Summary: The date listed is the date the 'snapshot' was
written/posted. Each piece is a segment within the same
universe, but they are not in any sort of order. Each piece
stands alone (iow-there are no "cliffhangers"). The snapshots
will run the gamut from G to NC17. Some may be several pages
long, some only a couple of paragraphs; some will contain smut,
many will not; they will be different styles with different
voices.
Disclaimers: Lucasfilm, Lucasfilm, Lucasfilm.
May 05, 2000
Fear leads to anger.
I can feel it rising up in me, rolling through me with each
beat of my heart.
Fear leads to anger.
It pulses through my veins on the tide of my blood.
Fear leads to anger.
It is like a 'saber cutting through me.
Fear leads to anger.
My master taught me control, but my anger is great, my fear
even greater and he is not here.
Fear leads to anger.
And he is not here.
Fear leads to anger.
They have him.
Fear leads to anger.
Force be with him until I can be.
May 04, 2000
"Where are they?"
"The old guy's in the cell out back."
"You're using the metal I gave you to bind him?"
"Yes."
"And the other?"
"Not yet in our custody."
"You fool! I told you to take them together."
"We will have the other soon enough."
"If he doesn't have you first."
"Come on, he's just a boy."
"A Jedi boy."
"We managed to capture the old man."
"You have one. And yet you set out to get them both and you had
the element of surprise on your side at the time."
"Sadalk -double the guards."
"Pray that it is enough."
May 05, 2000
It was a stupid mistake. I should have trusted Obi-Wan to take
care of himself, but instead I worried. And so I zigged when I
should have zagged and not only is my padawan of only a few
months on his own, I am caught -trussed up like some beast
culled from the heard in preparation for dinner.
My only hope of rescue rests with the lad. I have faith that he
will not fail me as I have failed him.
May 06, 2000
Sometimes the simple things are best. I enjoy being creative in
bed, or out of it, but sometimes I crave the simplicity of
being taken. No fancy words, no gymnastics, no elaborate
foreplay.
Just kiss me, Master and take me. Spread me out on your bed,
push my legs apart and with a single thrust make me yours. Hard
or soft, long or slow -nothing matters except for the
inexorable length and heat of you inside me.
I lose my mind when you do that. I lose my *me*. I become no
more than an empty vessel waiting to be filled by your
hardness, by your pleasure, by your love -by you.
It doesn't matter how long it lasts, it's always over too soon.
Until the next time.
May 08, 2000
Obi-Wan lay with his back to the door, body stiff, unyielding
beneath the thin sheet. Qui-Gon sighed as he slid into the bed.
He considered spooning up behind his lover, but wasn't sure of
his welcome. He didn't want to attempt it if he was going to be
rebuffed.
Lying carefully on his side, he felt as rigid as the man before
him as he tried to settle into some semblance of a comfortable
position while not touching Obi-Wan.
Half an hour later he was still awake, his back protesting at
his unyielding position.
"Obi-Wan..." He wouldn't have thought it possible, but the back
before him stiffened, muscles tensing. "I love you." He said
the words softly, not expecting an answer, just needing
suddenly to know that Obi-Wan knew how he felt -how he always
would feel, no matter what else might be going on in their
lives.
"I love you, too." Grudgingly spoken, Qui-Gon could hear the
pout in the words.
He reached his hand out, but drew it back again. "May I touch
you?" He asked, somewhat dismayed by the needy tone in his
voice. He hadn't meant to put any pressure on Obi-Wan or to
make him accept out of guilt.
"Please, Master." The reply came immediately, and Obi-Wan
sagged back towards him as if the lack of invitation had been
the only thing holding him back. Qui-Gon moved forward, their
bodies coming together. Sliding his arm around Obi-Wan's waist,
he took the hand that came up to meet his own and their fingers
twined.
"I'm sorry, Master, I should have been more forgiving."
"No, Obi-Wan, I should have been more understanding and not
insisted you speak to him again until you were ready."
"I still think he did it on purpose." The pout had returned to
Obi-Wan's voice, but his body lay relaxed and easy in Qui-Gon's
arms.
"Let it go, Padawan. After all, it will grow back."
May 09, 2000
There is no moon on Syl'jhan. The nights are black, the stars
merely pinpricks that let you know which way is up. The wind
seems alive in this darkness, swirling around our bodies as we
guard the vale of the dead. It whispers as it gently touches us
and then screams and tears at our robes, moody and changeable.
