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Qui-Gon

I have always enjoyed hot baths. I have done some of my best thinking immersed. I had quite a lot to think about, and a headache from tension and need. My groin and anus/passage were sending insistent, heated, tiresome messages. As I went about my preparations I worked through my whole repertory of tension-release breathing with minimal result. I was not calm.

Obi-Wan's questions had brought many things into focus for me, touched on issues I was still struggling with. The confrontation with the Council, while unpleasant, had been straightforward. This working of things through for and with my apprentice was a mine-field of complexity. I recognized my retreat to the bath chamber as retreat, and my need to regroup as both real and necessary.

I was allowing - encouraging - him to think, explore, experiment, be present in the Moment with his body in this. Why was I finding it so difficult to give myself the same permission? My old controls and methods no longer worked for me, as the past weeks had clearly demonstrated. New strategies - witness last night and six unbroken hours of sleep - were there to be found, needed to be found.

Indeed, it seemed that Obi-Wan, from his harmony with the Force, of his body with mine, the effervescent light of his spirit, had a greater comfort and acceptance of my sexuality than I currently did. Not a situation I could allow to continue so unbalanced, for myself, for either of us.

As the bath filled I stood before the mirror. One of Eren's long ago suggestions had proved unexpectedly helpful: carefully revisiting the Exercises for Clear Sight. I had not yet fully managed to see myself as Twari had, but I was more confident of Obi-Wan's viewpoint.

Seven deep breaths, balanced, resting stance. Settle the Force-sense in the vibrant light of Obi-Wan's Force- signature. Open inner and outer eyes to See the outer presentment.

/Height. Power. Beauty. (Beauty? He saw me as beautiful?) Pain and repression overlying a deeply passionate serenity. Subtle humor, comfortable authority, stubborn willfulness twinned with integrity. A pattern of Jedi strength. A hint - /protect, ward, hold, help - of brittle and tender privacies, vulnerable humanity, frustrating empathy. (Oh, he was perceptive, now even more so.) Teacher, partner, guide, friend, lover-in-potential. Balance/poise/equilibrium with him, between us. (Thank the Force, grown and mature enough indeed.) Eyes to drown in, burn in, be pierced by, warmed by, Seen by. Immense physical presence, size, magnetism. Sexually fascinating. Scarred, experienced, ... raped (own the word, the truth of the term, of the experience. Own it, acknowledge it, Master Jinn.) Desirable. Ageless. Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn, Master, Qui-Gon, man, beloved. (Oh, Obi-Wan, let this indeed be your perception, that you see so much of the truth of me....)/

Close the eyes, take seven deep breaths, leave go the outer focus and settle the senses in the root of the self. Open eyes inner and outer on yourself from yourself and See how you see yourself, descriptors only, leaving aside all judgement for this. See the body, the flesh, the present vessel of spirit and Force.

/Tall. Underslept, verging on underweight. Swordsman's build, muscles, strength, agility. Middle years, mid-length hair, bronze-brown beginning to thread with silver, Master's hair. Big hands, long bones, long feet, crooked nose. Male. Quiescent organ, restless groin, empty ass (raped, forced, used, enjoyed, pleasured, loved). Ragged breath and too-revealing eyes. (Shame and pain and pleasure and need.) Capable, scarred, experienced, worn, confident, damaged, reserved, exposed, proud, desired, desiring. Jedi, Jinni, Qui, Qui-Gon, Yoda's student, Knight, Obi-Wan's teacher, Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn, Master, man, me. (Oh, this was hard, it was always hard, heart-poundingly difficult.)/

Close the eyes, take seven deep breaths. Center and focus.

Now, recall the first image, accept the perception, the insight it offers. Understand the reality and the ephemerality of it. Match the image with your own self knowledge without resistance or condemnation of either. This is a place of knowledge, a path of understanding. Note and remember those things that are disharmonious, incomplete, inaccurate. Grow with the knowledge and let the emotion flow within the Force, acknowledge, learn and let go. Let go. Let go.

Seven deep breaths and return again to present and single awareness.

It was a very subjective exercise, but it had served me well in the past, and my perceptions in it were usually proved correct. I refused to place dependence on it, however, particularly now. It was extrapolation and intuition, not objective fact, and the situation required I not act. He had to come to me. There was one question he had not yet asked, and until he did, I was constrained.

The bath was full, steaming, waiting for me. I got in and let the hot water soothe the aches in both body and spirit.

His questions had been careful, thoughtful, deliberate. He had been reaching for knowledge and acknowledgement from/for both of us.

Consider what those questions had been: my adherence to the Code in the matter of intimate relations - sex - between Masters and apprentices, between he and I. A question that showed he had read and understood those strictures, and an answer that upheld my beliefs and confirmed his analysis - an intellectual assurance.

Then the question of possible deliberate influence on him and my qualified response. I was part of the equation that was his life, his environment. I could never be wholly sure or objective about such a thing, was (and I acknowledged to myself, would continue to be) aware/afraid of the unconscious influence I had/could have on him, and frequently had to remind myself to give that fear/awareness/ anxiety to the Force, that most of what was, just was. My answer, qualified as it had been, had comforted him, eased much of his worry/ trepidation, though it had little effect on his anxious excitement.

My answer to his third question both justified his intuition/suspicion and gave him concrete terms to work with - a knowable situation, a solvable problem. For me, it had made me put into simple words the heart of my immediate, personal, unsimple dilemma and acknowledge an aspect of the situation that I had been avoiding (if I didn't call it that, then I didn't have to deal with it that way.) It had been rape. It had. (And more and less and other, but....) And now I could put the word away for the present and continue to work on coping with the results.

Then there was his unconsidered question as to his effect on me, and whether that had a part in my reply to the Council. Obi-Wan's own burgeoning sexual presence and awareness was actually less wearing in some ways than his obliviousness had been, even though I had not - could not, must not - quite answer that part of that question. It was a pleasure to watch him grow so well into himself. No, it was the part I had answered that gave me cause for concern, urgent need for reflection. My concentration, reflexes, presence in the Moment and in the Force were not what they should be, needed to be. I felt they were compromised, and not merely 'not yet recovered.' Why had I not given Obi-Wan that word, that answer, when I so clearly thought it?

Because I was afraid of that word's truth, not certain.

Such of my controls and disciplines as did still serve me would not let me speak so out of fear, to him. Until he had asked, I had not known, had not made that distinction for myself. Now that I had, I could do something about it, because objective observation told me that nothing was damaged beyond recovery, nothing changed or reshaped past acceptance, effort, recognition and will and use. I could let go of that fear. (My wise apprentice, continually teaching me myself.)

His final question, the witness-query, words that created reality in their asking and answering. That demanded and demonstrated maturity in the asking, as I acknowledged it in answering. Well done on his part, even to the traditional words. Very well done. It surely could not be wrong of me to be proud of him in this. For I was proud.

I sloshed about in the bath. It had cooled from almost too hot to a pleasant and penetrating warmth. A touch to the heating controls and it would stay that way for as long as I wished. The heat had relaxed my muscles, eased the tension of stress and conflict and not enough exercise. I began, deliberately, attentively, lovingly, to wash, soaping and scrubbing each part of me, starting with the feet.

I could accept the knowledge, the gift, of my body's willingness and pleasure in physical and sexual stimulation. I could not let it rule me or distract me. I could, I would, starting now, with this bath, develop new rituals and controls - meditations and disciplines incorporating and using my strengthened needs and new self-knowledge. And if Obi-Wan was indeed going to ask the question he had not yet asked, the one I was not allowing myself to hope he would ask, then we could work together toward this discipline, this ordering and acknowledging and use, for both our need, our knowledge and pleasure. Serenity in acceptance, serenity in knowledge, serenity in exercise, serenity in love and looking out for each other. Serenity in passion.

So. I had scrubbed all over, my skin tingled, flushed and alive, like and unlike after the astringent and spiced bath the first night on the Shekhet rath flagship, before the formal reception, the mission still only potential, the pattern events would take yet unfixed. New rituals, new beginnings, actions and preparations that would allow for possibilities but not assume.

I submerged myself completely for a moment, wetting my hair, letting the warmth caress my face, then knelt in the waist deep water. I had scrubbed myself clean; now I would acknowledge that heightened sensitivity/ sensuality I had been struggling with, respect those places in myself I had fought/thought to subjugate, repress, and needed instead to harness and accept. Honor my body as I would Obi-Wan's, as a gift for him, for myself, as an offering to and vessel of the Force, the Light.

