Disclaimer: Not ours, but we're playing with them anyway
Qui-Gon sat regally in a large, surprisingly comfortable chair
in the middle of a dais. From his vantage point he could easily
see the townspeople who filled the square and lined the
surrounding streets.
They had all come to watch him. Him and his padawan as they
joined their bodies together for the first time. Mating under
the bright spotlight of the noonday sun.
He didn't believe it was going to make a whit of difference to
this dying planet, but at this point it was the effort that
would count. If they could convince the populace of Artuine
that they had exhausted every single avenue, they had agreed to
be relocated away from the dying planet. His padawan had dug up
some ancient scroll with a checklist of superstitions and
outlandish rituals. The one they were about to perform was the
last.
He could still see Obi-Wan's eyes, large and luminous, their
grey depths coloured with ivy.
"Master, we could do this for the Artuine and then they would
trust us and allow us to move them to a new planet."
His padawan could be very persuasive when he wanted to be.
"Do you realise what this will entail, Obi-Wan? In order to
fulfil this ritual, we must become lovers!"
"Let me take care of the details, Master. You will represent
AtLun, their god, and I will be the people, petitioning you for
favour."
He had touched his padawan's cheek then, running his knuckles
along the soft skin. Lowering his head he had been brought up
short Obi-Wan's fingers covering his mouth. "Wait until the
ceremony, my Master."
He hadn't seen his padawan since.
He would have no trouble making love to his padawan, that much
he knew. Even with the spectators, his body thrummed with
excitement. But what would become of them when they were done
with the Artuine? Would they be able to go on as if it had
never happened?
A murmur rose through the quiet crowd and Qui-Gon's attention
was drawn to the figure making his way slowly trough the throng
to the long sweep of stairs that led up the dais. Qui-Gon felt
his heart speed, his penis already lifting in anticipation.
He determined he would follow his own council this day and live
in the moment.
Obi-Wan walked slowly towards the dais in the centre of the
square. He had been fasting since the day before and the long
walk in the hot sun was conspiring to make him feel
light-headed and dizzy. He could feel the throb of his pulse,
like a drum, beating inside his body.
He stopped at the bottom stair, closing his eyes and centring
himself, letting the Force fill him and clear his mind. Looking
up he caught his master's eyes and the crowd around him
disappeared. He smiled at the man about to become his lover and
began to slowly ascend the stairs.
It was hard to breathe. Not just that the air was thick with
pollutants, and the crowd was packed around them twenty deep.
It was hard to breathe with your heart swelling in your throat.
Obi-Wan, his padawan, almost a knight, looked much the same as
he always had. Graceful, lithe, hair touched with gold. Centred
in the Force, the power of it a halo around him. Qui-Gon had
thought him beautiful before. When Obi-Wan was fifteen, and he
could see in the teenager's face the shadow of the man he would
become. Then he had held the beauty of potential, and respect
well-earned.
But now, climbing those stairs so slowly -- Obi-Wan was lit
with the beauty of purpose. Dedication to their cause, joy in
their work. And, beneath that, something Qui-Gon could just see
under the swirling collars that brightened Obi-Wan's eyes,
something more.
Respect, gratitude and love.
Qui-Gon watched Obi-Wan approach him, and had to clench his
fists in his sleeves, hands hidden, controlling himself with
more effort than it had taken in decades.
Reaching the top of the dais, Obi-Wan knelt, pressing his hands
and forehead to the ground. The wooden boards of the dais were
warm from the sun and rough, unsmoothed and scratchy against
his palms.
"Oh great AtLun," he said as he raised his head, still
kneeling. "We offer our greatest bounty -ourselves- and ask
that you bless us with a portion of your great wealth. As we
join ourselves to you, make our world live again." Lowering his
hood, he held out his arms in the Artuine ritual gesture of
offering.
He opened his mouth, but no sound came out and he shut it again
quickly. Seconds were passing, and Qui-Gon couldn't explain the
sudden sense of prescience that filled him. What did it mean?
What did this mean?
He took a deep breath. Though he knew his voice was deep, and
that it could be rough, but now he was startled by the depth of
it as the words rolled from him, bouncing off the wall of
people that surrounded them. They shook with power he couldn't
claim.
"Show me."
Obi-Wan shivered as his master's voice passed through him,
seeming to settle in his belly, lighting his body on fire. He'd
always believed Qui-Gon to be a handsome man, but today, with
the sun shinning on his hair, with the voice of a god speaking
through his lips, however figuratively, Qui-Gon was more
beautiful than anything Obi-Wan had ever imagined.
He closed his eyes for a moment and let his master's aura flow
to him. Opening them again, he began to disrobe, capturing
Qui-Gon's gaze, seeing desire leaping within.
He let his robe slide from his shoulders and off his arms to
pool around his feet. The heavy material whispered against his
tunics and settled with a soft whoosh. He moved his hands to
his belt, noting that his master's eyes no longer looked into
his own but followed the movement of his fingers as they slowly
worked loose his belt.
