Disclaimer: not mine, don't sue... i don't have anything clever
to say about it :)
Obi-Wan Kenobi was excited.
He'd awaken early that morning, washed then dressed and quickly
hurried to the upper levels of the Jedi Temple to his master's
quarters. He was always humbled when he reached one of the
floors where the Masters dwelled. There was something almost
magical about the bare appointments, with the cold undecorated
gleaming walls, pale floors and the nearly miserly
accommodations of the rooms themselves. He could feel the power
that thrummed through the walls and it prickled the hairs on
his skin.
Obi-Wan bounded up another flight of stairs to the floor only
two levels below the roof. The older Masters lived there. It
was where his Master lived. But it was funny to think that they
would place the older beings on the higher floors, when in
fact, the older one grew, the lower they should be as to bypass
all the stairs they'd struggle to climb.
The young man didn't waste any time chuckling at his own
observation. He folded his arms in the sleeves of his rusty
brown robe and walked down the silent hall with as much
composure as he could muster. He was glad his master had
instructed him to wear his soft-soled boots, for his tread made
no sound on the floor. It made him feel all the more dignified.
Smiling to himself, Obi-Wan reached out silently to his
master's thoughts. Over the 12 years they'd been together, it
had become easier and easier to mentally communicate with his
master, to reach across their bond for a brief touch. If it
were up to him, he would do it all the time; it was much more
intimate.
/ Master, I am here / Obi-Wan said silently as he approached
the door at the end of the hall.
Just as he arrived, the door slid open and he ducked into the
warm confines of the room.
He liked his master's rooms and within those walls, he felt
welcomed and protected. The rooms were inviting and well lit.
And, though he did not have many belongings, the ones he did
possess and display were curious from worlds Obi-Wan had only
dreamt of.
Then there was that relaxing aroma. Obi-Wan just knew that it
was coming from the walls. Something inside the walls was
emitting a lovely comforting scent. His master smelled of that
elusive scent too. Every time he smelled it, he was reminded of
times when he was at the acme of bliss and contentment. No
specific images came to mind, just the hearty feeling of
delight. Obi-Wan sighed out a long breath and turned to poke at
the immaculate shelves.
Qui-Gon Jinn strode quietly into the common room. He was a
tall, well-proportioned man, clad simply in his sand-coloured
inner and outer tunics, dark brown pants and dark boots. He
captured Obi-Wan's full attention and the boy in the midst of
removing his cloak swiveled and gazed upon him with thinly
veiled lust. Qui-Gon raised a hand to stop Obi-Wan from
shedding his robe.
"Keep it on," he said. "We don't want to be late."
Though normally taciturn and sober, the sly glint in his
master's voice revealed the levity of the impending appointment
with the council. Obi-Wan relaxed a little and went to wait
beside the closed doorway of Qui-Gon's quarters.
Qui-Gon finished tying back a restraining lock of silvery brown
hair at the back of his head and shrugged on his dark chocolate
brown robe. Straightening it at his shoulders he paused, having
caught Obi-Wan's sultry and expectant gaze. The boy's green
eyes spoke to him in ways he didn't want to acknowledge. He
hated it when he looked at him that way. He hated it because he
always found himself unable to think of anything but giving in
to the boy's decidedly wicked wishes.
Obi-Wan had always been hungry. He was hungry for life, hungry
for knowledge. He wanted to soak up as much as was humanly
possible and as of late, or so it seemed to Qui-Gon, he had set
his sights on learning every inch of his master.
He studied the boy taking in his overall appearance. Obi-Wan
looked all together stately and in place. Nothing was hanging
out or was left untucked. A memory flashed across his mind,
back to a time when he would constantly have to tuck and
re-tuck young Obi-Wan's tunic or tighten his loose belt. Though
a Jedi is not vain, Qui-Gon would remind him, he is not to look
like a vagrant.
Sometimes, he'd teased Obi-Wan telling him, "I'm your teacher,
your master... not your mother. Be mindful of your appearance.
"
But now, the boy was older, taller, and a tenfold stronger than
he'd ever been. Obi-Wan had always been rather healthy, so the
change in his appearance must have been extreme to be so
readily noticed. The second outward change was the boy's hair.
His Padawan's normally short ginger hair now graced his
shoulders and waited to be cut again at the closure of the
upcoming ritual.
