Summary: A wedding reception and a surprising revelation.
No spoilers. Minor references to JA Canon. Unbeta'd because I'm
a spaz cadet tonight.
Disclaimer: The Jedi are not mine, no money made.
I had done many foolhardy things in my life, I reflected, as I
climbed the old bricks of the palace. As a child, I was
insecure and desperately eager to prove my abilities, testing
myself and learning quickly as possible to show my worthiness
to be a Padawan. After I was selected by Qui-Gon, I pushed
myself even harder. My venerable Master was so learned and
experienced in the ways of the Jedi. I needed to absorb every
lesson I could, to satisfy my insatiable curiosity and justify
his pride.
I found that in the life of a Jedi, however, there were some
things that I couldn't absorb, couldn't tolerate with eternal
calm and politeness. Tedious receptions were one of those
things. We had journeyed to this planet for the wedding of the
King's beloved daughter. King Deeyan was an old friend of
Qui-Gon's, though I had never met him. I knew that they had
been friends when younger, after Yoda and Qui-Gon had settled a
diplomatic dispute between the old King, Deeyan's father, and
the democratic government on a neighboring planet. Qui-Gon
visited Deeyan several times during my apprenticeship, but
always when I was scheduled for specialized training.
We had not attended the marriages of the King's older two boys,
prevented by other responsibilities, but Qui-Gon was the
designated Knight Protector of the daughter, Marisae. If
anything had ever happened to the King, Qui-Gon would have been
responsible for the girl. It was an unusual obligation for a
Jedi, who rarely tied themselves to individual families or
promised to fulfill one particular planet's cultural duties.
Qui-Gon never explained why the Council let him accept the
chore but I assumed it was the King's importance. Now that she
had reached her majority and taken a husband the issue was
moot, but Qui-Gon's presence was a symbolic necessity at the
wedding. Our other chores were shunted aside.
To my displeasure, Qui-Gon's presence had not appeared
necessary throughout the reception. I searched for him once in
the crowd, hoping to use his company to escape the inane
chatter of this planet's young courtiers. He had disappeared.
The King also was gone; I wondered if they were taking the
opportunity to renew old acquaintances. Finally, feeling
slightly sick from the rich wines and fatty foods, I slipped
outside and started climbing. Our room was only eight floors up
on this side of the building. I could reach it easily.
I challenged myself, avoiding use of the Force, relying on the
power of my strong arms to pull myself up, using the crevices
between the bricks for finger and toe holds. After a day spent
sitting, watching the bride, groom, various attendants and
family members engage in the ceremonial rituals designed to
bind the two in wedded bliss, I needed this exercise. Without
the cushion of the Force, I could fall and severely harm
myself. Qui-Gon would scold if such an event occurred, but as
long as my own strength held out, he would never know.
Reaching a balcony five floors up, I swung one leg over the
railing to take a break, resting on the heavy stone. The voice
of the King commanded my attention. Like Qui-Gon, his voice was
exquisite; a deep baritone that he used to great effect during
the wedding speeches. "Confess old friend, how would you do
him?"
I had assumed correctly that Qui-Gon and the King escaped the
reception together. I could see them, sitting in the room on
plush couches, feet propped on a low table, holding liqueur
glasses. Even in the privacy of our rooms, I had rarely seen my
Master so relaxed and casual. Qui-Gon's cloak was tossed over a
chair with the King's ceremonial robes. Dressed in black tunic
and trousers, the King was an unusually handsome man, with dark
brown hair that almost matched the sherry brown of his eyes. He
was taller than I, but not quite Qui-Gon's height. Like my
Master, he radiated a quiet dignity and powerful presence that
automatically received respect from those around him without
demanding it.
"How would I do him?" I had not understood either the King's
question or Qui-Gon's avoidance of answering. I thought of
entering the room but waited, hesitant to disturb a private
conversation. My Master received little chance to enjoy a
pleasant evening with our busy schedules. I liked the vision of
this lounging, mellow Jedi. I didn't want him to feel he must
return to the reserved teacher because of my entrance.
"Don't tell me you don't remember the game," the King chided.
"We played it often enough. If you only had one chance - one
opportunity - what position? And where?"
A sense of understanding was beginning to penetrate my brain.
This was definitely a conversation I should not interrupt.
