Category: Q/O, First time, a little drama, a little angst.
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Explicit sex between two hot guys. If it's not your
cup of tea, leave the pot for the rest of us. No spoilers.
Disclaimer: The characters are George Lucas's, bless him for
having such a fevered imagination, even if it's not as fevered
as mine. I should be so lucky as to make any money from writing
stuff that's this much fun.
Note: Alas, this seems to be turning into a series, but I
promise to keep the stories complete in themselves, sans
cliffhangers. Some cut & pasting here, but it's expanded
enough from the first story to not be a mere repetition, scouts
honor. Please forgive the literary allusions; it's my
misbegotten education coming back to haunt. A couple of
characters from the YA Jedi Apprentice series (great
stuff!) appear or are mentioned here: Bruck Chun, Obi-Wan's
tormentor, who does him a favor here; and Qui-Gon's failed
apprentice, Xanatos. I don't own them, either. However, if
anybody'd like to sell me Qui-Gon, slightly used or otherwise,
let's negotiate. A trussed-up Obi-Wan wouldn't be amiss either.
Home delivery requested.
Summary: Prequel to "Master & Apprentice" and an expansion
of a briefly described scene in it.
Feedback: The more I gets, the more I writes. Proportion may
increase exponentially. E-mail only, please.
Crime and Punishment
Obi-Wan was tired, not so much in body as in soul. He and his
master had returned to the Jedi Temple on Coruscant a few hours
before from a miserable fact-finding mission on one of the
Outer Rim's grottier worlds, and he was heartily sick of
slave-dealing Hutts and smugglers, and the blatant flaunting of
sentience's worst characteristics. Worse yet, he knew that the
Senate before which they would make their report in the morning
cared far less than they for the fate of the slaves they had
discovered being sold through the Rim Territories. Raised in
the Temple tradition to serve, Obi-Wan seldom thought about why
he did so. Tonight, it seemed a waste of time and lives, his
own and his master's. There was so much wrong, and so few
people and so few ways to right it. Qui-Gon, sensing his
malaise, had sent him off to the refectory to eat, knowing it
would help restore him. So he had eaten, dutifully and without
pleasure, and couldn't sense that it had helped much. What he
wanted now was a hot bath and sleep's forgetfulness. What he
got instead was a rude awakening.
It was a hard collision, almost a body slam, completely
unexpected, largely inexcusable, nearly impossible if he had
been paying attention, been "mindful of the moment," as his
master so often reminded him to be. It sent him crashing hard
into the refectory's door frame, and tipped his victim right
off his feet. One shoulder bruised from contact with the wall,
the other wrenched from contact with the other warm body, he
winced, caught his breath, and automatically began an effusive
apology, reaching out with one hand to help
"Oafy-Wan! You haven't changed a bit," the deeper but still
familiar voice announced loudly, disgust thick in the tone.
The old, hated nickname yanked him back seven years and put a
face to the voice. He hadn't heard anything of Bruck Chun since
he'd become Qui-Gon's apprentice, and was surprised to see him
with the same Padawan braid and tail he himself wore. At their
parting, he had suspected Bruck would end up where he had then
himself been headed, the Agricultural Corps.
"Bruck," Obi-Wan said, acknowledging the other young man. "My
apologies. I was preoccupied." Obi-Wan offered his hand again
but the other apprentice brushed it aside and got to his feet
without assistance. He stood glaring at Obi-Wan, working his
own shoulder, sizing up his old enemy. Obi-Wan returned the
glare coolly, despite his chagrin. The two apprentices were
much more of a size now, Bruck having caught up to Obi-Wan's
early growth, but he looked just the same, but for one drastic
change: the long scar down Bruck's jaw, reminder of some nasty
incident in the recent past. "I see you found yourself a master
also," Obi-Wan remarked.
"And you escaped the farmers, Padawan." Bruck replied,
sarcastically. "Padawan of the great Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn,
no less. How did you manage that? I'd heard you'd managed to
convince him to take you on after you left here in disgrace.
Quite a feat, that."
Bruck's hostility didn't surprise Obi-Wan. They had disliked
each other ever since he could remember, growing up here at the
Temple, or at least Bruck had taken a dislike to Obi-Wan, who
only began to pay Bruck any attention at all when the other boy
had begun tormenting him during adolescence. What puzzled
Obi-Wan was why he'd continue it after all this time.
"I was chosen," he replied. "That's all. That's all it ever
is."
"Why you? When he left here, Master Jinn wasn't interested in
you." Bruck sounded genuinely curious, but there was jealousy
underneath.
Ah, Obi-Wan thought. "We were thrown together by
circumstance. He changed his mind. As to why, you'd have to ask
my Master, Bruck. He's never told me."
Which was not quite a lie. Qui-Gon had never told him, in so
many words, why he'd changed his mind about accepting Obi-Wan
as his Padawan, but he had seen the look on his master's face
when he had offered his life to allow Qui-Gon to save half a
planet from destruction. In his master's eyes had been
astonishment, respect, honor, and something he now knew was the
first manifestation of the bond they shared as master and
apprentice. "None of us know why we're chosen. It is the will
of the Force."
"The will of the Force," Bruck muttered, "my arse."
Still angry, and now jealous, and has been for years,
apparently, Obi-Wan thought, pitying Bruck for the first
time in his life. What a trial you must be to your
master. He said nothing. There was no point in encouraging
him. Instead, he turned to go, murmuring a polite good night.
"What favors did you give the great Jedi Master to rescue you
from AgriCorps?" Bruck shouted after him. "That's what pushed
his first apprentice to the Dark Side, or didn't you know?
That's really why he's not on the Council."
"Bruck, leave off. You're acting like you did when we were
children here," Obi-Wan said tiredly, turning back for a
moment, knowing he should ignore those words, too. "That rumor
was old years ago." And now I know for certain how
ridiculous it was, having met Qui-Gon's former apprentice.
"Ah, hit a nerve, did I? How do you like sharing quarters with
him?" Bruck persisted, leering. Obi-Wan felt his face flush
hotly. There were some emotional responses even a Jedi couldn't
control, not in an instant. "Oh, you like it," Bruck
went on knowingly, stepping in closer, almost onto Obi-Wan's
toes. "And when did he start in on you? I suppose you're the
bottom, or does he like "
A rage he hadn't felt in years, hadn't known he still
possessed, roiled up in Obi-Wan's guts, seething out of its
dormancy like a disturbed nest of snakes. Bruck had always
known right where to dig in him to hurt most and within a
minute of their latest meeting had made his second attempt to
ruin his perceived rival's reputation. And just as he had years
before, Obi-Wan stupidly took the bait. In the next instant, he
found he'd used the Force to hurl Bruck so hard against the
corridor wall that he'd managed to crack the other apprentice's
clavicle.
Later, having seen Bruck to the Healers and reported himself to
the Docent, he returned to his quarters to face whatever
Qui-Gon had waiting for him, but his master was not there.
Obi-Wan retreated to his own room to meditate before his master
disciplined him, and tried to analyze what had set him off. It
certainly wasn't the resurrected nickname, though that had
stung for a moment. Was it the slur on Qui-Gon's character?
Bruck's words were nothing he hadn't heard before, when
Qui-Gon's second apprentice had initially turned against him,
and again when the Jedi Master had claimed him as his new
apprentice. It had seemed like a stupid rumor then, one that
had died quickly both times, and seemed far more absurd now
that he knew both the master and the former apprentice. Was it
Bruck's implication that he had won his way to Qui-Gon's side
by a perverted sort of bribery? An equally stupid statement so
obviously born of jealousy that it was easily dismissed.