Obi-Wan's twenty-fifth birthday was in one day. A quarter of a
century's celebration, his Ritual of Four, entailed an
elaborate ceremony, but only a ceremony between Master and
Apprentice. Qui-Gon had been tightlipped about the whole
situation, and because each master personalized each ceremony,
Obi-Wan could go to no other for any applicable information.
Qui-Gon was pleased and happy. Obi-Wan turned out exactly as
he'd hoped, perfect. He tucked his hands in the sleeves of his
robe and moved very slowly but deliberately towards Obi-Wan,
with an indolent smile parting his lips. Obi-Wan, recognizing
that hard look of possession stepped back and braced himself
against the doorframe. Qui-Gon stopped just mere inches from
him still facing the door. He inclined his head to the side
just slightly and turned his face to his Padawan.
"Remember Padawan. This is a joyous occasion, but of course...
we'll try not to turn it into a travesty."
The Jedi Master grinned boyishly and gently laced his fingers
into his Padawan's long silky hair. Obi-Wan savored the rare
gift of his master's smile and returned it with the whole of
his being. He then reached up with both hands, cupped the
strong bearded jaw and pulled his master down. Qui-Gon felt the
lust in Obi-Wan, even through the light moist brush of lips
that slipped between them.
With his dark blue eyes still on Obi-Wan's, Qui-Gon briefly
stroked his knuckles along the boy's smooth cheek and moved
through the doorway. Trying to swallow the fire his master had
kindled deep within him, Obi-Wan quickly followed behind. He'd
stolen kisses from his master before, with his desire masked by
the spirit of friendly affection, even though that was the
least of his emotions. But as of late, his master had been
refusing him entirely, firmly grasping him by the arms and
holding him away if he attempted to bring his lips in close.
Obi-Wan was confused, and even more pained by the sudden shift
in his master's character. He wondered if his master would ever
want him the way a lover would. The way he desired him.
Obi-Wan stood quietly at his Qui-Gon's shoulder gazing down at
the floor while the Jedi Council addressed his master. His eyes
lazily followed the pale blue paisley designs cutting through
the dark maroon circle tiled in the center of the council
room's floor. He was pleased as a cat basking in the sun for
all attention was on him.
Though it had only been a month, the long hair falling about
his ears and shoulders annoyed him. He had liked and gotten
used to the short buzz cut that identified him as Qui-Gon
Jinn's Padawan. But the notion that the hair soon would be cut
again tempered his discomfort.
"It is in our records, Master Qui-Gon Jinn," Mace Windu was
saying, "that your Padawan learner Obi-Wan Kenobi is one day
away from his Ritual Of Four."
Obi-Wan smiled inwardly keeping his young features carefully
and neutrally composed.
"Yes. It is tomorrow," confirmed Jinn, a small smile glancing
across his lips.
He favored his Padawan with a quick conspiratorial look.
"And," continued Windu, "that his ceremony will take place
tonight."
"He has already begun his preparations," Qui-Gon said.
Obi-Wan had fasted for the past two weeks, and for a month his
master did not cut his hair. But that was the bad part. Qui-Gon
had, three times a day, carefully bathed Obi-Wan's warm skin
with crushed herbs and other roots and oils known for their
cleansing powers. Obi-Wan would lay back in the shallow water
at the bottom of the tub and relish the light, though not
lecherous, touch of his master's hand. He couldn't think of a
better way to spend a morning, an afternoon or an evening.
Mace Windu leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and
folded his hands. He looked at Obi-Wan and then let his eyes
slide over to Obi-Wan's master. For a brief instance, he
allowed himself to imagine just how erotic Qui-Gon would make
the encounter. Shutting off his emotions before they radiated
through every mind on the council, he sat back again and smiled
a little.
"Continue then, you must," said Yoda chuckling and struggling
down from his small cushioned perch.
He'd caught a glimpse of Mace Windu's thoughts and had agreed
heartily with him. The two of them, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan, master
and apprentice were incomplete without the other. It was very
obvious and only a natural turn of events that they would and
want to become one, whether they admitted it out loud or not.
Obi-Wan snapped his head up, watching in heart pounding
surprise as all twelve members of the council rose to their
feet. For a brief instant he knew they would rush upon him and
thrash him for the thoughts he'd been entertaining. But with
pleasant smiles or at least expressions that passed for smiles,
they all bowed to him in silent congratulations. Not a group
that lionized their members, the council nevertheless did place
acknowledgement where it was required.