I sit next to my master, close enough that I can feel the heat
from his body. If I lean to my right, our shoulders will touch
and his hand brushes against me as he talks. His voice drifts
through the darkness, the soft lilt more pronounced somehow as
the black night hides him from me.
It is a ceremonial duty we perform - keeping watch for the
Brac'nal, the eaters of the dead. I have heard padawans in the
temple bemoaning the assignment, claiming that it is boring,
beneath them, a pain. But I wouldn't change any of it. Except
for maybe just one thing.
I would like to hold his hand.
May 10, 2000
"It is with great honour that I open the talks to bring the
Drulate and the Dranlin to an agreement to end centuries of
skirmishes and wars. We have never completely trusted our
southern neighbours, nor they us, which is why past talks have
always ended in failure.
"This time we have a common goal -we wish to enter the
Republic. But to do so we must be a united people. To this end,
we have put aside our weapons and come here today. The Republic
has demonstrated its willingness to have us enter a partnership
with them by sending two of their peacekeepers to mediate the
discussions between us." The Drulate leader turned toward the
Jedi, the bells in his hair and on the sleeves of the simple
tan dress he wore tinkling lightly. "Please join me in
welcoming the Jedi -Jinn and Kenobi."
The 16 other men in the room all stood and stomped their feet.
The sound of bare skin slapping against the stone floor of the
cavern joined the soft ringing of the bells on their outfits.
Everyone sat once again and the quiet was broken anew as
Qui-Gon stood and the bells on the native costume he wore
chimed.
"It is the Republic's hope that a settlement can be reached
here that will be both agreeable and beneficial to all. We are
your humble servants, here to assist you in any way possible."
Qui-Gon bowed and on the floor beside him, Obi-Wan also dipped
his head.
Everyone rose again and the room rang with stamping and
tinkling.
The Dranlin leader spoke next. "In the tradition of our
peoples, let us now stand together and demonstrate to one
another that we are each unarmed, that we bring with us nothing
but ourselves. Let us bathe the cavern with our essence so that
our discussions may be fruitful."
The sound of the small bells became loud as everyone stood once
more and fumbled with the tie's at the front of their dresses.
"Master, they don't mean...oh. I guess they do," Obi-Wan said
faintly as the bells began to chime ferociously.
"Obi-Wan, I suggest you stop talking and start...well start,
before they believe the Republic's peaceful mediators have
something to hide."
"Yes, Master."
May 14, 2000
(sound of knocking)
"Ah, Initiate Kenobi. Expecting you I was."
"Yes, Master Yoda. What can I do for you?"
"Strong you are, yes?"
"Well, I guess so, Master Yoda."
"Good. My luggage you will carry."
"Yes, Master. Where to?"
"Landing pad by the South Tower."
"You're leaving the temple? Where are you going...if I may ask,
Master."
"Know the answer to this, I do not."
"You're leaving but you don't know where you're going?"
"Guide me the Force will."
"But guide you to where?"
"To my mother."
"Your mother? You have a mother?"
"Sprung fully formed from the Force you thought maybe? Hrmmm?"
"I meant...I mean I figured that your mother would be dea-
would be go- um..."
"One with the Force the words you are looking for?"
"Yes, Master. I'm sorry."
"Needed not is your apology. When 800 years you have lived,
dead everyone will think your mother is too."
"I don't think I'm going to live to be 800 years old, Master
Yoda."
"Hmmpf. Unfortunate this is. Lonely will I be when 1600 years I
am."
May 15, 2000
Night duty in the security room is quiet and time passes
slowly. I amuse myself as best I can, usually by playing cards
while keeping half an eye on the bank of monitors for anything
out of the ordinary.
Tonight, a soft moan distracts me from my game of onlyone and I
look up, scanning the screens for anything out of the ordinary.
The sound comes again and I put my hand on my blaster, legs
tensing to spring into action. I pinpoint the sound to the
monitor in the room of one of the Jedi. The label reads Kenobi
-he is the younger one.