Obi-Wan searched his feelings ruthlessly and found no reaction
in any of these possibilities. That left only the implication
that Bruck knew such a relationship existed. That anyone might
know. That anyone might know Obi-Wan wanted it to exist.
And that his master might find out.
He'd loved Qui-Gon, inexplicably, from the moment they had
first spoken in the practice rooms when he still had hopes of
being the great master's apprentice. He'd loved him hopelessly
in the days afterwards, when they had crossed paths again and
again on shipboard and on Bandomeer, loved the Jedi Master with
a complete selflessness that had led Obi-Wan to offer his own
death with a calm heart and mind. He'd only come to love
Qui-Gon more after becoming his apprentice, sharing days and
nights and quarters and meals and thoughts and sometimes even
beds with him, scarcely being out of his sight in the last
seven years. The man was teacher, father, older brother,
mentor, taskmaster, brother-in-arms. He had bound Obi-Wan's
wounds; healed him; watched over him when he was ill; soothed
him when he was tired, cranky, out of sorts with himself and
the world; disciplined him; set his limits and raised his
sights; praised and cared for and taught him for a large part
of his life, had made him who he was now how could Obi-Wan not
love him?
But when he had fallen in love with Qui-Gon, he could not say.
Sometime in the past year or two, he had stopped seeing Qui-Gon
as a hero to be worshiped, a parent to be pleased, a teacher to
learn from, and begun seeing him as just a man, another man,
like himself. Older, to be sure; wiser, undoubtedly; more
experienced, without question but a just a man. Well, not
just a man. Or not just another man. Not like other
young men he had slept with, trying out his sexuality; not at
all like the young women whose differences in bed and out he
found intriguing and pleasant. Not like anyone else. Qui-Gon
was wise, kind if sometimes stern, warm and loving, dignified
and yet playful, brutally honest with himself as much as
others, capable of acting both on a relentless logic and from
his own principles and convictions. He carried out the
Council's orders with an unquestioning humility until they
conflicted with his own perceptions of right and wrong, and
then showed little compunction in defying them, perhaps less
than his apprentice would have hoped of him. Regardless,
Obi-Wan admired his courage among other things
Lately, Obi-Wan had also become acutely aware of his master's
body, just how graceful he was, how easily he moved the large
and muscular form that could have been so clumsy. It had come
to him in something like an epiphany during a saber practice
drill, watching his master run through katas, from the simple
to the complex, how smoothly one movement flowed into another,
like water rushing downstream. No movement wasted, no movement
unnecessary, each one beautiful in its control and economy and
the bridled passion beneath it. Qui-Gon's skin glowed with
sweat, his hair rippled behind him, caught back with the usual
leather thong, his face was set in a look of fierce yet
peaceful concentration. Obi-Wan could feel, almost see the
Force flowing around and through him. Watching, he felt his
heart seize up for a moment.
And knew he was lost, because such an epiphany added the one
missing and truly volatile ingredient to the mix of his already
strong feelings for his master: lust. He wanted nothing so much
as to touch Qui-Gon at that moment, to stroke his skin, lick
the sweat from it, bear him to the ground and taste every inch
of him. Every inch.
Thankfully, at that moment, Qui-Gon had slapped him on the rump
with his low-powered saber, scorching the material of his
practice tunic and raising a burn welt across his cheeks. "Pay
attention, Padawan. What are you gawping at?" he'd said, making
Obi-Wan's face flame.
Since then, his life had been, in a word, torture. If Qui-Gon
noticed, he said nothing, allowing his apprentice to struggle
with his desire alone. And this is what he got for ruthlessly
suppressing his feelings for too long. Fear. Anger. Hate.
Suffering.
Good job, Padawan. He could almost hear Bruck's voice.
But what was he supposed to do? Actually tell his master
he'd fallen in love with him like some ridiculous adolescent?
He couldn't imagine it. He knew Qui-Gon too well to think his
master would him off or belittle his feelings, but he also knew
that the discussion which followed any such revelation would
more painful in its cool logic and gentle dissuasion than a
stab in the heart with his own lightsaber, and he had no
courage for it. So it seemed there was no answer.
"Padawan." His master called him from the common room of their
quarters. The tone of Qui- Gon's voice raised the hairs on the
back of his neck. Obi-Wan went to the next room like a man to
his execution.
"Explain yourself, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon snapped at him, pacing the
main room of their quarters, an unfamiliar anger flaring off
him like solar wind. Obi-Wan had never seen his master so
agitated before. "I have little to say, Master," Obi-Wan
answered quietly, standing with this hands tucked into his
robe's sleeves, his eyes downcast, watching Qui-Gon's booted
feet pass back and forth in front of him, horrified as much at
his master's infuriated tone of voice as he was at his own
behavior. "I, I was angry, and I used the Force to shove Bruck
away, into the wall. I acted foolishly and in anger, without
thought."
"'Foolish' does not begin to describe your actions, Padawan,"
Qui-Gon snarled at him. "You could be expelled from the Temple,
do you realize that?" There was almost a sense of panic beneath
his words.
Obi-Wan flinched, belly tightening, heart skipping a beat.
Qui-Gon had spoken harshly to him any number of times before,
but had never actually, well, shouted at him this way.
It made Obi- Wan feel more ashamed than he already did, that
his actions could provoke his own master to this state, and
over such a stupid, immature lapse in judgement. He'd never
seen Qui-Gon's control crack like this. Being expelled from the
Temple paled in comparison. "You let Bruck provoke you as if
you'd forgotten everything you've learned during the last seven
years."
"Not at first, Master," Obi-Wan amended, lamely.
"Not at first?" Qui-Gon repeated in outraged and sarcastic
astonishment, stopping before him. "You didn't let him provoke
you at first?" Obi-Wan still didn't raise his eyes. He
could feel the anger emanating off his master like scorching
heat and it frightened him. Fear leads to anger, anger leads
to hate, hate leads to suffering, Obi-Wan recited to
himself. It wasn't as calming or comforting as it should have
been, precisely because Qui-Gon was so angry himself. Obi-Wan
wondered what made his master fearful enough to lapse into such
weakness. "Does that justify it, then?" Qui-Gon continued. "You
showed restraint and self-control for a time, so what
you did ultimately is more easily excused? Is that what you're
saying?"
Swallow it and get it over with, Obi-Wan thought. "No,
Master. Not at all. There is no excuse for my behavior. I
accept full responsibility for it."
"No, Obi-Wan, there isn't any excuse for it," Qui-Gon agreed,
drawing in a deep breath and expelling it forcefully, pushing
all his heated emotions out with it. The struggle to regain
control of his feelings was more visible in his master than
Obi-Wan could ever remember it being. "But the responsibility
for it is ultimately mine because you are my Padawan and I've
trained you. I expect an explanation, and so will the Council.
What could Bruck possibly say to you that would provoke such a
reaction?" Qui-Gon's hand closed on his shoulder, squeezing it
gently. Obi-Wan looked up, startled, seeing compassion and pain
in his master's eyes; that hurt him more than the anger. "It's
not like you, my young Padawan. Don't make the same mistakes
I've made. You've worked too hard all these years. What did he
say?"
"I, I won't repeat it, Master." Please don't ask me to,
he begged silently.
