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(Continued from rb2.html)

Master Adi Gallia opened the door to her chambers before he could activate the chime.

"Come in," she said softly. "I felt you all the way from the lift. What's happened?"

"Damned if I know. I've done something wrong again. I don't know where else to turn."

She took his hand and pushed him into a chair. He raked both hands through his loose hair and clutched them together at the back of his neck. Adi was shocked to sense waves of emotion rolling from the usually placid Master. She knelt in front of him. "Tell me."

"I went to him. I apologized. I explained the misunderstanding. I told him it was the most generous gift anyone had ever offered me, and it humbled me."

"And?"

"And. And I kissed him. And one thing led to another. We had sex. I thought that's what he wanted ..."

Adi went very still. Qui-Gon looked up.

"_What_ did you think he wanted?" she asked.

"A sexual relationship. As you said."

"You should have come to the Council first."

He gave her a defiant look. "Sod the Council. What business is it of theirs? I trust you, Adi, and a few others, but the rest ..."

"Do you love him?"

"What do you mean?"

She let out an exasperated sigh. "I should think the question was simple enough. It's obvious he's in love with you, has been for years. Do you return his feelings?"

"I ... I don't know. I _do_ care for him. I'd give my life for him. He's a joy to me. I can't imagine my life without him."

"I don't think that's enough."

"What do you mean?"

"He's not stupid, Qui-Gon. He knows you don't feel the same way he does. Good grief, it would have been kinder to leave him alone rather than let him think you were just taking him out of pity."

"He knows it was more than that!"

"How _could_ he know? Did you say you loved him?"

He covered his eyes. Having to recall his actions in detail was humiliating, but he didn't know where else to turn for help in understanding his Padawan's confounding emotions. "I don't remember all of it. I said I was tired of rejecting him. He asked me not to tease him. I said, 'I don't want to tease you, Padawan. I want to love you.' Then I kissed him."

"And then? What else was said?"

"He said something like, 'Please, Master. Please.'" Qui-Gon paused in thought. His eyes widened, and he met Adi's gaze as a seed of horror started to grow in him. "He said, 'Please, Master, I don't want this.'"

"What then?" she asked softly.

"I said, 'Yes you do, and so do I.' Then I kissed him again. He responded; I could tell he wanted it. There weren't very many words after that."

"None? Neither of you said anything else?"

Qui-Gon thought for a moment. He hadn't really been in a state to listen to the inarticulate pleas his Padawan had been muttering. He tried to settle his mind to remember. He drew in a sharp breath.

"Qui-Gon?"

Qui-Gon put his face in his hands. His voice was barely audible. "After a while he started saying, 'No.' Over and over."

There was more; Qui-Gon remembered hearing Obi-Wan shout as he came: "Nooo!" At the time he had thought it was just his denial of the climax, trying and failing to hold off. Now he suddenly realized that wasn't it at all.

"Is there any more?"

"I tried to hold him," he whispered. "He fought me. He said, 'I would have preferred the cane.' Then he asked me to leave." Qui-Gon raised his face, then, and Adi saw glazed, soul-sick eyes. "Adi, I raped him. I raped my Padawan." He leaned back and rested his head against the chair, eyes closed, fighting back a wave of nausea.

Adi was very still for a long moment. "I can't keep this quiet, Qui-Gon. Not something of this magnitude."

"I realize that."

"It would be better for Obi-Wan if you just confess and step aside. That way there will be no need for his testimony in front of the Council."

"I understand."

"Although I fear ... either way Obi-Wan will be terribly damaged by this ... betrayal. To be forcibly separated from you at this point might harm him even more. Perhaps there's another way ..."

Very slowly, without opening his eyes, he reached around and took his lightsaber off his belt. He tossed it onto the floor in front of Adi. "Do me a favor," he said hoarsely. "Put this against my heart and power it on."

She clenched her fists. "Blast it, Qui-Gon. Don't you want to fight?"

"Fight what? I've just destroyed the only thing in the galaxy that means anything at all to me."

"Not destroyed. Damaged, yes, but it can be mended. Qui-Gon, look at me."