Another sound, this one clearly a groan of pleasure and I feel
my cock begin to harden. I play with the buttons on the
monitor, zooming in on the bed and turning up the light intake
to high. If I'm found out I'll be beaten and sent to the mines,
but the risk only hightens my excitement
I can't see him clearly -just an impression of lean limbs and a
muscled torso. His face is completely shadowed. But his arm is
moving, his hand curled around his middle and pumping. Another
soft, breathy sound of pleasure comes across the audio and
there is no doubt as to what he is doing.
I flick a switch, turning out the lights in the security office
and undo the buttons of my pants, pulling them open at my
crotch. Leaning back in my chair, I prop my feet up on the
counter in front of me, while I pull out my rock-hard erection.
I play lazily with it, rolling it between my hands and pressing
the flat of my palm against the tip, rolling it to pick up some
liquid lubrication.
One hand now slick, I turn my attention back to the monitor,
watching the young Jedi writhing on his bed. I let my own hand
pick up the rhythm he sets -he's a little ahead of me, but I
usually don't spend as much time over this as he seems to, so I
catch up quickly. Twice I have to stay my hand, slow myself
down as he continues at the same relentless pace.
Taking his time.
Finally the movements of his hand speeds and his breathing
becomes audible. He's gasping, little whimpers choking from his
throat and I wonder what he's imagining, who he's thinking of
as he does this.
I wish suddenly I could see his face; wish that I could see
that flat emotionless mask the Jedi wear broken into a rictus
of pleasure. I imagine myself fucking him, pounding into his
body as I pull on his cock and his eyes would squeeze tightly
shut and his mouth would open wide on a scream as he came.
Oh yeah, I'm close, so close and he is too, I can hear the slap
of his hand now against his groin as he pumps himself and each
breath hitches, ending on a small moan. His cry as he comes is
bitten off, but it is enough to send me shooting and in my
soundproof booth there is no one to hear my moans as I come.
I lie back, watching as he curls onto his side and pulls the
covers up over his body. His laboured breathing slows and the
feed grows quiet. With quick, efficient moves I clean myself up
and adjust the pick-up to his monitor back to normal.
I know that if I pass him in the hall in the morning, he will
again be wearing that calm face that I have grown accustomed to
seeing among the Jedi. I wonder though, if I were to really
look at him, if I would see a hint of this night in his eyes.
May 20, 2000
Obi-Wan settled next to his master with a deep sigh. Long arms
came around him and the hard, pebbled bed of earth beneath his
body seemed warmer and more comfortable. They shifted together,
easily settling into a familiar position -Obi-Wan's head
pillowed on a strong arm, his back pressed tightly against the
warm length of his master's body.
The large, dark expanse of Qui-Gon's cloak was easily remade
into a blanket and the cold receded against their combined
forces. His master's head settled along-side Obi-Wan's own and
he could feel the gentle breeze of Qui-Gon's breath against his
cheek.
Some time later, Obi-Wan found himself still awake. Though his
master's body was a great comfort, his nose, brows and chin
were suffering from the sharp bite of the wind and the
slightest movement invited the frosty air to enter their
makeshift bed and search out any holes in their clothing.
"Ignore the cold, Obi-Wan."
"I am trying, Master," Obi-Wan spoke a tad defensively,
dismayed at having kept his master awake.
"It does seem somewhat persistent."
Obi-Wan chuckled at his master's typical understatement.
"Perhaps we can think of something to warm ourselves up,"
suggested Qui-Gon.
"Too much movement will let enough cold air in to leech away
all our heat," warned Obi-Wan, his tone full of regret.
"I was thinking more along the lines of talking."
"Talking, Master?"
"Yes, Obi-Wan."
"I'm not sure I see how talking would help to keep us warm."
"Well, I thought perhaps you could tell me about your deepest,
darkest fantasies."
May 21, 2000
Soft touch of lips against my own, more breath of air and
barely there flutter, like the delicate wings of a butterfly
lighting on me. It wakes me only enough to notice and then I
drift back down into sleep.
I wonder briefly what has my padawan awake and away from our
bed before the light of dawn, but the thought comes too late to
keep me awake.
May 22, 2000
The healers quietly go about their business, flowing around the
man standing by the bacta tank. He has injuries of his own, but
will not leave his padawan's side. Ah, Qui-Gon, you feel guilty
for having accepted this mission, but be sure you do not take
more than your share.