"You must, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said gently, the anger completely
dissipated now. "The Council will want to know. Whatever it
was, it won't excuse you, but it may make Bruck take the blame
that's due him, if he goaded you. That shows its own lack of
control. Don't protect him; it won't help him in the long run
and it may hurt you unnecessarily. I know you're not that angry
young boy anymore."
"It's not Bruck I'm protecting," Obi-Wan said in a strangled
voice, looking down at the floor again. Worse and worse.
"Who then? Not yourself--me?" His apprentice nodded, once,
miserably. "Oh. I see." Qui-Gon was silent for a time. "I see,"
he repeated at last. "There's only one thing it could be, then,
isn't there? He's resurrected that old rumor, the one about
what 'really' happened to Xanatos, what I did to push him over
to the Dark Side, and taunted you with it. Is that it?" Behind
a carefully cultivated stoicism, Qui-Gon sounded injured and .
. . guilty? Confused and hurting for his master, Obi-Wan wanted
to comfort him somehow. And he couldn't. To do so would only
betray everything he was feeling, everything he'd been
struggling to hide from Qui-Gon for so long now.
"Yes, Master," he said faintly. "How did you know?"
Qui-Gon said nothing, merely gave him a heartachingly sad
smile, brushed his cheek with calloused fingertips and walked
away to sit heavily on the edge of a chair, elbows propped on
his knees, one hand dangling, the other massaging his temple.
"It does happen, you know," he said quietly. "Not the way it's
been painted by Bruck, but when both Master and Padawan are
consenting adults, only when they care for each other as
adults. It's not encouraged, but neither is it unusual. Most
often it's simply an adolescent hero-worship that fades;
sometimes not. There was nothing like that between Xanatos and
I. And no Jedi who follows the light would do that to a child."
"I know, Master." Obi-Wan said, putting as much reassurance
into his voice as he could. Anything to forestall more
questions. If Qui-Gon would believe this was all that had set
him off, he was safe. "But there's no point in repeating it, in
opening old wounds. I was wrong to react the way I did, no
matter what Bruck said or did or implied. I deserve whatever
punishment the Council sees fit to give me. Bruck's
insinuations will be his own downfall eventually."
Qui-Gon looked up at him then, his features set, and Obi-Wan
knew he was seeing through everything he'd said in the past few
minutes. He'd said too much, too quickly, and his master was no
fool. Unlike his apprentice.
"What did he insinuate, Padawan?"
Obi-Wan said nothing for a time that seemed interminable to
both of them, writhing inside in shame and indecision. Qui-Gon
rose from his chair and stood in front of his apprentice,
towering over him, though Obi-Wan was not a small man. It
wasn't conscious intimidation, but it was intimidation
nonetheless. "Tell me," the master commanded the student. There
was no refusing him.
Obi-Wan closed his eyes and turned his face away. Qui-Gon had
never seen him look so bereft, so shamed, or so completely
defeated. He seemed lightyears beyond ordinary embarrassment,
face pale, heart pounding, stomach churning. The emotions
coming off his Padawan stained the Force with pain and clawed
at Qui-Gon's heart like trapped animals. "That you and I " Obi-
Wan stammered. Qui-Gon could barely hear him. "That I liked
it," he finally gasped out.
Qui-Gon felt all the air forced out of his lungs with the
shock, not at the words themselves which he had expected but at
the depth of the feeling behind them. In his distress, Obi-Wan
had left himself almost completely unshielded and the last four
words he'd spoken had held such a desperate longing that it
almost stopped his master's heart. Qui-Gon hadn't been blind to
his apprentice's new feelings for him; it would have been
almost impossible not to notice, especially after that day in
the practice rooms when he'd had to singe Obi-Wan out of his
fog of arousal. But he hadn't suspected Obi-Wan truly loved
him. Not like this.
The young man before him suddenly became a thermal detonator
that could utterly destroy both of them.
Such a development wasn't uncommon in the relationship between
master and apprentice, not when they lived so closely for such
a long time. Sometimes, as he'd said, it was merely an
adolescent crush. Sometimes it held true over the years and the
relationship became a life-long bond. He'd been truthful in
that. What he hadn't been truthful about was what he felt
himself. He hadn't lied he could not to his own apprentice but
neither had he been forthcoming, choosing instead to bide his
time and see what developed. There was no point in feeding
something that was no more than infatuation, no point in
fueling something that might cost him another apprentice. The
loss of Xanatos still cut him deeply. He wasn't sure those
wounds would ever heal, and he was not willing to either reopen
or add to them.
And Qui-Gon had not been sure for some time what category his
own feelings for Obi-Wan fell into. While it wasn't unusual for
young apprentices to develop a crush on their masters, or even
become infatuated with them, old masters falling in love with
their padawans was much more unusual. That sort of love was
rare enough in such pairs, but it seemed particularly foolish
to Qui-Gon that he should have come to desire his apprentice so
completely, body and spirit, mind and heart, flesh and bone, at
his age. Like Obi-Wan, if he'd known it, he wasn't able to
point to a specific date at which he'd realized his affection
for the boy had turned to love, but the day love turned to
desire was etched quite clearly in his mind.
He'd been watching an informal diving competition between the
older apprentices that Obi-Wan was participating in, enjoying
his padawan's pleasure in the water and the challenge of the
dives, and Obi-Wan had attempted a difficult backwards double
something-or-other which was almost, but not quite, perfect.
The arc his young, powerful body made coming backwards off the
board, twisting like a cat in freefall, and cleaving the water
with scarcely a disturbance had taken away Qui-Gon's breath.
When Obi-Wan had come up from the dive and out of the pool with
his hair sleek and only the briefest of swimming shorts around
his narrow hips, Qui-Gon had felt the blood in his head rush
southward in a rip tide. Even then, he ignored it.
But he was forced up short this evening when Mace's mere
mention of the word "expulsion" sent an arc of panic through
him. He'd mentioned it to Obi-Wan to send the same thrill of
terror through his apprentice. How perverse love was.
Such feelings, reciprocated or not, created a situation that
had to be handled carefully if they were not to damage the
already existing relationship. And of the two, the
master-apprentice relationship was far more important in the
long-term. Qui-Gon was not about to lose another padawan for
the sake of having a lover. There were so few Jedi to serve the
Republic that the personal was almost always subjugated to the
larger necessity. But there were times when the personal
relationship became the best if not the only way to serve the
larger good. They made a good team already. This could make
them a better one. Or it could demolish all they'd built in the
last seven years.
Well, it was a hard life, full of difficult choices and
dangerous consequences, and an ever-shifting future which he
had no gift for seeing. The gift he did have lay in his
connection to life and the living Force, and here was a bundle
of it before him in deep distress, terribly in love. There
seemed no point in thwarting or ignoring it any longer. Qui-Gon
had juggled thermal detonators before. He stepped closer and
held Obi-Wan's shoulders. "And you would like it," he said
quietly. It was not a question.
"Yes." Master wouldn't come out, somehow. Obi-Wan felt
so ashamed, so weak, so unworthy to call this man his master.
Another long silence filled the room, tension palpable in it.
Tension and longing and fear. And desire. Not just his own,
Obi-Wan was surprised to find, but his master's as well.
Qui-Gon's hands left his Padawan's shoulders and the loss of
that contact was almost more than he could bear. That's the
end of it, he thought. I've lost him. I've lost
everything. Then those large hands cupped his face, lifted
it to gaze into it, and soft lips kissed his forehead.