The stargrass oil soap, a fresh bathcloth. Feel, don't think. Sliding warmth over skin, the peaking tenderness of one nipple, the other, the spike of heat curling down and through my groin. Yes. Underarms, collarbones, the skin at nape and behind my ears. Elbows and wrists, knees and ankles, feet and hands and belly. Gentle worship, laying foundations that could uphold, withstand the fire. Shoulders and back, sending runnels of water and heat down the line of my spine. Face, brows, nose, lips, ears. The coil and spring of my beard-hair, my mustache as I lathered and stroked, combing my fingers through the short, dense strands. Outer and inner thighs, buttocks, reaching for the deep crease between my cheeks, that center of me, laving the eager muscle. Yes. Yes, there. More hair, curls clustered thick at the root of me. The heavy softness of my scrotum, the weight and shape of my testicles, the crumpled skin over them. The heat and length and thickness of my half-hard cock. Water and soap sliding under my foreskin, exquisite smoothness on sensitivity, the welling slit and the space where the one ring had been, that I had considered keeping. My flesh. My vessel. My skin and responses and sensitivities and strengths. Reclaimed for my use, for my pleasure, my delight in the service of the Light.

I drained the bath and stood under the shower to rinse and to wash my hair. Cool droplets washing away excess oil and soap and strain. Turning under the water, life pattering down on my face.

Thick towels are another happiness. I dried myself briskly and thoroughly, wringing out my hair, combing and catching it back with a clip. I paused a moment, sorting through ideas and impulses. How clean did I feel the need to be?

Just one more place, one more specific ablution. (Could I reclaim that, too, for my own use? I could. I would. Daily ship-regimen or no.) No soap, just water: warm, cleansing, filling, renewing. My focus determines my reality. Voiding that water would void the taint of violence, my lingering rage, anger at Twari, at the Council, at myself. As the water gushed from me I could feel the shame and embarrassment I had locked away even from myself begin to drain as well, my belly cramping in release and relief. I breathed through the strong sensations, relaxing the deep muscles, releasing, letting it all flow from me, resting in the moment. Emptied. Cleansed. Saving only the capacity for pleasure, the memory of pleasure/sensation, the knowledge and skill, health, wholeness.

A careful wipe with a warm damp cloth, the soft towel, as if dressing a wound that had finally begun to heal. What a remarkable feeling of unity/balance with myself. I felt light, filled with light and fire. Into my sleeping chamber to dress and finish readying myself. Prepared for possibilities, assuming nothing, acknowledging my need, my desire, finding the balance within myself, within the Force, between Master and Qui-Gon, Padawan and Obi-Wan, flesh and spirit.

Make of myself a fit gift for Obi-Wan, whether or no he chose to ask for it; fit again within myself, if not yet physically or emotionally ready for the work of my - of our - calling. One evening, one ritual did not yet make me fit for missions, but I would be, we would be, and by grace of the Force, in the Light and with love, now I believed I knew how to get there.

In the privacy of our quarters my night-robe would be sufficient, the rest was made simple by long practice, new acceptance and the seeds of anticipation.

I worked the oil deeply into my passage with a generous hand, stroking and stretching my anus with two fingers, three. No need or desire for the plug just at present, though I had one laid ready, all the pleasure-toys cleaned and prepared.

Deep breaths. Wrapped in my night-robe, wrapped in the Light, body washed and oiled, hair combed and caught back, flesh and spirit, mind and heart made ready, prepared. The Force sang within me, between us. My part was presence, stillness, attention. Not action. I had achieved a kind of calm, the beginnings of peace within myself, but Obi-Wan's nearness/presence/brilliance vibrated in my bones, made my knees tremble with desire for him. Deep breaths. Mastery, this moment, and the next and the next. Let the feelings flow through me into the Force. His choice. His asking.

I was as ready to face him as I was going to be. I went out into the common room.

Obi-Wan

Cennit is a card game played with a deck with forty-eight greater trumps, sixteen minor trumps - face cards - & forty suit cards. Players, usually two to four, play through the deck, making up sets of two, three or four cards - pairs, triads or quads - with groupings consisting of obvious logical or numerical associations, as well as less obvious symbolic, alchemic, historic or literary associations, depending on the variation being used. The higher the number needed for the set, the more cards used and the wider the allowed associations, the harder the game, numeric pairs of suit cards being the easiest. Extra points are given for making 'great pairs' (or quads) in a pairs game. The version my Master and I most often played was middling simple, with the major and minor trumps but not the suit cards, using both numeric and symbolic associations.

Qui-Gon was very quiet as we played, though not distracted enough to let me win, I had to work for it. We played our usual pairs game, and I kept seeing him and me in the doubled images. Tree and vine, rain and wheat, field and plow, Force and flow. This was right, our being together, Master & Padawan, friends, partners, lovers-in-potential. Now that I knew to look I could see both the need and desire in him, the hard control constraining him, the care he took physically and within the Force to give me the space he felt I needed. I had no doubt of the strength of those controls, no doubt that he would eventually find a new physical equilibrium - I could see that even just over the course of the evening, with whatever he had meditated on in the bath, he had gained a small, new measure of peace within himself - but I hated the strain in him, the almost-distance between us.

The tower-fortress and the knight. I looked up from the cards and knew I loved him. Was in love with him. Wanted him. Wanted to love him, wanted to learn from him and make him laugh. Knew myself to be in love, old enough to recognize that gift as having value. Knew that what I felt was more than a desire to ease his distress or explore my own lust and curiosity, though it contained both. Knew that I did not require his approval in this, my new sexual awareness, but that I wanted it; that I had a confidence in his strength and love and Light that he perhaps did not, and a confidence in my own strength and love that I would have to show him. Words were only a way in. Feel, think, act.

The lady and the moon. His hands shook almost imperceptibly as he laid his own last cards down next to mine - the day-star and the lord - making the two pairs into the quad known as the Great Lovers, celestial and terrestrial, living and unified. The will of the Force. He closed his eyes and swallowed. The cords of his wrists stood out in sharp relief. /"O is my heart betrayed thus to my eyes...."/

I left the cards where they lay and went to him. He was holding himself very still, breathing in strict order. I could smell the damp warmth of his just-washed hair, the clean musk of his body. He opened his eyes as I sat next to him on the couch, our thighs not quite touching. I could live forever in that fathomless blue....

"Master, Qui-Gon, let me help." I reached towards him, my fingers tracing a tentative path along the line of cheekbone and jaw, very aware of the texture of his skin, the coarse softness of his beard. "Let me love you." I raised my chin; not far to look to see his face, not that much shorter than he now, and let my eyes speak for me. His eyes were clouded and dark, but neither hard nor forbidding. /Please let me love you. Please love me back, I love you, I know you love me, love me that way..../

"Are you sure, Obi-Wan? Are you certain this is your desire, and not mine coloring yours through the bond?" He had to ask, even after all that had been said earlier.

He had taken my hand in his own, looking seriously into my face, weighing what he found there. His touch was both gentle and electric. I could feel the faint tremor that marked the effort of his restraint vibrating in me.

"Yes, Qui-Gon. I have searched my feelings and meditated on this."

I opened my thoughts and feelings to the training bond, letting him see the results of my day's work, even the embarrassment at ignorance, my shyness at being inexperienced in the face of his knowledge, the squirmy feeling I still hadn't dealt with at how he had gotten, been forced to learn some of that knowledge. It was suddenly very important to me that he understand - in heart as well as head - how seriously I had taken the choice, the asking, that I would not devalue what we already had together by making a life-decision ignoring what he had taught me. That he had taught me well enough to know my own mind and heart and feelings.

I was getting the sense of him along the bond now, a lightening and thinning of his shields and a trickling hint of how much he did want me, of his body's ache for me, as well as the great wash of warmth and love and friendship that I had known for so long. I could only guess at the strain caused by his fierce, constant suppression of any hint of lust, his desire for me, complicated and compounded by all the Piiresti had done, lest he influence me somehow.

(Oh, I could pass happily into the Force now - his desire is for me, beyond question or doubt he did want me that way, loved me.... The struggle in him - my Code-defying Master - to do the proper thing in this, not because it was the Code but because he deeply believed it to be right, only made him dearer to me, sharpened my happiness, for I could make it all right. My choice, my asking, his need answering my own desire.)

I pressed a kiss to his palm. "This is my desire: that I, Obi-Wan Kenobi, share love with thee, Qui-Gon Jinn, and give thee the gift of my First Night, and however many nights thereafter as the Force may will."

He curled his fingers over the spot I had kissed, cherishing the offering, face pale, eyes wide and dark and deeply moved. After a moment he replied, low-voiced, "I am most honored by thy love, thy trust and thy most generous offer. I answer thy desire with my own: that I, Qui-Gon Jinn, would share love with thee, Obi-Wan Kenobi, and accept the gift of thy First Night, offering thee in return the secrets of my body and my knowledge of and delight in the acts of love as they are shared between men, this night and however many nights thereafter as the Force may will." /Thou hast my heart already, accept this damaged/aged flesh as well./

Yes. He said yes.