It was so easy to forget Kenobi's age, indeed that he was only
a padawan. He and Jinn are so rarely at the temple, travelling
instead from mission to mission -coming back only to be sent
away again, sometimes even in the same day. We have kept
ourselves cocooned, ignorant of the fact, or perhaps just
refusing to see it, that we send a boy out to do a man's
business, abetted in our folly by the boy himself who
constantly acquits himself with courage and ability. It is easy
to forget that Kenobi is only a 17 year old padawan.
We knew when we asked Jinn to take the mission that he would
not refuse. How could he? He is our best man, we know it and he
knows it. We knew also there would be some risk, that there
could be injury to one or both of our best team. And I hide now
behind my words and I do not even fool myself. We suspected,
very strongly -in fact we knew but for the proof- that the
Denians were torturing their prisoners. We needed that proof to
take them to court and have them thrown out of the Republic or
change their ways. But to know that some hypothetical
mistreatment will occur and to be faced with a boy in a bacta
tank, eyesight gone with no guarantee that he will ever be able
to see again, are two very different things.
Any assignment has pitfalls, potential dangers, but this one,
more than most and now we are faced with a very real
consequence of that. It could have been Kenobi's life the
healers fight for rather than his eyes.
And so the master feels guilty. As do I. If we lose this one
before we really even have him...so much potential hanging in
the balance. I will carry this guilt inside me for a long time;
if Obi-Wan loses his eyes I may never be rid of it.
May 24, 2000
My padawan is nervous; though he looks calm I can feel the
agitation he is trying to control. I can't blame him, I am
nervous as well.
It is our first mission to a non-humanoid world. Certainly
Coruscant has a diverse population, with representatives from
each planet that is a member of the Republic. But Obi-Wan has
rarely, if ever interacted with anyone outside of the temple.
In that way we coddle our initiates.
We stand at the end of the gangplank, waiting for the Trinak's
to greet us. They look like a cross between wolves and parrots,
and though my padawan and I have phonetically learned a simple
greeting, we have been fitted with translators for the
negotiations, basic is outside the range of their vocal chords
and their language is almost as hard for us.
This is a very important mission, both for the Republic and for
my padawan. Though I am sure that he will acquit himself well
on his first dealing with non-humanoids there is still that
small fear that his nerves will win the day.
The Trekk'naaak'lem comes forward and opens her beak to bare
sharp fangs. Sniffing, she scents my padawan.
As I watch, Obi-Wan leans forward and, opening his mouth,
scents her before stepping back and delivering his greeting
with no show of jitters, I only hope I can do as well when she
turns to me. The Trinak throws her head back and howls, a sign
of pleasure. Obi-Wan's face doesn't change, but I can feel his
nerves settle as happiness and peace fall over him.
I have to restrain my own emotions as pride threatens to
overwhelm my careful control. As the Trekk'naaak'lem turns to
me, I only hope that I can do as well.
May 26, 2000
He caught me pleasuring myself.
He was having coffee with Master Etenue, or at a council
meeting, or something that kept him away late and I was feeling
wanton and needy and lonely. Silly really, but it was our first
night apart since becoming lovers and I was jealous of anything
that took him away from me.
I had been thinking of him all evening, remembering each night
since the first. The way our lips would join as we kissed, his
beard always tickling the space between my upper lip and my
nose. The way his hands would range over my body, as if I were
his, which of course I was -am. The way his hips would press
eagerly against my own, his erection hot and hard and large.
The way we would rush to his bed, or not, tumbling onto the
couch, the chair, the floor.
I attempted to read and then, too restless for that, to clean.
Finally I gave up the pretence and wandered slowly into his
-our- room. I let my hands roam my body, sliding beneath my
tunics and my leggings, imagining they were his. By the time I
was standing by the bed, I was half-naked and fighting with the
clasps on my boots.
Finally I was bare and, rolling onto my back on the bed, I
began to touch myself -imagining all the while that it was my
master's hands that touched me. It wasn't, by any means, a new
fantasy, but this night it was imbued with the reality I now
knew.
Imagination and memory merged together and it was as if Qui-Gon
were really in the room with me, touching me, bringing wild
delight. And when I was done and I opened my eyes and turned my
head there he was, standing, no, *leaning* against the wall,
face flushed, a dark spot staining his leggings.
Wanton still, I stretched, watching him watch me, and I spoke,
"I was thinking of you, Master."
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