Archive: Absolutely on M&A, The Nesting Place, Wayward
Inn. Others please request.
Pairing/Category: O/Bruck; PWP, Angst, HC
Rating: NC-17 (scared ya with the last one, didn't I?)
Warnings: Um, no, for a change, except for that bit about
explicit m/m sex.
Disclaimer: The characters are George Lucas's, bless him for
having such a fevered imagination, even if it's not as fevered
as mine. While George ought to be paying me to write this
stuff, he hasn't yet seen the light, so I'm only doing it for
fun.
Notes: This story takes place immediately after "From a High
Place."
Another piece of the Warrior's Heart series, the correct order
of which is 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"
"The Sweet Science of Bruising"
"From a High Place"
"Artifacts"
"Silk"
Bruck Chun, Obi-Wan's former tormentor, appears here. I don't
own him, either, dammit, or he'd be much better taken care of,
poor bun. However, if anybody'd like to sell me Qui-Gon,
slightly used or otherwise, I have a platinum card waiting to
be broken in. Atrussed-up Obi-Wan wouldn't be amiss either.
Home delivery requested. Let me know if there's a "buy two, get
one free" special, or something, okay?
Thoughts in italics (or */*); telepathy in //.
Summary: Two of the boyz buy curtains. Sorta.
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.
Still mostly unconscious and largely sated, Bruck heard Kenobi
mumble in his sleep and roll over, and was jolted into full and
instantaneous wakefulness when his bedmate flailed and grabbed
onto him, nearly falling off the edge of the bed and taking
Bruck with him.
"Hey!" Bruck protested, none too happy at being rudely yanked
from sleep, and not much of it.
"That's it!" Kenobi snarled, sitting up on the side of the bed.
His pale skin was warm and enticingly flushed, but his mood was
obviously foul. Or more foul than usual in the morning.
"What's the matter with you?" Bruck grumbled.
"Your bloody bed, that's what's the matter with me," the other
padawan snapped. "It's barely big enough for you, let alone
two. Doesn't your master realize you're not a Lannik?"
"If you didn't thrash around like a hooked fish all night, it'd
be fine."
"If it didn't have a Bruck-shaped indentation in the middle of
it that you slid into to the exclusion of all others, it would
probably be at least serviceable. But it's old, broken down,
and not big enough for two people to sleep in, let alone have
sex. If you expect me to keep sleeping with you, you're getting
a bigger bed."
"Just where would you suggest I put it? It's a padawan room,
not a master's suite. Very nice that you're used to such a--"
"Uh uh uh! No comparisons, remember? Not even of bed size.
What's your schedule like?"
"What?" The lightning change of subject confused Bruck, he not
being quite awake yet, despite the fact that his eyes were
open. Or they were last he checked.
"Schedule? You know? List of things you do during the day?
Usually divided into periods of a half hour or more?"
"No sarcasm this early in the morning," Bruck moaned, pulling
the lone pillow over his head. "I've got two classes this
morning, midmeal, then a few hours in the salles, since I
haven't been in them in days. I'll probably be done an hour or
so before nightmeal. Why?"
"I'll tell stores to deliver around half past fourth hour,
then. Meanwhile, we'll put this thing in the hallway for
recycling, though Sith knows what they'll do with it. Maybe the
frame will still be good for something. The mattress certainly
isn't."
Which is how Bruck came to be deconstructing his room in the
hour before lastmeal, and revealing things about himself that
he hadn't intended.
"Where'd you get all this stuff?" Kenobi groaned, hauling yet
another box of neatly catalogued and, as far as he was
concerned, completely indistinguishable bits of broken pottery
from where they'd been stored beneath the bed into the common
room. "And what d'ya want it for, anyway?"
"Listen, just because you're an ascetic doesn't mean the rest
of us are," Bruck retorted, moving the commdesk's chair out
behind him. As threatened, they'd sent Bruck's old bed down to
stores for recycling and were clearing out loose objects from
the room prior to moving in the new bed that had arrived that
afternoon.
"Who said I was an ascetic?" Kenobi replied indignantly.
Bruck hurled a pillow at him. Ben caught it without fuss and
added it to the pile of boxes. "You're one and you know it.
Your room doesn't look any different than it did the day you
moved in."
"Does so. I've taken the model fighters down."
"See?"
"Well, what is this stuff? It looks like something you'd sweep
off the floor after the rancor had charged through the shop."
"It's potsherds."
"Oh, illuminating, that is. Not just any broken porcelain.
Old broken porcelain. And where's all this historical
broken dishware from?"
"Different digs I've been on, over vacations, sometimes on a
mission. If we were near one I wanted to see, Leth would
sometimes let us take a detour on the way home." Bruck replied
with quiet dignity, ignoring Kenobi's sarcasm. "None of it's
valuable--and very little of it's porcelain, for your
information. It's all stuff there was so much of that there was
no harm letting one of the volunteers wander off with some of
it. Either that, or there wasn't enough of it to put together
into something recognizable."