His penis surged within his leggings and he nearly stumbled
where he stood as he read the breadth of the desire in
Qui-Gon's face. He could feel the Force twining between them,
curling around them and holding them together. It was with
wonder and joy that he removed his tunics, both at once, not
hurrying but not drawing out the moment either. He had, after
all, been waiting for this for a lifetime, though he had not
known it.
His fingers did not falter as he bent and undid the fasteners
on his boots, pulling them off easily before untying his
leggings.
Looking down at the body revealed to him, Qui-Gon could not
hold back a low moan. Born of simple lust, it grew into
something that spoke of awe as well. His part of the ceremony
was to take what was offered to him, so he did not move or
reach for Obi-Wan. But he tried to tell him with his eyes how
much he wanted him, how he longed for this between them.
He'd never known he wanted this, but he'd been blind before.
And now the Force was telling him quite clearly that this was
what it wanted, and it was going to have it, so he might
as well enjoy the ride.
Obi-Wan's hands were reaching for him and he bit down on his
lip, determined to make his young lover proud and fulfil the
role assigned to him. Those hands were going to be so warm when
they touched him...
Obi-Wan had expected to be tense at this point. If anything had
made him nervous it had been the thought of reaching into his
master's lap and releasing his penis, bringing it to fullness
with his hands and lips, as the ritual decreed. But now that
they were here and it was time to do it his hands were steady,
his eyes clear and his heart hammering with anticipation.
He knelt between Qui-Gon's splayed knees, licking his lips as
his hands pushed the tunics out of the way and reached for the
ties on the familiar brown leggings. His hands brushed against
the long length of Qui-Gon's penis beneath the dark material
and he stroked it once before carefully pulling apart the cloth
and reaching in.
He eased Qui-Gon's erection from the confines of his leggings,
running his fingers along the silky length and bending forward
to kiss the tip, letting his tongue swirl over the crown. There
was no need to work his master's penis to hardness, it appeared
that AtLun was eager for the offering.
When Obi-Wan kissed the tip of his penis, Qui-Gon thought his
legs would give way. Fortunately he was still seated, or the
AtLun would have embarrassed his followers by falling on his
face, or down the stairs. As it was he reached for the arms of
the chair and grabbed onto them tightly, knuckles whitening,
and held on like he was going to fly apart.
There was an appreciative sigh from the crowd.
Obi-Wan looked up into his master's eyes, fingers still tracing
the veins and bumps that defined the large phallus. The
sapphire eyes had darkened to almost black and Obi-Wan could
see himself reflected in them. He shuddered at the look of
wanton need that he saw in his own face.
He reached around the side of the chair and retrieved the small
ornate vial he had placed there earlier. Standing, he held the
vial aloft, asking for the sun's benediction. He unstopped the
small bottle and poured oil onto his hand. The thick liquid
pooled warmly in his palm and, setting the vial back on the
ground, he bent his body forward, supporting himself with one
arm against the chair and slid his oil-slicked fingers into
himself.
The voice of the crowd rose around him with a gasp, but he
ignored them, straightening and looking into his master's eyes.
He held Obi-Wan's eyes after the younger man prepared himself,
knowing that, even though it was for a good cause and Obi-Wan
was in no way ashamed of his body, this had to feel awkward to
him. So he held his eyes and let all the love and pride he felt
show through, hoping that the touch of worry would pass.
The crowd seemed to press closer, and Qui-Gon flung his arms
outwards, as if throwing lightning bolts, and they stepped
back, almost flinching, as if he had. The polluted air was
charged with Force.
For a moment Obi-Wan felt the weight of this world resting on
his shoulders and then his master smiled and suddenly none of
the rest of it mattered. He stepped forward and grasped
Qui-Gon's penis, using the oil left in his hand to slick the
hard shaft. His own erection jutted out from his body, aching
with need.
He looked deeply into his master's eyes again, letting the love
that was filling him spill out through his own eyes. Gripping
the sides of the big chair Qui-Gon sat in, he pulled himself
into his master's lap. His knees gripped Qui-Gon's thighs, the
material seeming coarse against his bare skin.
He reached one hand up to Qui-Gon's shoulder, steadying himself
as he leaned back and grasped the heated erection, guiding it
to the entrance to his body.
Obi-Wan's hands seemed to burn where they touched him, and
Qui-Gon thought he might burst on the spot. Not very god-like
of him, so, with a massive effort, he restrained himself. With
a tenderness that he hoped spoke of the years of admiration he
had for his padawan, he touched the younger man's face, where
it was tight with concentration, and then ran the fingers of
one hand over the pursed lips.
Knowing his padawan's enthusiasm in everything he did, it would
be a wild ride, but Qui-Gon wanted to be sure it started at
love.
Obi-Wan nuzzled the fingers that touched him, offering his
heart with the motion.
Closing his eyes, he let his head fall back as he pressed his
body down until Qui-Gon's penis breached his opening. He gasped
at the feeling of fullness. He had expected pain, a slight
burning sensation the texts had warned, but instead all he felt
was full and right.