"There's no shame in those feelings, Padawan. So would I,"
Qui-Gon said, closing his arms around his apprentice, tucking
the younger man under his chin. "Haven't you guessed that?"
Obi-Wan stood stiffly in that embrace, hardly daring to believe
what he was hearing, or that his master's arms were holding
him, slowly stroking down his back. "You what?" he said numbly.
Qui-Gon sighed, exasperated. "Thick-headed Padawan," he chided,
gently. "What else do you think could make me so angry? I'm
afraid of losing you to your own foolishness. The idea of being
separated from you "
Obi-Wan pulled back and looked up into his master's face,
astonishment and hope plain on his own. Qui-Gon smiled at him,
grey-blue eyes suddenly full of mischief, and then brought his
mouth down to Obi-Wan's, brushing his lips lightly. His
apprentice was still too stunned to respond for a moment, then
his mouth came alive under Qui-Gon's, opening, tongue tasting
his master's lips, probing until they opened, and then drinking
him in. He felt Qui-Gon's breathing quicken and his heart jump
as his own did the same. Obi-Wan pressed himself against
Qui-Gon's body as though he sought to meld the two of them
together through their clothing. His hands clutched and kneaded
his master's back and waist, finally settling on his ass,
pulling him tighter, if that were possible.
He felt Qui-Gon's mouth quirk into a smile under his own.
"Padawan, Padawan!" he laughed, breaking the kiss and stepping
back with obvious reluctance. "Wait, wait. That wasn't a signal
to devour me alive. There is still the matter of your
punishment to consider. The Council is not going to be happy
with you, or with Bruck."
"I don't care " Obi-Wan was electric, almost sparking, with
happiness and excitement.
"But I do and I'm your Master, which means it is my
responsibility to care what happens to you, even if you fail
to. You're already clouding my good judgement, Padawan, and we
can't have that." He tried to be stern, found he couldn't, and
shook his head, smiling faintly. "But I am not happy with your
behavior, either."
"No, Master." Obi-Wan dropped his gaze back to the floor,
tucking his hands into his sleeves once again, though they were
itching burning to touch his master again, just to make sure it
was true, that he hadn't suddenly started to hallucinate, that
he wasn't delirious, dreaming. Everything had changed in less
time than it took to eat a meal. From blackest despair he had
pivoted right into an almost insane happiness, a happiness he
had little right to in these circumstances. For all he knew,
the Council might decide to toss him out on his sorry arse for
such a serious infraction of the Code. Without Qui-Gon.
There was a sobering thought.
He looked up to see his master regarding him with an equally
sober expression. "I understand why you reacted the way you
did, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said quietly, with his usual gentle
authority. "Do you?"
Always a lesson. "Yes, Master," Obi-Wan answered
dutifully. "I was afraid of your reaction to my feelings, and I
was afraid Bruck would tell you, or use them against me somehow
to separate me from you. The fear made me angry; I struck out.
It was a gross lack of control. I know that."
Qui-Gon nodded. "It was a gross lack of control," he agreed.
"And very unlike you, as I said before. You're not easily
goaded anymore, Obi-Wan. You have fine control, as a general
rule. Why do you suppose you slipped so badly this time?"
Obi-Wan considered the question for some time. The answer was
obvious, but he hated to say it aloud for some reason. Qui-Gon
arched an eyebrow at him. "Padawan?"
"Because I love you so much," he said finally. Why did it hurt
so much to say that? Why was it so hard to?
"Do you see how vulnerable that makes you? Vulnerable to
others, to me, to your own feelings? Your feelings do you
credit, Obi-Wan. But they can also become a weapon against you
in the wrong hands, unless you learn to bridle them. Own them.
Don't let them own you."
"Yes, Master. I understand." But he didn't really. How did one
"own" love this intense? How did one stop it from roaring
through one like lightning grounding?
"And they make us vulnerable, together," Qui-Gon added. "Both
your feelings and mine."
He hadn't thought of that, of what might happen to their finely
honed team, to a mission, what terrible choices would need to
be made if one of them were injured or threatened or killed all
possibilities that were less remote than he liked to
contemplate.
"Padawan, although I'm responsible for you, for your life, I
cannot be responsible for your feelings or how you act on them.
You must see to that yourself. I can teach you everything I
know, have already taught you a great deal that you've learned
well. But this is something new and very powerful for both of
us, and if we are not both very careful, it could kill either
or both of us. A distraction at the wrong moment, a thought for
the other when we should be mindful of the moment, and one or
both of us may end up dead."
"Yes, I understand, Master. I I hadn't thought this out. I'm
sorry. I've created quite a mess, haven't I?"
Qui-Gon cupped his apprentice's smooth cheek in one hand,
running his thumb along Obi-Wan's jaw. "Not by yourself, love.
We have my feelings for you, too, to deal with, and now Bruck's
behavior, and his master's inability to rein him in, if that's
truly the case. Why does he hate you so?"
"I don't really know, Master. Bruck's always held a grudge,
even when we were children. I suspect he's still smarting from
the time I defeated him in front of you before we went to
Bandomeer together. And he's jealous those were nearly the
first words out of his mouth."
"Jealous?"
"That I'm your Padawan. He wanted to be chosen by you so badly.
As badly as I did."
Qui-Gon smiled, amused. "I had no idea I was such a catch among
the initiates," he said drily.
"You were my only hope," Obi-Wan said softly, laying his hand
over his master's larger one still cupping his cheek. "You
still are."
"No, Padawan. You have your own destiny before you. The Force
will guide you, with or without me."
"Not without you, I hope," he said in a voice gone husky with
emotion, blue eyes gazing intently up into his own, burning.
"Never without you."
Discipline, Qui-Gon thought. Control. Obi-Wan
turned his head, kissed the palm of Qui- Gon's hand, tasting
the salt on it with the tip of his tongue. The Jedi Master felt
a thrill flow through him he had not felt in years, one that
started somewhere in his chest and plummeted right to his
groin. You can't help what you feel, only how you act on it.
Remember your own words, fool. At that moment, he was very
close to forgetting everything he knew and simply taking the
young man before him in his arms, pushing him up against the
wall, and doing what they both wanted.
"Padawan " Qui-Gon said, his own voice gone to gravel, moving
closer. Obi-Wan reached out for him again.
The door chimed.
The two of them looked at each other, frozen in a terrible
moment of mutual desire, both wondering whether to ignore the
sound. A grin broke out on Obi-Wan's face first, spreading
infectiously to his master, and the younger man clamped a hand
to his own mouth, stifling a whoop of laughter. Qui-Gon snorted
and quickly got his own laughter under control. "Not a word, or
a look, or a even a thought from you, Padawan," he hissed,
stepping back and straightening his tunic. "Come," he called in
answer to a second chime and heard Obi-Wan snicker. "Compose
yourself, Padawan," he said severely, as much for his own
benefit as for his apprentice's.
The door opened to reveal two Council members, Yoda and Mace
Windu, and a third master Qui- Gon did not know. Qui-Gon bowed
and gestured them inside. In the corner, Obi-Wan went
immediately to his knees, hands tucked into his sleeves, head
bowed submissively, almost to the floor. Mace Windu completed
the introductions as Obi-Wan listened, his presence ignored. He
would, he knew, be spoken about as though he were not in the
room, and he was expected to speak only when spoken to. He
could feel all three masters regarding him critically. It made
the skin between his shoulders itch.