Qui-Gon opened his eyes to bloodshot slits.

"Did you hear what you just said? 'The only thing in the galaxy that means anything at all to me.'"

"That's right. What of it?"

"So maybe, you selfish, blind, stubborn, Hutt-loving son of a grub-infested pusworm, you _do_ love him and you just won't acknowledge it."

"Maybe. What does it matter now?"

She rose to her feet and gazed down at him. "Because I am giving you a chance. I don't have to see the Council until tomorrow morning. If you can mend your relationship with him before that, I'll see what I can do to keep you two together. If that's what you both want."

Qui-Gon realized with a start that he _did_ want that, wanted it desperately. The thought of a future without Obi-Wan in it seemed incomprehensible.

"I'll try," he said, and rose to his feet.

"_Do_," she admonished, and squeezed his hand. "For both your sakes, do."

As soon as the door to their rooms closed, Obi-Wan hurried to the shower and for the second time in an hour washed the smell and feel of sex from his body. He couldn't rid himself of every trace, though. The bite marks on his back and neck, the round bruises on his hips where his Master's strong fingers had dug into him, the aching soreness where he'd been penetrated ... those he could not be rid of so easily. And the empty ache in his heart ... he feared he would never be able to heal from that.

If he'd thought his Master's rejection had hurt, the pain had been nothing compared to being taken, being used, without love. Had that been his punishment? If so, Qui-Gon couldn't have come up with anything more devastating. It had brought home to him like nothing else could have how shallow and unworthy his actions had been this evening. Oh, yes, Obi-Wan's Master was wise. He only hoped he could still prove himself worthy to be his Padawan.

Obi-Wan scrubbed himself dry and threw on his clothes. He hurried out the door to find Rissa.

Already in her sleep shirt, Rissa stirred from her reading when the door chime sounded. She opened the door to find Obi-Wan, hair still damp and unbraided, looking utterly miserable. She drew him in by the hand and closed the door.

"What happened?" she breathed.

He bowed his head. "My Master has made it very apparent to me that what I did to you this evening was wrong. It was unworthy of a Jedi, and I apologize. I hope you can forgive me."

"Obi-Wan, look at me."

He looked up, and she was smiling. She caressed his cheek gently with the backs of her fingers. "There is nothing to forgive. I wanted it. I enjoyed it. Please don't regret it now."

"No. I knew you had feelings for me, feelings I didn't share. I took advantage of you."

"Silly. Don't fret over that. You made no promises. I knew you didn't love me, but I was glad to take whatever you offered me. I'll treasure the memory of it."

"How could you?" he said dully. His fists clenched and unclenched. "How could you treasure something, knowing it meant so little to me? Oh, it must have hurt. I'm so sorry."

She drew him down to sit beside her on the couch. He was trembling. "Tell me what happened," she said softly.

"He ... Qui-Gon, he ..." Obi-Wan swallowed convulsively, then gathered his tattered composure around himself like a cloak before continuing. "I wanted him to cane me, but instead he made ... he had sex with me."

"That was your punishment? To have sex with the man you've loved for years? Doesn't sound too awful to me."

"You don't understand." He looked up, his eyes dead. "He doesn't love me. He was disgusted with me. He only did it to show me how petty I had been, and he was right. To share that kind of intimacy, desperately in love, knowing you're not loved in return ... I would rather have his blade through my heart." He twisted his hands in the fabric of his robe to stop their shaking. "And I did that to you."

"No, no," she soothed, stroking his head and drawing his face against her shoulder. "Obi-Wan, I am fond of you, yes. But what I feel for you is nothing compared to your love for Qui-Gon. Silly boy, I don't even really know you. How could I love you like that? You haven't hurt me. You must believe that."

After a moment his trembling stilled. "You mean it?" he said, words muffled against her chest.

"Yes, yes. Oh, Obi-Wan, you are too tender hearted for your own good."

He drew back and grinned wanly at her. "Master would say you're right about that."

"And I still say your Master is a fool."

Obi-Wan straightened. "Master Qui-Gon is the wisest Jedi who ever lived."

