Category: PWP. Spoiler - minor Jedi Apprentice reference.
Somewhat AU.
Feedback: Please. My second completed fanfic. Again, too
spastic to wait for beta'ing, so mistakes all mine.
Dedicated: To Fangrrl, whose image inspired it. Hope you like
it, even though it's my own universe and not your rpg universe.
Summary: Qui-Gon vamps out.
Disclaimer: Alas, the boys are not mine, though I'm really
really starting to enjoy playing with them. No money made.
Despite years practicing the vaunted Jedi calm, Obi-Wan was
worried. Curled in the window seat in their spacious rooms in
the diplomatic building, he closed his eyes and concentrated on
the living Force, trying to wash away his growing concerns in
its powerful presence. He and his Master had been on Valon for
almost three weeks now, attempting to mediate a tricky squabble
over mineral rights. Normally, the Jedi would not have
participated in such detailed discussions of archaic contracts,
preferring to handle serious diplomatic issues likely to result
in hostilities. Valon had specifically requested Jedi
assistance and as a relatively new member to the Republic, the
Council had thought it wise not to decline their very first
need.
No, thought Obi-Wan, not Jedi assistance. Qui-Gon's assistance,
by name. The Council had recommended other Jedi with more
background in mineral rights issues, but the Valon had wanted
Qui-Gon Jinn. During their time on the planet, Qui-Gon had
become increasingly...distracted, distant. Obi-Wan had expected
a certain level of concentration, since his Master had much to
learn in a short period of time, but the almost total neglect
of his padawan was new. Never had he let a mission prevent him
from working daily with Obi-Wan, even if only for a brief time.
He rarely talked to Obi-Wan, though Obi-Wan caught him staring
on occasion, his deep blue eyes seeming mesmerized by his young
apprentice. His physical actions also were becoming erratic.
Like many of the Valona, he was sleeping during the day and
working at night. He was eating little but drinking more
frequently of the blood-red wine favored on this planet. There
was a coldness, an impenetrable shell growing around him.
Obi-Wan sighed and stretched. Meditation was beyond him today.
He wished that he could contact the Council for assistance but
realized he would look ridiculous. "Excuse me, Master Yoda, but
my Master stares at me too much." No, he would have to stay
calm and trust that the negotiations would finish soon and the
two could leave this disturbing planet.
"Obi-Wan, are you ready for the banquet?" The padawan jumped as
he heard his Master's voice immediately behind him. All Jedi
learned camouflage, to walk stealthily, and blend into shadows.
Qui-Gon's increasing use of those skills while in their own
quarters was another unnerving change.
"Yes, Master. I just need my cloak."
Qui-Gon nodded briefly and turned to leave. With a sigh,
Obi-Wan grabbed his cloak and followed him from the room for
another interminable banquet before the resumption of tonight's
talks.
Obi-Wan came to consciousness slowly, his head fuzzy. He tried
instinctively to sit up, and found his arms and legs bound with
metal clasps. Opening his eyes, he glanced around the room.
From the heavy stonework, he could tell he was no longer in the
diplomatic building. Vaguely, he remembered the unpleasant
lassitude that had come over him at the dinner. He had excused
himself to find fresh air and remembered no more.
A Valon entered, followed by two guards who took positions on
each side of the door. "I see you are awake."
"What do you want with me?" Obi-Wan's voice was strained and he
tried to swallow to relieve his dry throat.
"We want nothing with you. You are merely an expedient device
to ensure your Master's change."
"My change into what?" came Qui-Gon's demand, as he stood in
the doorway. The two guards turned abruptly to face him, and
with one casual flick, Qui-Gon ignited his lightsaber and
sliced them into two. Neither guard even managed to raise his
weapon. Obi-Wan had never seen his Master so fast in movement
or so casual about killing.