"Same with these, I suppose?" Kenobi said, holding out another
box of round metal discs, each carefully enclosed in a clear
case, but looking like nothing more than roughly stamped, blank
counters.
"Yeah, those are so worn you can't tell what year they're from,
but they were all found in an old hot spring where the locals
made votive offerings for centuries. There's probably five or
six hundred years worth of currency there, representing three
or four dynasties and at least two belief systems, if you could
tell. Some of it came up in big oxidized lumps that had sort of
melted together in the water and heat, like ingots. That's what
those were. There were a couple that were recognizable after
I'd cleaned them; I sent those back with a report on their
location in the lump. When you do things like that, word gets
around. Sometimes someone will send me something to clean up or
put together just because I've got the time and patience and
I'll do it for free. It's sort of like your model building,
except I have to take notes while I'm doing it, not read
instructions."
"I never read the instructions."
"Yeah, it shows, too."
Kenobi hurled the pillow back at him. "Why do you keep things
like this if they're not valuable?" he asked, not teasing now,
but clearly curious.
Bruck seemed almost embarrassed. "Don't laugh, okay?"
"I won't," Kenobi promised gently.
Bruck squatted down on his heels and picked up one of the
larger potsherds, stroking a finger over its faded, bluish-
green surface. "When I touch something like this, I feel
connected to the past the way the Force makes me feel connected
to the present. It reminds me that I'm part of something larger
than just the Temple. Somehow, it cheers me up to know that
there have been--and still are--others out there just living
ordinary lives, producing and using and losing and breaking
things like this, leaving bits of themselves behind for us to
find and remember them with. It makes the people the Jedi have
always protected more real to me, somehow."
"Can you feel them, in the object?"
"Sometimes. Not very often though. Not in the really old
things. Master Eshkali can, but I'm not that sensitive. I can
find things though, when nobody else can. Once in a great while
I get borrowed to go out to a dig and be a living treasure--or
potsherd--detector. That'll probably be my career if I fail my
trials," he grinned. "But I know someone made this," he went
on, serious again. "Someone used it. Someone broke it or threw
it away or abandoned it. And maybe it was lost for a long time,
but I found it, and so even if I don't know who I'm
remembering, somewhere in the Force, they know." Bruck
ducked his head, ears turning red. "Sounds stupid, I know."
"Not stupid at all." Kenobi shook his head, reached out to
touch first the potsherd Bruck held and then run his finger
over the other young man's knuckles. "It shames me, sometimes,
how badly we all underestimated you."
Bruck looked up quickly at that, surprised, then embarrassed
all over again.
"So why were these shoved under the bed? Why don't you display
them?" Kenobi went on, smoothing over the awkward moment.
"I had them out when I was living with Leth," Bruck replied,
grateful to be distracted. "Then I moved in here and never got
around to putting them out again," he shrugged. "Didn't seem
all that important."
"Well, let's do it tonight then. It won't take long to set the
new bed up. We'll go eat, get some shelving from stores, and
arrange your collection."
Hours later, Bruck and Kenobi flopped down side by side on the
new bed together and surveyed their handiwork. The room looked
entirely different now. Most of the padawan rooms were small
and narrow and Bruck's was no exception. It came with a small
closet, a commdesk, a window overlooking one of the darker
courtyards, and a narrow bed. As with regular quarters and
initiates rooms, shelves and rugs and furniture could be added
to suit. Despite his jab at Kenobi about being an ascetic,
Bruck's own room had been largely bare of personal effects or
anything but basic-issue furniture, too. That had changed now.
Since stores would provide a bed to suit the various sizes,
shapes, and cultures padawans came in and from, Kenobi had
ordered several panels of thick, woven rush flooring in place
of the bare floor Bruck had had, and a deep, soft mattress
large enough for two that could be rolled up during the day,
along with the bolsters and bedding to go with it. Over the
commdesk and along the wall beside the window they had hung
shelves and arranged Bruck's collection of artifacts. The walls
were lined now with shards of catalogued pottery on stands,
some of the glazes quite lovely in themselves;
half-reconstructed vessels with pleasing forms; faceless,
verdigrised coins; broken statuary that still retained much of
its original beauty; one or two pieces of mangled but
intricately made jewelry, one in gold; mounted fragments of
paper with equally fragmentary but intriguing calligraphy that
Ben decided should be shown to Qui-Gon some time; and bits of
indecipherable plastic and metal and glass and stone, arresting
in their inscrutability. Bruck explained as much of the
provenance and history of each one as anyone could, and
described the dig it had come from while they were arranging
the objects. Ben had at least feigned interest in his
explanations, even occasionally asking questions as they
worked.
"Like it?" Ben asked now, lying beside his lover on the new
bed, which Bruck had to admit was very comfortable and offered
much wider possibilities for creative sex.
"Yeah, I do. I'd almost forgotten I had some of this stuff. Do
you?"
"Yes," Kenobi smiled, looking around, gaze finally lighting on
Bruck. "It feels . . . like home."