"Oh, please!" She stood up, struggling against an urge to take Obi-Wan by the collar and shake him. "He's just a man, like anyone else. If he had any sense at all he wouldn't have treated your affection with such contempt. He's not infallible. He even had an apprentice turn to the Dark Side --"

"That wasn't his fault, he --"

"Of course it was. Who else's would it be? Perhaps he forced the other apprentice to have sex with him, too." She gasped as she realized she might have gone too far.

"I wasn't forced," Obi-Wan said darkly. He had grown very still.

"Of course not." She sat down. "I wouldn't think _that_ of him."

"I wasn't forced," he said softly. He put his face in his hands, thinking: But I did say no. I told him no. He wouldn't stop. My body responded, but I told him no. Am I worth so little, that he would not listen, even then? Even when I deserved whatever he did to me?

"I want to die," he said softly.

She leapt to him, put her arms around him. "You don't mean that."

"No, no. I just ... I just wish I never had to see him again. I can't face him. I don't know what I'm going to do."

She hugged him tight. "You can stay here tonight. Try to get some sleep. You'll feel better in the morning."

He let himself melt into her, let her lead him to the bed, let her strip him to his shorts and tuck him into the covers. He rolled over and buried his face in the pillow, emptying his mind, and in a few seconds he was asleep.

Qui-Gon knew before he reached their quarters that his Padawan was not there. He went to the small bedroom and wrinkled his nose as he was reminded of what he'd done. Shame consumed him. He would get this cleaned up before his Padawan had to see it.

He whipped the bedclothes off and bundled them into the laundry, then went to fetch clean sheets from Obi-Wan's closet. He stopped for a moment, looking around in wonder. He'd not been inside his apprentice's closet in years, since shortly after he'd first moved in as a new Padawan. It was as orderly and economic as everything else about the young man, clothes sorted by function, belts hung in rows, shoes and boots in a row, accessories in containers. The shelves weren't full -- a Jedi's life did not lend itself to the accumulation of possessions -- but there were a few items besides the customary sand and brown garments of a Jedi. Qui-Gon ran his hands over the fabrics.

Here, a costume from a play Obi-Wan had written for the young initiates in the creche. Master Tommrin had complimented Qui-Gon on nurturing such a caring, open-hearted spirit in his Padawan, and Qui-Gon had had to bury an unbecoming swell of pride. 

Here, the sky-blue gown Obi-Wan had worn in deference to his hosts at the Veddian ambassador's reception. That had been a delicate accomplishment, that treaty, and Obi-Wan's wisdom and diplomacy had made the difference. Qui-Gon doubted he could have succeeded on his own.

Here, the buttery soft nerf-hide jacket Obi-Wan had saved allotments for two years to buy when he was 15. Qui-Gon had been impressed even then at his apprentice's tenacity and patience, his willingness to delay gratification however long it took to get what he truly wanted.

Qui-Gon let his shaking hands fall to his sides. He lowered his gaze and his eyes fell on an open container at waist level.

A small, square plasteel box filled with colored hair bands.

Perforce, Qui-Gon reached out and took a red one, slipped it onto his smallest finger. Quickly he retrieved the sheets and set about making the bed, shutting down his emotions as he did so. Then he set about to find his apprentice.

A few minutes later Qui-Gon was on the communicator to Bant, whose bulbous eyes drooped from interrupted sleep. "Yes, Master Jinn?" she asked.

He did not even stop to apologize. "I need to find Obi-Wan. Do you know where he is?"

"No, Master. He is not here."

"Tell me the name of the Knight he left with. The dark-haired girl."

Bant paused, considering. "With all due respect, Master Jinn, I'm not sure that's any of your business."

"Blast!" Bant's eyes widened at the curse, and Qui-Gon fought to calm himself. "He is my apprentice. Everything he does is my business. And I have need of him right now. You _will_ tell me what I want to know."

"Yes, Master. Her name is Rissa. Here, I'll feed you her comm number ..."

"No. I'll go there myself." He shut off the call and keyed up the Temple directory. The Knights had apartments in all the towers, but Rissa's was here in the South. Good.

Qui-Gon rose and strode out to catch the lift.