The Valon backed away from the table holding Obi-Wan, placing
it between himself and Qui-Gon. "Into the greatest of us,
Qui-Gon. Your mother was born of our people. Only one of ten
thousand in our race will turn into a true demon of the dark.
You are destined to be one of those." The Valon ran one hand
lightly over Obi-Wan as he continued backing away toward the
door in the other wall. "Look at your apprentice, Qui-Gon. Kill
him and drink his blood. You will be more powerful than you
ever imagined."
Qui-Gon gazed down at his young apprentice, torn between
vengeance against the Valon who had dared kidnap and concern
for Obi-Wan' physical state. His hands and legs had been pulled
tightly before being bound, so his body was tense and slightly
arched. The sight distracted Qui-Gon, drawing erotic images in
his mind. While he had loved and desired Obi-Wan for many
years, he had always been able to rein in his emotions. He felt
his mental walls shattering. The Valon took the opportunity to
flee.
"My padawan," he murmured. With a snap, the blade of his
lightsaber disappeared and he reattached it to his belt. One
hand drifted down, stroking his fingertips lightly along the
pale throat.
"Qui-Gon, please, whatever is happening here, you can be strong
enough to stop it," Obi-Wan pleaded.
"No, Obi-Wan, I don't think I can." Qui-Gon's hands cupped
Obi-Wan's cheeks, his thumbs smoothing the strong cheekbones,
the biology of his mother surfacing and dictating his actions.
Leaning in, he sealed their lips together in an eating,
lingering kiss, his broad tongue tasting every inch of
Obi-Wan's mouth. Obi-Wan fought surrender to the sweet ecstasy
of finally knowing his Master's touch, concentrating on the
Force to break the metal links. Still too drugged and dazed,
his attempt failed.
Qui-Gon's fingers played in Obi-Wan's loosened hair, running
through the short brown-gold strands. Breaking the kiss, he
nuzzled his face against Obi-Wan's, breathing of his musky
scent. With fingernails grown sharp as talons, he ripped at
Obi-Wan's tunic, shredding the thin fabric. Obi-Wan flinched as
the sharp tips sliced his chest, leaving faint but bloody
ridges. Purring gutturally, Qui-Gon rubbed his cheeks against
the blood before licking up the red drops. He licked at the
tight brown nipples, rolling his tongue and wallowing in the
exquisite peaks.
Continuing his explorations of his apprentice's young body,
Qui-Gon methodically shredded the rest of Obi-Wan's clothes.
Like a wild beast, he marked Obi-Wan's body as his own,
nuzzling his face against the solid muscles, licking and
tasting the soft skin, nipping and biting with his white teeth.
Fingers were sucked into his mouth, wetted and devoured.
Obi-Wan was torn between fear for his life and unbearable
excitement, covered with traces of blood and saliva. Qui-Gon's
long brown hair draped over his body, adding another potent
caress. Reaching his cock, Qui-Gon rolled his tongue over the
head before taking the erect length into his mouth, letting it
slide back out of his mouth while scraping his teeth lightly on
the sensitive skin. Burying his face in the hair surrounding
Obi-Wan's groin, he mouthed the soft sacs underneath.
Qui-Gon proceeded down Obi-Wan's right leg, staking his claim
to every inch of skin. The powerful thigh and calf muscles were
massaged, the toes sucked and devoured as eagerly as the
fingers, his boots pulled off before the arches of his feet
could receive tense bites. As Qui-Gon circled the table and
started up his left leg, Obi-Wan drowned in both ecstasy and
despair. His cock and testicles were drawn even deeper into
Qui-Gon's mouth, the tongue savoring the drops of pre-ejaculate
leaking from the tip.