"Only beautiful to me, Qui-Gon. Only beautiful." I whispered, answering the thought I did not think he meant for me to hear. "And you've had my heart for a long time, I just didn't know it."

I was going to start babbling in a moment if I wasn't careful. Now of course I was nearly lightheaded with relief and terror and excitement (he said yes!), where a minute ago I had been the perfect picture of serenity (not so, I lie....) Quoting that rogue Guerra to myself now, I was babbling. Too much, too much.

I folded myself into his embrace, as if I were thirteen again for just a moment, reaching for basic lessons - ground & center. His arms were hard around me, his breath disordered, sweet on my face.

We sat there, just holding each other, for a long time.

Qui-Gon

He came to me. My beautiful, careful, thoughtful Padawan made me a formal First Night offering. I sat there - we sat there - need and desire and love shuddering through me and I felt it echoed in him, resonating along our bond. Freely offered, oh so joyfully accepted.

Asked and answered and we were both too wrung out from what had gone before to want anything more than comfort and closeness in that moment. All we did was sleep together, as we had on countless missions, but never before in the Temple, in my bed, that I hoped would now be our bed.

Later, though. Later I trusted we would sleep soundly from physical satiation, and not emotional exhaustion. I pillowed my cheek on the soft brush of Obi-Wan's hair, enjoying the silken warmth of lying naked together and joined him in slumber.

I awoke after some few hours, refreshed, suffused with a sense of happiness and well-being that had been long absent. Such an unlooked for gift, to wake with Obi-Wan in my bed, in my arms. He lay with the sheet rumpled down at his hips, one hand possessively splayed on my stomach. Entirely beautiful in the dim light of nightside. He has grown from the gangly, awkward, intense boy I first knew into an assured and beautiful man of compact, elegant strength, and lost none of his fire or intensity.

I felt him come awake, aware of my gaze. I had the delight of watching as he stretched and reached out for me in uncomplicated happiness: simple, joyful arousal. He knew exactly where he was, was precisely where he wanted to be, except that the feeling self, rousing before the thinking mind, wanted to be on top of me, not merely alongside. Neither my thinking nor my feeling self minded in the least. I gently kissed his eyes open, curled a hand under the nape of his neck and briefly worshiped his lips.

Taking my kisses as leave, he was on top of me, and he began to kiss me, touching and exploring with increasing enthusiasm. The brush of his braid painted tickling lines along my ribs, across my stomach as fingers and lips and tongue went dancing and tasting all over my torso, while I lay, holding myself still for him, enjoying this unexpectedly playful turn.

"Aren't you going to help?" He said throatily, kissing my fingertips and rubbing his face against my palms. "Want you to touch me."

I was happy to oblige, and we enjoyed a mutually delightful interlude of tactile exploration. Smooth skin over muscle, the fine play of sinew and the finding of sensitive places. Obi-Wan is not generally ticklish, but I was making him laugh and wiggle all the same. His own ministrations and discoveries were having a very similar effect on me. My apprentice is nothing if not a quick study.

Presently I wrestled us over so he was lying outstretched in joyful abandon on the pillows beneath me, flushed and grinning and shining with happiness and desire. I knelt above him and filled my eyes, my heart and spirit with the sight - so beautiful, so eager and ready to grow into himself and into the wider world. He moved sinuously, holding my gaze with his slow smile, arching his hips, his shaft rising dark and stiff and proud. Breathtakingly beautiful.

"Love me." Almost a plea. "Please love me, Qui-Gon Jinn." Knowing he wanted, but not entirely what. Knowing he wanted more, wanted me.

/Oh beloved./ "Oh, I shall. I do. I will." My voice very nearly a growl, a purr. /Forever, Obi-Wan Kenobi. I shall love you forever./ I knew the thought for truth, but not for speaking, not yet, this between us was too new, too unformed and I feared as yet too close to conflagration, for declarations such as that. I would not let obsession have us.

My words and my own heated look made him shiver with pleasure.

"Let me show you" I murmured, "how it can be between men."

He stilled beneath my hands, breathing very fast. I ran my palms in long caresses down his limbs, arranging him among the rumpled linens. A pillow, there, under his hips, raising him up and exposing all his hard beauty as his legs fell open and his head fell back on the bed. He'd never thought of putting a pillow there, and I could tell from the gasp and long purring moan just how much he liked this position. I liked it too, and kissed him deeply, letting him know.

I began to worship his body all over again, sensuously deliberate, thoroughly attentive. Working my way slowly to the eager, hard center of him.

I reached for the oil, and the movement caught his eyes, wide pupils tracking my fingers. He swallowed and shivered a little.

"Aren't you going to use those?" Glancing over at the box that rested by the bed, where the dish of oil sat convenient. Panting as my hands and lips and tongue found sensitive places. A hint of trepidation colored his voice.

"No. No need. Later perhaps. Those are icing, extras. I am going to use my mouth." He gasped, a breathless, eager noise and I smiled, suiting deed to word. He whimpered as I mouthed the head of his cock, sliding the foreskin slowly down, gently tonguing the weeping slit. [And my hands.] Again suiting deed to word, my oiled fingers traced his cleft, exploring that lovely secret country. Just the tip of my finger petting at the opening, and he gasped again, pushing, wanting. I laved and suckled his eager flesh as I slowly, so slowly, I would not have the least shadow of pain taint this, eased my finger into him, the velvet heat of him pulsing in me and around me. There was the nub I was seeking. He shouted and jerked, sheened with sweat. I rubbed it again as I sucked and smiled around the sweet hardness in my mouth. [That, my Obi-Wan, is your prostate.]

"Oh Gods above...." Mostly incoherent vocalizing, delightful music as I moved on him, in him. His hips were making little circles, tiny thrusts. He didn't want to hurt me, lose the pulse, wanted to move with me, didn't quite know what to do.

[Let go, love. I've got you.] I relaxed my throat and let him slide deeper, my nose buried in musky curls, my finger sliding further inside him. He bucked and wailed in surprise and delight and I used just a touch of the Force to keep him with me. I was suddenly glad for what I had learned, however I had learned it over the years, for all my varied experience, since it let me give such pleasure. My Obi-Wan, more beautiful in passion than I could ever have imagined. And eager and responsive and a delight to please. I was aching and hard and shivering with the need of him, the nearness of him ... he was so close....

Aroused, his eyes are green. He closed them as he came for me with a breathless scream, spilling himself into my mouth, his muscles tight and hot, clenching fiercely around the finger I had pressed deeply into him. So beautiful. The bitter-salt-sweet flavour of him fired through me, a stronger drug than any Twari might have used.

I did not come with him, though it was a close thing. I intended my first climax this night to be when he was in a state to know it as a pleasure he had given me, to realize and appreciate a little of what he was to me, what he could do to me.

His first climax had done no more than take the edge off of his youthful exuberance, and that was only to be expected, but I could sense he was not quite ready for more for himself just yet. Furthermore, there needed to be balance between us, give and take. I held him as his breath steadied and his heartbeat slowed, my head cradled in the warm hollow of his hip. He moaned and trembled as I eased my finger from him. The wanton pleasure in that sound made me tremble in turn.

He slid off the pillows and tangled his legs luxuriantly with mine as I moved up to lie beside him, keeping contact. We touched and caressed with light fingers, just the feeling of skin against skin a sensation to cherish.

"See, nothing else necessary."

He chortled. I drew a line of nuzzly kisses along his jaw, my beard just brushing at his neck, tickling at his collarbone. He sighed and rubbed back against me, buried his face in my hair. I could feel/sense words in him, working their way out.

"I watched, you know. Last night." Almost inaudible, muffled, felt as much as heard. A sudden wave of strong feeling - not quite guilt or shame, but youthful self-consciousness mixed with embarrassment and fascination, stiffened with conviction that there needed to be a particular kind of honesty between us, in this. I was so open to him that I could feel the corners and nuances of each emotional element. Fascination and, unexpectedly, care, were winning. I made an encouraging noise.

"Watched you ... using ... those things." He shivered against me again as he said it, his body confessing interest, fascination. "That plug. I wondered...." He pulled back a little, enough to see my face, look down into my eyes. This was difficult for him, this desire to talk, to ask, to know, even while his body desired nothing more than to do, but silence would have been harder for us both. "What it felt like," he whispered. "If you liked it, or if it was...." He swallowed and I smoothed my hand over his shoulder, gentling, accepting. "... need instead. I liked ... watching you." He blushed and swallowed hard; it was charming and it warmed my heart further that he wanted me to know, to have this known and understood between us. "I wanted it to be because you liked it." He buried his face in my hair again, hugging hard. Anxious spikes of emotion prickled through him.

