Summary: A look at the relationship between Master and Padawan.
Feedback: Any and all
LucasFilms owns Star Wars, and all its characters. Needless to
say, they wouldn't be happy with what I'm doing, but since I'm
not making any money, I'm going to do it anyway.
This is pretty much a standalone story, but once I finish off a
few other projects, I'm thinking of using it as a starting-off
point for a longer story, if people are interested.
The rest of my fanfic, can be found at:
http://www.geocities.com/Paris/Metro/4859/Lianne.html
Feedback can be sent to lburwell@adan.kingston.net
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Control
by Lianne Burwell
June 1999
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Obi-Wan Kenobi stood in the middle of the empty room, his eyes
shut and his breathing deep and even. It was rare that he and
his Master stayed in a place where such a space was available
for practice. They'd learned to make do with much less, but
when presented with it, they used it.
However, at the moment he was alone. His Master, Qui-Gon Jinn,
was deeply involved in his negotiations with their hosts. When
they'd arrived on Mithrom, the planet had been on the verge of
civil war. Accusations had been flying back and forth between
the two inhabited continents, and bloodshed had seemed
inevitable.
To try and forestall that, the Jedi Council had sent Qui-Gon to
mediate between the two factions, and as his Padawan, Obi-Wan
had accompanied him. The intention had been for him to observe
the negotiations as part of his training in diplomacy, but
their hosts had objected to someone so young being present
during mediation. As a result, Obi-Wan had spent much of his
time wandering the small island that rested in the ocean,
mid-way between the two continents.
Once upon a time, the island had been a prison, being very
isolated, with no other land in sight. In recent years, though,
the island had been converted for its current use; neutral
territory for meetings between representatives of the two
continents. As a result, the buildings were decorated in lush
fabrics and furniture, but the tiny windows and narrow hallways
betrayed its original purpose.
Having reached an appropriate level of concentration, Obi-Wan
drew and ignited his lightsaber. Keeping his eyes closed, he
moved into the first steps of one of the most basic of
apprentice exercises. The familiarity of the moves eased him
even deeper into a meditative state. As one exercise ended, he
moved into the next until he was glowing with sweat. As he
went, the patterns became more and more complicated, until his
'saber was a blur through the air.
His attention deep within himself, he did not hear when the
door open, nor did he notice on a conscious level when another
entered the room. However, when a second blade came sweeping
towards his head, he parried it without taking the time to
notice the attack.
Again and again, his opponent came at him, not giving him time
to think. Again and again, he countered automatically without
ever opening his eyes.
At last, his opponent stepped away, and he heard the
distinctive shwwwwp of a lightsaber being extinguished.
Panting from the exertion, he came to a stop and extinguished
his own lightsaber, then finally opened his eyes.
As he expected, his Master stood in front of him. The
expression in the other man's eyes was pleased. The side of his
mouth was curved into a small smile that spoke volumes.
Obi-Wan clipped his lightsaber to his belt. "Are the talks
finished for the day, Master?" he asked.
"Yes," Qui-Gon replied, heading for the door. Obi-Wan
automatically fell into step next to him, walking quickly to
keep up with his Master's longer stride. "There is still much
to be resolved, but we are moving forward."
"Master Yoda will be glad to hear that," Obi-Wan said. He could
now see that Qui-Gon was headed for the guest quarters that
they had been assigned on their arrival. The rooms were small,
consisting only of a single sleep-chamber, a reception room and
a bath-chamber. The Mithromians had resented an outsider being
sent in to mediate their private dispute, and they had sought
to inconvenience the Jedi in every possible small way, no doubt
hoping to drive the two men away.
If that were their intention, they had failed. During his five
years of travels with Master Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan had lived in
caves and crude huts, as well as grand palaces. He'd learned to
ignore his surroundings, focusing instead on the mission.
When the door to their modest suite closed behind them, Qui-Gon
stripped off his outer robes and started a few simple
stretches. Obi-Wan winced at the popping sound as his Master
twisted his head, dealing with the mild tension that even the
most practiced of Jedi could not always prevent.
Smiling, Obi-Wan stepped to behind his Master and reached up to
massage the older man's neck. Qui-Gon sighed softly and let his
head roll back.
