed in a gentle
caress across Obi-Wan's cheek. "You were weakened, both
physically and mentally. You had fought hard without a thought
for yourself, and there are many who owe their lives to your
bravery."
Obi-Wan shook his head, still unable to meet his Master's gaze.
Qui-Gon's hand tightened around his chin, pulling Obi-Wan's
head around to look at him. Obi-Wan's eyes widened in surprise.
"You believe that you failed me. I'm telling you that is not
so. Why won't you believe me?"
To Obi-Wan's consternation, he felt another stirring of tears.
He blinked them away hurriedly. "I was so scared, Master," he
said, rubbing his cheek into Qui-Gon's palm. His gaze never
left his Master's. "I was scared, and I let that fear overwhelm
my actions. And I'm afraid ... I'm afraid it could happen
again."
Qui-Gon's eyes darkened with empathy. "It is a difficult thing,
to lose control. To be ruled by instinct, by emotion."
"Yes." The fervor of Obi-Wan's agreement made it sound like a
hiss. His eyes fell closed slowly, and he leaned further into
Qui-Gon's touch.
Qui-Gon bent to touch his lips to the skin directly below Obi-
Wan's ear, and Obi-Wan's breath fluttered at the contact. "You
have to learn not to fear your passions, Obi-Wan. It's a part
of who you are. A part of who we all are." His lips slid lower
to nuzzle at the juncture between Obi-Wan's neck and jaw.
Obi-Wan tipped his head back, exposing more flesh to his
Master's touch. "I love you, Qui-Gon," he whispered, feeling a
familiar warmth tingle through him. Just being near to Qui-Gon
was calming, and Obi-Wan's fears started to melt away in the
heat of this man's love. Qui-Gon's hand slipped down and around
to cup the back of Obi-Wan's head, and Obi-Wan leaned back into
it, a small moan escaping his lips.
Qui-Gon kissed him. The touch of the older man's lips was
delectable, the feel of him, the taste. Obi-Wan opened himself
to the kiss whole-heartedly, his hands finding Qui-Gon's arms
and tightening around them. Tongues met and then parted with
teasing promise, and then Qui-Gon pulled away. Obi-Wan made a
low sound of discontent, burrowing close against his Master's
chest.
"Do you trust me?" Qui-Gon murmured, his breath wafting warmly
across Obi-Wan's ear. Obi-Wan shivered.
"Of course I trust you, Master." There could be no doubt of
that. However much Obi-Wan may be doubting his own resources at
the moment, he had perfect faith in his Master.
"Then come with me." Qui-Gon's fingers slid down Obi-Wan's arm
to curl around his hand, and his grip was gentle yet demanding
as he pulled Obi-Wan to his feet. Obi-Wan looked up at the
larger man with a question in his eyes. The expression in
Qui-Gon's gaze was unreadable.
They moved together to the other side of the bedroom, stopping
beside the large chest of drawers. The late afternoon light
fell in through the shuttered windows with a steely sheen,
giving Obi- Wan a tingle of apprehension that he could not
explain. Qui-Gon seemed to sense his unease and gave his hand a
reassuring squeeze, and Obi-Wan's anxiety immediately
dissipated. He smiled as his Master pulled the robe back off
his shoulders and folded it over the back of the chair by the
door.
Qui-Gon's hands moved over Obi-Wan's shoulders in a warm
caress, easing the tension out of them. "Relax, Obi-Wan." His
voice was low.
Obi-Wan obeyed as best he could, letting his head fall forward
as his eyes closed. The massage felt good, and the physical
pleasure eased some of his interior woes.
One of Qui-Gon's hands left him for a moment to fumble around
inside the drawer at their side, and then something long and
silky was being draped over Obi-Wan's shoulder. Obi-Wan glanced
down at it in surprise, a smile curling the corners of his
lips. "What's this, Master?"
"A new training tool." There was no mistaking the wry humor in
Qui-Gon's voice. He slid the length of white, satiny cloth back
off Obi-Wan's shoulder, tickling the side of his neck. Obi-Wan
chuckled softly.