Carefully I swung around, pressing my back against the wall. I
could no longer see them, but the dark brown of my cloak should
fade into the red brown of the aged walls better than the cream
of my formal tunic and trousers. I wondered if I should leave,
climb another level, but the thought of Qui-Gon playing sexual
games was too intriguing. I knew he occasionally spent the
night with partners, but he was so much the soul of discretion,
I never visualized such teasing fantasying.
"One chance....one position...one place..." Qui-Gon's voice was
musing. He appeared to be deciding.
"Oh no, old friend, I know you too well. Don't pretend you
haven't decided long ago. How many years have you lusted after
this young man?"
"Loved." My Master's correction was emphatic.
"Loved then." I could sense the King shrugging, not offended.
"Something romantic? A soft bed? Candles, music? Driving him to
distraction, proving your love by sucking his cock?"
A small gasp as that picture was contemplated. "You could
always play this game better than I."
"And you could always carry out anything I could visualize.
With marvelous skill. But you're still avoiding the question."
A smacking sound; I wondered if the King had punched Qui-Gon in
the arm or on the thigh. I hadn't realized they had been
lovers. Lovers, and clearly ones that had separated as good
friends, without divisive anger. It explained the ease of their
togetherness.
"No, not romantic. I've wanted too long. Place - in our
quarters."
That "our" grabbed my attention more than any previous
statement. "How?"
"The sun would be setting over Coruscant, red gold streaming
onto the floor. His body would be pressed against the blank
wall by the windows. I'd be fucking him, thrusting into his
warm body. I can feel the tenseness in my thighs as I drive
into him repeatedly, the tenseness in my shoulders as I lean
down to kiss him. My arms are braced against the wall, my feet
digging into the carpet so I can plunge into him with
increasing vigor. I would have prepared him well, so he could
accept my stiff cock without pain. I would never want to hurt
him."
The King's breathing was becoming loud and harsh, slowing.
Qui-Gon's faint brogue was intensifying as his words continued
ceaselessly, his voice deepening. My own heart was speeding at
the image he created, though I still wanted a definite answer
for that "our."
"No, I would never want to hurt him," Qui-Gon repeated. "And I
wouldn't be. I know because he's gasping, crying my name. His
hips are jerking and bucking in response to my desire. His
erection is trapped between our bodies, rubbing against my
tense abdomen. I would be ready to explode but I would make it
last as long as possible. Finally..." his words trailed off.
"Oh gods, don't stop." The King's sentiment echoed my thoughts.
"Finally, my thrusts go even deeper, deeper than I ever
imagined possible. The entire length of my cock is buried in
his slender body. I remove my arms from the wall. One hand
wraps around his braid, tying him to me. With the other, I grab
his erection and pump him. I'm merciless and a little rough,
but he loves it. He gasps so loud, it's almost a scream. I feel
his semen cover my hand so I know that he has received the
ultimate satisfaction. The pleasure is so intense, his eyes
roll back in his head. My own orgasm is all-consuming,
heightening my tenseness unbearably before releasing it. I feel
it from the top of my head, sweeping down my body, curling my
toes, as I pour into him."
The braid reference confirmed my suspicions. My Master wanted
me, his Padawan apprentice. Qui-Gon Jinn wanted Obi-Wan Kenobi.
Not just wanted, but wanted for too long to be gentle. Not just
lusted, but "loved." My Master, who obviously kept a hidden
side of intense sensuality from his Padawan. My brain was being
silly, chanting the words "Qui-Gon loves Obi-Wan" as my entire
world was tipped upside down, shaken every way, and spun
crashing through a meteorite shower. I had admired Qui-Gon for
over eight years now, since our Master/Padawan relationship was
first forged right before my 13th birthday. He was my father,
my teacher, my mentor.
I never pictured him as a lover. It never occurred to me that
he might have such thoughts.
"Qui-Gon, let me give you pleasure. You've been aching for too
long."
I risked a glance into the room. The King was now crouching on
the floor by Qui-Gon, one elegant hand resting on my Master's
upper thigh. Qui-Gon was shaking his head. "You have never
betrayed your Queen. I won't let you start now."
"She would understand. She knows of our previous relationship.
We are close friends and work together for the good of our
people, but we married for diplomatic reasons. There has never
been true love between us, only companionship." His hand slid
further up Qui-Gon's thigh, clearly intent on the bulge tenting
the cream trousers.