"It's not though, is it?" Bruck said a little sourly, and then
wanted to kick himself for spoiling a perfectly good evening.
This issue had, as far as he was concerned, lain dormant
between them for a reason, since they'd begun sleeping together
again. Ben seemed to have no trouble ignoring it, and Qui-Gon
seemed completely unperturbed by it; so why did he have to poke
at it, especially now?
"It's home when you're here," Kenobi said touching his hand.
"When we're both here. Does it feel like home to you?"
"When you're here," he acknowledged. "Otherwise it's just a
room. The Temple hasn't felt like home to me in a long time,
Ben."
"Did your quarters with Leth?"
He had to think about that for a minute because it seemed so
long ago. "Yeah, I guess they did," he acknowledged finally.
"But Andreth and I have only been a training pair for about a
year now. I like him, and we work well together, but it's not
the same. It probably won't be. I'll only have a few more years
with him and we both know it. We've bonded well enough to
train, but not the way Leth and I had." Not like you and
Qui-Gon, he thought, but nothing was. Ben had never spoken
about how deep his bond with Qui-Gon was, but Bruck knew the
two of them could hear each other's thoughts with a little
effort, and that was highly unusual in any training pair.
Closer than most masters and padawans even before they'd become
lovers, Ben and Qui-Gon walked a very precarious line in their
relationship with each other. He was not certain many others
could follow them. He knew he couldn't, even with Ben.
"And you're still grieving her."
It surprised him, but Ben was right; he still missed Leth,
though it didn't hurt the way it had at first. They'd been
close--too close at the end--and he had loved her in some way,
though not the way she had wanted. "I guess I am. But that's
still only part of it." She'd been a warm and kind presence in
his life for many years when that was exactly what he needed,
and no matter how it had soured and how badly it had ended, he
was still grateful to have known her, and grateful that she had
cared about him. But he missed the stability he'd had with her.
He and his new master were not quite close enough yet for Bruck
to feel as secure as he had with Leth. And his relationship
with Ben didn't help. Nor did his lack of friends at Temple.
Kenobi nestled up beside him and pulled him over half on top,
their legs tangled, pelvises pressed together, Ben's arms
around him snugly, affectionately. "I wish it weren't so hard
for you," he said. "I wish I could make it easier," he
murmured, gliding his hands up inside Bruck's undertunic. They
had both shed their outer ones in the throes of moving things
around.
"But you don't wish things were different," Bruck said, pushing
himself away and sitting up, wondering what had gotten into him
lately. He couldn't seem to keep his mouth shut around Ben. He
was blurting out things he'd only thought in dark moments when
he'd been alone. Maybe that was the problem; he'd been alone
too long and didn't know how to act with others anymore. Or
maybe he'd just finally grown tired of keeping everything
inside.
Ben sighed and sat up beside him. "I'd be lying if I said I
did. After all, I've got two very wonderful, very different
lovers. But that doesn't mean I want to hurt either you or Qui.
Would it be better for you if I didn't--"
"No! Don't say it!" Bruck yelped, panicked. "Please don't say
it," he went on more quietly. "I couldn't--it just--I miss you
when you're not here, that's all." It certainly wasn't a lie,
but it wasn't the whole truth either. "That wouldn't change
even if you and Qui-Gon weren't lovers. It's not going to
change when we're knights. I'm not jealous, Ben," and he
wasn't, not anymore. The thought of Ben and Qui- Gon together
didn't make him angry, just hollow in the same way Ben's
absence did. "I just, I know we'll probably never really be
together for any length of time. That's hard, sometimes. But
it's hard for all of us."
"But less so for me," he said soberly, "because I've got two of
you, one of whom I live with. It's not really fair, is it?
Especially not for you, because you're so insistently
monogamous." Ben sighed. "I wish I could give you that. But I
can't. I can't change what I feel for Qui any more than you can
change how you feel about sleeping with more than one person at
a time, or about recreational fucking."
"I know," Bruck said. "I've known it from the beginning." He
slipped his own hand under Ben's shirt, fingers running over
the raised welts of the pictograms Qui-Gon had put there--a
graphic reminder of where Kenobi's primary loyalties lay. "I
know it's not the same with me as it is with Qui-Gon. It's just
. . . it's hard to be grateful for table scraps sometimes."
Kenobi grimaced. "That's appalling. Is that what it seems like?
That I'm giving you what's left over?"
Bruck nodded, a little dazed by his own honesty. "Sometimes."
What the hell had gotten into him all of a sudden?
"I'm sorry, love. I'm obviously not doing something right
then."
"I don't think it's you, Ben. It's just circumstance. I'm not
sure I wouldn't feel this way if it was just the two of us.
It's just how I am, I guess. Unfortunately, it clashes with
being a Jedi."
He felt Kenobi tense slightly under his hand, heard a small
intake of breath. "What do you do when you and your master are
here and Qui-Gon and I aren't? Who do you go out with?"