His laughter stopped abruptly when Qui-Gon reached around him
to place the cloth over his eyes, bringing the ends back over
his shoulders to tie them behind his head. Obi-Wan frowned into
the suddenly oppressive darkness that enveloped him.
"Qui-Gon?"
Qui-Gon's breath against his ear told him that the other man
was leaning in close behind him. "Trust me, Obi-Wan." Large
hands smoothed down over Obi-Wan's shoulders and arms, making
him shiver. "Just relax."
Obi-Wan took a deep breath. He and Qui-Gon had been lovers for
more than two years now, and never once had Qui-Gon taken
advantage of his status in their lovemaking. It felt odd to
Obi- Wan that he felt so vulnerable now. He wasn't sure it was
a feeling he liked.
"Relax," Qui-Gon said again, and left a moist trail of heat
down the side of Obi-Wan's neck with his tongue, closing his
lips over a particularly inviting patch of skin and sucking
deeply. Obi- Wan gasped, any objection that he might have made
to the blindfold lost as the sensations surged through him.
Qui-Gon's mouth felt so good, and the older man's hands were
even now moving to unwind the sash at Obi-Wan's waist. Obi-Wan
agreed wholeheartedly with those hands' proposed plan.
Qui-Gon undressed him slowly, his fingers brushing sensually
over each newly exposed patch of skin. Obi-Wan felt his body
come alive under the caresses, and his erection firmed with
agonizing slowness between his legs. Without being able to see,
the sensations of Qui-Gon's hands on his body were doubly
erotic. Even as he tried to return Qui-Gon's caresses, Qui-Gon
insisted that he do nothing but stand still and let Qui-Gon
touch him. His duty for the moment, Qui-Gon whispered, tongue
tracing lightly along the shell of Obi-Wan's ear, was to
*feel*, and nothing more.
Obi-Wan gasped as Qui-Gon pressed up behind him, still fully
clothed, and slid one hand down over his naked hip to gently
cup his balls. Obi-Wan let his head fall back against the other
man's shoulder, his entire body trembling with suppressed
desire. "Please, Master," he whispered. "Please. I need to
touch you."
"Peace, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon chastised lightly. His voice was low
and hoarse with arousal. He rubbed his beard lightly against
Obi-Wan's shoulder as his thumb traced the tip of his lover's
erection. "Just feel for me. Can you do that, love?"
Obi-Wan groaned in frustration, but he made no other comment.
He jumped when he felt the soft brush of something coarse and
sinuous touch the small of his back.
"Master?" The softly voiced inquiry fell past his lips before
he could stop it. Qui-Gon made no remark on it, however, and
Obi- Wan flinched as the weight of the thin cord settled around
the back of his neck to drape over his chest. It brushed across
his nipples when he breathed, making him shiver.
Qui-Gon drew the lobe of Obi-Wan's ear into his mouth and began
to suckle lightly, effectively silencing Obi-Wan's protests as
he wrapped the cord forward around Obi-Wan's chest and then
back around his ribcage, forming an X across the front of the
younger man's chest. His teeth worried at the skin underneath
Obi-Wan's jaw again, tongue lashing wetly across the sensitized
skin. Obi- Wan moaned.
Around and then forward again, the cord crossed a second time
across Obi-Wan's front, this time at around the level of his
midsection. Obi-Wan shifted slightly under the constricting
pressure of it, but Qui-Gon's hand against his back stilled
him.
"Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?" There was a smile
in Qui-Gon's voice. His fingers traced down across Obi-Wan's
chest, lingering over the cord that bound him, and took gentle
hold of the younger man's wrist. Obi-Wan tensed as Qui-Gon drew
his hand behind his back and began to wind the ends of the cord
around it.
"Master." There was a plea in Obi-Wan's voice. The blindfold
was one thing, but this was most certainly something else
entirely. "Master, what are you doing?"
Qui-Gon kissed him on the edge of one shoulder, even as he
reached for Obi-Wan's second wrist and began binding it loosely
against the first, just above Obi-Wan's buttocks. There was
enough slack in the cord to allow for comfort, but it gave
absolutely no room for movement. "I'm showing you that it is
not necessarily an evil thing to be out of control, my love."
Another kiss against the back of Obi-Wan's neck, slightly
breathless. "How do you feel?"
