Quests

by Tenshi No Korin (uintaa2@hotmail.com)

Series: Immediately follows "Last Request"

Category: Romance/ Adventure/ angst (later)

Rating: NC-17 (eventually)

Disclaimers: According to Mr. Brooks, Qui-Gon is supposed to be 60ish in PM. However, since I think Mr. Brooks is full of bantha poodoo and he killed off all my favorite Elves in Shanarra, I say Qui-Gon is fifty at the time of Phantom Menace. Considering everything else we're warping, ten years is not that big a difference. Mr. Lucas owns the rights to the Jedi, anybody else belongs to ME.

Summary: O.W. &Q.G. do stuff. =D

Feedback me!

"Within my pounding heart
which kept itself entirely for him
He fell into his sleep
Beneath the cedars all my love I gave.
From o'er the fortress walls
The wind would brush his hair against his brow
And with its smoothest hand
Caressed my every sense it would allow.
I lost myself to him
And laid my face upon my lover's breast
And care and grief grew dim
As in the morning's mist became the light."
-St. John of the Cross, via Loreena McKennitt  "The Dark Night of the Soul"

Qui-Gon Jinn awoke with a start, shaken out of sleep by something unusual in his immediate environment. He sought it without moving an inch, puzzled by what was out of the ordinary when he felt so deeply content and comfortable.

Of course, that very fact was enough out of the ordinary. The warm body tucked between Qui-Gon and the wall gave a slight stir, reminding the Jedi master of what he was certain he had dreamed.

Beloved.

Obi-Wan wasn't wrapped around him like a despondent child; in fact, he was barely touching him save for being pressed to his side. Were it not for the left hand resting palm down over Qui-Gon's heart, and the lips just touching his shoulder, it would have been quite a plutonic way to sleep.

But it wasn't, and Qui-Gon felt the same swelling of contentedness that he had sensed the night before, realizing that he wasn't just a foolish old man playing off of an apprentice's youthful admiration, that he was really and truly Loved after all. He was still wary however. This arrangement was a delicate one, and Obi-Wan was young. Not a child, but still young. The touching, non-dependent gesture of affection eased his heart somewhat, and there were still those that had to be informed of the situation before the two Jedi began their mission on Berkaar.

Qui-Gon lifted his padawan's fingers to his lips and kissed them before he slid out of the berth. His apprentice smiled dreamily in his sleep and cuddled sleepily into the warm vacancy his master had left behind.

The Jedi council did not disapprove of relations between master and student. In fact, it was almost expected when age and species allowed for an attraction. Masters were required to discourage such intimacy until the council had deemed the padawan mature enough and his affections sincere, not just passing infatuation, and that the master's affection was not mere indulgence. Qui-Gon mused on these things, not anguishing over them has he had been for the last year, quietly, but wondering instead how he could have been chosen by Obi-Wan as a lover. Surely the boy- the man- had enough choices to pick from. The fact that he had chosen Qui-Gon was either a sign of true love or a bout of madness, Qui-Gon chuckled to himself and hoped without worry that it was the former. Well, not TOO much worry.

He tied off his tunic and activated his com-link to Courosant, settling himself in the cabin's only chair. Yoda responded almost instantly, it was just past noon on his hemisphere and his luminous eyes blinked shrewdly at Qui-Gon as his blue hologram bucked once and settled. "Master Qui-Gon. Questions have you about the mission?" Something about his tone made Qui-Gon suspect that Master Yoda knew better.

He bowed slightly to the hologram. "No, my master, but I felt I should inform you that the situation between my padawan and myself has.. changed. .somewhat.." He trailed off, not quite sure how to put it. They were not lovers, not yet, but they were not simply student and teacher, either- if they ever had been.

Yoda gave a distinct snort. "Relationship between you has not changed one bit. Only admitted it to each other, you have." His foresight was once again spot on, and Qui-Gon, humbled a bit, nodded.

"Yes, master Yoda. I did not realize you were aware of-"

The diminutive Jedi master smiled. "Aware of much am I. Help with it sometimes when I can. Your padawan a year ago game to me. Troubled he was, by wanting his master. Loving him too, but at the time see that clearly he did not. Advised him I did, to wait. The same advice I gave you, master Qui-Gon Jinn, when not an hour later it was you at my door."