This was truly dangerous territory, too much like the
conversation they had had in the refectory several days ago
that had drastically changed--everything. Ultimately, it hadn't
been a bad thing, but he felt as though he were still reeling
from it and needed time to assimilate it all--not add to it.
The past two years had encompassed far too much rapid and
radical change that left him feeling felt like he was losing
control of the pace and shape of his own life. Leth's suicide,
his new friendship and then affair with Ben, his new master,
the new information about his past, the slight thaw in his
relations with his peers, the pain exercises both he and Ben
had gone through--it was just a little too much all at once.
He shrugged in what he hoped was nonchalance. "I go out with
Suri, if she's not working or studying, or with a few people
from some of the other classes I've been in residence for at
the university. Sometimes I go out to the clubs with people
I've met dancing. Most of the time I study, or go for a swim or
work out, or work on some project like one of these." He waved
a hand at the artifacts on the shelves.
Ben glared at him from under acutely arched brows. Never try
to fool a Jedi diplomat, Bruck reminded himself, a little
too late to be useful.
"You liar. You don't go out at all."
"Not very often," Bruck admitted, giving up. "When I do, it's
usually to the clubs, sometimes with Suri, most of the time
alone. I do have other friends outside the Temple, Ben. I just
don't see them often, we're gone so much. You know how hard it
is to maintain friendships like that. We're in class together
for a quarter year and the next time I see them, they've gotten
their degrees and gone on to their own lives. It's so different
for us."
"And you won't, of course, let anyone pick you up when you do
go out," Ben said, ignoring his meant-to-be- distracting
explanation. "I know you get offers. You get offers when I'm
with you. I practically have to fight them off for you."
Bruck grinned a little sheepishly. "Sorry."
"Don't be," Ben said, touching his face, cupping his cheek then
the back of his neck and drawing him into a kiss. "You're a
handsome bastard, and a good man. I wish you'd let someone else
show you that, too. I don't think you quite believe me."
Bruck shook his head. "I've tried it a few times, Ben. It's
worse than nothing to me. I just feel empty the next morning."
Not just empty, but used and a little dirty, but he didn't say
so. It wasn't something Ben needed to know, and it sounded too
much like a judgement.
"Even with Suri? She really fancies you."
"We've never slept together. She told you that. We're just
friends. I got a little, uh, tutoring from her before I took
you to the club. But that's all. And she does that for a
living. It was a business transaction; a favor, actually."
Kenobi looked disturbed now, and his shields had tightened up
so Bruck felt nothing from him. He was sorry he'd brought it
all up. "Did you at least have fun?" Kenobi asked, looking
pained. "I mean, it wasn't a chore, was it? Suri seems like
she'd be fun to be with, fun in bed."
"Maybe you should sleep with her, then," he snapped. "Because I
didn't. And I won't."
"This isn't working for you, is it?" Ben said quietly, a new
sadness filling his eyes. "I had no idea I was hurting you this
much."
Bruck closed his eyes. It did hurt. He couldn't deny it. He
wanted Ben, wanted him like he had never wanted anyone.
It was a physical ache when they were apart, greater or lesser
as he thought about it or focused on something else, worst at
night when he was trying to sleep. He wanted them to be
together; wanted to share his own life with someone else for
the first time; wanted to wake up next to Ben, holding him;
wanted to know everything about him; wanted to crawl inside
Ben's skin and hide there--
Oh.
Oh, that was a startling discovery. After so many years of
being alone and self-sufficient, it was another real shocker.
Enough to choke a rancor. It certainly choked him.
The color must have gone from his face because Ben touched his
shoulder. "What's wrong?" he said.
But it was impossible to say. He shook his head mutely, breath
frozen in his lungs, paralyzed with the discovery of that
bottomless need and the fear that he'd always be alone inside
himself. It felt old, like it had been lurking there all his
life and he'd just this moment discovered it. He wondered how
he could have missed it.
"I can't keep doing this to you," Kenobi said, voice anguished.
"I can't stand seeing what it does to you. I'm sorry, Bruck.
I'm sorry I started this. If I hadn't been so selfish I'd have
stuck to my resolve when you found me in the refectory again.
We shouldn't see each other if it's this hard. I should just
go--" He got to his knees, got one foot under him, before Bruck
caught his wrist.
"Don't," he whispered, almost voiceless. "Please." And what he
couldn't say must have been in his face, because Ben didn't.
Instead, he sat back on his heels and took Bruck's hands in his
own, rubbing his thumbs over the long slender fingers, the
knuckles hard and roughened from combat training. "What do we
do now?" Ben said sadly. "It's going to hurt no matter what."
"Then stay," Bruck choked. "Be with me when you can. It's
better than nothing."
"Even if all it is is table scraps?" Ben asked brutally.
"If that's all I can get, yes," he managed to whisper. It's
better than starving, he thought, but again couldn't say.
Ben leaned up, pain still etched in his face, dropping his
hands and taking Bruck's face between his palms instead. "I do
love you. You know that, don't you?" Bruck nodded. "Even when
I'm not here, I love you. Even when I'm with Qui. Nothing
changes that." Bruck nodded again, still incapable of speech.