"Go lie down," Obi-Wan said. "I'll take care of that for you."
Qui-Gon smiled down at him fondly. "You are too good to me,
Padawan," he said, but headed for the sleep chamber obediently.
Obi-Wan retrieved a small vial of oil from his bag, dropping
his own outer robes. "Untrue, Master. The Mithromians seem
determined not to find a middle ground, from what you have told
me. Even a member of the Council would develop tension pains
trying to mediate for them. You deserve to be pampered for
putting up with it."
He waited patiently while his Master discarded the rest of his
clothing, piled neatly on top of a small table set under the
sleeping-chamber window. Qui-Gon lay face-down on the bed, his
head pillowed on his forearms. Obi-Wan sat down on the edge of
the bed and poured a little of the lightly-scented oil into his
hands.
Working carefully, he set to massage the remaining tension from
Qui-Gon's back and neck. He'd had much practice in the years
since his Master had reluctantly accepted him as Padawan.
Qui-Gon had not wanted a new Padawan after his previous
apprentice, Xanatos, had turned to the dark side. Obi-Wan had
wanted to make sure that his Master never regretted the
decision to accept him, and had immediately set out to find
ways that he could make his Master's life easier.
Massage had been one of those ways. Despite his reputation as a
maverick, Qui-Gon was undeniably a great Jedi, and as such was
often given missions considered impossible in the hands of
others. That led to frequent tension pains as well as battle
injuries that require care.
Qui-Gon could have used relaxation techniques to relieve the
pains, but Obi-Wan preferred to use his hands to soothe the
tense muscles. Qui-Gon had acquiesced, understanding Obi-Wan's
insecure need to be of use.
Obi-Wan hummed under his breath as he worked, touching on his
link to his Master to find those muscles that required
attention. He could feel his Master's pleasure, and it pleased
him in turn. The cycle repeated, each man's pleasure feeding
the other's until the room almost vibrated with it.
When he had first started these massages, Obi-Wan had not
thought to do anything more than ease his Master's pain. But as
he aged, he had begun to enjoy it simply because it was a way
he could touch Qui-Gon. He was learning about his own
sexuality, and he was naturally drawn to his Master. It
happened often, which was why the council preferred that Jedi
take Padawans of their own race. An apprentice reaching
physical maturity often turned to their Master, and there was
less grief when the two were physically compatible.
Obi-Wan had known this, but he had hesitated to say anything.
His Master had been reluctant to accept him as apprentice, and
he did not want to impose more than he already had.
But Qui-Gon had refused to accept that. One night, after a
training session had left them both sore and aching, he had
eased Obi-Wan's aches with a massage of his own, then had
waited until his apprentice had lost himself in touching his
Master. Without a word, Qui-Gon had turned over and had
gathered the boy becoming man into his arms and had kissed him
gently. They had done little more than kiss that night, but
over the months since then, he had shown Obi-Wan the pleasures
that the flesh could hold.
Obi-Wan massaged the last knot from Qui-Gon's back, and leaned
forward to press a kiss against the older man's spine, between
the shoulder blades. He followed the spine up, pressing a kiss
to each vertebrae until he reached the base of the skull.
Then he pulled back and waited expectantly for him Master to
turn over and gather him into his arms and kiss him, the way he
always did. His Master did not disappoint him.
Obi-Wan moaned softly into the mouth that took his, bringing
his arms up to wrap around the broad back of the man holding
him. While he was not small for his age or race, Obi-Wan
somehow felt small and delicate in the arms of his Master. Part
of it was the fact that Qui-Gon was so much larger than
himself. Part was the gentleness with which the man always
touched him, the way he touched everyone. A gentleness born of
a kind and caring nature.
"Master," Obi-Wan whispered as large hands unfastened his own
clothing, moving deftly, surely, until he was as naked as his
Master. Then he slipped sideways, drawing Qui-Gon down with him
until they were both lying on the narrow mattress facing each
other.
Obi-Wan tilted his head back as Qui-Gon began to nuzzle at his
throat, the soft scratch of the other man's beard drawing
shivers, as it always did. His hands combed through Qui-Gon's
long hair, unfastening the clip that held it back from his
face. His hands followed the head down as his Master moved to
suckle lightly at his nipples, making him gasp with pleasure.