Rissa was waiting for him outside her closed door when he stepped off the lift. So, Bant had called to warn them. Well, it wouldn't do any good. This conspiracy ended now.

"Open the door," Qui-Gon said, a quiet threat in his voice. "I know he's in there."

She crossed her arms across her chest. She hadn't bothered to put on a robe, and Qui-Gon felt a stab of jealousy as he realized she was wearing only a thin sleep shift.

"He's asleep."

"I must speak with him."

"He doesn't want to see you right now."

"Open the door." He brushed past her, placing his hands on the lock and bringing the Force to bear.

"In fact," she said pointedly, "I believe he said he'd rather die."

Qui-Gon froze. He let his hands drop. "I don't blame him," he said softly. "I have wanted to die, myself, this evening."

She narrowed her eyes. "If I thought I could win, I'd challenge you to a duel and make your wish come true."

"I would let you, but that I think it would only hurt my Padawan more to have me dead."

"And it _is_ all about him," she said, meeting Qui-Gon's gaze. "_His_ needs, _his_ desires, _his_ pain, _his_ soul, _his_ heart?"

"Yes. Force, yes. He has a generous heart. He deserves better than what I've given him."

She sensed the sincerity in his words, and she relaxed slightly. "For the life of me, I don't know what he sees in you."

He sighed. "Neither do I."

They were both silent for a moment.

"I will open the door, Qui-Gon, if you can do one thing for me."

"What is that?"

"If you can stand there and tell me, honestly, truly, that you love him as much as he loves you."

Qui-Gon was silent for a long time. "How could I? I think my capacity for that kind of love was burned out of me long ago."

"Then you have nothing to offer him."

He clenched his jaw and turned away. Perhaps she was right. What had he hoped to gain by coming here? He should just confess himself to the Council and have Obi-Wan reassigned. Qui-Gon would be sent away for some sort of therapy or rehabilitation, and with luck he wouldn't see Obi-Wan again for many years, if ever.

Even the thought of it seemed to shatter him like glass. His step wavered, and he had to touch the wall to steady himself. He turned back.

"I no longer understand my own emotions," he said. "Perhaps you can make sense of them."

"What are you talking about?"

"Look into my mind. Then you'll know for certain how I really feel."   He held out his hands, lowered his shields, inviting her to sift through his memories.

He felt a tentative touch, and suddenly his life was played before him like a holofilm. Happy days in the creche. Years as a gawky, lonely Initiate. Joy at being chosen Padawan. Learning, fighting, never really close to anyone, always wrapped inside the living Force. His Knighting. His missions, full of solitary sacrifice, gladly accepted. _No remorse, no regrets_, the thought echoed through that time. Taking his first Padawan, his pride and affection, wistful when she'd been made Knight and moved on. Then Xanatos, the boy who'd broken through his walls, the one he'd truly loved. Qui-Gon's eyes as full of stars as any teenager, only to find he'd been used, manipulated, and that the boy hadn't cared anything for him at all other than to use his affections to get what he wanted. The months and years after, shut down from all emotion, carrying out his duties while dead inside, refusing even to consider taking another Padawan if it meant opening his heart again. And then Obi-Wan, like sunlight flooding his soul, squirming his way in where he wasn't wanted, reminding Qui-Gon again of how beautiful a Jedi's courage could be. Their missions together, his growing fondness for the boy. Meditating, stuffing all of his pride and affection away into the Force. Obi-Wan's face, slight hurt at his Master's faint, infrequent praise. _I will not have him become prideful_, the thought echoed _not like Xanatos_. Obi-Wan at 16, confessing his love, Qui-Gon's heart contracting in fear, because even then he knew he loved Obi-Wan in every way a man could love. Even then he longed to let the boy's bright energy and giving heart be a balm to his aching soul. _NO! I will not allow myself to be hurt again._ Raging inside, handling it badly, turning away his eyes and his soul so he wouldn't have to _see_, wouldn't have to _know_, wouldn't have to _feel_. Their missions together after that, more successes than failures, Obi-Wan growing into an indispensable partner. And then tonight: Obi-Wan crying, hurting. Qui-Gon's lust -- he wouldn't allow it to be more than that, wouldn't allow his desperate heart to _love_ as he took his pleasure in Obi-Wan's body, telling himself it was out of kindness to the boy, but knowing it was only his fear and need that drove him. _Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering._

He gasped. His eyes flew open even as he slammed his shields shut.