Ben pulled him upright, onto his own knees and wrapped strong
arms around him, pressing them together, shoulder to knee. It
was an almost-perfect fit, he thought, resting his head against
Ben's and sliding his own arms around Kenobi's waist.
Ben's hands lay in the middle of his back, pressed flat against
his skin beneath the shirt, branding him. He thought he
understood now why Ben had wanted those marks on his back, why
he had not just let Qui-Gon do it, but asked for it. The same
urge took him now, to have some sign of Ben's desire on his own
body, to have him put one there, something more permanent than
the bruises and love bites they regularly wore after being with
each other. He rubbed against Ben, the silver bar in his nipple
catching a little in the fabric, tugging, tingling. He'd done
that himself, to surprise Ben and remind himself of . . . of
what? They'd had nothing at that point, had only slept together
once, with no promises. To give him hope, perhaps. But it
wasn't the same. He wanted Ben's hand to mark him, claim him,
remind him.
A shudder ran through him, a wave of need that rocked him
physically. His hands clutched Kenobi's ass, grinding their
pelvises together. His cock began to fill as Ben rocked with
him, sliding his hands down beneath his waistband to mirror
Bruck's grip.
"Tell me what you need," Ben murmured against his ear, hands
warm and hard on his ass, kneading.
I need you, he thought, but there was only so much of
Ben he could have. "I need something to take away with me, to
help me remember."
Kenobi pulled back and touched his lips with a finger. "Shhh. I
know. An artifact. A piece of my life. Like the ones on the
shelves, the ones on my back."
"Yes."
He pushed Bruck back on his heels and straddled him, then
leaned down, taking Bruck's mouth in a slow, hungry kiss,
nibbling and suckling first one lip and then the other, sliding
his tongue along them, tasting and teasing before slipping
inside. Ben's mouth was like satin, lips dry and soft, his
tongue like warm honey. He always tasted like sweet tea, though
Bruck could never figure out how. Ben dipped into his mouth,
stroking along the roof of it, tickling, sliding along his own
tongue, touching and probing. Bruck pushed back into his mouth
a little desperately and Ben broke away for a moment,
whispering, "Let me. Just take tonight. Let me give. Like the
first time."
Bruck shivered and nodded. Ben closed in again for another
kiss, his hands finding the bottom of Bruck's undertunic and
slowly pushing it up as they rode over his belly and chest and
back, caressing. They broke apart for an instant as Ben pulled
it over his head then sought each other's mouths again, Ben
exploring every nook and surface as though they had never
kissed before. His hands glided over Bruck's back, his
shoulders, down his arms, down toward the waist of his pants,
waking every nerve until his skin was on fire. They moved back
up to his shoulders, pressed him down on his elbows and then
onto his back as Ben nipped at his mouth, caught his lower lip
between his teeth and worried it a little.
When Bruck was flat on his back, Ben pulled away a little and
ran calloused fingers over his lips. They felt swollen and hot
under Ben's cool touch, and the rough pads of his fingertips
caught at skin made tender by Ben's nipping. Kenobi stripped
off his own tunic then and let Bruck's hands wander while he
traced the shape of Bruck's face as though he were blind,
fingers running tenderly over the brow ridge, around the eye
sockets, down his nose, over his high cheekbones, along the
curve of his jaw, under his chin, like a sculptor shaping a
bust. "You're such a handsome bastard. I love just looking at
you. How can anybody with bone structure that delicate be so
masculine?" Ben's voice sounded full of wonder, as though he'd
only just noticed. His fingers moved down Bruck's throat, over
the knob of cartilage that bobbed as he swallowed, down to his
sternum and across both collarbones to his shoulders, barely
touching, leaving a trail of electricity in their wake. Bruck
shivered and closed his eyes, heard himself moan.
"Shhhh, I'll take care of you," Ben whispered, leaning over him
again. He bit down lightly on the flesh surrounding the tiny
barbell piercing Bruck's nipple, flickered the tip of his
tongue over it, pulled it up with his teeth while his hands
unfastened Bruck's pants and eased them downward. Bruck gasped
and reached up, stroking through Ben's thick, red- gold hair.
His partner bit the other nipple a little harder, sucking at
it, sending quick jolts into Bruck's groin. He cried out and
bucked under Ben's weight, but was held down firmly.
Kenobi flicked the metal bar with this finger, sending another
jolt into Bruck's cock, smiling as he watched Bruck
squirm."This was sheer foolishness for a Jedi, love," he
whispered into Bruck's ear, and licked out with his wicked
tongue. "But just seeing it makes me hard," he added, holding
Bruck's hand against the bulge at his groin. Kenobi was indeed
hard and hot, the front of his leggings already a little damp.
Bruck closed his hand around the weight of it and felt his own
cock twitch as Ben closed his eyes and gasped above him,
rocking a little into his grip.