I had forgotten the nervousness and embarrassment of virginal ignorance, innocence. (Not that Obi-Wan was truly innocent or ignorant in the broader sense of the words.) But this was an easy fear to assuage.

"It is all right, Obi-Wan. I know. It's all right." I rocked him in my arms and kissed the neat cleft in his chin. [And I do 'like it.']

Spoken through the Force he could feel as well as hear the truth of my words, the clarity of my feelings. He gusted a sigh that was mostly relief. "Oh, good."

There were still questions tumbling around in his head. After a warm, silent moment another emerged. "But, there was - is - need, too. I can feel it. An almost ... angry hunger." /And distress./

Obi-Wan sometimes is remarkably articulate. And I have often been surprised at the acuity of his perceptions. 'Angry hunger and distress' described it very well.

Honesty. With myself, with him. Straight forward honesty. Nothing else would serve. "Yes, there is. It distresses me, to feel out of control, at the mercy of my body. I have a ... 'need,' ... a hunger, as you say, for physical, sexual stimulation that is new to me. That I do not, entirely, know how to deal with." Or even if I can deal with it, alone. Fear, not certainty, implied, not said.

He was angry and distressed for me, on my behalf. He leaned up abruptly and looked away toward the window, face tight. "How could he do that. How could anyone do that? And why?" He turned back to me, eyes gone grey. "Why you?" he whispered.

The true heart of his question, his need to know. Why me, indeed. I reached for him, sifting my hands through his hair, winding his braid through my fingers. He curled into me, ear pressed unconsciously hard against my chest, seeking the reassurance of my heartbeat, my incontrovertible presence. "Hush, Obi-Wan. All will be well." This storm had been coming for some time now. I was not surprised that it arrived in conjunction with his own psycho-sexual awakening. Now to find words that would explain, give him the answers he required.

"This need was not created in me, placed in me, artificial or constructed out of whole cloth. It grew from that which was already part of me, emerged out of my own person, my needs and desires and inclinations. The potential for it was always there. Kiir Twari was the catalyst, not the cause of it. Do you understand?"

He nodded, a sharp movement against my chest. My careful speaking was letting him hear the words, as well as the comfort. "That potential was what allowed me to accomplish the mission. Twari likely would have done what he did, whoever had been sent. That it was me, and that I chose to let that ... hunger ... flower in me, also let me bring peace to all those people, and return to you, only a little ragged around the edges." I felt him smile, humor returning. "And knowing more about myself. Knowing more about giving and receiving pleasure."

I used the advantage of my height and mass to lever us both up until we were half-sitting, propped on the pillows shoved against the headboard. That way I could see him better. The tumult of painful feeling was evening out, fear and anger draining away. This was not the last of it for him, but now he knew that he was not expected - that I did not expect him - to deal with his feelings alone. Another useful lesson for me to remember as well. I was alone in this no more than he was. We had each other.

I let him think and feel through what I had said for a moment before continuing. He was watching me, the green in his eyes overtaking the grey as he properly parsed my last sentence and returned to a sense of where we were and what we were doing. I went on. "I have new and stronger desires and impulses to contend with. Just as you" he looked up, startled, "will have, as a result of accepting this next stage in your own developing sexuality and choosing to grow with it and act upon it. Do you understand?"

A not-so-long moment, and he was nodding again, wide-eyed and serious, but not solemn, not at all downcast. Perhaps in explaining what had happened to Obi-Wan, I could continue to explain it to myself as well.

"Jedi first." He said, extrapolation and affirmation both relevant. Then an irrepressible grin curled the corners of his mouth. "I've been thinking about that ... plug ... all day." Color was rising in his cheeks as he showed me through the bond his abiding fascination, his inarticulate thoughts about penetration, taking, being taken. Powerful imagery, but we were not ready for that quite yet. I took a deep and settling breath, ignoring for now the insistent heat of my own desires.

"Have you now." I was smiling at him and he nodded again, a quick bob, still grinning. We both recognized the serious point underlying the banter. I held his glance. "An illustration of the issue at hand. That kind of - fascination - is to be expected, especially at first, and it is important to not let it become a distraction. But it is also important to note and understand the things that catch your attention, so that the real needs and desires that underlie the fascination may be met or dealt with, appropriately."

He was listening attentively, his curiosity undimmed by the lecture and his pleasure growing again from our proximity. The resilience and strength of youth.

"As with anything else new, you are not expected to have complete control or understanding at the outset, but understanding and control must be striven for. We will both need new meditations, new disciplines as we discover what has changed, and how." I found one of his hands, twined my fingers with his. He was old enough, and certainly wise enough to be able to hear his Master ask him for help, even this kind of help. He should surely know by now that being a Master did not mean omniscience, and that by asking I was affirming my trust and faith in him. "Together, I believe we can both find that discipline and control." His smile was growing. "And help each other to remember when to be disciplined, and when to relinquish control."

The look he gave me was enough to dazzle, his expression unshadowed by any dark or fear. "Jedi first," he repeated on a breath, absorbing the lesson, "but also people, men, with needs that can and should be met."

His hand on my hip was reminding me sharply of those needs.

"About that plug...." The low note in his voice vibrated between us, bringing us both back into this moment, this place. More than enough of lecture. This was Obi-Wan's First Night, my first night with Obi-Wan. Time to let go some of that control.

I had prepared myself, hoping but not expecting. I had made the box of pleasure-toys ready, habit and instinct. Obi-Wan, my information- and experience-sponge Padawan, had made his interest and curiosity abundantly clear. Why not share this with him now rather than later?

I untangled us from where we sat, leaned over and opened the box, letting him see all the varied array. "About that toy." I twisted back to kiss him, [And my liking it.] I nipped at the soft lips under mine, heat in my thoughts. "Shall I show you?"

His eyes had widened again, and the Force stirred between us, shafts of green and blue sparking and spiking, bright with anticipation. His tongue darted out to lick where I had kissed him, tasting me tasting him, almost unbearably erotic. "Yes." Wonder. "Yes, oh, yes, please." Heat and demanding glee.

Yes.

I guided his hand back to my hip, down to the top of my cleft, wanting his touch, watching his face, rousing again at the green fire in his glance, the warmth of his fingers as they began to explore.

He swallowed hard as he saw the sheen of oil, felt the slickness between my cheeks. "You're ... already oiled ... there ... aren't you." Not a question. Breathless, husky voice that went straight to my cock. I could see the flush of new arousal pinking his skin, pulsing at his groin. So. Preparedness was a turn on for my apprentice. It was somehow not a surprise.

His eyes went to the open box on the bedside table, his hand tightening on my hip. "And all the ... things ... are oiled, too." A little sound escaped him, between a gasp and a whimper. The toys were a turn on for him as well. The actuality of them, not just the thought, the idea. I was beginning to feel breathless myself, enjoying his discoveries.

"Yes, love. Ready to use, should you wish. They all have their pleasures." As I spoke I was arranging myself for him, a pillow under my hips, one in my arms, my legs spread wide for him to kneel between. My body knew very well what it wanted. I let the eagerness wash through me. Breathing with it. Letting him set the pace.

"I don't ... know enough." Almost inaudible, worry and want and desire all mixed. I twisted up to meet his eyes, still green and hot. "I don't want to ...."

/Hurt you, do it wrong./ Both thoughts hung in the air.

"Go with your feelings, Obi-Wan. You won't hurt me, and there is no wrong way that gives pleasure." I cupped his face, drew him down for a kiss, stroking my tongue across his lips, into his sweet mouth. I could feel his cock hardening against me. "Slow on entry is always good." Enough direction for comfort; I could feel his curiosity and fascination in the Force around us, flowing between us, sparking along my skin. Now I was truly grateful to Twari for the gift of the pleasure-box, since the contents - the ideas, the possibilities, the chance to explore - gave such delight to Obi-Wan, would give such pleasure to us both.

"Yes, Master." I shivered at the soft determination in his tones, the smile in his eyes as worry vanished, replaced with heat and tempered with love. He hesitated a moment, letting his feelings guide his choice. Then he settled between my legs and I clutched at the pillows and buried my face with a caught breath as a cool hardness probed gently below my balls, slid up to press against my anus. I leaned back into it, deliberately relaxing as it entered me. Obi-Wan, not Twari. My, our, desire and choice. The brief spike of aprehension was subsumed in heat as a delicious shudder rippled up my spine, as one of Obi-Wan's hands spread me and the other gently worked the probe further in. Obi-Wan, not Twari. I rocked against the pillows, his knees brushing my thighs. It felt so good. I could hardly breathe for joy and love of him.

He was a natural at this, the giving of pleasure, a credit to the Light. Deeply powerful sensation washed between us, interpenetrating us, wringing sound from my throat, my heart, noises I had never thought to hear from myself.