"Hoth." Qui-Gon said, mostly to himself, remembering the date precisely. He had thought he and his padawan both doomed to die in the frozen wastes, and had blamed himself for getting there. Qui-Gon was wounded when they fled. Obi-Wan nearly lost his life because he stayed to help his master, instead of going without him to find shelter, and fell violently ill later because of exposure. Qui-Gon watched over him later and had realized then what the fragile life clasped in his arms meant to him, and wept frozen tears at the unbearable thought of bringing pain to that bright soul.

"An impertinent Jedi helped with this." Yoda rapped his cane on the floor of wherever he was, bringing Qui-Gon back to the present. Yoda frowned, but his ears were up, a habitual gesture when it came to Denari. "but she is with the Force, and now wiser than I. Besides, argue with her I cannot. Useless it is, to argue with ghosts. Remember that, Qui-Gon Jinn, when one you are! Then in council win you might!" Yoda chuckled, and Qui-Gon grinned at the gentle barb. Yoda knew his rebellious nature, but he also knew that Qui-Gon was going strictly by the book on this one, a signal for how true his feelings ran where Obi-Wan was concerned.

"Support you and your padawan the council does. Long have we watched, wondering if this your path was to be. Insistent the force was, in bringing you together- councils can say little in such matters. Take care, Qui-Gon Jinn. Care for your padawan. Jedi you are, first and foremost. Forget that not."

"Yes, master Yoda." Qui-Gon didn't bother to hide the relived note in his voice. It was so rare that the council agreed with him on ANYTHING, it was almost a shock when they did. Some small illogical part of him feared they might separate him from Obi-Wan as a payment for past impertinence. "Thank you," he added, sincerely grateful.

Yoda bobbed his head agreeably. "Welcome, you are. A good pair, the two of you make. Remember, if bonded you are to eventually be, easy tasks many will not be given. But with the two of you, nothing unusual that is." Yoda shifted his weight, smiling. "Appraised of the situation, keep the council. May the Force be with you."

Qui-Gon bowed again, and the hologram blinked out of existence.

"What did he mean?" Obi-Wan was sitting up in the berth, straightening one of his leggings that had bunched up as he slept. "about the bonded part?"

Qui-Gon turned in the chair, lacing his fingers together. He was unsure how much Obi-Wan had heard, but it was not a private communique and made little difference. "Bonded pairs of Jedi are the strongest asset the council has. Because of their unique connection, they are sent on more dicey missions and work exclusively as a team, even after the padawan has reached knighthood."

Obi-Wan absorbed this carefully. "And is this what the council plans for us?" He tried, unsuccessfully, to keep the wild hope out of his voice. The looming farewell from his master at the end of his training might not be a farewell after all.

Qui-Gon shook his head. "In this, Obi-Wan, the council has to wait and see what WE decide. With time, the choice will be obvious, but for now I am content to leave it in the future where it belongs." He sighed, his shoulders relaxing, and Obi-Wan frowned at the tenseness his master had been keeping so long. "I expected to be summarily drilled for the depth of my emotion, but it appears that Master Yoda did enough already."

Obi-Wan sighed ruefully and ran a hand through his hair. "Yes, well, he quite put me through the wringer when I spoke to him about it a year ago."

"He had good reason. This sort of thing cannot be risked on infatuation, and not even Jedi masters are exempt from such an examination, Obi-Wan." The soft smile he gave to the younger man let an understanding flare between them. Obi-Wan brightened, realizing he had not been alone in his lonely desire, and smiled outright when he became aware that his master had been put through the self-same third degree interrogation for the same reasons. He held out one hand, imploringly.

"It's still a few hours to Brekaar, master, and we must be Master and Apprentice again." Obi-Wan leaned closer, his fingers easily within Qui-Gon's reach. "Just one of those hours? For me?"

Qui-Gon hesitated. "I should like to spend more than an hour on you, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan flashed the delicate smile that had always been his master's undoing, holding it more in his eyes than in his mouth. "You misunderstand my intent, Qui-Gon."