His hips began to thrust towards Qui-Gon, without his conscious
control, and his Master pulled away.
"Control, my young Padawan. Control your passions, do not let
them control you. Without control, the dark side beckons."
Obi-Wan nodded. It was the same thing he'd heard many times
since becoming a Jedi trainee. A Jedi controlled himself. It
did not mean denying the body or the pleasure, as many
outsiders might think. It meant not losing control in the heat
of the moment.
After a few deep breaths, he nodded, telling Qui-Gon that he
had regained his composure. His Master gently pushed him onto
his back and again lowered his head.
This time, though he shifted his weight and mewled softly at
the pleasure coming from both his body and his Master's mind,
Obi-Wan kept in control. He spread his legs and let Qui-Gon
slip between them. Light touches to his testicles and erection
made him gasp and moan, but his mind remained focused on the
here and now, on his Master and what his Master was doing.
Finally, Qui-Gon took pity on him. He placed a gentle kiss just
below the crown of Obi-Wan's cock, and another where the base
met ball-sack, then moved back up Obi-Wan's body, reaching for
the vial of massage oil from where Obi-Wan had placed it.
Immediately, Obi-Wan claimed it from him and poured a fragrant
measure into his hand. He reached down and lightly coated his
Master's erection with the oil, then wiped the leftover oil
across Qui-Gon's chest, gently massaging it into Qui-Gon's
chest and shoulders.
When he was done, Qui-Gon pressed his legs up until Obi-Wan's
knees met his chest, and positioned himself at his Padawan's
entrance and waited.
Reaching down deep inside for full control of his body, Obi-Wan
willed his anus to open up, allowing his Master to slip all the
way in without resistance or pain. As Qui-Gon came to rest,
they both sighed. Through the link between Master and Padawan,
Obi-Wan could feel Qui-Gon's erection gripped in heat and
softness, and he could feel Qui-Gon's awareness of Obi-Wan
being filled with a delicious pressure.
This had taken the longest for Obi-Wan to learn. He'd
desperately wanted for his Master to fill him, right from the
start, but Qui-Gon had been insistent that he learn to fully
control his entire body. Any sign of discomfort and he would
stop. If Obi-Wan wanted to give himself completely to his
Master, he would have to learn the control necessary to ensure
that there was no pain.
Desire was a great motivator, and he'd learned to open up for
his Master. The rewards for doing so had been beyond his
wildest dreams.
They waited for long moments. Then Obi-Wan opened his eyes and
spoke. "Now," was all he said.
It was all that needed to be said. Qui-Gon took his mouth once
more, and his hips began a slow thrusting that took his ass as
well. Obi-Wan moved with the thrusts, seeking to amplify the
feelings, and he fed the sensations back to Qui-Gon. Faster and
faster they moved, carried by the pleasure of the flesh made
even more enjoyable by the love and caring that they shared.
Without that caring, he knew, there would be nothing more than
animal rutting, and that would also lead to the dark side.
Finally, Qui-Gon reached down to stroke his erection, and
Obi-Wan felt the need grow stronger inside him.
"Master..." he gasped, staring deep into loving blue eyes.
"Now, my Padawan," was the soft, almost growled, answer.
With that permission, he let go of his control. He arched up
against Qui-Gon, and let his seed fill his Master's hand. Deep
inside, he could feel the pulse of the other man's release.
Both of them breathing deeply, they rested against each other,
staying joined. Qui-Gon lifted his wet hand and licked
delicately at the liquid cooling there. Then he held his hand
out for Obi-Wan to do the same. By the time he slipped from the
grip of Obi-Wan's body, they had completely cleaned his hand.
Already more than half-asleep, Obi-Wan felt his Master reach
out with the Force to pull the blankets up over them. Then
Qui-Gon lay down next to him and he curled up tight against the
larger man's side.
There were times when he wondered where he would be, what he
would be doing, if Qui-Gon had not changed his mind and
accepted him as his Padawan. But he quickly turned his thoughts
to more practical matters. What was, was, and there was no
point in worrying about what might have been.
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