Qui-Gon bowed gracefully in return and out of the corner of his
eye, saw Obi-Wan do the same. He then turned to go. Obi-Wan
moved close to his heels as they exited the meeting room.
Qui-Gon folded his arms within his robe's sleeves and smiled to
himself as he strode down the long gleaming hallway to the
stairs that led to the outside. He was not returning to his
rooms just yet because he wanted to spend some preliminary
meditation time with Obi-Wan in one of the water gardens on the
Temple's premises.
"Is there something else we must do, master?" Obi-Wan asked,
mimicking his master's posture.
"Have patience, Padawan," he said softly over his shoulder.
"All in due time."
Obi-Wan bowed his head, trying to keep the excited giggles from
breaking passed his lips. Qui-Gon glanced at the young man
walking at his side, keeping his thoughts clean and clear. He
and Obi-Wan had been together nearly twelve years, training as
master and student. He knew that Obi-Wan had feelings for him,
above just loving him as a master. The boy had not been ashamed
to lay bare his feelings to his master, and time and time
again, Qui-Gon found himself fighting off the boy.
But tonight, in just one night, everything would change.
Later, back within the warm comfortable walls of the common
room of Qui-Gon's quarters, Obi-Wan shifted imperceptibly on
his knees. His master had instructed for him to find a
comfortable position and meditate while he made preparations.
Obi-Wan couldn't remember ever meditating so many times in one
day. He had first done it in his own room that morning before
he met with his master, then again he'd done it in the peace of
the water gardens and then once again, he'd done it in his
master's common room. He had a niggling sense that Qui-Gon was
just letting him wile away the day under the guise of
meditation. And the thought of that made him smile.
Nearly an hour later, Qui-Gon draped a thick white towel about
Obi-Wan's stiff shoulders, successfully breaking the boy from
his trance. Questioningly, Obi-Wan looked up at his master and
took hold of both ends of the towel.
"Go and shower, Padawan," Qui-Gon said simply and then smiled
when he rose to his feet.
Obi-Wan looked up into Qui-Gon's beautiful face and smiled
back. Seeing the naked playfulness in his master's face, a
nervous tremor jingled through him and set his nerves on edge.
How he burned to reach up and press wet kisses to those
inviting lips. Qui-Gon gently grazed the boy's face with his
fingertips and with a shove, moved him on his way to wash up.
A half dozen or so strategically placed tall pale red
ceremonial candles lighted the room. Obi-Wan, toweling off in
the mouth of the bath peered cautiously around the doorframe
and into the common room. He was almost afraid to tread into
such a delicate sacred place.
Obi-Wan finally pushed himself into motion and padded into the
pool of dim yellow candlelight, trembling with unabashed
excitement, holding the white towel tight about his waist.
Lit with a carnal glow, Qui-Gon waited for him. He was
barefoot, freshly showered and dressed simply in loose
crËme coloured lounging pants and a tunic top with
three-quarter sleeves. He didn't have to say a word; just the
look in his mischievous blue eyes beckoned him closer.
Obi-Wan's footfalls were quiet and careful as he approached his
master.
Qui-Gon gestured to the square white cushioned mat on the floor
with his eyes.
"Kneel down, Padawan," he said warmly.
Qui-Gon gently tied the soft blue band of cloth over Obi-Wan's
eyes and turned the kneeling boy towards the calmly flickering
candles. He let his hands linger an almost indecently long
moment upon his bare shoulders before drawing back. Qui-Gon
retrieved a small wooden bowl heaped with fruits of all kinds
and sat, crossing his legs at Obi-Wan's side. He reached out
and placed a warm squared cup of berry flavored tea into the
boy's hands. Obi-Wan carefully memorized the smooth right
angles of the cup and enjoyed the soothing warmth seeping from
it into the bowl of his palms.
Qui-Gon knew Obi-Wan would like this part of the ritual, even
though he really hadn't planned it. In fact he had just thought
of adding it to the ceremony while Obi-Wan was in the shower.
Obi-Wan shifted ever so slightly against the unimaginably soft
pad beneath his knees and shins. The coolness of the floor,
upon which he pressed his toes, leant a pleasant sensation to
his already tingling senses. He drew in a long testing breath.
Oh! The rapture of the aromas wafting around him made his warm
flesh come alive as if the object of his desire had graced him
with cool fingertips. Obi-Wan fingered the cup again, his mouth
ready to sample its flavor.