Rissa winced. "Ow."

"Let me see him," he whispered. "I need to see him. Please."

The door opened, and Obi-Wan stood there, both arms braced in the door frame as if too weak to stand unaided. "Master?"

Qui-Gon was startled by another stab of jealousy and desire mingled. Obi-Wan was almost completely naked, hair rumpled from sleep, eyes hooded, lips puffy, and seemingly oblivious to the effect he was having on both members of his audience.

Qui-Gon swallowed. "How much did you hear?"

Obi-Wan answered him with a crooked grin. "No doubt any Force sensitive awake at this hour now knows your whole life story."

"The only one I care about is you." Qui-Gon's gut clenched as he said it, but he stood firm and let Obi-Wan meet his gaze.

"I know that now, Master," Obi-Wan said softly. "Though I despaired of ever hearing you say it."

"And you loved me anyway." It was a statement, not a question, but there was wonder in it.

Obi-Wan sighed. "I kept thinking if only I loved you hard enough, if I worked hard enough, if I proved my devotion, I could erase his memory and you wouldn't be so empty inside ... but I was never good enough. I've never been good enough."

"You know that's not true."

"What _is_ true, Master?"

Qui-Gon took a deep breath. "That I love you. That I need you. That I can't imagine my life without you. That it scares the hell out of me to feel this way."

Rissa had disappeared into her apartment and emerged now with Obi-Wan's clothes in a neat bundle. She held out his cloak. "Why don't you two go home and get this all straightened out?"

Obi-Wan shrugged into his cloak and took the bundle from her hands. He leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. "Thanks for everything," he said.

She grinned. "My pleasure, silly boy. Now scoot."

As the lift door closed, Qui-Gon took Obi-Wan's hand. He kissed him, almost chastely, but it was enough to make Obi-Wan's blood boil. Qui-Gon pulled away reluctantly. "We need to go see Master Gallia."

Adi Gallia was not particularly pleased to be awakened in the middle of the night, even when she was greeted by the sight of Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan holding hands. Obi-Wan's expression told her all she needed to know.

"Go home," she said gruffly, and waved them away. "I'll schedule you to see the Council tomorrow morning."

Her door closed, and Obi-Wan turned to his Master. "The Council?"

Qui-Gon's lips had tightened to a thin line. "I'll explain later." But the caress of his thumb in Obi-Wan's palm promised more than talk.

When they were finally in their quarters, Obi-Wan resisted the urge to press his Master against the wall and simply tear away his clothes. Instead he went to the kitchen and made tea. He returned and sat next to Qui-Gon on the sofa. "The Council, Qui-Gon?"

"We need permission from the Council before starting a sexual relationship, Padawan."

Obi-Wan gave him a mischievous look over the top of his cup. "Isn't it a bit late for that?"

Qui-Gon sighed. "I'd really like to pretend tonight didn't happen."

"I don't think that's possible."

"I could take the memory from you."

"We are the sum of our memories, our joy and our suffering. Would you let me take all memory of Xanatos from you?"

"No."

"Then let's move on. Tonight was my coming of age. I have learned much from it. I don't choose to forget it, or regret it."

"I hurt you deeply."

"What you did tonight was only the culmination of years of hurt. It was less devastating to me in some ways than many other things you've said or done." Obi-Wan was sipping his tea now as if he were discussing the weather.

The words cut Qui-Gon to the heart, for he sensed their truth. "I don't know what to say to that. 'I'm sorry' doesn't seem adequate."

Obi-Wan put his cup down and very deliberately leaned back. His cloak fell open, revealing the bare chest beneath. He was already so hard that the tip of his thick erection peeked out of the top of his shorts. "Then why not just make love to me instead, Master."

"Padawan," Qui-Gon said, his voice a tad choked.

"Yes, Master."