Obi-Wan had to make a conscious effort not to curl his hands
into fists. He turned his head slightly, blindly tracking what
light he could see through his blindfold. After a moment's
thought, he answered, "I feel subdued, Master."
He felt Qui-Gon smile. "Do you find this feeling objectionable,
love?" His hands fanned out over Obi-Wan's chest, teasing the
younger man's nipples. Obi-Wan gasped.
The cord around Obi-Wan's torso was slightly elastic, and while
it was taut, it did not bind him uncomfortably. Any discomfort
was solely in his mind, as he fought with the indignity of his
position. "Qui-Gon," was all he could think of to say, as his
Master moved around in front of him without losing body contact
and bent to suckle at one of the younger man's hardened
nipples.
"Do you want me to stop, Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon moved to the other
nipple and drew it in between his teeth, nibbling lightly. His
hands smoothed down over Obi-Wan's sides, thumbs massaging
deeply into the hollows of his Padawan's hips.
Obi-Wan strained once against the bindings on his wrists and
then capitulated. "No," he said on a sigh, trying to brush his
body forward against Qui-Gon's. His erection was so hard now
that it was almost painful.
Maddeningly, Qui-Gon retreated. There was a soft rustling of
fabrics, and Obi-Wan's arousal heightened even more as he
realized that Qui-Gon was undressing. He bit back the moan that
wanted to escape him when he imagined the scene that the
blindfold would not let him see. It was exasperating, to be so
utterly vulnerable, to have the satisfaction of his passions
contingent on Qui-Gon's whim.
But he had said that he trusted his Master, and he'd meant it.
He began to grow uncomfortable, however, as the seconds slid
past and nothing happened. There was no sound but that of his
and Qui-Gon's harsh breathing, nothing to feel except for the
air pressing up against his naked skin. The longer Obi-Wan
stood there, the more his trepidation grew. He felt a twinge of
anger at his Master for putting him in this situation, which
was quickly suppressed. Obi-Wan felt completely helpless, and
with stunning clarity, he realized what Qui-Gon was trying to
teach him.
Qui-Gon had created in him a biological necessity and then
stripped from him the ability to relieve it. It was a mirror of
what Obi-Wan had undergone in the fire, when everything in him
had screamed that he run, that he obey his Master's command to
jump, but his body had been incapable of meeting his demands.
For a moment, Obi-Wan felt remembered panic close in, but he
focused with an effort and did what he could to release his
fears. He felt his ragged breathing slow.
"You begin to understand." Qui-Gon's voice was soft, and
Obi-Wan felt warmed by his Master's approval. "There's no sense
in worrying about what you cannot control."
He tugged Obi-Wan forward then, and Obi-Wan followed without
thought, trusting his Master to lead him. Gentle pressure on
his shoulders urged Obi-Wan to kneel. He did.
"Do you trust me, Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon's voice sounded disembodied
in a world without sight, without sensation aside from the
hands that teased him.
"I trust you, Master." Obi-Wan pressed his cheek into a hand
that ghosted against the side of his face, and he kissed the
fingers as they slid past his lips.
Pressure again, this time against the back of his neck, and
Obi- Wan bent forward to settle his head on Qui-Gon's lap. His
Master was seated, on the edge of the bed perhaps, and he was
naked to the waist, his legs still encased in his leggings.
Obi-Wan rubbed his face against the coarse material, inhaling
his Master's sharp, musky scent. Qui-Gon loosened the hair-tie
at the back of Obi-Wan's head and ran his fingers through the
thick hair, loosening the tangles that he found there.
"I love you, Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon's hands moved down over the
curve of Obi-Wan's back, pausing briefly at each cross of the
cord that held his lover bound. Obi-Wan arched under the
sensual caress, and Qui-Gon gave his braid an affectionate tug.
Obi-Wan nuzzled deeper into Qui-Gon's lap, wondering when he
had ever felt so safe, so loved, and he almost laughed at the
incongruity of these feelings as they moved through him. Here
he was, bound and blindfolded, on his knees, aching nearly to
tears with frustrated arousal, and he couldn't remember ever
feeling more secure.