Bruck's master, the third Jedi, Leth Astl, was a small woman in
her late thirties. Controlled energy radiated from her,
something that wasn't anger or any other particularly strong
emotion, merely natural animation. But even Obi-Wan sensed the
tinge of fear in the air and knew it wasn't entirely his own.
"We've spoken with Padawan Chun," Master Windu began when the
four Jedi had settled in chairs. "He claims your Padawan's
actions were unprovoked, Qui-Gon."
Obi-Wan felt a surge of anger rise in him, fought to calmly
experience it and own it and release it. That was so like
Bruck. Nothing was ever his fault.
"I must tell you, Master Jinn" Astl added, "that I would be
surprised if they truly were. I know you and your Padawan only
by reputation, but that reputation does not fit an unprovoked
attack on another apprentice. I also know my Padawan harbors
some grudge against yours. Do you know what it is?"
"There has been some animosity between them since they were
children," Qui-Gon replied carefully. "A matter of not-unusual
adolescent cruelty, I believe. But they were also in
competition to become my apprentice, and at a time when I was
reluctant to take one. Obi-Wan defeated him in a test match, in
a rather humiliating manner, and Padawan Chun may still be
struggling with his feelings in this regard. They have not seen
one another since then. If there has been no closure on the
matter, perhaps it has festered all this time."
Master Astl nodded sadly. "Yes, he has a tendency to hold
grudges of that sort.
"Ah," Qui-Gon said noncommittally, but with some sympathy.
Bruck sounded like a difficult student.
"Padawan Kenobi," Master Windu called him. "Come here."
"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan replied, rising, eyes still downcast,
and entered the circle of his superiors, facing Master Windu.
He dropped to his knees once more and bowed briefly.
"What have you to say in this matter?"
"Only that I acted badly, Master. In anger and without either
thought or control."
"Provoked, were you?" Master Yoda demanded sharply.
Obi-Wan was silent.
"Tell the truth, Padawan. That is always best, though often
painful," Qui-Gon counseled him.
"Yes, Master. Yes, I allowed myself to be provoked, Master
Yoda."
"Allowed yourself, did you?" Yoda continued. "An indulgence,
was it? Harbor a grudge also, do you, Padawan?"
Gods, there's no escaping Master Yoda, Obi-Wan thought.
He's just like a laser drill. "No, Master Yoda. In
truth, I haven't thought of Bruck in years."
"Then how did he provoke you, Obi-Wan?" Windu continued.
Obi-Wan swallowed uncomfortably. He knew his once hoped-for
cover story would never work here should have known it wouldn't
work with his own master. So there was nothing for it but the
kernel of truth. "He uncovered the feelings I have for my
master, feelings I had not yet discussed with anyone. I was
afraid Bruck would . . . use them."
Windu raised an eyebrow in Qui-Gon's direction. Obi-Wan's
master remained impassive. "Have you discussed them now, with
your master?" Windu pressed.
Obi-Wan felt the undercurrent of fear strengthen, realized with
a start it was coming from Bruck's master, wondered if he was
the only one aware of it.
"That matter is between my apprentice and I, Master Windu,"
Qui-Gon interjected. "It has no bearing here."
"I beg to differ, Master Jinn," Windu replied. "If it provoked
your apprentice to such an uncharacteristic action, those
feelings must be addressed."
"Not here. Not with your involvement."
"Qui-Gon "
"No, Mace. That's my final word. I will not argue the matter
with you, in front of the boy."
Obi-Wan snatched a surreptitious look in Master Yoda's
direction. The ancient Jedi Master was watching his colleagues'
sparring thoughtfully through half-lowered lids, an expression
Obi-Wan knew meant he was opening himself to the Force and the
emotions and future possibilities flowing through it in the
room. He could feel Master Yoda's presence as a solid, calming
influence and clung to it.
"Correct Master Jinn is," the little Jedi Master piped in. "A
matter between master and apprentice this is. For now. Cope
with it thoughtfully you will, Qui-Gon, so become a matter for
the Council it does not."
"I shall endeavor to make sure it does not, Master," Qui-Gon
assured him.
Windu looked disgruntled, but bowed to Master Yoda's
experience. Eight centuries was too much to discount casually.
"Padawan Kenobi," Yoda continued. "Understand the reason for
your actions do you?"
"Yes, Master Yoda. My master and I have discussed it. I know
from where my fear arose, and why, and the anger with it. I
offer no excuses for it. But I will not repeat my error."
"So sure are you, hmmm, young Padawan?" Yoda murmured, watching
him through slitted lids.
I hate it when he does that, Obi-Wan thought. "As sure
as I can be, Master Yoda. The future is always in motion.
Perhaps I should say I will be more mindful of the tendency."
Windu chuckled. "You've trained him well, Qui-Gon, at least in
diplomacy."
"Masters, may I speak?" Obi-Wan interjected.
"Continue, Padawan," Windu told him.
"I would like to offer my apologies to all of you for the
trouble I've caused, and especially to Master Astl for injuring
her apprentice and to my own master, for shaming him. The fault
is mine and I wish to assure you I harbor no ill will against
Padawan Chun. I've apologized to him already, but I would be
willing to make a more public one."
"I believe that is already in order, Padawan Kenobi, at the
next open assembly," Windu told him. "Master Astl, is that
agreeable to you? And the punishment we discussed earlier?"
"Yes, I believe that is sufficient," she agreed.
"Master Jinn?"
"I concur," Obi-Wan heard his master say. That explained his
absence from their quarters initially. He'd already conferred
with the Council while Obi-Wan was with Bruck and the Docent.
"Ten demerits on your record will you receive, Padawan Kenobi,"
Yoda told him, "and a halfyear's probation."
"Infractions committed during that period leave you subject to
dismissal without appeal because of the severity of this
infraction," Windu explained. "The demerits will be weighed
against your final records after the trials and before
conferring full Jedi Knighthood upon you. That it is your first
infraction and that you have taken responsibility for it will
also be noted. This in addition to your public apology and
whatever punishment your master sees fit to impose. Do you
understand, Padawan?"
"Yes, Masters. Thank you, Masters." Obi-Wan bowed until his
forehead was resting against the floor and remained so until
all three had departed. There was some conferring in the
hallway outside before Qui-Gon came back inside to find his
apprentice still on his knees, head to the floor.
"Get up, Padawan."
"If it please you, Master, I am sorry. I've been a complete
fool," Obi-Wan said quietly, sitting up but not rising off his
knees. He was surprised when Qui-Gon knelt before him and
stroked one large hand over his bristly hair and tugged on his
braid.
"Not a complete fool, Padawan. You handled that interrogation
very well, even Master Yoda."
"Thank you, Master. I never meant to expose you like that in
front of them. Thank you for, for what you said to Master
Windu, that it was between us."
"It is, Padawan, unless and until we prove ourselves unable to
cope with it sufficiently. This is another reason we must both
be mindful of our feelings."
"Would they separate us?"
"Possibly. I don't think it will come to that, however. I think
you've had the importance of minding your feelings brought home
to you. Yes?"
"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan grinned sheepishly.
"I hope Master Astl learns that as well."
"You felt it too, then? She was more afraid than I was. I don't
understand why."
"Don't you? Think, Padawan. What would make her fearful in that
situation? What was being said when you felt her fear?"
Obi-Wan reviewed the scene in his mind. "Master Windu was
asking you if you'd discussed Oh. She's in love with Bruck,
isn't she?"
"I believe so. I would guess Bruck does not reciprocate the
feelings."
"I can't imagine them as a pair."
Qui-Gon smiled. "No? And how many would say the same about us?"