"I _do_ love you. At least as much as this scarred old heart can love anybody. And I think you know that very well. But the truth is I'm not sure a sexual relationship is a wise idea for us -- despite the fact that your state of undress is driving me to distraction right now. We are still Master and Padawan. I'm not sure we can be lovers with that sort of power imbalance hanging over us; it's too fraught with potential for abuse."

Obi-Wan sat forward again, gathering his cloak around himself, his expression earnest. "Would you prefer we wait until I am made a Knight?"

Qui-Gon sighed. "Obi-Wan, you are young. You have many years left before --"

"Master. Spare me. I heard this speech at age 16, if you recall."

"Yes, and you've already wasted five years waiting on me, with perhaps five more to go. I can't ask that of you. It's too great a sacrifice."

"If you would just ask me I would gladly wait fifty years."

"Then I will not ask you."

"So we are stuck. You will not make love to me, and you will not ask me to wait. You know I will not take another lover." He stood up, running his hand through his hair. "I shall go mad. Would you like that? A gibbering, drooling, mad apprentice walking two steps behind you like a crazed woolamander?"

Qui-Gon laughed. "We can't have that."

Obi-Wan stared at him, changeable eyes alight with humor and lust. His voice dropped low. "Do you know how much I love your laugh?"

Qui-Gon felt the blood desert his face. His heart hammered. When he finally spoke it was barely a growl. "Padawan, don't."

He didn't miss the flash of hurt that crossed Obi-Wan's expressive face before the Jedi mask of peace and serenity descended and all trace of sparkle in his eyes disappeared. "Yes, Master."

Suddenly Qui-Gon could bear it no more. He put his cup down. "At least," he said as he rose slowly, not at all sure what he was about to suggest was wise, but breathless with the idea nonetheless -- "At least let us make one memory to last us, if we must wait." He reached out and captured Obi-Wan's face in both hands.

Obi-Wan's eyes were like green fire. "Master?"

"And to overshadow what came before, if we cannot erase it." He bent and let his lips brush Obi-Wan's startled mouth. The lips yielded beneath his gentle pressure, and he let the tip of his tongue taste that wry mouth for an instant. Even that small contact started an inferno somewhere in his core and he was immediately erect, as if he were a Padawan again and this his first kiss.

He was amused when Obi-Wan suddenly grabbed him by the shoulders and took control of the kiss, ravishing him with a searing hunger that threatened to overwhelm his senses. He found himself being stripped skillfully, with amazing haste. Obi-Wan stepped out of his own shorts and then pressed Qui-Gon onto his back on the sofa. Obi-Wan released Qui-Gon's mouth long enough to free him of his boots and pants, then rose back up to devour him again with lips and tongue and teeth. That hot, sensual mouth blazed a trail along the edges of his beard to his chest, taking a nipple between his teeth and turning it to stone.

This was so unlike the timid, weeping Obi-Wan of only a few hours previous that Qui-Gon laughed.

Obi-Wan looked up, frowning. "Does that tickle?"

"No, Obi-Wan. Only I had no idea you would be such a masterful lover."

"I have had a long time to perfect my ideas. Lie back and let me show you."

Qui-Gon let his head fall back and allowed Obi-Wan to continue setting his nerves on fire with mouth and hands, sensitizing every inch of him except the part that most needed it. By the time Obi-Wan's tongue buried itself in his navel for the third time he could not contain a groan of need. "Obi-Wan, please ..."

"Hmm?" Obi-Wan slid his body up until he could capture his mouth in another kiss. He rubbed their erections together, the wetness of pre-come slicking them with delicious friction. Qui-Gon moaned and arched against him, and Obi-Wan grinned wickedly against his mouth.

Ah, so he liked to have the upper hand? Well, two could play that game. Qui-Gon grappled Obi-Wan off the sofa and onto the floor, the Master on top. He took his apprentice's wrists in one big hand and used the other to stroke Obi-Wan's erection as he kissed him deeply, mimicking with his tongue what he wanted to do to the younger man's body.