*Control,* some distant, rational corner of his mind insisted
in Qui-Gon's voice, *is only an illusion. We only do the best
that we can, for as long as we can, and let the universe muddle
along as best it can around us.*
It was incredible, the moment when he learned a lesson with
such crystal clarity. It was even more incredible to learn it
amongst an air of such subdued eroticism and tender, aching
need. Obi- Wan could feel his Master's erection against his
cheek, warm through the fabric of his leggings. Qui-Gon's hands
on his back were sensual and undemanding, caressing rather than
claiming, and Obi-Wan arched back cat-like into the touch,
trying to convey his deep-felt gratitude to his Master for
teaching him this lesson.
Almost without thought, Obi-Wan turned his head until he found
the laces at the waistband of Qui-Gon's leggings. The muscles
of the older man's stomach were hard under his lips, and they
hardened still further once Qui-Gon understood his Padawan's
intentions. Obi-Wan smiled softly to himself, pulling on the
laces with consummate grace until they fell open before him.
"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said, placing a stilling hand at the back of
his Padawan's neck. His breathing was shallow, and his body
shifted under Obi-Wan's touch. "It was not my intention for you
to-"
Obi-Wan ignored him, peeling back the thin material with his
teeth until he had completely exposed his lover's erection. He
inhaled deeply, savoring the musky scent of his Master's
arousal. Qui-Gon's breath hitched, and his hand began to
massage in slow circles at the base of Obi-Wan's neck, giving
tacit acquiescence to his Padawan's silent demand.
Finding his way by scent and touch, Obi-Wan closed his lips
over the head of Qui-Gon's penis. Qui-Gon tensed, a gasp
falling from him, and his hand tightened around the muscles of
Obi-Wan's back. His legs fell open slightly, and Obi-Wan inched
forward on his knees, taking advantage of the more comfortable
position to slide his lips entirely down the length Qui-Gon's
cock, drawing forth a hissing intake of breath that made him
smile around the hardened flesh in his mouth.
"Obi-Wan." There was a ragged undercurrent to Qui-Gon's voice.
His hips arched up into Obi-Wan's touch, and he traced a tender
line down the curve of Obi-Wan's jaw with the fingers of one
hand, the other moving to catch hold of the braid at the side
of his lover's head.
Obi-Wan submitted completely when Qui-Gon took hold of his head
and began to slowly make love to his mouth, moving his hips in
a steady rise and fall that left Obi-Wan breathless. Obi-Wan
hollowed his cheeks and suckled with pure abandon, working the
hot flesh greedily with his tongue. Qui-Gon's movements became
more and more needful, almost painful in their urgency, but
before they could cause real hurt, Qui-Gon pulled his lover's
head back, forcing the younger man to release him.
Obi-Wan made a low cry of frustration, wrenching his head free
of Qui-Gon's grip and leaning forward in a blind quest for more
physical contact. The need within him was racing like wildfire
now. Almost before the cry had left his mouth, Qui-Gon's lips
descended on him, and he kissed Obi-Wan with an intensity that
left the other man dazzled. Obi-Wan allowed Qui-Gon to ravage
his mouth, moaning under the demanding pressure of lips and
teeth and tongue, the taste and scent of the man that he loved
completely overwhelming his senses.
Never had Obi-Wan felt such raw, burning need, and it excited
him almost past endurance. "Master, please," he managed to
gasp, but once again, Qui-Gon anticipated him. With a brief
scuffle of movement, Qui-Gon lifted Obi-Wan away from his lap
and then bent him forward against the bed. Obi-Wan acquiesced
without a word, the sheets cool and clinging under the fevered
skin of his chest and stomach.
This was going to be a rough one, but it was something that
they both needed right now. Obi-Wan whimpered, rubbing his face
against the sheets as Qui-Gon moved around behind him. The
sound of rustling fabric made Obi-Wan want to keen his
frustration aloud, as the picture formed in his mind of Qui-Gon
pulling away his leggings and revealing his naked body to the
air. Obi-Wan adored that body, and he railed inwardly against
the bonds that kept him from simply devouring his lover whole.
He wanted to touch, he wanted to taste, he wanted to make love
to his beloved Master until they both screamed with ecstasy.