"True," Obi-Wan agreed. "Poor woman. How awful to not have the
person you love love you back."
Qui-Gon stroked his apprentice's cheek again. "Tender-hearted
Padawan. How like you to sympathize."
"Master," Obi-Wan said in a tone of voice that indicated the
thought had just occurred to him, "you knew they weren't going
to expel me, didn't you?"
"Yes. We had already discussed your punishment, and Bruck's. I
thought it wouldn't hurt to make you aware of the possibility.
It was a serious infraction, Obi-Wan."
"So what punishment am I to receive from you?"
Qui-Gon sat back on his heels, resting his hands on his thighs,
regarding his apprentice solemnly. "Well, that is the question,
isn't it? I believe a week's worth of meditative exercises on
the nature of fear are in order, at the very least, in addition
to your regular meditations. I want you to focus on the nature
of your own fears, not fear in general, and how to live with
them and let them go."
"Yes, Master." Really, he was getting off very light, he
thought.
"And we're going to go through the anger exercises again."
"Oh, no," Obi-Wan groaned. So much for getting off light. These
were particularly unpleasant because they basically involved
Qui-Gon annoying the hell out of his Padawan for an extended
period of time, without letup, to teach him to bear such things
in good grace. And if Bruck always knew how to get to him,
Qui-Gon even more so. Obi-Wan's personal name for these
exercises was "Pick On the Padawan." This was going to be truly
miserable, now that his master had a real purpose behind them
other than general training.
"And . . ." Qui-Gon trailed off thoughtfully.
This was looking worse and worse. Demerits, probation, a
halfyear of being the perfect Padawan and worrying about
expulsion, extra meditation, personal torment from his master.
What else? "And?" Obi-Wan prompted gingerly.
"I don't think some lessons in control are uncalled for."
"No, Master," Obi-Wan said wearily, foreseeing in his future
hours of levitating objects while solving astrogation problems
in his head.
Then Qui-Gon rose on his knees, reached over, and pulled his
startled Padawan into his arms, pressing their bodies together
seamlessly. "We'll start now," he said gruffly, his mouth
descending on Obi-Wan's. He caught on a little quicker this
time, opening his lips eagerly to Qui- Gon's exploring tongue.
Their teeth grated for a moment as Obi-Wan returned the kiss
and threw his weight against his master's body. Qui-Gon pinned
him tightly, rocking back on his heels until Obi-Wan was forced
to straddle his thighs. Large hands slid his robe from his
shoulders and flung it aside. Obi-Wan gasped as Qui-Gon bit his
chin, running his tongue into the cleft there, and moved down
his throat, nipping lightly as he went.
Obi-Wan's hands fumbled at the belt at his master's waist, but
Qui-Gon stopped him, holding the hands away and sitting up
again.
"You're sure about this, Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon asked, arms clasped
behind his apprentice's lower back, holding Obi-Wan's with
them. "No question, no hesitation, no misgivings, no second
thoughts?"
"None," he said simply and immediately.
Qui-Gon looked at him without expression. "How old are you,
Padawan?"
Obi-Wan frowned. "You'd know if anyone would. Twenty."
"How old am I?"
"Forty-two?"
"Forty-three, next month."
"And?"
"Just so we're clear about it. Stand up."
Obi-Wan got to his feet, while Qui-Gon stayed on his knees and
slowly unbuckled his Padawan's belt and unwound the sash
carefully, almost ritualistically, setting it on the floor
beside him. His large hands traveled slowly up the exposed skin
beneath the now-open tunic from Obi-Wan's waist across his
washboard abdomen, over his ribs, running calloused palms like
fine sandpaper across his nipples, over his shoulders and down
his arms, sweeping off the loosened tunic, letting it fall to
the floor. Qui-Gon's mouth lingered hot over the hard stomach,
his tongue dipping into Obi-Wan's navel. His apprentice
shivered, hands buried in his master's thick hair. "You've got
no right to be so beautiful," Qui-Gon murmured, getting to his
feet, kissing and nipping his way up Obi-Wan's body to his
mouth. They kissed hungrily for a time, tasting each other,
tongues roaming and touching and probing, hands doing the same.
Obi-Wan's had found their way inside their master's tunic when
Qui-Gon broke the kiss and stepped back, holding his arms out
to the side. "Your turn," he said. "Slowly. Pay attention to
what you're doing."
Obi-Wan released the buckles on his master's belt one by one,
loosened the leather and took it off Qui-Gon as though he were
touching wounded flesh, then laid it beside his own belt and
sash. His master's sash he unwound even more carefully, his
motions precise and delicate, folding it and placing it under
Qui-Gon's belt. He folded his own tunic and placed it under his
belt and sash and turned back to his master, sliding his hands
under the loosened fabric. Beneath the coarsely woven material,
Qui-Gon's skin was ridiculously smooth. How could a man with so
many sharp edges to his mind and voice, and hands that looked
as though they'd done manual labor, have skin like this, pale
and soft as silk? Obi-Wan traced the ridges of muscles lying
across his master's stomach and enclosing his ribs, curving
around his back and over his shoulders with a touch so light it
raised gooseflesh on Qui-Gon and made him shiver. "Ah . . ." he
breathed, head thrown back, eyes closed, giving himself over to
his Padawan's hands, and then to his mouth, which suddenly
seemed to be everywhere. Qui-Gon hissed as Obi-Wan licked and
bit one nipple, then the other, until the flesh hardened
beneath his mouth.
Obi-Wan slipped the tunic from his master's shoulders and down
his arms, whisked it away and folded it, piling it with the
sash and belt. When he stood again, Qui-Gon pulled him into his
arms once more, hands gliding heavily down his back to the
waistband of his pants. "These next?" he said hoarsely.
"Yes, please." Obi-Wan seemed to have suddenly lost his breath.
Qui-gon hesitated a moment and drew in a deep breath, exhaling
slowly, as though reining himself in. Then, in a smooth motion,
he ducked and bent, hoisting a startled Obi-Wan over his
shoulder like a sack of meal. In a few strides, they were in
his master's room and Qui-Gon had dumped him unceremoniously on
his vast bed. In another moment, his feet were bare and
Qui-Gon's large hands were running lightly over his instep and
arches, making him squirm. His master smiled slightly.
"Ticklish? I didn't know that. Anywhere else?"
"As if I'd tell you," Obi-Wan grinned. "You'll have to find out
for yourself."
"Oh, I will, my Padawan. I will." If it were a threat, Obi-Wan
looked forward to it being carried out.
Qui-Gon's hands glided up his apprentice's legs, stroking his
calves and knees, the insides of his thighs as he knelt on one
knee between them. The fabric strained tightly over his
erection and Qui-Gon leaned over it, watching his apprentice's
expression. Obi-Wan waited tensely to feel those mobile lips
pressed against him, but there was only heat as Qui-Gon
breathed out over the cloth. Mesmerized with anticipation,
Obi-Wan didn't even notice Qui-Gon's fingers undoing the
fastenings at his waist. Before he knew it, everything was
halfway down his hips and his master was kissing each newly
revealed centimeter of skin. "Up," Qui-Gon said, and Obi-Wan
raised his hips off the bed, starting to feel completely dazed
already. His heart was pounding beneath his ribs and other
signs of his arousal were plainly evident when his pants slid
down off his ass. Qui- Gon slid them the rest of the way down
and off at a very slow pace, caressing as he went. Obi- Wan was
wriggling and whimpering by the time they were completely off.