Wonder and surprise coloured his voice. "You like this, don't you? You really, really like this."

"Yes. Oh yes." More moan than language but he had chosen to use the slender shaft-probe with all the bumps and ridges and was sliding it in and out of me now with a fascinated slow thoroughness, exquisite sensation, and that it was his hands, his curiosity doing this to me, for me, his love enfolding me.... I abandoned words and writhed for him, wanton and gasping, mewling in pleasure. I could hear his breath catch and the sound caught at my heart. Oh, my Obi-Wan....

"And would you like me, there?" He purred throatily in my ear, air tickling my nape as he licked and nibbled the tender skin, nipped at the lobe, twitched the toy deep inside me, sliding it against that special place. I shouted and convulsed against the pillows, shuddered under his hands.

"Yes! Yes, stars, yes!" I was coming, shattering in light, pulsing myself out in long waves. I wanted him in me with a fierceness that was almost desperation. That I was coming, had come was no matter - if there was one thing I had learned from Twari it was that pleasure did not stop with climax, that I could come again and again if I wanted. And I did want. And would teach that pleasure to Obi-Wan.

He held me, nuzzling at my neck and stroking and petting my ass, my flanks, until the spasms subsided and I could almost think again.

"Oh, my." Wondering laughter. "I thought you said you weren't a screamer." Said with a smile in his voice. I twitched and shuddered under his avid gaze as he drew the knurled thing out of me with slow relish, leaving me empty and oh so ready for him. He may be yet a virgin to much of what we might do - that I wanted to do - but not for much longer, and he had always been inventive in ignorance, never naive. I could not remember ever having screamed before, not in love/sex play, and would have to tell him so, later, when I had breath and words again.

A moment wherein I could catch my breath and pull myself together a little. Curious, inventive, reasonably well read and quite observant, but my Padawan-love had as yet only theoretical knowledge of the particular act he - we - were contemplating. I very much wanted this to be a delight, a pleasure for him. I needed more of my awareness.

He had wiped down the toy and put it on the towel rather than back into the box (my fastidious Obi-Wan) and was straddling and sitting on the backs of my thighs while he ran his hands in longs sweeps down my back, gentling the tremors. It felt lovely. I could feel myself coming back to where I needed to be for him. Someday, I would be able to abandon myself to the moment, the sensation of him, knowing he would catch me, hold me, anchor me from being wholly lost, swallowed in the Moment, in the Physical.

But not today. Not for this. Not to mention I was so enjoying his discoveries.

Suddenly he chuckled, a quick chuff. Now he was feeling shy, a little uncertain. "You know, I never imagined this. Not before last night, anyway."

"Imagined what, love?" It was as if my voice were syrup, dripping out of me. He shivered at the sound, at the love.

"Sitting on you." He bounced, a tiny, cheerful motion, causing me to chuckle in turn. "Touching you, making you come like this. Any of it."

I had never allowed myself to imagine any of this at all, and that it was happening was a joy almost so deep as to be pain. He was tracing the line of my spine over and over, lightly, relishing each bump and dip, circling slowly in that so-sensitive triangle just at the base. I was going to be whimpering again in a moment. Twari had cultivated that sensitivity, but Obi-Wan, all unconsciously, had reclaimed it and was now reaping the benefit.

"Your skin is so soft here." Wonderingly. His fingers began making tentative forays again into the cleft between my cheeks, gentle, inquisitive. I moaned when he touched me, just there, a kiss of his fingertips, love making all the difference. For all that Twari had taught me of myself, stretched me to accommodate his pleasure, I had not realized until this moment how much I had kept from him, how much I had reserved, that was now Obi-Wan's, freely, for the asking, for him to take. How I wanted him to take it.

"So soft."

I had to swallow before I could speak, broken, need-filled syllables. "Up, love ... let me ... situate myself better." He knelt up and I folded my boneless, too-long legs under my stomach to give him easier access this first time, and an angle that would let him fill me deeply.

He had reached for the oil, was smoothing it onto himself, dripping a little more onto me and rubbing it in, all over my cheeks. I was relaxed and ready enough not to need more, but the sensation was lovely. I arched under his hands, murmuring encouragement.

He whimpered as he entered me. I groaned at the sweet pressure, his bulk stretching me. My Obi-Wan is not small (not as thick as Twari, but inches longer) and to feel him slowly pushing into me, filling me, entering into that secret place where I so wanted him to be was almost unbearably wonderful. That he had the control to go slowly spoke well of his increasing ability to take lessons from one area and apply them to another, and such a pleasurable application....

"Oh stars. Oh Force. Oh stars and moons above." Fully sheathed, he rested against me, breathing in gulps. I could feel his heat, the hammering of his heart against my back, my own pulse where we were joined, beats that phased apart and pounded together, making music, the drumbeat of a dance as old as human time. I was hardening again, making my own needy, eager noises; he began to thrust, reaching for the rhythm, losing it, finding it, hands gripping hard at my waist as he cried out in hot and senseless words. I rocked beneath him, equally incandescent. [Yes! There! Harder, faster, don't stop don'tstopdontstop.] He was moving in me deeply, sliding and slapping against me, my balls, my cheeks, rubbing and pushing along my prostate with fierce need, faster and faster pistoning strokes echoed in both our breathless cries.

"Qui-Gon!" Screaming my name and shuddering against me he came, and came, and came, jerking, pulsing, planting his seed far inside me. One hand had fumbled from its hold on my hip to grope beneath, clasp my own aching length, spasm around my cock, and I was coming at his touch. (His hand on me, his heat and cock and come.) Long temblors, shaking us both. Obi-Wan is not light. I did not have the breath to scream, and this release was far too deep for sound.

After a timeless moment I tipped us over onto our sides, and we lay there, shaking, filled with light, tangled together, still conjoined. Oh, this between us had such power, such capacity and force. But we would rule it, not it, us, lest we lose our way. We would make a balance, and this fire would serve the light as the rest of our lives and action did. We would. We must. Inarticulate conviction and resolve twined between us both, affirmation making harmony in the song of the Force.

I must have dozed then, for I awoke turned in his arms, his hand stroking through my hair, tracing my beard and brow and lips. Gentle, reverent hands. I opened my eyes to his - greeny almost violet.

"Oh, Master. I had ... no idea. None. That was...." He stopped and swallowed. "I love you, you know."

"And I love you. I have for a very long time." More slow touches between us, the conscious, warm comfort of being woven together, flesh to flesh, heart to heart. Our hands made paths for the light to follow, graceful curvettes of energy and delight. The night was by no means over, dawn still hours away, and there was the prospect of all the nights to come as well.

I desired to see him come for me again, particularly as I had not seen his face the second time, lost in my own ecstasy. He lay curled in our embrace, mouthing at my nipples as I traced swirls and patterns down his back. His youth had served him well, and I could see he was not sleepy, merely languorous, one leg hooked possessively over mine. His Force-presence bright and serenely hot, happy.

I reached down to fondle his flanks while I nuzzled at the prickly softness of his hair. "D'you want more, love, or are you happy with this for your First Night?"

He grinned up at me, eyes sparkling. His hand snuck between our tangled legs and began to play teasingly with my re-awakening cock. Always inventive, never naive, and with a natural sensuality that had only wanted the permission of his mind and heart to be released. His teeth nipped lightly at a nipple, then sucked and soothed. [More. I want....]

He could feel me hardening under his hand, the catch in my breath as he tongued the peaking nub. I filled my hands with his firm buttocks and circled my thumbs at the top of that sweet divide. Encouraged, he wriggled back against my grip.

"In me. I want you ... in me."

Oh, my wondrous Obi-Wan. There was nothing I wanted more in that moment. I closed my eyes and tried to steady my breath, find my voice. "You are sure you want that." I had to be sure, I would not push him faster or further than he was ready for. I would not hurt him. There is too much pain and hardship already in our lives, as Jedi. Hard lessons had no place in our lives as lovers, not yet. Certainly no more this night.

"Yes. Yes, I'm sure." There was no apprehension in him, only growing eagerness. "I want to feel ..." He was bracing himself up against my shoulder, pressing me into the pillows. "What you felt. With that thing ..." Holding both our cocks together in his strong hand. "In you. With me ..." Rocking, hard against me, voice low and intense "In you. I want you there." And he swooped down on my mouth in a devouring kiss as I arched beneath him. "Want you in me."

A joy to teach, a bursting joy to love. [Yes. Oh yes, beloved. So you shall have.] He might not come from penetration this first time, some never did. But then again, he might well, given what he had said, his fascination with the toys, his gratifyingly strong response to my earlier touch, my finger there. And I certainly had skill and experience enough to give him pleasure. We would go slowly, carefully.