The other Jedi shuddered for no tangible reason at the sound of his name, bare of titles, slipping from his love's lips.

"I only ask for your arms." The smile blossomed fully. "and I never thought I would see the venerated Qui-Gon Jinn blush."

Qui-Gon accepted Obi-Wan's proffered hand, lips curved in chagrin. "The venerated Qui-Gon Jinn is wondering just what an old man did to deserve such affection."

"You are NOT an old man," Obi-Wan insisted, with the slightest edge of sabered fire beneath the velvet of his tone. He pressed his face happily into Qui-Gon's hair, drunk on knowing he could touch and hold to his hearts content, and never fear the gestures being interpreted. "Come now, master, how old are you, really. Standard Years."

Qui-Gon tried to scowl, but it was hard with arms wound about him and tender lips tracing the curve of his throat.

"Be honest now, master," Obi-Wan chided. "Or else I shall be forced to do something permanently damaging to your dignity."

"I don't doubt it," Qui-Gon rumbled, and gave in. "Forty three," He confessed.

"That's IT?" Obi-wan sat back on his heels, and grinned. "You're making this big of an ordeal out of 26 years difference? When most humans live to 150? You'd think you were already there, the way you go on. Or are you just trying to dissuade me?" Obi-Wan caught both his master's hands in his own and brought them to his lips, kissing Qui-Gon's knuckles tenderly.

The other Jedi's eyes softened at the gesture, reverent and loving all at once. "I don't think it's possible to dissuade you, my beautiful padawan. Not when your mind is made up."

Obi-Wan colored at the compliment, glancing shyly back up at his master. "I learned my stubbornness from the best," he teased, and the laughter sparkled out of him, fading into some other emotion as he gazed at Qui-Gon's face.

Qui-Gon held his breath as Obi-Wan tentatively reached up and touched his temple, naked wonder in the pale blue irises reflecting his own image back at him. The warm fingertips slid over his features, as if learning every plane and curve by touch alone.

Qui-Gon found his voice, speaking softly as Obi-Wan's thumb grazed his lower lip. "What do you see, padawan, that makes you look at me like that?"

"Everything that balances who I am," Obi-Wan murmured, brushing his lips ever so softly against Qui-Gon's so that he breathed the words into his master's mouth. "Once, everything I wanted to be. Now, everything I want to be with me-" Obi-Wan's verbalization failed, he pressed his forehead to Qui-Gon's and gave him an image instead, of how he saw his teacher and the man he loved. It was purely physical at first, something about the blended flow of rich brown cloth and silver streaked hair, eyes like the deepest star-reflected blue pools of Terinth, saber a wash of green fire in hands so powerful, either as a warrior or a compassionate guide. Qui-Gon quite didn't recognize himself, mildly worried that Obi-Wan had built this image of his master that he would never live up to. Obi-Wan smiled softly somewhere, reminding his master that this was how he saw Qui-Gon's soul, and knew that at best he was just a man, capable of failure and of being wrong, of stubbornness and pride and of blaming himself when unnecessary. It was this fact that had shaken Obi-Wan picture of Qui-Gon from the hero-worship icon into a human being that he could care for and support in times of need, not just follow blindly in adoration.

"You are not perfect, master," Obi-Wan's voice was almost startling, so closely it followed the intimate touch of their minds. "And that's good, because neither am I. There are times when I will fail you, and you will fail me, but know I am here to catch you as you are to catch me." Obi-Wan lifted his head from where he had tucked it into Qui-Gon's shoulder, thinking his companion had never looked so beautiful as he did now, azure eyes liquid with unshed tears. "Not perfect," Obi-Wan repeated, basking in the feel of Qui-Gon leaning against him, knowing he would be held. "But perfect for me."

Qui-Gon could say nothing, only clutch his apprentice close, humbled and honored and feeling like he had not felt in a very, very long time, when he was first a knight and the galaxy was his to shape his life in. Gratitude and love struck him mute when anger and insult never could. Obi-Wan didn't need a verbal answer, he had it in the heart pounding against his, soft fall of hair he was permitted to run his fingers through, and the trust of being the one to hold for once.