I decided it was time to take action. I didn't know what I
would do with this new knowledge. I wasn't even sure if I
wanted to know the truth of Qui-Gon's feelings. I did know that
I would not accept another man stroking or sucking off my
Master after he had aroused himself with a vision of fucking
me. Perhaps it was un-Jedi of me, but I could be very
possessive of his attention.
Swinging off the stone railing, I stood in front of the balcony
doors, sending a tendril of the Force on as tight and directed
focus as possible. I needed to balance this carefully - enough
Force to capture the King's attention, but not enough to alert
Qui-Gon too soon. I succeeded. The King looked up, saw me on
the balcony, saw my glare, saw me shaking my head. Qui-Gon
started to follow his line of sight, but I leaped up, grabbing
at bricks, feet landing on the stone latticework over the arch
of the doorway. "Was someone there?"
"No, no one. You are right. This would not be fair to my Queen,
even if I did not satisfy myself. It's my daughter's wedding
day and I have been selfish, ignoring all those damnable
courtiers for a visit with you. We should return for the final
toasts."
I waited until I heard the rustling of a cloak being placed on
broad shoulders, ceremonial robes snapped into place, the door
open and close as two sets of boots walked into the hallway. I
began climbing again. I had much to contemplate.
I took no action that night. I needed to meditate on my new
knowledge, to contemplate possibilities from every angle.
Perhaps a little analytical of me for such an emotional
situation, but I had to be fair to both Qui-Gon and myself. If
I approached him and was receptive to his love, then discovered
I did not truly return his feelings, it could destroy both of
us. Our Master/Padawan relationship could be irrevocably
damaged. I might never become a Knight; his reputation among
the Jedi would be destroyed. But if I did not approach him,
could I be comfortable, letting him hide his emotions for
several more years? My trials were a long time off.
I wondered if it would be fairer to request a new Master if I
could not love Qui-Gon. At least, I would remove myself from
his presence. From the longing in his voice as he described his
fantasy, I could tell he had dreamed of me often. I knew I
cared for him enough that I did not want to cause him the
gnawing pain he must suffer from seeing me every day. Again,
that line of thought slammed against unpleasant realities. I
could not request a new Master without explanation. A lie would
be discovered and the truth would reflect badly on Qui-Gon.
Even if I was willing to damage his position, I could think of
no better Master. He constantly challenged and educated me. Our
relationship had always been a joy. I didn't know if I could
bear to leave him. But under what conditions could I remain
with him?
I stayed awake thinking until he entered our room. The Palace
was crowded with visitors, so we were sharing a room, a fairly
common occurrence when hordes of diplomats were brought
together in one place. I had disrobed and was sitting up in the
small cot found for me, pretending to study information on our
next mission. My Master seemed calm, taking his sleep trousers
and entering the bathroom. I could hear him change his clothes,
wash his face, brush his hair, and I realized why he rarely
undressed in my presence. I was casual about nakedness, as were
many Jedi. We trained and sweated together while developing our
athletic skills. Being modest among the Jedi was difficult, but
my Master managed it. At least, he had achieved a tactful
prudery in my presence for the last few years.
Qui-Gon left the bathroom, nodding to me and asking if I had
enjoyed the wedding and the following reception while tucking
himself into the bed. I complimented the beauty of his
surrogate daughter and gave him my standard grousing about
silly conversations and over-abundant food. He counseled
patience and acceptance, that non-Jedi had many rituals we must
tolerate to be effective diplomats. It was a dialogue we had
shared many times and undoubtedly would share many more times.
If we stayed together.
The King snagged me as I started to enter the breakfasting
hall. My sleep was disturbed and I had risen late. Qui-Gon was
already gone from the room. Taking one elbow in his hand, he
escorted me into the gardens, to all appearances the head of
state thanking a Jedi. The fingers digging into my flesh were
not obvious to the casual viewer.
"Qui-Gon doesn't seem particularly relaxed this morning." He
was not happy.
"No." I replied tautly. I resented his interference. I had
known for a long time that I could be jealous of Qui-Gon's
time. I cherished our closeness. Whenever we were on Coruscant,
he helped other Masters with training younger students. I
always felt unsettled when he singled out a student for special
teaching, even though I was generally roped in to assist. I
didn't like sharing Qui-Gon's attention with this man and I
didn't like being scolded on his behalf.