Qui-Gon spoke very very softly, keeping his voice low.
"Open your mouth, Padawan."
Obi-Wan opened his mouth wide. The taste of the perfume
mingling with scented candle smoke rested lightly on his
tongue.
"Not that wide," Qui-Gon told him. "Just enough."
What did he mean just enough? Obi-Wan wondered
proceeding to relax his jaw so that his moist lips merely
slipped apart.
"Yes," Qui-Gon said simply.
Obi-Wan waited and then smiled, feeling the cool rough surface
of some sort of round fruit easing his lips apart. He curled
his tongue out and around the berry, enjoying its tangy flavor
brightening his taste buds. Just briefly he felt the burn,
rather than actually tasting the salty flavor of his master's
fingers before they released the berry to his tongue.
Obi-Wan shuddered as he began to chew. A great wave of tremors
danced up and down his spine, making his already taut body arch
in irresistible surrender. The berry's juice burst across his
tongue in an erotic mimicry of the fantasies he had about his
master's kisses. No, angelic as they were, he did not fantasize
of those light friendly kisses they'd shared on occasion; but
of those possessive exquisite kisses where his master's supple
lips and tongue would draw from him ravenous sighs of pleasure.
Obi-Wan breathed in again, tasting with his sense of smell the
lingering vestiges of berry on his tongue.
Qui-Gon observed Obi-Wan's reaction with a sense of wonder.
Never had he seen anyone nor he himself for that matter enjoy
something so tremendously. He could do nothing but smile with
joy.
/ Drink only a sip/ he instructed and watched with unparalleled
delight, the muscles of the boy's bare arms ripple smoothly,
working to lift the cup to his lips. Qui-Gon paused in his
reveling to note whether the boy would take the corner of the
cup between his rose petal lips or click his teeth against one
smooth side before drinking.
Obi-Wan, feeling that his master was watching and waiting,
cupped his lips about the square corner and poured only a taste
of sweet milk and tea into his mouth. He inhaled as he
swallowed allowing himself the sumptuous luxury of immersing
his appetite in such a simple act of drinking.
Qui-Gon too allowed himself a small pleasure of enjoying his
Padawan's delectation. But he did not let the boy rest upon
meager snippets of satisfaction. He brought between his
fingers, a different slice of hard fruit and with a deeply
seated, but unexpressed love of the young man, Qui-Gon watched
it slip into the boy's waiting mouth. Obi-Wan, sensing that his
master's hand lingered still in the air before his mouth, he
gave those blunt fingertips a wicked swipe with his tongue. His
boldness was rewarded by the pleasant timbre of his master's
laugh.
Overwhelmed by the sweet of the juicy sliver, he couldn't stop
the moan of resignation that escaped him. He swooned, but just
a little, still mindful that it probably would be better if he
remained upright.
/Drink/ suggested Qui-Gon as he stroked a hand up and down the
smooth curve of Obi-Wan's spine.
Noticeably the boy's temperature had risen and Qui-Gon detected
the gentle tremor of his flesh through his light touch. Obi-Wan
exhaled and his sigh was the most sensuous sound that played in
his master's ear.
Qui-Gon loved it so much, that the stirring of sexual arousal,
one that had failed to become more than a simmering ember
within the depths of him, blazed to sudden life. He caught his
breath with an audible gasp and immediately Obi-Wan turned
blindfolded eyes towards him.
"Master!" he gasped feeling the effects of the intoxicating
moment drain him of all sense and will.
His desire for the man who sat only inches from him was too
powerful to bear. He wanted to touch Qui-Gon, to feel the
roughness, the smoothness of him. He needed to kiss that noble
flesh and pleasure the most intimate primal part of him with
his tongue.
His body quickening with his vivid imaginings, Obi-Wan breathed
in a delicious breath scented with tea, fruit and the delicacy
of his master's touch and attempted to throw himself upon
Qui-Gon. Sensing this, his master held him at bay with just one
word.
/Obi-Wan/
/Master!/ replied the boy, his heart pierced but yet not
destroyed by the stillness of his master.
"There is so much more, my Padawan. Don't surrender now."
Qui-Gon's voice permeated the whole of him, driving him out of
his mind.
Why!
He wanted to scream out loud.
Why must you taunt and torture me when I am so weak before
you.