"Padawan," Qui-Gon said softly, against Obi-Wan's shoulder.

"Yes, Master."

It said everything that needed to be said between them.

Two hours later, robed and serene and as coolly detached from emotion as only a pair of Jedi could look, Qui-Gon Jinn and his padawan learner crossed the colonnaded courtyard of the capital city of Brekaar, and bowed to King Arrilyn.

"Your majesty," Qui-Gon straightened. "I am Qui-Gon Jinn. This is my apprentice, Obi-Wan Kenobi."

The king was a new one, and while his position was hereditary, he could also be removed from office if ever the populace deemed it worthy. There seemed to be no risk of that, Arrilyn's family had ruled for a millennia and the king had always been intensely popular, even when a mere prince. Brekarrians were almost elfin in appearance, a fey and mystical race with great love of their ruggedly beautiful planet. They made stunning Jedi knights, and had revered and honored the order for well over two thousand years. Arrilyn nodded cheerfully, a pleased smile on his elegant features.

"Master Qui-Gon! Oh really you and your padawan mustn't bother with all that bowing and your majesty business, you haven't the slightest how tired I am of having heard it all the time! Oh, well, perhaps you do." Arrilyn smiled, and Obi-Wan smiled back, finding the king very likeable. Even Qui-Gon seemed at ease.

"Thank you, your-"

"Arrilyn, Arrilyn, please, Master Jedi. I came by my place by accident of birth, and you by many years of effort. It's me who should be deferring to you, quite? At any rate, I am exceptionally honored that you and your padawan are the ones the council sent. You're very famous, you know!" The king's voice bounced and echoed differently as they passed under a stone arch into the castle proper, boots ringing as they only did inside ancient, thick stone walls.

Obi-Wan would have thought it odd to be greeted by the king himself, with very few attendants save the guards in antiquated ring armor trailing behind them at a distance. However, their mission here was not one of diplomacy or negotiation in time of crisis, it was to honor a promise long kept between the Jedi and the people of this planet. And Arrilyn was a very non-monarchic sort of a king.

"Infamous, perhaps," Qui-Gon replied, and the king grinned back.

"Ah-ha! And they say Jedi have no sense of humor. No, truly, for something as purely ceremonial as this, I didn't expect to find some of the galaxy's best warriors on my doorstep! Ah well, Isillwe will be positively thrilled, you know, her brother Arin is padawan to master R'killn and.."

Obi-Wan tuned out the king's cheery banter, nodding when his master did, eyeing their surroundings. Brekaar was lovely indeed, but he wondered how long it would be before he was bored out of his mind. Brekarrian royalty always had the honor of Jedi present at major celebrations, including the one the castle was bustling with... a wedding. The origin of the tradition was so far back in myth that no one was truly sure of why it was, save that all the tales detailing it had an appealing mythic quality. Brekaar was a haven for Jedi, at any time, for any reason, no questions asked; and her people had a vow to aid the order whenever possible, wherever in the galaxy. In return the Jedi came when they were called, for celebration or mourning or to ease rifts in times of uproar, although the latter hadn't been needed for hundreds of years.

Which meant, Obi-Wan thought glumly, long hours of banquets and speeches and murmured politeness to an infinite number of courtiers.

Qui-Gon caught Obi-Wan's barely audible sigh and smiled to himself, agreeing warmly to the king's offer of letting them rest in their suite before the evening meal. His padawan had never been to Brekaar at all, much less for a royal wedding, and had no idea what they were in for.

"Ah, here we are." Arrilyn stopped by a pair of heavy wood doors, their surface covered in silver engraved images of some kind of hunt. Obi-Wan was apprehensive, after the labyrinth of rooms, galleries, and corridors they'd been led through, it would take all his Jedi ability not to get lost. "I hope your rooms are adequate for your needs, master Jedi, padawan. If you require anything ring for a servant, and I will see you at dinner."

"We are most grateful, your highness," Obi-Wan said, bowing slightly further than his master did, as always.

"Arrilyn!" the king called to remind him, turning and vanishing down the winding staircase at the end of the hall. Obi-Wan turned at the sound of Qui-Gon opening the doors to the guestrooms, and his jaw dropped in shock.