"Please, Master. I could think of no better place to die than
your arms. But don't let them win like this. Don't let them
force you to change into something you are not." Obi-Wan stared
desperately into his Master's eyes, searching hopelessly for a
flicker of sanity. For a moment, he thought he saw reason
return. Then Qui-Gon grabbed one side of his cloak, raising it
high as he settled on top of Obi-Wan's lithe form. The dark
brown cloak draped over both sides of the table, covering them
completely, the soft fabric of Qui-Gon's Jedi uniform soothing
Obi-Wan's sensitized flesh. Qui-Gon slid his hands underneath
Obi-Wan's neck, raising and stretching it. His mouth opened and
Obi-Wan was arrested by a flash of the light off fangs before
they sank fiercely into alabaster skin.
The pleasure/pain in his neck exploded down to his groin, white
hot flames racing throughout his body. Obi-Wan stopped his
mental fight and surrendered totally to the dark excitement. He
thrust his hips forward, pressing his cock against Qui-Gon's
erection. "Please Master," he gasped, fighting for breath as he
felt his blood being drained from his body, "my legs..." A
casual thought from Qui-Gon and the metal bands flew off
Obi-Wan's feet, smacking into the wall. Obi-Wan raised his
legs, tightening them on each side of his Master's slim hips,
planting his feet on the table, and thrusting their hips
together even faster. Qui-Gon growled deep in his throat, in
approval and dominance. The final excitement painfully ripped
through Obi-Wan's body as his cock erupted, semen spattering
the front of Qui-Gon's breeches, feeling the answering fluid
response from Qui-Gon. His mind lost to a rapture too intense
to be borne as the blood drained from his body and was
swallowed hungrily by his Master, Obi-Wan passed out for the
second time.
Obi-Wan woke to a clear mind and a cool liquid being smoothed
on his body. At least I can remember why I passed out this
time, he thought. And my arms aren't painful, recognizing that
the metal bands had been removed and his hands placed at his
sides. Opening his eyes, he saw his Master's tall figure
standing by the table. Holding shreds of Obi-Wan's tunic
moistened with water, he was systematically washing Obi-Wan's
limp figure.
"Master?"
"You're awake. Good. How do you feel?"
"Like I went through a supernova. You didn't..." he raised one
hand to feel his throat, fingering the puncture wounds.
"Your willingness to die for me humbles me, my padawan, much as
it did on Bandomeer, six years ago. I managed to stop myself in
the end, but you will be weak from blood loss for many days."
"The transformation...?"
"Happened only partially, as far as I can tell, if your death
was required." Qui-Gon carelessly waved one hand, showing the
razor talons of his nails and opened his mouth to flick one
tongue against the fangs. "Or maybe completely. I'm not sure.
Descriptions of these 'demons of the dark' were not provided to
the Senate when Valon accepted for membership." Obi-Wan was
delighted at the dry tone of his Master's voice, realizing that
his control was restored enough to joke of his predicament.
"Obi-Wan..." Qui-Gon was reluctant to speak, fearful of the
reaction he might receive. At his padawan's accepting gaze,
Qui-Gon continued. "I still feel urges, drives, feelings I have
never known coursing through my body. Memories of your
generosity and honesty are the only things keeping me sane. I
cannot let you go until I can reverse this transformation."
"I understand, Master."
"I cannot guarantee my future actions. I cannot swear I may not
attack you again. I must cherish and love you. Having tasted
you, marked you as my own, I cannot be celibate. And I know if
you try to leave me..." placing the cloth on the table,
Qui-Gon's hands rested on Obi-Wan's neck, and said with
devastating honesty, "this time, I would rip your throat out.
You are mine. Only mine."
Obi-Wan acknowledged his Master's confused and turbulent
emotions with a slight nod. "We will be together, Master, as
long as you need me and if you allow, to the end of our lives."
"Then let us return to Coruscant. I wish to speak to Yoda of my
past and seek the counsel of Jedi healers. I mistrust these
people, even if they are my heritage." Qui-Gon lifted Obi-Wan
easily into his arms, covering his naked body with his own
cloak. Obi-Wan rested bonelessly in his secure arms, content to
trust his future with Qui-Gon as they sought for answers from
the past.
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