"I thought we had an agreement last night. You failed to carry
out your side of the bargain." Maybe the King thought I had
known of Qui-Gon's feelings for some time, that they had not
been a total shock to me. He clearly assumed I would be
immediately aggressive, that I wouldn't have to work through my
own confusion.
"I have to meditate. I must do what is best for both of us." I
didn't want to explain myself, but I was conscious of his
power, both as Qui-Gon's oldest friend and the leader of a
fabulously wealthy world. The first worried me more than the
latter.
"Qui-Gon is the best man I have ever known. Anyone would be
fortunate to be the object of his love, and would never suffer
for it." The plainness of the King's feelings only infuriated
me. This man made me think of a young Qui-Gon with a handsome
Prince, meeting on a diplomatic mission, spending time
together, maintaining a friendship despite time, distance, and
their advancement to Jedi Master and King.
I shut my mind to that vision of young lovers becoming old
friends, staying stubbornly silent.
"You have a month. One month after you return to Coruscant. I
expect a happy communication from my dearest friend, expressing
his delight when his Padawan leaned against that blank wall and
begged to be taken. Or dropped to his knees in front of him and
declared undying love. You can pick your own scenario." He
snapped out both his command and his permission to be creative.
"And if I don't?" I knew I was being stupid, egging a King into
threatening me. I definitely needed to meditate. Just thinking
last night hadn't helped.
"I'll find a pleasure slave, about so high," his palm briefly
rested on the top of my head, "with brownish blonde hair and
gray eyes and a muscled form and the most amazingly talented
mouth in this universe. And I'll send this handsome young man
to my old friend as a present. No one denies a present sent by
a King. Not even a stubborn Jedi Master."
I don't know how I would have retaliated, or even if I would
have been that idiotic. I thought the image of a young Qui-Gon
with a young Prince was aggravating; Qui-Gon with a pleasure
slave resembling me made the blood race through my veins and
for an instant, I knew the temptation of wanting to smash
something, preferably the King's probing gaze.
Then the commotion broke out. A woman's scream from the Palace;
the Queen. Angry voices. The King and I rushed in, threats and
possible retaliation shoved aside but not forgotten by either
of us.
Marisae and her new husband were gone, kidnapped on the way to
their honeymoon. By tradition, they had spent the night at the
Palace, then risen and mounted an old-fashioned carriage, drawn
by the power of animals rather than an engine. Everyone had
seen them off while I was yet dozing. An honor guard escorted
them. They were to leisurely tour through the countryside so
the people could view the royal couple. The days would be spent
travelling, the nights staying with important dignitaries.
Eventually, they would reach an undisclosed location to spend a
blissful month cementing their love with the physical
expression of their bodies.
None of that would happen now. The trip through the capital
city was fine; crowds gathered along the route to cheer them.
Outside the city, where buildings gave way to fertile fields,
they were attacked. Marisae and her husband were spirited away
and all but one of the honor guard was slaughtered. A ransom
demand was tucked into the surviving member's pocket and he was
tied to one of the animals, blood flowing from various wounds.
Though almost unconscious, the guard raced to the Palace as
fast as his pain allowed.
The Palace Guard was dispatched, the local police authorities
alerted. The area around the attack was studied, but the
kidnappers were clever. All signs to indicate their route were
carefully erased so the troops were forced to follow every
likely avenue. Given the flatness of the surrounding geography,
too many possibilities existed.
We gathered in the Royal Quarters, the King, the Queen, Qui-Gon
and I. The Queen was calmer now. She knew the demands of
royalty well, and hysteria was not permitted. The three of them
sat on the plush couches, the same couches where I had watched
Qui-Gon and the King last night. I stood at one side,
respecting Qui-Gon's conversation with them.
"It doesn't make sense, Deeyan," said my Master, as he examined
the ransom note. "Your people love you. A large group of men
could not hide out indefinitely without discovery."
"I know," the King replied bluntly. "Do you not think that
petrifies me? There must be more than money involved."
"That many men, to slaughter the guard," the Queen said softly.
"The ransom is not enough. Not when divided."
"No. It's not enough. Not for the risk they have taken." Much
as he would like to, the King could not deny the accuracy of
her observation. His Queen was a strong woman, accustomed to
coping with reality. He bent his head to hers. "We will get her
back. I swear to you, my love." One large palm rested on her
belly. "I remember when you carried her, the joy of her birth,
the years of her growing up. These men will pay for this," he
vowed.