Obi-Wan's back arched painfully. He gasped and writhed, then lurched and grasped Qui-Gon's pumping hand in a steel grip, stilling it. His other hand clutched at the nape of Qui-Gon's neck, desperately tugging his head downward. "Oh, I can't ... I need ... please ..."

Qui-Gon chuckled and relented, letting his head be forced down to capture Obi-Wan's throbbing, silky member in his mouth. He swirled his tongue over the head and then plunged, gulping Obi-Wan to the root, milking him with throat muscles and strong, relentless suction.

One second inside that hot, wet cavern was all it took. Obi-Wan exploded, crying out his Master's name as he pumped and spurted into Qui-Gon's greedy mouth. Qui-Gon continued to lick and suck him, gently, until he was spent and boneless on the floor. He turned Obi-Wan over, picked him up, and deposited his limp torso onto the sofa.

"Such an inviting picture," he said softly, and left Obi-Wan there, unmoving, while he went in search of suitable lubricant. He found some in Obi-Wan's bedtable drawer, an unopened tube, and realized it must have been bought for him. "Oh, my Obi-Wan," he breathed. "Why did you let me hurt you so?"

He was almost in tears when he knelt behind Obi-Wan and stroked his flanks tenderly, noting the bruises his fingers had left earlier in the evening. Shame filled him. "Obi-Wan,  if you don't want this ..."

"Want it," came Obi-Wan's muffled voice from the cushions. He lifted his head and grinned. "Want you. In me. Now." He wiggled his backside invitingly and let his head fall back to the cushions.

Qui-Gon took a deep breath and let it out. His erection had flagged, but it strengthened again as he began to stroke and knead the firm buttocks. He bent to place a kiss in the cleft, then licked and sucked his way down to the puckered rosebud and worked the muscle with a strong tongue. Obi-Wan moaned as his Master stimulated his most sensitive opening. Qui-Gon let his mouth go lower still, taking a testicle into his mouth and sucking very gently.

Obi-Wan gasped at the intimate caress. He was already painfully hard again, but he dared not move with Qui-Gon's mouth on his sac. Qui-Gon took the other testicle, giving it the same thorough treatment. At last he released him, and Obi-Wan ground his cock against the cushions, moaning, "More ..."

Qui-Gon opened the tube and slicked a finger, very carefully penetrated his lover's opening. The muscle was already loose from their previous encounter and soon he was working three fingers into the tight tunnel, brushing the sensitive spot that made Obi-Wan cry out desperately for completion.

Hastily Qui-Gon slicked his erection with the lubricant and rose up to press the head of his cock into his apprentice's willing body. He gasped at the heat and pressure, but held off for a moment before pushing very gently further, then further. Obi-Wan tried to thrust himself back onto him, impale himself, but Qui-Gon's grip on his hips wouldn't allow it, and Obi-Wan moaned in desperate protest. After a long, careful interval, Qui-Gon was sheathed completely in that warm tightness, and with slow increments he began to thrust. Obi-Wan's hips rose to meet him, and soon they were grinding together almost frantically, trying to hold off the inevitable. Qui-Gon could feel himself building toward a climax of incredible intensity.

"Do it! Do it!" Obi-Wan gasped, pushing back hard, and Qui-Gon came, flooding his apprentice's body with liquid heat. As soon as his convulsions stopped Obi-Wan pulled away and grasped him by the shoulders, using a touch of Force to lift him and propel him into the same position on the sofa that he'd occupied a moment before. He took the lube and almost frantically slicked himself. His hands were shaking, and he was breathing in great gulps of air.

Qui-Gon, barely conscious after his stunning climax, looked back over his shoulder and muttered, "You didn't come?"

"On the sofa? I'd never get the stain out," Obi-Wan said with a shaky grin. He ran a slicked finger up Qui-Gon's crack. "Anyway, if this is to be our last time for a while, I mean to have you, all of you." He hesitated, suddenly worried. "That is, if you want this ..."

Qui-Gon's laughter washed away his fears. "Have me, take me, do what you will. I couldn't stop you at the moment even if I wanted to." The older man was so sated and relaxed his muscles didn't resist as Obi-Wan gently inserted first one digit, then two, probing carefully for the pleasure spot. He found it, and Qui-Gon moaned softly. "Padawan ..."