So many new sensations to offer him with this worship of his body. I turned him over onto his stomach, admiring the view. He half-twisted back up to look at me.

"I want to see you, your face. We can do it that way, can't we? Want to see you."

"We can indeed, and so you shall, Obi-Wan." I soothed, and kissed him, deeply, tasting his sweetness as he drunk eagerly of me. [I would see your face as well, beloved. But let me prepare you, this is not a thing to rush at, not for a first time.] I released his mouth and he lay back down among the pillows. "Trust me."

He wiggled invitingly. "I do, I do. Ohhhhhh."

The lightest touch on the sensitive, tender fold just where buttock meets thigh, my thumb just brushing there, over and over, then down inside his thigh, up along the curve of muscled ass, only definite enough to be a caress and not a tickle. Then both thumbs, both cheeks, a firmer touch and he was really wiggling now. Kisses and nibbles to the skin above the cleft, working down, between, spreading his legs wide, encouraging the needy arch of his back. His knees were shaking and he was making wonderful noises into the pillows. He cried out and jerked in a long shivering tremble as I reached my goal, kissing and licking and laving.

I have always liked rimming, giving and receiving. There was little Twari could teach me of that art that I did not already know. I hoped that Obi-Wan would discover it to be a thing he enjoyed, and set about pleasuring the hidden center of him, to my great delight as well. His heat and musk and the music of his voice were going straight to my groin, and I knew I would be ready for him long before he was ready for me. A sweet and fiery torment.

[Like that, do you?]

[Stars! Yes!]

Even his Force-telepathy was improving, the advantage of a new and novel application. I loved him with my tongue a little longer, occasionally venturing down to suck and fondle his balls, tease at his perineum. His moans were nearly continuous. No doubt of his enjoyment. It pleased some deeply visceral part of me that this small thing could so delight him. But he wanted more, a more I very much wanted to give him. I tongued deeply into him one last time, rejoicing in the pulse of the loosening muscle, the sharp taste of his musk, the breathless music of his voice. Then I kissed my way up between his cheeks and away, leaving him panting and wiggling at the loss.

[Wha'?]

I soothed him with a hand on his back. "Hush, love, it's all right. Time to do something a little different. It may feel strange. Let me know if there is any pain, any discomfort at all, or if I should stop or slow down. Will you do that for me?"

He nodded in little jerks against the sheets, his words blurring together but the intent clear. "Yes. Yes, Master. Qui."

"I will not hurt you, love. I will not."

"I trus' you. 'Ll say."

"Thank you." I kissed between his shoulderblades, a sensitive spot discovered earlier. "Good. Now relax, that's right, relax...."

He had taken one finger earlier without trouble. I used plenty of oil and it slid in again as he sighed and arched with pleasure. My other hand roamed up and down his back, caressing, touching, as I gently stretched him and very gradually introduced a second well-slicked fingertip. He was tight, but not painfully so, aware enough to work with me to relax. With my second knuckles well inside him I stopped for a bit, letting him adjust. I murmured low syllables of of love and reassurance as he gasped and clutched at the linen, even as his muscles spasmed and pulsed around my fingers. Sweat was beginning to sheen the planes of his back and my own breath was short, but we still had a long way to go. I wanted him to enjoy all of it.

"Ready for more?"

For answer he pushed against my hand, sinuously trying to drive my fingers deeper.[Yes. Yesyes.]

So I shifted and scissored in that tight heat, nudging his prostate as his moans grew louder and more breathless. So beautiful. I knew I could come just from watching him writhe on my hand, but that was a pleasure for another time, not tonight. I withdrew slowly and he bucked and cried out as I smoothed on more oil. Held his breath as I began to press - oh so carefully - three fingers in.

"Still with me, Obi-Wan?" I could feel his legs trembling against my knees as I knelt between them.

A jerky nod and an explosive, wailing "Yes!"

So beautiful, and so responsive. His hands were shaking as well, tiny spasms as he clutched the pillows. I began to understand Twari's insistence and delight in doing, in giving this sensation, this intense, indescribable pleasure.

Three fingers, deeply seated. I was still for longer this time, letting Obi-Wan find his breath, his center. He had not asked me to stop, made any indication of distress under my close watch, but I knew this for an overwhelming sensation, this stretched openness, taunt and fine-edged and just this side of pain. And my hands are not small.

His erection had flagged a little, so I cupped and stroked him, fondling him, pleasure and distraction both. Relief bloomed in me as he hardened quickly at my touch and began to move again, rocking almost imperceptibly between my hand on his cock and my hand in and on his ass.

"So beautiful, my love. So beautiful." I started to curl and slide my fingers in and out with his rocking; stopped when he gasped sharply and stilled.

"No. Good. Don' stop. Jus'... slower. Li'l slower. Good slow."

His breath rasped harshly, but beyond the one spike of what was as much my fear as his momentary discomfort there was no distress. I breathed again and powdered his back with kisses, and moved in him as he asked, very slow and smooth. My eyes stung with love and acknowledgement of trust. Not afraid to direct me, not afraid to ask for what he needed - wanted - desired - from me. I was doubly glad because this was not a rhythm that would have occurred naturally to me; but by the deep resonance of his moans, the way he was again moving in slow waves and the easing of the tightness around my fingers I could tell it was obviously giving him great pleasure.

After some minutes of this his cock was hard and weeping in my hand and his moans were becoming punctuated with whimpers and gasps. [Want you. Want you. You in me.]

I stilled again, letting him rock against me.

"One more thing, love, and then you shall have me."

[What?] Less slurred, a little more present. "What thing? Like your fingers." He flexed his inner muscles and we both gasped. I could feel sweat trickling in rivulets down my back. Oh I wanted him.

"I like it too." Breathe. Remember to breathe. "But you wanted to see me, and I, you. This will make that easier."

"Oh." Another rocking wiggle against my hand.

I smiled and started to ease my fingers out. "And you were curious about the toy, the one I was using last night." His breath caught and a long shudder went through him as my hands left him. "What it felt like."

"Ohhhh. Oh." His back arched as if seeking my absent touch and I steadied him, one palm rubbing circles at the base of his spine. He hummed and moved in happy response to the renewed contact. "Oooo." His 'ohs' were remarkably expressive. I felt each one in my belly, stoking the fire in my groin.

I had found the probe I wanted, gave it an extra drizzle of oil. Approximately the same thickness as my own shaft if rather shorter, it was smooth-surfaced and resilient, with several gentle undulations as it broadened slightly from tip to base. I slid it slowly and steadily into him, mindful of the angle, adjusting carefully as I went. Listening to his quick, excited breath. My anus was pulsing in time to the fluttering of his hands and I was so hard it hurt. He took it in easily, moving and pushing with me until his muscles clamped around the slightly narrower part below the last undulation.

"Force! Oh! Stars that's good!" His whole body was trembling.

I kissed up and down his spine, across his shoulders, lavished an extra kiss at the spot between his shoulderblades, giving him a moment or two to adjust. Then I turned him over, scattering pillows. I kept a touch of pressure against the probe with the Force, and knelt back to watch as he processed the sensation on his back, as the shaft found a new angle within.

It was like watching an earthquake, a birth, intensely personal and glorious. He gasped and writhed against the sheets, gleaming with sweat, making little noises of need and wonder and building desire, all the while looking at me with such love and happiness in his face. I was hard put not to come at the sight, and he knew it, that small struggle for restraint increasing his own delight. At last he held himself still, little ripples and eddies of sensation continuing to float through him, through the Force.

"Stars, Qui. No wonder you like this." Another involuntary shudder curled through him. "But I still want you."

Green, green eyes traveled from my face to my weeping erection and back, scorching me with heat, with love-desire.

He reached up for me, as I oiled myself with shaking hands. All his muscles tight, mouth open as he gasped for air, I helped him kneel up, drew the probe from him - drawing a shout from him - and positioned him over my lap, lowered him onto me, onto my exquisitely, agonizingly hard cock. Slowly, slowly, slowly filling him with myself.

Obi-Wan was keening by the time we were fully conjoined. I could not speak for lack of air. I took his face in my palms to look in his eyes though I could hardly focus, to make sure he was with me, assure him I was with him. Wordless connection and affirmation and love passed between us, sparked in the Force around us. Glorious fulfillment.

We clung together, shatteringly happy.

"Oh, Qui. Oh." He whispered brokenly, wrapping limp but strengthening arms around my shoulders, his hips shifting in tiny movements until suddenly he was fully impaled, sheathing me entirely in sweet, slick heat. We swayed together, a rocking dance, bathed in sweat, in Force, in love and the intensity of the Moment. He was drinking from my mouth, my lips were swollen with his kisses, his swollen cock filled my hand. We were in the place we most wanted to be, together in this moment, in this bed, piercing and pierced by each other. [More. Oh, more. Come. Make me come.]