Then Qui-Gon stood back and admired the result. Stretched out
on the bed, taut as a strung wire, was a body that might have
belonged to a young god, Qui-Gon thought, some part of him
amused at his own cliched hyperbole. Well, cliched perhaps, but
not much hyperbole: Broad shoulders; slim waist and hips;
muscled chest dusted with light, crisp hair; blue eyes full of
fire and mischief and pale, heavy brows arching with irony over
them; the mouth from which traces of a sly smile could never be
entirely erased; and of course, the eagerly arcing erection.
"You really are astoundingly beautiful, love," Qui-Gon
murmured.
"Get over here," Obi-Wan growled impatiently, reaching out
again. Qui-Gon backed away.
"Control, my love. This is a lesson, remember."
Obi-Wan let out a frustrated cry and hurled himself over on his
stomach, bowing his head and sinking his hands into the
bedclothes, muttering something obscene about "another bloody
lesson."
"That view's lovely too," Qui-Gon commented appreciatively. He
sat down on the bed and began to pull his own boots off, but
took a moment to stroke the sensual curve of his lover's back
and run his hands possessively over Obi-Wan's ass. His
apprentice quivered under his touch and moaned. When he looked
over his shoulder, Qui-Gon was standing by the side of the bed,
divested of clothing. They'd seen each other unclothed a
thousand times before; this was the first time they'd truly
seen each other naked. Obi-Wan looked hungrily.
Qui-Gon was larger, broader, his chest deeper than Obi-Wan's. A
fine pattern of pale scars criss- crossed the left side of his
ribs from some old injury, but the whole of it was taut with
muscle that rippled with power and grace as he moved and
breathed. The grey-blue eyes had gone cloudy with desire, and
though he stood quite still, energy moiled the air around him,
stirring the hair on Obi-Wan's neck. He'd loosened the thong in
his silver-shot hair and it fell like shadow across his one
side of his face, making the planes in it starker, the eyes
seem deeper, their gaze more penetrating. Grey had touched the
hair on his chest, too, but the tight curls around his cock
were still dark. And his cock seemed suddenly enormous. Obi-Wan
rolled over again for a better look, saw the smile it provoked
in his master and stretched provocatively.
Qui-Gon sat down beside him and traced the line of pale hair
running from navel to groin with one hand, then the crease of
thighs with his fingers until his hands were between Obi-Wan's
legs. He parted them slowly, watching Obi-Wan's face as he took
his Padawan's scrotum in one hand, running his thumb across the
textured skin, squeezing gently.
Obi-Wan closed his eyes and tried to exhale, but there didn't
seem to be any air in his lungs. The inhale became a gasp as he
felt Qui-Gon's tongue lick the tip of his cock and rub his
beard lightly over the shaft. That touch was almost enough to
make him come. He shuddered hard and moaned. "Steady, love,"
his master said softly. "It doesn't all have to happen right
now." Qui- Gon pressed his thumb against a spot beneath his
scrotum and the pressure eased a little. "Better?" Obi-Wan
nodded, breathing heavily through parted lips. "You look so
hungry, love. Have you waited so long?"
"Ten minutes is too long with you in the same room," he
growled. "Come here, would you?"
"Patience, Padawan. Patience. We have all night."
"Gods, you're going to kill me."
"Slowly. And you'll like it." Qui-Gon smiled wickedly, an
expression Obi-Wan hadn't seen before. Well, every day was a
new learning experience, indeed.
Qui-Gon leaned forward and kissed him again, as slowly as he'd
threatened, tongue just brushing Obi-Wan's mouth, slipping
slyly inside when his lips parted then darting out again. He
took his Padawan's lower lip between his teeth and nipped
gently, repeatedly, leaving it swollen and tender. Small
inarticulate noises were coming out of Obi-Wan now. Qui-Gon
licked the curve of one ear, bit the lobe, nuzzled the tender
skin beneath it, then found the pulse in Obi-Wan's throat,
feeling it beat fast and hard beneath his lips. Opening his
mouth over it, he sucked gently, bringing blood to the surface,
tasting the heat in it.
"Qui-Gon " Obi-Wan moaned.
"No talking, Padawan," Qui-Gon growled, bringing his mouth down
over his apprentice's windpipe, just below his Adam's apple,
and biting down, not hard enough to break the skin, but hard
enough to mark it. Obi-Wan froze, wide-eyed and barely
breathing. Qui-Gon did too. They held the tableau for a moment,
Qui-Gon feeling his lover's shock and the adrenalin jolt
rushing through his body, and finally, his submission. Then
Qui-Gon traced the arc of Obi-Wan's exposed throat with his
tongue, up to the jaw and over it, biting Obi-Wan's chin when
he reached it. "I love this," he murmured, touching the cleft
there with one finger and then with his tongue.
Obi-Wan reached for him again, but Qui-Gon caught his hands and
held them over his apprentice's head. "Your turn later," he
said and began kissing his way down Obi-Wan's body again, from
the hollow of his throat, across the collarbones, down his
chest, from one nipple to the other until his lover was
writhing, his tongue following the shallow cut of muscle in his
belly, dipping into his navel. He pulled Obi-Wan's arms down
with him as he went until they were pinned to either side of
him and Qui-Gon had straddled his legs. Obi-Wan arched his
back, trying to lift his hips off the bed, but was firmly held
down. Slowly, watching his lover's face, Qui-Gon lowered his
head and took Obi-Wan's cock his mouth, tongue swirling over
the crown, tasting bitter salt and need.
His lover threw back his head, crying out. Qui-Gon licked the
shaft with great attention, then blew gently on it, watching
Obi-Wan writhe and gasp, really struggling in his master's
grasp. Obi- Wan's breath was harsh and loud in the room.
Qui-Gon took him in again, deeper this time, sucking hard in
time with the movement of Obi-Wan's hips until he knew his
lover was just on the edge of coming. Then he stopped and sat
back to watch the result.
Obi-Wan thrashed below him like a man in a fever. "Gods,
Qui-Gon, finish me off!" It was nearly a shout, a desperate
demand. "I can't stand it!"
"Say my name again, love. I never get to hear it from you."
"Qui-Gon! Please " Pleading now, wild-eyed and gasping.
Letting go his Padawan's hands, Qui-Gon took pity on him and
enveloped Obi-Wan's cock with his mouth, taking him in deeply,
moving with his thrusts, sucking and licking. Freed hands
tangled themselves in Qui-Gon's thick hair, closed into fists,
holding him down. Above him, harsh gasps turned to deep moans
as Obi-Wan's hips thrust harder, his back arched, muscles
shuddering and locking. Qui-Gon took him in farther, almost to
the root and swallowed as he came, letting the sound and fury
of his lover's orgasm fuel his own arousal.
When Obi-Wan was spent and slipping into sleep, Qui-Gon lay
down beside him and kissed him again. "That's your taste in my
mouth," he whispered, stroking his lover's arm and shoulder and
flank. "Share it with me." Sleepy-eyed, Obi-Wan slid his arm
around Qui-Gon's neck, running his fingers through thick,
grizzled hair, taking the kiss, giving it back, small noises of
contentment rising from him. Afterwards, his arm slipped lower
around Qui-gon's waist, pulling him closer, so he could bury
his face in his master's chest. Feeling the hardness between
them, he came awake again, surprised.
"You didn't come," Obi-Wan said, reaching for his erection.