"Take them off. I want to see you," Bruck said, voice urgent
and hoarse with need.
Obediently, Ben went up on his knees. Smiling a little slyly,
he slowly ran his hands down his own chest, through the
red-gold hair that was almost invisible against his skin,
pinching his nipples, scraping fingernails down across his
flat, muscular stomach, leaving red lines across the fair skin,
sliding his hands into his pants and thrusting into them before
opening the fastenings and slipping them down over his hips.
Bruck heard himself panting as Ben's cock sprang free, arching
against his stomach, revealing the rosy crinkled sac beneath,
already drawing up close.
Bruck reached out to help him out of his clothing but Ben
scooted back. "Look but don't touch. Not yet," he said, kicking
off his pants and shorts. He knelt again and pushed Bruck's
legs apart, softly stroking the insides of his thighs until
Bruck was trembling, and settled between them, one hand closing
on Bruck's sac, rolling the testicles in his fingers while the
other hand traced the slight rightward curve of Bruck's cock
against his belly. Bruck felt his hips begin to move of their
own accord.
"I can't believe how much bigger you are when you're hard," he
murmured, holding Bruck's cock in one hand and sliding the
foreskin over the sensitive head.
Bruck gasped and thrust into his fist. "You're just--a
showoff," he muttered. "I've seen you . . . parading around the
showers . . . without a towel . . . soaking up . . . the
admiration. Oh gods, Ben," he moaned, arching into his lover's
touch, lost for a moment. Ben took his hand away and began to
stroke down his thighs instead.
Ben smiled, unperturbed. "And what's everyone say behind my
back?" and leaned down to lick and nibble at the smooth join of
thigh and hip. Bruck squirmed.
"'How'd a runt like that get such a big . . . head?'"
That made Ben laugh. "Fortunately, I've got Qui to adjust my
perspective when I'm feeling, oh, cocky, shall we say? And
there's you, with this handful," he added, squeezing
appreciatively. "Who'd have suspected what was really under
that towel?"
"I'd rather save it for private viewings."
Ben laughed again. "I should sell tickets. Mmmmm, such smooth
skin you've got," he went on, appreciatively as his hands ran
over Bruck's body from shoulders to knees. "The hair's all like
down, except here," he said, carding through the nest of crisp
white curls at the base of Bruck's cock. Holding it there, he
leaned down and took the tip in his mouth, swirling his tongue
over the glistening head and probing into the slit. Bruck cried
out again and bucked into Kenobi's mouth. Ben drew back. "Slow
down, love. You're always in such a rush."
"You're torturing me," Bruck panted. "Every time you touch me
it's the same."
Ben smiled, slow and lazy. "You know I'll make sure you get
what you want before I finish you off." Then he leaned down
again and closed his lips around one of Bruck's testicles,
holding it in his mouth, cradling it with his tongue and
sucking gently as though it were a piece of candy.
Bruck couldn't decide whether this was exquisitely painful, or
the most wonderful thing he'd ever felt. His muscles locked in
indecision as Kenobi moved on to the other testicle, rubbing
the skin of his scrotum over the one he'd just abandoned. "Oh,
oh, oh, oh, oh, oh . . . *gods*! He cried, panting, trying not
to move and yet wanting to. "Ben! Please!"
"Should I stop?" Kenobi asked, grinning up at him.
"I don't know!"
"Ah, well, then, I'll just keep on, shall I?" and he continued
to mouth and lip Bruck's balls until he was writhing on the
edge of coming, growling and clutching the sheets. Ben gently
tugged the tight sac downward, stroking the tender skin behind
it. "Not yet, love. Not yet. I'm going to keep you wound up all
night. Roll over."
Trembling, Bruck obeyed, the pressure against the soft mattress
almost too much. Ben pulled his hips back and up and pushed a
pillow under him, and that was worse. It was almost impossible
not to thrust or rub against it. "Hold still, or I'll have to
take one of the ties out of your braid and wrap you up. Or
would you like that?" he whispered, leaning over and licking
Bruck's ear again. "Get on your knees and elbows then, love, if
you can't stand it."
A little relieved, Bruck obeyed again, canting his hips up and
back, following Kenobi's hands, cock tapping his belly wetly.
Ben spread his legs a little farther and reached under him,
fingers coaxing his testicles lower and looser again. Then he
stroked gently behind them, cupping the curve of his ass, his
thumb sliding lazily along the crevice. Bruck squirmed a
little, spreading his legs wider, inviting, once again
suffering a brief moment of disbelief that he could do this and
like it. Only with Ben, he thought. He was the only one
it seemed right with.
"I know you want it," Ben teased. "Just wait. You're not ready
yet."
He felt a drizzle of warm oil low on his back, wondered where
Ben had managed to find it in the chaos they'd created
rearranging his room. "New bottle," Ben told him when he asked.
"Always be prepared."
Bruck laughed, rather shakily. "If only your master knew how
well you learned that lesson--or does he?"