Enough of small and restrained. He wanted me to move, wanted to move, to take and be taken, to give and be given. Dance the dance to completion.

One last deep kiss and I found the strength to lay him back against the pillows, his legs splayed wide across my thighs. Encouraged, egged on by his frantic cries and my own tempestuous need I began to move in him as we both desired, hard and deep and starting slow, then stroking faster and faster and harder and angling deeper. So good, so sweet, Obi-Wan pliant and eager and iron-hard beneath me, urging me on and on and on.

There was no air, only fire, this heat between us, within us. No earth but our conjoint bodies, our straining seed, no water but slick sweat and the thunder of blood in our ears. Nothing at all but light and desire and Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon.

My orgasm seemed to come from the soles of my feet, the very roots of my being. Such a gift he had given me, the worship of his body, the wakening and nourishment/encouragement of his sexuality. There was not sound enough on Coruscant to express my joy, the depth of my feeling, so I came silently, a cresting wave of Force and feeling and semen/seed that roared through me to spill forth into him, around and through us both. I could not think, could not breathe, and he was coming even as I finished pulsing within him, his muscles milking the last of my seed from me, his own ecstatic Force and feeling merging with mine until the room glowed blue-green in the shadows. At last he lay in a boneless, wanton sprawl across my lap, mouth open, eyes closed, transcendent with joy. We were both breathing in great sobbing gasps, some ingrained discipline taking over to keep us from hyperventilating, from simply dissolving in the Moment.

I eased myself slowly from him, enjoying him enjoying the shudder and twitch of the aftershocks, a gradual descent from the airless peaks of ecstasy.

It was only a moment, and I was collapsing, utterly spent, into his arms. He gathered me to him, kissing away the tears that spilled down my cheeks, that seemed to well up from that same deep place our climax had come from. Slowly the breath that labored in my lungs smoothed, and thought and coherence returned. I sensed no worry in him, not even at my unusual emotions, only a steady peace, a joy that sparkled throughout the room, the satisfaction of self settled firmly in self. Some part of him knew better than I did that my tears were from an equal joy, connection, a profound and anchoring release.

We were well matched in this, as in so many other things. Well met, well matched, well mated. Intimacy between us would not - could not - always be this moving, but there was no reason not to look for a great deal of continuing enjoyment, connection, deeply satisfying pleasure. I could already feel the beginnings of balance between us, a trust and acceptance in us both that we could each look to the other for needful things in this without fear.

This love between us is not a path to the dark nor is it dangerous, so long as we do not lose sight of who and what we are. Balance. Discipline. Appropriate controls. I lay my head down within my Obi-Wan's embrace and let weariness and sated comfort wound through with love carry me into sleep.

Obi-Wan

So that was what sharing love could be like. Somehow I was sure that this was not typical of first times, that I had been given something quite special and glorious in the love of Master Qui-Gon Jinn. I was fiercely glad I had waited, glad I had come to this with an open heart and seeing eyes as well as willing flesh. With an open mind and joyous spirit. So very glad that it was my beloved Master, Qui-Gon, I was with. That he slept, at peace, cradled in my arms.

I had awoken first this time, and was enjoying the pleasant lethargy, Qui-Gon's head nestled comfortably in the hollow of my shoulder, hair soft and damp against my ribs, one arm curled around me. His weight on me felt right, satisfying. I don't think I had ever seen him so relaxed. It shook me a little to realize just how much strain he had been under, now that it was gone.

I was watching as he opened his eyes after some little time: refreshed, unshadowed. Not at all like other times recently, when I had woken him, thrashing, wet with the sweat of nightmares, or seen him wake with a cry and a start at nothing I could perceive. The report had not enlightened me about any of that. He smiled when he saw me, a curve of warm happiness.

I hardly realized where my thoughts had gone, or that I was speaking them aloud until I heard my voice.

"I read the Piiresti mission report, you know. It was hard to read. Parts seemed like they were in shorthand, and, well, there's a lot it doesn't say. That I knew happened. Things that can sort of be deduced from the Healer's Report and by reading between the lines. I mean, all that stuff in the Cultural Notes about the sexual dynamics and how it affects the day to day running of things. And, well, the Council isn't known for sweet-coating incidents in the internal reports, however pretty the public reports look. Just look at the grilling they gave us after Ma!droon and all the tiny details they wanted."

He had startled and stiffened a little when I began talking, but not for long, just keeping his arm more snugly tucked against my ribs. I could hardly believe that it was my mouth saying all this - I knew I needed to process it, but out loud? In his (our, maybe, I hoped,) bed, with him, both of us naked? He was listening, the silence attentive. Words kept coming.

"And I know it was bad. I didn't - don't - know how bad. And I wanted to help. I still want to. And I want to understand." There. That seemed to be everything that wanted to spill out of my mouth. I was sure my ears were flaming.

He stirred against my shoulder, kissed my collarbone softly, then the dimple in my chin, the tip of my nose, the space between my eyebrows as he leaned up on one elbow. His mustache tickled. His face as he looked across at me was serious, but not unhappy, not forbidding. The sense of peace and serenity that warmed the room had not diminished. I hadn't broken anything by speaking.

"No, Obi-Wan, there is no harm in asking." He answered my feelings, the expression on my face first, and I breathed an unexpectedly heart-felt sigh of relief. "Your observations on the report are quite accurate. What is there derives from my notes, particularly, as you saw, the Cultural Notes and of course the wording of the treaty, its implications and ramifications. But I did not actually write most of what is there. No, that report is largely my Master's doing."

His closeness was a comfort, the strong beat of his heart, the weight of his arm across me. His expression was untroubled, but I could tell that he was not finding it easy to give me the words. Finding them for me anyway, helping me understand. Force, but I am lucky to have him for my Master. I tightened my arm around his waist, hugging, holding fast.

He went on. "I was ... quite ill, when I got back, as you recall." I recalled that the initial contact team had been Calamarian and Twi'lek, distinctly alien in physiology from the Piiresti, and the food-compatibility issue had not come up. Another of the assumptions made.

"While I was still in the Healer's tender care," (Said in an especially dry tone. My Master is not fond of Healer's Hall, though he appreciates their presence, and the necessity of their skill.) "I gave, told, Yoda what I could, and of course he had the recorder with the official signed holo-copy of the treaty and my daily log and notes. When I was well enough, several days later, to report to the Council in person," He smiled at me, the little sideways 'my Padawan' smile that always warms me to my toes. I grinned back. "I remember how indignant you were, though you carefully did not show it, that you were not allowed to accompany and support me in that meeting." His voice softened and he brushed another kiss across my temple. "I honored you for that feeling, and also for your control. Your presence in that meeting would have made things very difficult, but by waiting in the antechamber you helped, just by being near, within my Force-sense, centering, anchoring me."

Qui-Gon laid his head back down on my shoulder and we held each other silently for a moment, re-anchoring.

"They did want details, but even Master Piell was squeamish about putting some of them into the official record. I do not remember who, but one of them started to say: 'Well, we know so much about how their sexual functions and dynamics work now, and all because maverick Master Jinn obeyed the Will of the Force and became a sexual submissive to the Shekhet Kiir before the negotiations even got started.'

"'In order to get the negotiations started' someone else broke in, correcting. Then Master Yoda thumped his stick and lowered his ears and everyone stopped talking.

"'You are not to put it that way. Embarrass my Padawan you will not!' And he proceeded to determine what would and would not be put in the report.

"I was ... quite glad ... that he took that view. What I learned was invaluable, both the knowledge of the Piiresti, and the knowledge of myself, but...."

This was hard for him to speak of, even yet. Words could define reality even as one's focus did, and this was not a reality he wanted made any more real than it already was. I laid my cheek against the top of his head, my throat tight.

He took several centering breaths and went on. "But not the sort of thing one wants to have casually detailed in a record as widely available within the Order as that which is filed in the Temple Archive. Even for such a successful mission and significant learning experience."

I could feel him smiling wryly against my skin. A little puff of warmth tickled me as he snorted in gentle self-awareness of a sop to his pride and privacy. The wavery sense of suppressed distress dissipated in the faint note of humor in his voice. I opened my mouth and I found myself asking the question I had been trying to understand for weeks, but had never meant to actually ask.

"But how is it that you.... How did you bear it? How are you bearing it now?"

My Master was silent for a moment. Then he turned a bit in my arms, settling himself more comfortably.

"I could understand, once there only a very little while, much of what drove them, through the Force, observation, experience. So much of impulses and motivations that we had had no notion of. The pre-mission briefing was inadequate to say the least, and sheer ignorance caused many of the initial problems. We, I, did not know enough about the situation I was going into. The Will of the Force was for peace and understanding achieved from within the rath, the Shekhet, and not imposed upon it. I saw no reason not to follow that prompting.