The devotion in their eyes ensnared me. Much as the King may
love Qui-Gon from his youth, his marriage had become much more
than a political convenience. I wondered if he had ever
admitted his feelings to himself, or if like me, he was still
trying to decipher the truth of tangled emotions.
I stared at the bent heads, his dark brown touching her blond.
Had the love grown over time? Or had hers existed from the
beginning? I thought of Marisae, adored and cherished by both
her parents. I remembered her from the wedding. The light brown
hair, a combination of both parents. The beautiful sherry brown
eyes, a genetic gift from her father, shining into her new
husband's face. The couple was blessed with a love match, not a
political alliance.
I thought of her fear and alarm. She would be crying,
hysterical, but attempting to duplicate her mother, calming her
emotions rather than be weak in front of others. I pictured
her, dragged into a building, an isolated but expensive private
house near mountains, miles from the attack, her husband
unconscious.
"Obi-Wan! Obi-Wan!" Qui-Gon faced me, snapping his fingers in
front of my face. "Obi-Wan!"
"Yes, Master?" I didn't know when he had left the couch and
walked in front of me. From the concern in his expression, this
was not his first attempt to get my attention.
"You were in a daze."
"I had a vision, Master. I hope it was a true vision." Qui-Gon
escorted me to the couch and I sat, numbly taking the drink he
pressed into my hand. I described every detail I could recall.
From the shocked gasp of the Queen and the tight expression of
the King, my vision was at least a reasonable prospect.
"It's a hunting lodge, owned by a young Count, once a suitor to
Marisae. She almost accepted his offer but then Hule finished
his university degree and returned home. It was love
immediately. The Count pretended to be happy with her decision.
He is very wealthy. Hiring those men would not be difficult for
his resources."
Qui-Gon listened to the King's explanation, turning his words
over in his mind. I could see him evaluating the circumstances.
A rejected suitor, the ransom note a pretense to hide his true
intentions. Unless action was quick, Marisae and Hule would
both die, victims to jealous rage. Or Hule would die and
Marisae would be kept alive, a secret captive.
"I think Obi-Wan and I should handle this. Please, hear me
out," he stifled the King's objections before they were spoken.
"Her life may be in danger if he is alerted to an armed troop
in the area." Qui-Gon didn't observe that her life was already
in mortal danger. These parents needed no extra fear. "The
hunting lodge is too far away to be encountered in a normal
search pattern. Obi-Wan and I can be stealthy, rescue Marisae
and Hule before the kidnappers realize they are gone. If it is
a spurned suitor, he may even have paid off the majority of the
kidnappers and sent them away. And if not - Obi-Wan and I have
handled greater numbers."
The King looked at me, and I knew the direction of his
thoughts. He didn't know if he could trust me with Qui-Gon's
love; he certainly didn't want to trust me with his daughter's
safety. The vision was mine and I knew my duty. Dropping to one
knee, I added my request. "Please, your Majesties, let us bring
Marisae back to you. It is Qui-Gon's responsibility as Knight
Protector to defend her, and mine as his Padawan to support
him." I made the words formal, hoping that the King would trust
my sincerity. Above all, I was a Jedi.
The King and Queen shared silent communication, hands clasping
as if physical touch strengthened them. Both nodded before the
King spoke, "Let me take you to a skimmer and give you the
location. We will keep the troops searching in case this is a
false vision, or to make sure he isn't alarmed. This will be
our secret. We pray for you and your success and will await
your call."
We were not as lucky as we could have hoped. The kidnappers
were present and annoyingly vigilant. The battle was violent;
blasters against lightsabers. Qui-Gon and I had always worked
well together. Even when I was only 13, I could coordinate with
his speed and style. We easily slipped into our battle rhythm,
protecting each other's back, deflecting blaster bolts, slaying
the kidnappers with little consideration. I didn't know the
punishments on this world, but I doubted much leniency would be
shown to the attackers of a Royal Princess.
Somersaulting during the battle, repositioning myself to meet
another threat, my attention was diverted by the sight of
Qui-Gon. His striking speed, his elegance, his ruthless power,
long hair flowing with the twists and turns of his lean body.
He was not only the elder Jedi who had raised me - he was
masculine beauty in its purest definition. My Master, who had
loved and lusted after me for years, mute out of deference for
my youth. I thought of the different degrees of caring, and
wondered when admiration first became love. I had known my own
possessiveness and never analyzed it. I was as blind as the
King.