"Great Founding Masters!"

"When the Brekarrians say they revere the Jedi, they mean it." Qui-Gon chuckled, having been to the planet once before, years ago, and knowing what to expect. Obi-Wan trailed dazedly behind him, astonished in spite of himself.

"It's huge! Even for the two of us!" Obi-Wan turned, his eyes trying to take in the rich tapestries, ornate furniture, and elegant artworks, failing to get anything but a blur of opalescence. "Although, there's only ONE bed.."

"Actually, Padawan, this one is mine.. Yours is through there." Qui-Gon gestured to a carved door that was almost lost in velvet hangings. Obi Wan hurried through it, barely noticing the bathroom the size of two student rooms at the temple, and discovered an equally ornate chamber on the other side.

"Master," Obi-Wan said grimly, as he crossed back to Qui-Gon. "The council is sending us Someplace Awful next, aren't they? Because I know we've done nothing to merit a cushy mission like this. We're going to be in swamps and flies up to our noses. Or desert."

"Actually, padawan, Brekarrian missions are selected by chance. Unless of course, Certain Jedi need a rest." Qui-Gon hung up his robe in one of the wardrobes available, and yawned. "And although I can't say no to the vacation time, I think the luck of the draw got us here."

Obi-Wan crossed his arms indignantly. "You always say there's no such thing as luck."

"Perhaps not." Qui-Gon flopped gracefully back onto the canopied bed, and sighed contentedly. "But this sure feels a lot like it."

Obi-Wan didn't respond at first, smiling at his master. Qui-Gon's hair spilled out over the embroidered coverlet, his eyes closed and his handsome features calm. Obi-Wan leaned over him, running his fingers over the spilled waves of soft brown, and feathered a kiss against the Jedi's ear. "What should we do with our luck then, master?"

His only response was a very faint snore.

Obi-Wan blinked, then exhaled wryly. His master probably hadn't slept too well with a padawan in his armpit most of the night; he couldn't begrudge him the rest. Curious, he wandered over to the tapestries, studying the figures more closely. He was surprised to find that most of them were Jedi, stylized faces serene and lightsabers glowing in vibrant silk stitches. There were other figures too, mythic beasts and ancient ships. The tapestries seemed to tell a story, from one end of the room to another, but Obi-Wan circled the room twice and couldn't make head nor tails out of the plot. One Jedi seemed to figure prominently, his hair cut like a padawan's and his saber flaming green. In the last panel he was in a battle with an anonymous figure in black whose face was a mask of shadowed stripes. The padawan was defeating him, but the look on the unusually expressive features of the woven Jedi was one of extreme anguish, not triumph. Nearby him, another Jedi lay crumpled in defeat. He had long flowing hair, embroidered in grey-brown silk regimented locks, and Obi-Wan knew that despite the chronic stiffness to the forms that this person was either dead or close to it.

Suddenly uneasy, Obi-Wan glanced back at Qui-Gon, still sound asleep an undisturbed on the bed. He dismissed his nervousness as just a lover's apprehension, and smiled back at the tapestry, certain that the pale still Jedi looked nothing like his master and his eyes were just playing tricks.

But the battling figures were gone.

"What?" Obi-Wan breathed, touching the fabric lightly. The image now was of exotic birds in gilded cages, and although he examined every tapestry in the room, he could not find a trace of a Jedi on any of them. "I KNOW what I saw," he insisted, to the mute hanging in front of him. Qui-Gon stirred in his sleep.

Obi-Wan rubbed at his eyes, suddenly feeling tired and gritty with space dirt. "Must be the stress," he mumbled. It HAD been an emotional past week and he simply was under strain. Light and Shade, he'd only lost a close friend to the force and professed his undying love to his master, it was a wonder he was ONLY seeing things in wall hangings. A warm soak and a change of clothes would make him feel sentient again.

Obi-Wan took the time to tug his master's boots off and draw one of the blankets over him, smoothing his hair and feeling very parental. "Sweet dreams, master," he murmured, and went to go test out the giant tub in the bathroom.