"How do you think it was drummed into me?" He could hear the
smirk in Ben's voice, and for once the insinuation didn't
bother him, largely because Ben's hands were spreading warm oil
over him, rubbing it into his skin, letting it run between his
cheeks. It trickled over tender skin, over the sensitive ring
of flesh and muscle, tickling, itchy until Ben rubbed it in and
over. He moved with Ben's hands and fingers, rocking and
sliding. One of Ben's thick fingers followed the contour and
shape of the little ring, smoothing more oil over and around
it--then inside, oh, inside, but just barely. He leaned back
into the touch, but Ben followed, finger coating everything
with oil before finally plunging deeply inward and nudging the
sweet spot that made him gasp and shudder.
"There, Ben! Right there!" he groaned, pushing back against
Kenobi's finger and reaching for his own cock.
Ben caught his hand away and held it down with his own,
interlacing their fingers against the mattress. "Not yet, I
said. Wait for it. Trust me. Okay?"
Bruck nodded, barely coherent. His hips rocked with the
movement of Kenobi's hand. Now there was more oil, and a second
finger inside him."Oh gods Ben," he whispered, at a loss for
anything more articulate, arching his back, rocking into those
thick fingers while Kenobi stroked soothing circles on his
back, cupped his ass affectionately, rubbed his bristly chin
down Bruck's spine, whispered endearments and indecencies in
those diplomat's plummy tones. It was more than just a partner
stretching him, it was his lover reaching inside him, touching
him where no one else did, doing more than just bringing him
pleasure, but making it safe for him to let down all the
barriers he'd spent his life building. Loving him. Ben loved
him; he was safe here, wanted, cared for.
"Love you so much," Ben murmured as though he'd heard, kissing
the back of his neck, fingers gently turning inside him. They
rubbed over the sweet spot again and Bruck groaned, squeezing
his eyes shut, trembling, trying not to come. Ben's other hand
pressed behind his balls and his erection softened a little,
pulling him back from the brink. Bruck sighed, a little
comically.
"You're always so quick to go off, aren't you?" Ben teased.
"With you, yeah."
"And you called me a slut the other day."
"Did I?"
"Right before the meet, remember?"
"So I did. Rubbing all over me like something in heat."
"Takes one to know one."
"Only for you."
"Thank you," Ben said softly, and that was enough.
His fingers slipped out and Bruck shivered, feeling cold and
empty without Ben's physical presence inside him. "Shhh, I'm
right here," Kenobi murmured as two fingers became the tips of
three easing into him slowly, turning just barely inside him
with a care that couldn't help but remind him how brutally he'd
shoved himself and . . . other things . . . into Ben not so
long ago.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm sorry, Ben."
"For what, love?" Kenobi said, working inside him gently.
"For what I did in the practice ro--"
"Hush, idiot. I liked it, remember? I know it was hard
for you. We'll talk about it later, if you want. Right now,
just be here with me. Be in this moment. Take what I'm giving
you. Open for me, love. Let me in."
He felt a brush against his shields, realized it was Ben.
Remembering what they'd done that first night in Leth's room,
he let them down cautiously. Warmth and light flowed into him
like water, seeking the empty places in him and filling them.
He felt Ben's fingers slide into him all the way, arched back
onto them to fill himself physically as Ben's presence was
filling him. "Now, Ben. I'm ready. Now, please!" he gasped. "I
can't wait! Want you!"
"Like this or face to face?" Ben asked him, still gently
twisting his fingers inside.
"Face to face," he moaned. "Please, hurry. I want you, Ben."
"Lie down and roll over then, love," Kenobi said in an amused
tone, pulling away and cleaning off his fingers. And when Bruck
complied, there was still the ghost of Ben's lazy, amused smile
on his lover's lips. "So ready," Ben murmured, admiring his
cock, stroking the foreskin up over the weeping head and back.
Bruck moaned under the touch, thrusting into Ben's hand again.
But Kenobi let him go and slicked his own cock, slowly,
watching Bruck's face as he did so, then worked his way between
Bruck's legs again. "Up," he said, sliding his hands under
Bruck's ass and lifting, then scooting up beneath him as Bruck
raised his pelvis, weight resting on his feet and shoulders.
"Open for me, love. Let me in," Ben said again, his own voice
gone husky as he pressed the head of his cock against Bruck's
loosened opening.
Bruck drew in a deep breath and let it go, relaxing as he did
so. Ben slipped inside easily, filling him, hot and slick and
so big. He cried out as Ben pressed inside, feeling everything
shift to take in that big cock. For a moment he felt the urge
to bear down and void the uncomfortable fullness, but that
passed as he pulsed his muscles around Ben's shaft. Kenobi
shuddered and wrapped Bruck's legs around his waist and rocked
upright on his knees, hands spread wide over Bruck's lower
back, holding him. Bruck moaned and pressed against him. It was
so deep this way, such a tight fit, Ben's groin and balls
pressed against his ass, cock angled to hit his prostate with
every thrust. He rocked in and out and in again gently and
Bruck cried out, thrashing, clutching the sheets, pressing
against him.