"Let me pleasure you, master. It is all that I wish to do," he
gasped.
Obi-Wan's voice rang so plaintively and sincerely that Qui-Gon
let the hand in which was an other tempting piece of fruit fall
back into his lap. He steeled himself to the boy's plea.
"Not yet, Padawan. Not until I am through pleasuring you."
Obi-Wan squeezed his unsighted eyes shut beneath the blindfold
and nearly laughed aloud. How he had waited for his beloved
master to say something even remotely similar to the words that
had slipped easily from his lips. He clasped his hands about
the squat cup, pressing it on the hot bulge of his pulsing
erection beneath the towel. He took a few breaths to calm
himself.
"Yes, master," he murmured, once again warm and saturated with
delicious voluptuousness.
Qui-Gon put aside the fruit bowl and reached out to draw the
blindfold from Obi-Wan's beautiful eyes.
"Come," he said taking Obi-Wan's hand.
Qui-Gon led Obi-Wan to another mat at the center of the room
and beckoned him to kneel on it. Beside the pallet on a squat
round three-legged table were three strange items. An elegant
pair of silver scissors with elongated finger loops lay
gleaming near a red tinged crystalline pot. The pot, held above
a gently flickering flame by a footed iron ring, was filled to
just below the curved lip with a thick lemony looking substance
and lying between the pot and scissors was the curio Obi-Wan
had never seen in his master's meager belongings.
Qui-Gon allowed Obi-Wan to move into a more comfortable
position before beginning. As Obi-Wan did shift, the towel
parted slightly, and revealed a strong tanned thigh. His master
saw this but quickly almost guiltily averted his eyes. If
Qui-Gon was a weaker man, that bit of flesh would have driven
him to madness, but he reigned himself and cleared his throat.
Qui-Gon folded his tall frame to kneel close behind Obi-Wan. He
brushed his hands through the thick luxurious mane of reddish
brown hair. He lifted it between his fingers and watched it
slip back against the boy's naked shoulders.
It was almost a shame to sheer it down to mere inches, he
thought.
Qui-Gon covered Obi-Wan's shoulders with a light cloth to catch
any bits of cut hair and reached down to the table to retrieve
the silver scissors. Slowly and gently, he began to slice away
the auburn silk. As he cut handfuls of hair, Qui-Gon spread
them carefully out on a small rectangle of cloth for later
storing.
Obi-Wan sighed, closing his eyes with pleasure, as the slight
weight of the hair lifted from his head. He felt himself slowly
getting back to normal.
His master isolated two hanks of hair that would serve as the
new braid and ponytail. Then with the scissors, he clipped the
rest of Obi-Wan's mane until it stood up on his head in a
typical human padawan fashion. Once the mass of hair was cut
and neatly arranged on the cloth, he quickly tied up the bundle
and set it aside. Qui-Gon removed the cloth from Obi-Wan's
shoulders and knotted a thin leather tie about the base of the
lock of hair at the back of his head, securing the ponytail
into place.
Qui-Gon then clasped his apprentice's chin between his two
fingers and swiveled his head to the side. Obi-Wan gazed up at
his master and met his catlike smile.
The Jedi Master gave the scissors to the boy and bowing his
head, gestured for him to choose a piece of hair from his head.
Obi-Wan shifted on his knees smiling happily and tenderly
graced his hands over his master's gorgeous loose hair. He
smiled devilishly at him and clipped a piece from the top
center. Qui-Gon mingled his clipped hair with Obi-Wan's and
with fingers flying, braided his padawan braid. He tied a red
band about the base of the braid and then a yellow and then
another red one a little farther down.
"Lie down then," said the Jedi Master. "And we shall get
started. Are you ready?"
Obi-Wan too full of heat to speak just nodded, shed the towel
and stretched his strong lanky body out on the long soft
pallet. Qui-Gon flicked his eyes appraisingly over his naked
body, letting the easy smile slip along his lips. The young man
was artwork made of flesh; he was so beautifully sculpted.
Qui-Gon drew his eyes away.
"Eyes closed, Padawan."
Obi-Wan shuddered to the core at the mention of his title, at
the possessiveness with which his master's voice dripped. Then
he realized that the whole day, his master had not addressed
him by his given name. It was always the possessive "Padawan"
as if he didn't want Obi-Wan to even think he belonged to
anyone else. It heartened him, for he wanted to believe his
master desired him, as he did him. The other thing that gave
him hope was that he knew during any Ritual of Four, there came
a time when a master would open up an avenue for his student.