Qui-Gon woke as sunset light was spilling in through one of the narrow-paned windows, and stretched, shaking off the disoriented feeling that came from napping in the middle of the afternoon. Someone had stopped by as he slept, and only on Brekaar were even the servants undetectable to his slumbering Jedi senses. There was clothing laid out for him, and a chilled bottle of the pale blue wine that Brekaar was famous throughout the galaxy for.

Qui-Gon poured a glassful of the wine, sipping at it lightly. It was light and perfect, as always, and tingled a bit going down. That and it's faint blue luminescence had earned it a nickname of "Jedi wine", despite the fact that Jedi rarely got to indulge in the beverage.

He poked at the clothing, smiling faintly. It was still simply styled Jedi clothing, the cut and tailoring making it striking. This ensemble, however, had a tunic and leggings of rich, cream colored silk, and the traditional cloak was in shimmering, heavy velvet. Qui-Gon usually would protest about having to wear stuffy finery, but here at least, such things felt at least twice as good on as they did to the touch.

Ceremonial stuff, that. A throwback to days long long gone, when Jedi were not peacekeepers but theologians, distant and mystical and either hated or honored.

Not that the last bit had changed too much, Qui-Gon thought, as he draped the robe over the settee and, wine-glass in hand, went in search of his padawan.

He didn't have far to look.

Obi-Wan sat in the windowseat of his chamber, one leg up on the ledge and the other braced against the floor, perfectly still as he gazed out over the forested mountains of Brekaar. It was fall on this part of the planet, and the massive trees blazed with crimson and gold, stained brighter by the sunset. Obi-Wan had opened his window, and the cool breeze that slipped in smelled softly of woodsmoke and rustling leaves.

Obi-Wan had found his garments; the russet light made the eggshell paleness of Obi-Wan's tunic blush like a shy lover. The shadows in the rippling velvet robe were as deep and mysterious as the forest, darkening with twilight.

Qui-Gon knew his padawan must have been playing with his braid as he thought, but now his hand was still, just holding it out from his face, mind obviously light-years away. His pale blue eyes flickered with intelligence, his brain busily trying to puzzle out some riddle. He hadn't even sensed his master's presence, and Qui-Gon basked in that, watching the younger Jedi.

Qui-Gon snuck a small holo-projector from his belt and stored the image there, something to smile at when they were, as Obi-Wan grimly predicted, up to their noses in swamp.

"How long have you been there?" Obi-Wan did not turn, but his braid fell abruptly from his fingers, signaling his return from whatever plane he'd been drifting on.

"Long enough to fall in love with you three times over." Qui-Gon leaned in the doorway and smiled as Obi-Wan turned to regard him, his shy curve of lips shadowed by the sky behind him, painted the color of war.

"You've gotten terribly sentimental on me, master."

"Who says I haven't always been, and can only say it now?" Qui-Gon nodded to the mountains beyond the transparisteel window. "Where were you wandering, just now, hmmm?"

Obi-Wan gave a shrug. "Not far, master.. woven into the hangings on your wall."

"Ah." Qui-Gon had forgotten about those. "Saw them change, did you?" The Jedi master crossed to his apprentice's side, laying one hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder to soothe away the look of puzzled surprise. "Not to worry, padawan... they've always done that."

"But how?" Obi-Wan sought his master's eyes, but they were roaming the hills outside, the dim red light making him look noble and sad. He leaned a little closer into the touch, his cheek resting against Qui-Gon's side. "What sort of technology is it?"

"It's not." Qui-Gon's smile was faint, and may have been a mere trick of the sunset. "This place, this planet, is rich with things we cannot possibly understand. The Brekarrians look at us oddly for wanting to understand it. They don't see the point in stripping away the mystery. There are times-" Qui-Gon closed his eyes as a breeze stirred his hair. "When I am inclined to agree with them. Chalk it up to good old-fashioned magic, padawan."

"Magic?" Obi-Wan's tone held a faint disdain. "There's really no such-"

"Careful, padawan." Qui-Gon opened his eyes to wink at him. "Go around saying that and the two of us will be looking for a job."

Obi-Wan grinned. His practical need for explanations had often warred with his master's more quiet, mystical acceptance, and by now it was usually nothing more than a moot teasing point.