Almost before the thought was completed, Qui-Gon's body draped
possessively over his Padawan's back, crushing him to the
mattress, and Obi-Wan turned his head to meet his Master's
mouth in another bruising kiss.
There were no words needed between them. Obi-Wan gasped as
strong fingers probed at the opening to his anus, slick with
oil. He arched back into the touch, despite the brief pain of
the rough penetration. Qui-Gon groaned against Obi-Wan's ear,
his other hand clasped tight over the curve of his Padawan's
hip.
"Force around us, I love you, Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon rubbed his
bearded cheek against the side of the younger man's face,
marking him, and Obi-Wan crooned his ecstasy at the possessive
gesture. Qui-Gon's fingers stroked against the pleasure spot
within him, and Obi-Wan's breath left him in a drawn-out hiss.
"Yours," Obi-Wan panted, lost in the sea of sensation that
enveloped him. "Always yours, Master. Love you. Need you..."
Qui-Gon pulled his fingers free of his lover's body and held
the younger man's hips firmly in both hands, spreading the
smooth buttocks with his thumbs. His entire weight fell against
Obi- Wan's back, but Obi-Wan voiced no complaint. Carefully
positioning his penis at Obi-Wan's opening, Qui-Gon entered him
in one long, slick thrust.
Obi-Wan cried out, arching up against the body that impaled
him. There were tears now, leaking past the lower edge of the
blindfold, but before Qui-Gon could mistake them for tears of
pain, he began to plead for more, as hard and as fast as
Qui-Gon could give it to him. Qui-Gon hesitated for only a
moment before he began to move, giving his Padawan exactly what
he asked for. Drawing almost completely out of Obi-Wan's body,
he thrust in again with such force that it lifted Obi-Wan's
knees from the floor.
Obi-Wan thrashed under Qui-Gon's pinning weight, but there was
no room for movement. Qui-Gon started a bruising rhythm,
grunting low into Obi-Wan's ear, his hair brushing across
Obi-Wan's back with each forceful thrust. His hands moved over
his lover's body with sensual strokes, curling under Obi-Wan's
shoulders and lifting him to run his tongue sinuously across
Obi-Wan's nape. Without warning, he bit down, and even before
the gasp left Obi- Wan's mouth, Qui-Gon was soothing the small
hurt with lips and tongue, sending Obi-Wan's thoughts spinning
dizzily away in the wake of his passion. In the end, Obi-Wan
slumped against the bed and let Qui-Gon ride him, giving up all
pretenses of control as he accepted the pleasures that Qui-Gon
gave him.
Passion built to almost blinding intensity beneath the surface
of Obi-Wan's skin. His body rocked under Qui-Gon's thrusts,
each jarring movement sending shards of pleasure racing through
him, wrenching forth disjointed cries that he barely recognized
as his own. Qui-Gon was growling low in the back of his throat,
the sound giving Obi-Wan a thrill of erotic appreciation. The
elder Jedi's hands slid down over Obi-Wan's hips, and he caught
the younger man's erection in a determined grip. He began to
pump it in time with his thrusts, squeezing the hard flesh in
his hands and smearing the hot liquid that he found at the tip
with his thumb. Obi-Wan threw back his head and keened.
Ecstasy exploded through Obi-Wan without warning, tearing
through him with a heat like liquid fire. The release snapped
through him with tidal force, making his entire body shudder,
and Obi-Wan buried his face against the sheets as he screamed,
sheer pleasure rolling through him in wave after wave until he
thought he would go mad from the intensity of it.
A moment later, Qui-Gon spasmed with a harsh shout behind him,
fingers digging deep into Obi-Wan's hips. Obi-Wan lay limp and
satiated under the onslaught of the other man's passion,
enjoying the feel of the hot pulsing fluid that was being
expelled into him, knowing his Master was sharing the intense
pleasure that he had been given. After a small eternity,
Qui-Gon collapsed onto Obi-Wan's back again, his hair falling
in silken disarray around their shoulders.
The scents of sweat and semen were thick around them. Obi-Wan
felt a hand stroke over the back of his head, and then the
blindfold was being lifted from him. The sudden influx of light
was almost blinding.