"Unlike the victims of coercion, violation of various kinds we have seen and tried to help on other missions, I was not a victim. I did choose to accept the mission, to listen to and follow the will of the Force. Furthermore, and perhaps more importantly, while there was a power and a status aspect to my submission to Kiir Twari, it was never about violence or depersonalization; use and even abuse, yes, but arising out of Twari's desires & expectations and the Shekhet rath culture, and no little about their biology as well.

"I did not, and do not, excuse Kiir Twari for what he did, but understanding it (and having used that understanding to resolve the whole situation, resolve it well) allows me to accept what happened. No, it was not right what he did, but it is over now. Yes, some of the consequences are taking time to heal and some of them are a real nuisance. And it was never a question of danger to my self-hood. There was too much at stake for the innocents in that quadrant. I had as well... too much to come back to, you in particular. Too much I would not let myself lose sight of, even when the Force was only a dim ringing in my ears."

The Force-distancing side-effects of the drugs, the food. I shivered involuntarily. All Jedi are trained to cope with being cut off from one's Force-sense, but that doesn't make having it happen, even partially, anything other than horrible. He had endured most of the three months with his usually intense connection to the Force severely attenuated, relying on his ordinary, unenhanced (though not inconsiderable, either) perceptions & skills to carry on. It was as if that hadn't effected him at all, though I knew that could not really be true.

Sometimes, amazing as it seems, I forget that he is a Master, and just what that means. Just being Jedi, a Padawan, so often means doing hard and thankless things. I was suddenly very glad that I had not been with him, that by staying at the temple and doing a quarter helping teach in the crèche and working with the initiates, I had let him work the mission as a Knight, a mostly independent agent, and not required him to also be Master, with immediate responsibility for my well-being in an intolerable situation. Sometimes the Council really is right. I hugged him hard.

He gave me a little half-smile and reversed our positions, so I was cradled on his chest, surrounded by the green-gold warmth of his presence.

"Submission, rape, was not a known hazard of the mission. I did not choose to put myself in harm's way. It happened. It was not pleasant to endure, but now it is finished. We go on. I cannot regret the peace gained, the knowledge gained, both personally and for the wider good. I am myself. I know that self better now."

The rich tones of his voice were soothing me, centering me again. He had found his own center and serenity again, more surely than at any time since he had returned. I was unexpectedly touched. I had had no expectation of being given this much of his confidence, entrance this far into the privacies of his feelings.

"You know more of yourself now. We have begun to know more of each other. There is only light in that. Besides, and in retrospect...."

I looked up to see a deep twinkle in his eyes and the suppressed grin I was beginning to love and dread. (Impish. Who would have thought Senior Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn could be impish?)

"Some of it was really quite fascinating, as well as educational, surprisingly pleasant and interesting. Shall I tell you about the first night there? I thought of how much you would have enjoyed that reception, and the getting ready for it, beforehand."

He was well settled into narrative mode, giving free rein to his natural skill as a storyteller. His eyes were half-shut, his sight inward. I snuggled further into the curve of his arm and listened attentively, enjoying the warmth of him, the scent of his skin, the comfort of his callused hand on my hip.

"I was met on arrival by Tiir Wanik and two boys: 'Brothers and not the youngest, nor the most ignorant of the unRinged, but certainly young enough' was how they were introduced to me. Wanik made a graceful gesture and Fann and Klaa (they told me their names later) led me to the cabin-quarters made over to me, talking energetically the whole way. Did I know about the party in the Kiir's honor that night? Celebrating his return to command and oh, yes, of course, my honor too. Not often that the Shekhet received such a visitor as I, a principal of a rath they had not known before. What a splendid color my hair was - was it the fashion on my own ship to highlight hair with silver? (Piiresti hair thins with age, rather than changing color.) They would have to try it themselves. Perhaps I could tell them how I did it? Before I had to field that question, we had arrived. I would like the cabins, they were sure. The best in bathing facilities, and surely I wanted to get out of all those clothes, now that I was on safe-ship-ground and no longer in hazard-space."

He described the size and opulence of the rooms, the astonishing array of personal hygiene equipment, making me laugh at his own bemusement, letting me see through his eyes the first clues that there was far more to this culture than had been known.

I reveled in his voice, in the textures and images that came through the training bond. The pleasant bite of the cool, spiced soap, the soothing touch of hot, oiled water in a bath administered by the two boys, giggling and vying for good report. Having them explain each and every implement and unfamiliar item in the room while letting Fann and Klaa think it a privilege to be so tested. (I could so easily see the look of aloof serenity my Master used to disguise the fact that he was drinking in every word, every nuance and morsel of feeling and information, processing it in his quick and capacious memory. I'd seen that look many times, knew how useful it was.)

He went on to tell me of the rest - the dynamics and interplay of the people at the reception, the jewelry, the food, the status games and dances. It was all quite pleasantly erotic and different, and I began to get a better picture of the Piiresti as a people, and not as, well, villains. Qui-Gon's words brought the dryly written facts of the report to bright life in my mind's eye. My Master is a closet sensualist - his description of the clothes he was given to wear was particularly vivid.

As he spoke I thought of the picture - the marvelous vision - Qui-Gon Jinn must have made in that outfit: broad shoulders and nicely muscled chest bare, the subtly defined bulge supported in front, the sweep of the pleated fabric and the tantalizing curves of cheek just visible in back. My groin began to heat again, my flesh to stir. I enjoyed the feeling without the least need to do anything about it at present. He was right, I did enjoy the tale, and thought that if by telling me what he could, by processing in word and flesh what had happened, owning and acknowledging the knowledge, the good, the achievement, however hardly bought, and acknowledging and letting go the pain, we would both be served, and the Light would be served in the healing.

When the tale was done, he fell silent, and began peacefully tracing meditative patterns on my breast with his hands. Suddenly, almost irrelevantly, I remembered the question he had set me at firstmeal, all those hours ago. The teasing way he had suggested a summary paper. Looked at from a particular point of view, I'd even given him one, or we had made one together, if flesh were paper and delight ink. I kissed the bit of him that was nearest and sought my voice.

"Sexual activity is valuable for Jedi when it helps us maintain our balance and serenity, within ourselves and among those closest to us. It can be valuable as a learning experience, and separately, as an expression of caring, love and trust. I love you, Qui-Gon." I snuggled deeply into his embrace, feeling as never before the Force-ful harmony between us, our bodies, minds, spirits, hearts. [Master and beloved.]

His arms tightened around me and his lips ghosted across my hair. "And I love you, Obi-Wan." [My bright Padawan. Beloved.]

I slept.

Qui-Gon

What I learned among the Shekhet rath, from Kiir Twari, was invaluable for the Jedi, for the continuing interaction between the Republic and the Piiresti. What I learned personally was of incalculable value, and some part of me knew that, hoped that, even in the midst of feeling as if some essential part of me was being unraveled, fearing that my own self/integrity had been so breached (and with my own complicity, if not my will) that re-integration, reconnection with those things that made me Jedi, and Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan's Master might not be possible. The report that Obi-Wan had read had been assembled out of shorthand, in great desolation of spirit. I thank the Force that feeling was only fear, and not foresight.

The body accommodates, even to extreme situations. Humans are actually very flexible, versatile, adaptive, and as Jedi we are potentially even more so. The Piiresti mission stretched me - stretched both of us, Obi-Wan as well - in many different ways.

Kiir Twari's true parting gift to me was not the pleasure-box, grateful though I am to him for it. No, it was the knowledge I have now of myself, and of my feelings for Obi-Wan, and what we can create between us. How deeply we can please each other. How much we can teach and learn of each other.

With my mind and heart and spirit satisfied, my body is willing to be as well. - Free, finally, of the desperate empty ache, the clawing need.

My Padawan has gained a degree of independence, of self-assurance. Knows himself better. He too, has started to integrate and work through his feelings, put unhappiness behind him without loosing sight of the knowledge to be gained. He will be a great Knight, a great Jedi. From a certain point of view, Kiir Twari brought us together in a new way. I cannot but be grateful to him for that. I will have and hold this gift for as long as life and the Force allows. I will not take lightly this delight, this warmth, this love in the here and now, for our lives are not easy, and little in them is assured for long.

But in this moment we are Master and apprentice, lover and beloved. Jedi, and men.

As we lay tangled warmly in sated stillness, our separate selves enfolded in joint embrace, I watched the growing dawn that would bring in the new day, and all the days and nights ahead. We are taught to learn, grow, know ourselves in body, heart, mind and spirit. Obi-Wan sleeps in my arms and in this Moment, I know peace.

**Fin**