"Yes, Master."

"You'll get no more out of me tonight. Just take me before I fall asleep."

"Yes, Master." Obi-Wan grinned. He had regained his shaken control. He slid his cock along the cleft of Qui-Gon's buttocks, leaning forward to place a line of kisses along his spine from the nape down. "I love you," he said softly, even as he pushed himself very gently inside his Master, with one long, long slide sheathing himself completely. Force, but it was so good, so hot, and despite everything that had come before Obi-Wan felt himself near climax again before he even started thrusting. He paused, not moving, biting his lip.

Then Qui-Gon shifted, sending a surge of pleasure through Obi-Wan, and he found himself thrusting, pounding, driving himself into that tight heat as if he could bury himself completely in his Master's body, become one with him in flesh and spirit both. He reached out through the Force, dropping all his shields, projecting all the desperate love and desire he'd bottled up for so long.

Qui-Gon's heart contracted as the emotions washed over him. Such a beautiful gift, this love. So much wasted time. Qui-Gon dropped his own shields and then hastily built another, bigger one to encompass them both, hiding the incandescent feelings lest they wake every Force-sensitive in the Temple. He felt Obi-Wan's mind reach for his, and he let him in. They crested on a feedback loop of love and admiration and pleasure until at last Obi-Wan could stand it no longer. His release tumbled him off the edge of the world, and Qui-Gon caught him.

Obi-Wan awoke a few minutes later to find himself in Qui-Gon's bed, his Master propped on one elbow just looking at him almost wonderingly as he traced a finger along his Padawan's chest.

"We'll have to work on your stamina, Padawan," Qui-Gon said, with just a hint of smugness. "I can't have you passing out from a little stimulation."

"We'll see how well you do when you've come six times in as many hours, Master."

Qui-Gon laughed. "Six? I guess Rissa is tough competition."

Obi-Wan blushed. "Well, the first time ... I just needed to take the edge off before the party."

"Take the edge off?"

"In case you said yes. I was afraid I might embarrass myself. I've wanted you for so long ..." At the thought, his sex stirred again, and he sighed.

Qui-Gon's eyes widened. "You'll be the death of me, Padawan."

"There is no death, Master. But never fear, I need sleep, too, if we're to face the Council in the morning." He pulled himself up on his elbows, looked at Qui-Gon. "What will we tell them?"

Qui-Gon took up the loose strands of Obi-Wan's hair and began to braid them, using the familiar motion to calm his mind and think. What did he want? And what was best for his apprentice? Could they be lovers within the confines of the rigid obedience and discipline a Master must demand of his Padawan? And would their love make them vulnerable, less able to make clear, hard decisions in times of crisis? He didn't know, and he didn't trust his still-scarred heart to make the right choices. All he did know was that Obi-Wan had been starved for his affection and approval for more years than he cared to admit. This young man deserved so much better than he'd been given. Qui-Gon was determined to make up for that.

He finished the braid and held the frayed ends between his blunt fingertips, poised on the edge of a decision. Obi-Wan made it for him. Gently his Padawan rolled the red band from Qui-Gon's finger and twisted it into his hair, binding the end of the braid. "I knew when I saw you wearing this that everything would be all right."

"Padawan ..." Qui-Gon said softly, warningly.

Obi-Wan lifted his finger to Qui-Gon's lips, silencing his protest. "We'll tell them we want to wait, Master. At least for now."

Qui-Gon released a breath he didn't know he was holding, and nodded. "I said I would not ask you to wait, but I am honored that you would wish to do so."

"I can't promise not to try to tempt you, though."

Qui-Gon smiled and eased himself down onto his back, drawing Obi-Wan to himself in a tender embrace. "You don't need to try, Obi-Wan."

"Ah, Obi-Wan murmured against Qui-Gon's chest. "Then I suppose I shall have to _do_, Master." He covered a pink nipple with warm suction for a moment and then let it go, finally letting his head settle beneath Qui-Gon's chin.

Qui-Gon's chuckle was the last thing his young apprentice heard before drifting off in contented sleep.

END Part 2.