The wound was completely my fault. My attention distracted, the
blaster shot I should have blocked hit Qui-Gon in his abdomen.
I screamed in rage, and the last of the kidnappers fell to the
fury of my saber.
Despite some bangs and bruises, Marisae and Hule were fine and
escorted directly to their honeymoon location as soon as the
Palace Guard arrived. The traditional bridal parade would be
done on the return trip. For now, they wanted private
togetherness. Fortunately, the blow to Qui-Gon's body was only
glancing. His wound was rapidly tended and it was pronounced
that he also would be fine, to my relief. A servant removed my
cot so the nurse could check his vitals easily as he
recuperated at the palace. The King pointedly remarked that I
could sleep in the quarters next door now that they were
unoccupied. With the end of the wedding festivities and the
potential tragedy alleviated, the majority of guests had
departed. I glared at him and made my position plain by
crawling into Qui-Gon's bed, announcing that my place was at
his side until he awoke. The Queen giggled. I wondered if she
was more relieved at her daughter's rescue or the old lover's
clearly jealous new lover.
Several hours passed before I could hear the difference in the
tone of his breathing. His eyelids fluttered and his tongue
moistened his lips. Propping him slightly, I helped him drink
water. He needed plenty of fluids to replenish the blood loss.
I intended to ensure that he received every care for a speedy
convalescence.
"Obi-Wan?"
I knew the questions he would want answered. His first concern
was never for himself. I reassured him of Marisae and Hule's
condition, of the King and Queen's happiness, of the Count
being captured. I confessed my shame at missing the shot and
admitted my rage. I didn't yet reveal the secret of my
distraction, but I promised hours of meditation for my anger.
In my arms, Qui-Gon smiled and fell into a restful sleep.
The Queen herself brought me a meal and I left the bed long
enough to eat. She was charmingly delighted by my watchful
actions. I didn't explain that Qui-Gon didn't know of my love,
but I spoke to her sincerely of how admiration and friendship
had altered into more intense emotion. I told her what I could
extrapolate of my Master's feelings, pretending I had heard the
words from his own mouth. I would definitely have to meditate
on my sins, but the deception was small and hopefully
ultimately beneficial. Qui-Gon was sleeping heavily when we
finished conversing, so I took the opportunity to shower.
Stinking when I confessed my love didn't seem romantic.
I was back in his bed, my arms around him, when he woke for the
second time.
"Obi-Wan?"
"Yes, Master?"
"I had a nice dream." From his pleased expression, I wondered
if he heard my confession to the Queen and placed it within his
sleeping memory.
"What was it?"
"Oh - nothing. Dreams are so hard to remember." He seemed to
register the surroundings and that he was enfolded in my arms.
"Have you been here the whole time?"
"Yes, Master."
"That wasn't necessary." Qui-Gon was a bit surprised. I had
cared for him in the past but never by crawling into his bed.
"I wanted to. Besides, it's given me an opportunity to think."
"Yes? What have you been thinking about?" The question was
careless, his normal rote inquiry into his Padawan's thoughts.
Despite my arms around his body, he wasn't expecting any
particular surprises. I decided to go for straight shock.
Perhaps it was mean of me, but I could tell from his fantasy
that Qui-Gon liked to be sexually dominant. Unfortunately, so
did I. If we were going to be together as both Master/Padawan
and lovers, I meant to keep him off-balance.
"I was thinking - one chance - one place - one position - with
you." I purred, rumbling the noise through my chest and
nipped at his lobe. His stunned look couldn't have been worse
than if Yoda had walked into the room wearing high heels and
black silk stockings. But he was a Jedi Master; he recovered
with devastating speed.
"Really, Padawan? And what place and position would those be?"
His tone was mild, but my hand was on his chest. I could feel
the beat quicken. My blunt thumb rubbed at his nipple as I
spoke. "Place is that little secluded garden behind the Palace,
because I don't intend to love you for the first time in a
boring transport ship, and I don't intend to wait until we
reach Coruscant. It's beautiful in the garden, and the gate
locks. There's the smell of flowers in the air and the sound of
small flying insects buzzing. Bright sunlight shines down on
you, casting a golden nimbus over your hair."
"That sounds like a good place." His sexual excitement revealed
itself not just in the peaking nipple but in the presence of
his brogue. I always liked that brogue, though I never knew
where he picked it up. No one else on Coruscant talked with the
same distinct accent. It appeared in times of stress and
apparently sexual arousal. I guessed I would be hearing a lot
of it from now on. I could cope. "And position?"