"Now come inside," Ben whispered, and seemed somehow to pulled
him out of himself, along the same stream that had filled him
like running water, until he was inside Ben's shields, too, in
a new place. They had met each other halfway before, and he had
let Ben in tonight, but he'd never asked Kenobi to drop his own
shields. Ben had just invited him in--not something any Jedi
did often.
The warmth and light were stronger here, like afternoon sun on
a warm beach, and he could feel Ben's arousal too. More
surprisingly, he could feel Ben's need, as deep a one as he
seemed to have himself, something that either Qui- Gon didn't
fill or Ben had never shown him. Then he realized with a start
that it had nothing to do with Qui-Gon at all. It was a need
simply for him, for Bruck. It was not the amorphous,
polyamorous, undifferentiated desire he had imagined let Ben
sleep with whomever he wanted, including Qui-Gon. That was
nowhere to be seen. Ben wanted Bruck, very specifically, wanted
him now, in this moment and beyond.
Ben was moving inside him, slowly stroking across his prostate,
hands kneading his back, head thrown back. //Stay here,// he
heard and couldn't say where, but knew it was Ben's voice.
//Stay with me.// "You're so tight. So hot. So beautiful," Ben
murmured, thrusting a little harder. "Love you. Love you so
much."
It was a curious double view. If he concentrated, he could feel
his own cock enveloped like Ben's as well as feel Ben thrusting
into him, feel Ben's arousal cresting like his own. But his
concentration wouldn't hold for more than a moment with Ben
thrusting into him, feeding his own arousal across the new
bridge between them. Ben's heat built with his own, fed back
and forth until they were both crying out with each thrust, Ben
rocking into him hard and fast. Something white-hot grew behind
his eyes, blinding him, and in his groin, both points spreading
outward and engulfing him as they engulfed Ben, until they were
both on fire, Ben's cum filling him as his muscles rippled and
clamped down around Ben's cock, his own cum spurting over both
of them without Bruck ever touching himself, crying out each
other's names, shaking, moaning, gasping, and finally, spent.
In that moment, he couldn't tell whose perceptions were whose,
nor did it matter.
Ben let him down carefully onto his back and bent over him,
panting and moaning a little, hips still working almost
spasmodically, Bruck's legs still wrapped around his waist,
holding himself up on trembling arms. He felt Ben's cock
softening in him, felt the aftershocks and spasms pushing him
out, and thought how much he'd wanted Ben to stay there, inside
him. When they were two again, Ben collapsed beside him,
breathing heavily, and Bruck shifted to pull him closer, limbs
watery with fatigue. They lay together catching their breath
for some time, saying nothing, hands resting easily on one
another's skin. Eventually, fighting off sleep, they cleaned
each other up and then groped for blankets together. Ben
flicked off the lights with a Force gesture. They settled into
each other's arms, and Bruck into something like bliss.
When he woke again, it was still dark in the room, as well as
outside. Ben was spooned up behind him, holding him, sleeping
deeply from the sound of his breathing. He could feel Ben's
chest rising and falling against his back, Ben's breath on the
back of his own neck. The new mattress was soft, the covers
light and warm and Ben's hand was interlaced with his own, the
other arm curled over his head, fingers buried in Bruck's short
hair. The room's smell was a comfortable mixture of new fabric,
the familiar mustiness of old things and their lovemaking.
That had been wonderful tonight, and he'd never felt quite so
content afterwards as he did now. Lying beside Ben, he felt
more complete and more at peace than he'd ever felt in his
life.
Sleepily, he wondered what had awakened him and lay with his
eyes closed, listening. After a time, he heard a faint murmur
of voices and thought perhaps his master had come home early
and brought someone with him or was making his report to the
Council, but they seemedtoo distant for that. Ben snuffled and
snorted quietly behind him, then leaned into him and began to
laugh, still asleep. Then he knew he was hearing Ben, whatever
vision the Force had brought him that night, and though he
couldn't tell what it was, he could feel Ben's amusement and
joy as though it were his own.
That was why he felt so complete now, so at peace: Ben had left
a part of himself with Bruck, had bonded them somehow, not the
way a master and apprentice would bond, or at least not the way
he had bonded with Leth or with Andreth, but something both
deeper and . . . different. He'd always thought of his training
bonds as something like a net, both inclusive enough to be
protective and guiding and yet loose enough to allow him
freedom of movement. This felt like a small, glowing coal
inside him, like a piece of the light that was Ben had somehow
been left behind in their joining.
He burrowed into it and found it was, instead, a door with Ben
on the other side of it, dreaming about a party he'd gone to
with Bant and Tianna and a young senator's son. He snickered
again against Bruck's neck, filled with amusement and
happiness. Bruck let it fill him too and felt himself falling
into the vision with Ben, until it was no longer the past but
the future, a glimpse of what their life might be with one
another. They laughed together then, Ben in his sleep, in the
vision, and Bruck drowsing beside him, heart full of Ben's
light and the future.
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