"No," Qui-Gon replied, catching his lover's hand and kissing
the heavy but agile fingers. "Not yet, though there were a few
moments when you almost had me," he admitted, his voice dark
and rough, "thrashing around like that. You're wonderfully
noisy, Padawan."
"'Obi-Wan,'" his apprentice insisted. "I want to hear you say
my name. Not 'Padawan.' Not here, Qui-Gon. Not in this bed with
you."
"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon repeated, smiling a little ferally. "Roll
over, Obi-Wan, my love." He gave the younger man a little shove
away, "back to me."
"You are going to kill me," Obi-Wan groaned, complying.
"And you do like it, don't you?" his master teased, stroking
the curve of his hip.
"Gods, yes. What now?" he said, nestling into the curl of his
master's body.
Qui-Gon leaned over him, brushing Obi-Wan's ear with his lips,
breathing softly into it, his hand moving across his lover's
ass, fingers just touching the top of the crevice separating
the two hard globes of it. "I want to be inside you, love."
Obi-Wan stopped breathing for a moment and his master could
feel apprehension warring with desire and love and need.
"You've never done it before," Qui-Gon said, a little
surprised. He knew his apprentice had had other partners, women
and men, had assumed Idiot, he told himself. Stupid
assumption. The boy's not you.
"No," his apprentice replied, sounding shaky and unsure of
himself, something he seldom was anymore. "No, but I want to,
with you." Too quickly.
"Not to please me, love. Only because you want to."
"I want to . . ." The voice trailing off, still unsure.
"It's just " "No, love. Not " They spoke at once.
"What is it?" Qui-Gon prompted gently, kissing the back of his
Padawan's skull through the fine, ticklish bristles.
Obi-Wan touched his throat, feeling the marks of his master's
teeth just fading. "I want both. I want to please you. I want
to do this with you. I just don't understand what that what
that meant. I need to know."
Qui-Gon exhaled, his breath warm on his apprentice's neck.
How can you teach him any control when you've so little
yourself, Master Jinn? he thought. Truth is always best,
no matter how painful. "Possessiveness," he admitted. "A
lesson in dominance in a place it doesn't belong, if we're to
be Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan here." The younger man said nothing,
lying quietly against him. "I would never hurt you, Obi-Wan."
"I never thought you would," sounding surprised that would
occur to anyone, least of all his lover. He reached back and
touched Qui-Gon's face tenderly.
The older man felt a mixture of gratitude and wonder and love
well up in him at Obi-Wan's complete trust. "What a gift you
offer me," he murmured, catching the hand and kissing his palm.
"Please, Qui-Gon. I want this. I want you."
Then you shall have me, love."
There was a brief pause, some fumbling in the low table beside
the bed, and then Qui-Gon's hands were on him again, cool and
slick, sliding over and against and between, parting,
searching, stroking sensitive flesh no one else had touched
before. "Relax," Qui-Gon murmured to him, slippery fingers
anointing the ring of tight muscles. One slipped inside before
he knew it and he inhaled sharply, fighting the reflex to pull
away.
"Did I hurt you?" Qui-Gon said against his cheek, beard
scratching a little against his skin.
"No. No, it's just strange," Obi-Wan replied, a little
breathless. "Feels good." And it did. It sent a thrill of
adrenalin through him, firing the nerves all over his body,
making him tremble. The sheets felt rough against his skin, and
he wanted to roll in them, rub himself against them, feel with
every inch of his body.
The apprehension was still there, but now it was overlaid by
arousal. Qui-Gon kissed the back of his lover's neck, his
shoulder, the spaces between, running his tongue over the
curves of his ear. "Obi-Wan," he breathed, and slid two fingers
inside.
A convulsive shudder coursed through him, making him cry out.
He hadn't dreamed it would feel like this, feel so good. He
seemed alive all over. Cool fingers stroked the skin in the
small of his back and over his ass. Qui-Gon's cock lay hot
against him and his own was growing hard again. The fingers
moved inside him, curled and stroking some spot that sent
little jolts of lightning through him. Dimly, he realized he
was making really absurd and rather laughable noises, and his
hips were moving with Qui-Gon's rhythm. The older man leaned
over him, kissed along his jaw and down his throat and over his
shoulder. "Now, love?" he murmured.
"Yes!" Obi-Wan hissed.
The fingers withdrew and calloused hands spread him. Qui-Gon's
cock, slick and hot and huge, pressed against him and then was
inside with a brief stab of pain that wasn't really pain but
merely more stimulation in his excitement. His hands shook,
reaching out like a drowning man's for help, sinking into the
bedclothes and closing around them in fists. Other hands held
his hips as he felt himself filled and somehow completed. Once
inside, Qui-Gon held him tightly and they lay together unmoving
for a time, his lover curled close around him, his hand
stroking Obi-Wan's cock. His heart seemed to be trying to
escape through his ribs and there was suddenly much less oxygen
in the air. He wasn't sure which of them began to rock first,
suspected it was himself. They moved together in a gentle
rhythm that gradually grew quicker and more urgent.
"Harder!" Obi-Wan heard himself gasp. "Hurry." Qui-Gon obliged,
growling, his breath hot and harsh on Obi-Wan's neck, and in a
moment there was nothing but heat and light and energy arcing
through him. The outside world disappeared and there was only
himself and his lover and the bridge built between them of
flesh and spirit, the Force singing through both of them and
filling the room. Obi-Wan cried out, shouting, and came again,
explosively, head thrown back against Qui-Gon's shoulder,
fingers digging into his lover's thigh and clutching the hand
around his cock. Qui-Gon shuddered against him, thrusting hard,
and came a moment later with a groan so low it seemed to
vibrate through Obi-Wan's entire body. They bucked convulsively
together, perfectly in synch, once, twice, again, and lay
still.
Obi-Wan felt as though he'd been hit with a stun stick. He
couldn't breathe, he couldn't see, he couldn't think or move.
His nerve endings felt raw. The light against his skin had
weight and texture. His chest rose and fell but the air was
gone from the room and his arms and legs were trembling
violently. Behind him, he could feel Qui-Gon breathing in deep,
ragged gasps. One of them was sobbing. "Love, did I hurt you?"
Qui-Gon repeated two or three times before Obi-Wan realized it
was he.
"No! No, gods no," he cried, when he could think again, could
remember how to form words. "No, Qui-Gon," he sighed, laughing
a little and wiping his eyes. "Unless you count making me feel
like I've run into a stun field as bodily harm. Oh, gods, I
never imagined "
Qui-Gon laughed too, obviously pleased, kissing his neck and
running his hand over the sheen of sweat on Obi-Wan's skin,
making him shudder and moan again. "Good. I'm glad, Obi-Wan."
"Was it what you wanted?"
"Oh, yes, love. And more. Thank you," Qui-Gon assured him,
holding him close.
"Somehow, it doesn't seem right for you to thank me," Obi-Wan
said drowsily, sinking into the embrace.
"Oh? Why not?" Qui-Gon sounded amused.
"Well, beside the fact that I feel more as if you've done me
the favor, rather than the other way round, this was supposed
to be part of my punishment, wasn't it?"
Qui-Gon laughed aloud then and hugged Obi-Wan hard. "Yes, love,
it was. Have you learned your lesson?"
"I don't think so, Master," Obi-Wan replied seriously. "I seem
to have let myself get distracted."
"Then I shall have to repeat it for your benefit, idiot
Padawan, until you get it right."
"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan said happily, slipping into sleep,
wrapped in his lover's arms. "Thank you, Master."
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