"I'm on my knees in front of you." Admittedly, not a very
dominant position, but it would seem so after my description.
"I've lowered your trousers and they are trapped around your
calves. I didn't remove your boots. You can't move without
tripping. You're leaning against a tree. You don't know whether
to clasp the rough bark to have a steady support, or wrap your
hands in my hair, hanging onto the braid."
His tongue moistened his lips. I could see the fine tremor of
his face muscles. "Obi-Wan, maybe you shouldn't continue right
now."
"Why not, Qui-Gon?" The "Master" would be dropped in bed,
unless necessary in a particular erotic fantasy. Maybe I would
get him to call me the term. I approach life wholeheartedly and
didn't intend to shortchange any aspect of our new
relationship.
"I'm not in any shape to respond."
"Really, Qui-Gon?" I said mockingly, stroking my hand from his
nipple to his penis. He was hardening, lengthening, responding
to my verbal caress. "You feel to me as if you're in a fine
shape to respond. Just relax. I'll take care of you."
"That wouldn't be fair to you," he whimpered.
"I understand that I haven't been fair to you for many years,
strolling around our quarters half-dressed. I'll survive
tonight."
He didn't say a word. I took that both as acceptance to
continue and the number of times I must have unintentionally
caused an erection. "I've opened your shirt, so I can see the
firm muscles of your chest, but it's not your chest that
fascinates me. It's this." I squeezed his penis, highlighting
my words. He moaned and I hid my smile. I could like this game.
"You're already erect and desperate for me, ever since I
dropped to my knees. You've wanted me so long, but you haven't
a clue what I can do with my mouth. I pull back the foreskin,
so I can see the head and my tongue tastes your pre-cum. It's
the most delicious flavor in this universe because it's you,
wanting me, on fire for me. I flick my tongue around the head
and open my mouth, sucking you in."
He moaned and his throat arched. His eyes were already
beginning to roll back in his head, much as he had described
mine. Even in his weak state, Qui-Gon was staggeringly easy to
arouse. I mentally speculated on whether this speedy response
was normal or reflected the years of craving me. I would find
out within the next few weeks whether he was always randy or if
I would have to be creative to make him match my pace. Like
most things with Qui-Gon, I looked forward to learning.
"You're trying to thrust, but I don't want you to choke me. My
palms are on your hips, pressing them against the tree,
stopping movement." In reality, he was thrusting his hips, his
penis sliding back and forth in my massaging hand. I tried to
keep his motion slow, but I wasn't as effective in real life as
in my fantasy. "You're crying in agony with your pleasure as I
suck you all the way into my mouth. I'm controlling my throat
muscles so your entire length can fill me. I never realized you
were so large, but I'm determined to have every inch. I'm
rippling my throat, caressing your sensitive skin. My tongue is
constantly in motion, my teeth gently nibbling, enough to
thrill but not to hurt."
I didn't finish my fantasy. Qui-Gon was already exploding, hips
jerking powerfully, hands clenching at me. I accepted the flow,
his milky fluid spilling out of my hand. I kissed him deeply,
stealing his breath as he struggled to force air into his
lungs. He was sleeping before I released his lips, exhausted
from his orgasm and his wound. I pressed a soft kiss to his
forehead. I should begin my meditation on my jealousy and rage,
but right now I needed to nap with my lover.
Qui-Gon was hungry for food when he woke. His wants had been
anticipated; broth was sitting on a tray over a portable
warmer. The King was waiting, studying his reflection in the
polished silver cover.
"I gather I don't need to start researching pleasure slaves,"
he commented drily. I could truly like this man now,
appreciating his loyalty to my Master.
"No. He'll never be deprived in my arms," I promised. "Your
Highness, perhaps - " I stopped. I hadn't been shy with Deeyan,
but maybe the personal life of a King was a line I shouldn't
cross.
"Perhaps I should resolve some issues within my own house?" He
followed my thought. "Despite all that has happened, this has
been a good visit. We both needed to face our feelings. It is
long past time that I had a conversation of my own with my
Queen."
I bowed deeply as he walked off down the corridor. I wished him
success with his love. I knew where my life was headed -
anywhere, as long as it was at the side of my Master, my
beloved Qui-Gon.
Archive 