Qui-Gon sighed, squeezing Obi-Wan's shoulder one last time. "Enough of that, for now, though. I still have to make myself presentable and we need to put in an appearance very soon."

"I think you are very presentable, master." Obi-Wan's voice was sharpened with something, enough to make his master gaze down at him in mild surprise.

"Do you, now." The air had a cool, keening edge to it now, and Qui-Gon's hand sought the warmth of his padawan's soft hair.

"Yes master." It was not in answer to anything that had been said, but it answered everything else.

For a moment they were still, regarding each other, and then in the same instant Obi-Wan arched up, and Qui-Gon bent down, their lips meeting hungrily. This kiss wasn't like the soft seeking ones they had traded before; it was wild and needful. Obi-Wan tangled his hands in the older Jedi's hair as warm broad palms slid into the velvet cloak, feeling the ridge of his spine beneath the fragile fabric. The hands settled at last on the hips Obi-Wan could not keep still, pushing them desperately against his master's.

"Please," Obi-Wan murmured, his breath coming too fast, slow burn between his legs doubling as his earlobe was nuzzled affectionately. He knew this heat, knew what it meant, and knew also that they had very little time and he wondered if he could survive the evening.

"Control, padawan," Qui-Gon said softly, and Obi-Wan's heart sank even as he pressed himself harder against the thigh wedged between his legs. He was going to be denied.

Qui-Gon let out a soft sigh against Obi-Wan's cheek, and the younger Jedi whimpered through clenched teeth.

"..Is a lesson we can work on later, I believe."

And then he was touched. Obi-Wan kept one hand firmly on his master's shoulder, the other seeking the solidity of the stone window ledge. It was so different from his own touch, even through the layers of silk that were quickly being undone. "I would have preferred more time for the niceties," Qui-Gon apologized, and before Obi-Wan could protest that really it was quite alright, wet heat enfolded his need.

Obi-Wan cried out softly, falling back against the window's recessed stonework, both hands now firmly twined in Qui-Gon's hair. He fought to control himself but couldn't, it was too sweetly intense and when he dared glance down the image he was given stole any sense of reserve he had left. He'd not thought of the beard, of the soft feathery motions of it against his bared thighs or the fingers seeking out every secret he never knew he had.

His hips rocked forward, too soon, to damnably soon, and the explosion spilled out of him violently.

"Maa-hassterrrr..." the last syllable was a faint growl, and then his legs quit functioning.

Qui-Gon was there to catch him, holding him tightly as his harsh breathing leveled and the tremors slowly left him. His cheeks were damp from tears, but his voice was tinged with laughter even in the warm folds of Qui-Gon's tunic.

"Thank- thank you."

"Better that than have you high strung all evening..." Qui-Gon's tone was loving, hands soothing as they circled over Obi-Wan's back. "Thank you," He whispered in return. "Are you going to be alright?"

"Yes love," Obi-Wan let the endearment fall from his lips, hands fluttering to redo the ties on his shirt and pants. "But will you-"

"I'm enjoying the wait," Qui-Gon pulled back slightly to flash a grin. "And expecting payment in full later."

Obi-Wan smiled back and blushed, trying not to think too hard on what had just happened, he didn't think his brain could handle it.

Which is why through sheer willpower he stared only at a corner of tapestry while his master changed clothes, even though they were in separate rooms when he did so.

"I think it's safe now, padawan." Qui-Gon teased him from the doorway, velvet cloak slung over one arm.

Obi-Wan sucked in a breath. "You look wonderful." The sunlight had died, and warm golden glows lit the room from mounted brackets on the walls. His master fairly glowed in the honeyed ambiance.

Qui-Gon gave a self-depreciating shrug. "Yes, don't you know that's why all Jedi masters insist on such plain attire? Even then, our padawans STILL moon over us."

"Yes well." Obi-Wan brushed a kiss on one bearded cheekbone, biting his lip when the contact made it tingle. "We just can't help ourselves."

Qui-Gon swirled the cloak around his shoulders and the two of them left the room, silent embroidered eyes watching them go.

TO BE CONTINUED...