He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, pressing down,
taking more and more of Qui-Gon's erection into his body until
he was sitting, bottom pressed tightly to Qui-Gon's hips. The
cloth of Qui-Gon's leggings seemed harshly cool and rough in
contrast to the silky heat that filled him.
Gripping Qui-Gon's shoulder's tightly, Obi-Wan raised his body
until just the tip of his master's penis remained inside him
and then he let himself slide back down the long shaft,
shuddering as it rubbed against his prostate. Lifting and
dropping again, this time Obi-Wan let his body fall a little
faster and he gasped as the added momentum rubbed Qui-Gon's
penis more firmly against the pleasure point within his body.
His grip on Qui-Gon's shoulders tightened as he began to
eagerly ride the large phallus that penetrated him. Up and
down, harder and faster, out and in, again and again. He could
feel the Force dancing around them, caressing his skin like
streaks of lightening.
Pressing his feet against the sides of the chair, he used the
extra leverage to speed his movements. The wood of the dais
began to creak with each plunge, the rhythmic noise soon joined
by the shouts of the crowd. "AtLun. AtLun. AtLun." They shouted
over and over, their voices flowing through him as his pulse
had earlier.
He began to wail, a low, keening sound that tore from his chest
as he rode his master. He was so close. A strong hand closed
over his penis and his wail turned into a shout, his body
jerking as he came. His master's body bucked beneath him and he
could feel a hot stream of fluid bathe him as Qui-Gon came
inside him.
Letting his arms drop to wrap around his master's waist as he
collapsed against the man he loved, his face pressed against
Qui-Gon's neck. He could feel the Force flowing around their
joined bodies, felt it's blessing on their union and love
overflowed his heart.
Holding the trembling form of his padawan - his lover, now, for
he would never give him up, come Sith or the Council -- Qui-Gon
used both arms to wrap his cloak around the naked body and
dropped his head to hide his face in the spiky, sweaty hair.
It wouldn't do for the people to see their God crying.
There was a feeling of pressure in his ears, and a sensation of
weight in the air, but he thought it was just the explosive
nature of the lovemaking and the powerful climax he and Obi-Wan
had shared. The people around them were murmuring, voiced
filled with joy and awe, and then the sound of it changed and
there was fear and uncertainty as well.
With an effort he opened his eyes and turned his head to the
side so his cheek rested on the damp softness of Obi-Wan's
hair. It caught in his beard and he decided he liked the
feeling. The people were staring -- at them at the sky, and at
the world around them. Qui-Gon tilted his head back and
swallowed a gasp.
The largest cloud of Force-energy he'd ever seen was gathering
above them. Like a towering thunderhead, only this was the
purest white, shot through with silver streaks of energy that
were not lightning. A low rumble of something that was not
thunder pealed out over the city. People grabbed at their
neighbours and shook, frightened.
Tightening his grip on Obi-Wan, who was barely responsive,
Qui-Gon made sure the younger man was fully covered by the
cloak, and then opened his Force-sense to the world around him.
The Force had accepted their offering, as if it were AtLun
itself.
The storm opened with a bang.
It raged. For moments -- hours -- days, he couldn't tell, it
was so strong -- the Force rained down power on the little
planet. It cleaned the abused air, healed the tortured land,
rebuilt the destroyed forests. Taking a bit of energy from
every living thing on the planet, the Force healed.
As the catalysts, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan were active participants
in the process, though they did little more than hang on to the
web of life that was woven, and each other. They clung to each
other.
And when it was over Obi-Wan was still in Qui-Gon's arms.
Shivering and trembling, his skin too pale, his eyes darkly
smudged. Qui-Gon didn't imagine that he looked any better.
The citizens had abandoned them, running for safety, seeking
cover from the energy that lashed around them. They were alone
on the dais, their chair miraculously intact.
Their souls intertwined.
Qui-Gon managed a weak chuckle, and kissed the top of his
lover's head, groaning at the effort it took to stand, both
hands supporting Obi-Wan, holding him close. Strong legs slid
around his waist, making him easier to carry.
"What, Master?" The words were soft and faint, Obi-Wan's face
nuzzled into the crook of his shoulder, his breath warm on
Qui-Gon's neck. He felt a small lick. With one hand under
Obi-Wan's ass and the other around his back, Qui-Gon carefully
negotiated the creaky wooden steps.
"I was just thinking how hard it will be for the Council to
accept this."
"To accepts us?" No fear, they both knew they could never be
separated now.
"Think of future missions, beloved; we could be asked to
perform this duty on all threatened planets."
Obi-Wan laughed with him at the image of the Council sending
them out to perform that duty.
"I think I could be happy forever with those assignments." He
murmured, licking again. Qui-Gon kissed his head.
"But we don't have to wait until then." He whispered, Obi-Wan's
body heavy and lethargic and trusting against his own. "Just
until we get back to our rooms." He could feel the power of
Obi- Wan's love in the gentle curve of the lips at his throat.
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