"I love you, Obi-Wan." The words were a half-audible rumbling
in Obi-Wan's ear.
"I love you, too, Qui-Gon." Obi-Wan let out a happy sigh,
nuzzling back against the body that was draped over him. "Thank
you."
A low chuckle then, accompanied by a soft kiss on Obi-Wan's
shoulder. "Let me get you out of this."
"Please." Obi-Wan smiled slightly. He was still trembling from
the residual tremors of his orgasm.
Obi-Wan waited patiently while Qui-Gon untied the knots that
bound him, and then he was free, the cord sliding away from him
as if it had never truly been a detriment to his freedom at
all. Qui-Gon massaged his sore muscles for a moment, and then
he lifted Obi-Wan in his arms, setting him onto the bed.
Qui-Gon lay down beside him, and they curled contentedly into
each other's arms.
They lay that way for a long while, simply enjoying the comfort
of each other's presence. Then Qui-Gon shifted slightly, and
Obi-Wan knew that it was time to continue their discussion
about the fire.
"What did you learn, Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon asked. The words were
casual, but the meaning behind them was not. He nuzzled
affectionately into the side of his Padawan's neck, drawing the
younger man further into the circle of his arms.
Obi-Wan thought for a moment. It was difficult to think at all
in the state of clinging lassitude that enveloped him, but he
made the effort for Qui-Gon's sake. He knew that his Master was
still concerned about him, and he wanted to ease his lover's
fears.
"I learned that I'm not omnipotent," Obi-Wan said at last,
smiling into the sweet-smelling musk of his Master's hair. "I
can't be in control of everything all the time. Not even
myself."
"And?" Qui-Gon closed his lips over the lobe of his Padawan's
ear, his tongue swirling warmly over the soft flesh. He tugged
lightly with his teeth, earning a small gasp and a drawn-out
purr from his sated lover.
Obi-Wan considered, struggling valiantly to coerce his thoughts
into some semblance of order. "And that it's not something I
should feel ashamed of, or belittle myself over. It's part of
being human."
"Those are my words." Qui-Gon's teeth on Obi-Wan's ear sank in
somewhat deeper than before, drawing forth a sharp yelp from
his startled Padawan. "What do you think it means?"
Obi-Wan felt a flicker of resentment, there and then gone.
Forcing him to think coherently after a bout of mind-blowing
sex was perhaps that most cruel and unusual training tactic
that Qui- Gon had ever employed against him. "I guess it means
that I'm not to blame for my weakness during the fire."
"Do you believe that, truly?" The question was quiet, all
teasing put aside now. In Qui-Gon's voice, Obi-Wan heard all of
the love that his Master held for him.
"I think I'm beginning to." Obi-Wan could be nothing but
honest.
Qui-Gon tightened his arms around his Padawan, tucking the
younger man's head under his chin. His arms closed around Obi-
Wan's body as if he meant to shield him from all the nefarious
hurts that the galaxy had to offer. His silence was troubled,
but accepting.
"It's enough," he said at last.
Obi-Wan relaxed, knowing that Qui-Gon loved him no matter what
else might come between them. In time, Obi-Wan supposed that he
would be able to accept his Master's assurances that he had not
been at fault during the fire, but for now the memories were
still too fresh in his mind. Too much pain, too much terror,
and he was still too close to all of it to make an accurate
appraisal of his actions there.
And even for an acknowledged failure, there was very little to
do but count it as a lesson learned and move on.
"Master," Obi-Wan said after a lengthy pause. He was drowsy
with the need for sleep; the release of days of pent-up anxiety
had left him more drained than he cared to contemplate.
"Hmm?"
It was a struggle to put his thoughts into words. "I hope, in
the future, that you remember the success of this particular
method of training. It's not something I would be adverse to
trying again."
Qui-Gon kissed him against the top of the head, and Obi-Wan
could feel his smile. "Patience, Padawan. If you are amenable,
I have many such lessons to teach you."
Obi-Wan couldn't control the shiver of anticipation that moved
through him at those words, and he knew from the tightening of
Qui-Gon's arms around him that his Master had felt it, too.
Obi- Wan knew without a doubt that they would be trying this
exercise again.
He could hardly wait for the next lesson to begin.
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