Though it was not required, a master could give his apprentice
an opportunity to accept a LifeBond.
Obi-Wan hoped Qui-Gon would do the same thing for him.
"Are you ready, Padawan?" he asked.
In a low voice, Obi-Wan answered, "Yes master."
There it was again, Qui-Gon thought, that innocent
seductiveness Obi-Wan had unwittingly perfected. He smiled at
the boy and took in a long calming breath. With careful hand,
he unrolled the piece of blue velvet. The instruments secured
by the thin ties within the folds faintly clanked together.
Intrigued by the new noises, Obi-Wan stole a quick peek. He saw
a beautifully carved and designed straight razor and a plain
long handled painting brush. Next to the razor tied with a gay
red bow was a thin necked vial of green liquid. Obi-Wan's mind
clenched into confused knots.
What was going on?
Was his master going to kill him and slice him to ribbons?
"Calm down," Qui-Gon suggested, sensing the turmoil brewing in
Obi-Wan.
Obi-Wan, catching himself, merely smiled and then settled more
comfortably into the soft mat.
Qui-Gon lifted the painting brush and dipped its blonde brush
tips into the warm creamy substance. He grazed the inside of
his forearm with the brush testing its temperature. There was
no possible way he was going to burn Obi-Wan.
Pleased, he rested back on his heels at his Padawan's side and
leaned over him slightly. He painted the boy's entire face and
mouth with the warm thick cream. Obi-Wan murmured something,
squeezing his eyes shut in delighted surprise. It had to be the
most delicious sensation he'd ever experienced. The scent of
the milk cream wafted around his face, and filled his senses
with its light sweet fragrance as the brushes tickled along his
skin.
"You can taste it," chuckled Qui-Gon, seeing Obi-Wan's
scrunched up features.
Then with something other than masterly interest, he followed
Obi-Wan's pale rose tongue slip over his tempting lips.
Obi-Wan's expression brightened.
"It's sweet!" he observed with glee.
"So! Your Jedi training has not gone to waste," Qui-Gon
teased with a barely contained laugh.
Obi-Wan peeked at him, opening only one eye to see if his
master was joking before he allowed himself to react.
He smiled happy that his master was relaxed enough to joke with
him.
But why was his master using sweet cream instead of some other
sort of shaving cream.
Qui-Gon dipped the brush again and applied another coat to his
face.
"As part and the end of your ritual," he began, his deep
resonant voice now warm and solicitous. "You will be rid of the
hair on your body. This is to symbolize your willingness to
strip away every barrier to surrender to the Force. But be
mindful that the Force is the only thing to which you will
surrender."
Obi-Wan nodded once in compliance.
"This is to also symbolize the end of your cleansing ritual."
Obi-Wan nodded again.
Qui-Gon gently cupped and held the boy's chin and laying aside
the brush took up the straight razor. He examined the perfectly
honed blade in the warm dim light and very carefully he shaved
Obi-Wan's jaw. He felt his Padawan completely relax and open
himself to the trust bond that pulsed between him. Yes, Qui-Gon
had felt Obi-Wan had put his trust in him before, but there was
something else in that trust.
Desire. Pleasure. Craving...wanting.
Please...
Please...
Please!
The words plagued Qui-Gon's mind as if Obi-Wan had plainly
spoken them. Qui-Gon grimaced and quickly glanced the blade
over Obi-Wan's forehead, neatly removing most of his eyebrows.
Mindful that his student was not entirely free of self
appraisal, he let remain a shadow of a brow. He didn't want to
make the boy uncomfortable. With quick snips of the scissors,
he clipped his eyelashes, but just enough not to defeat their
purposes.
As he wiped the rest of the cream from Obi-Wan's face with a
damp cloth, Qui-Gon smiled, remembering the time during his
Ritual of Four that his master had cut his eyelashes until
there were none to speak of. For weeks while they grew back, he
hadn't been able to move about much outside the Academy without
goggles because every bit and sharp particle that would
normally be caught by the lashes easily flew into his
unprotected eyes.
He licked his fingers where the cream had trickled, thoroughly
enjoying the situation and retrieved the brush again to stir
the cream. By the time he'd finished painting Obi-Wan's chest
and belly, the boy was grinning openly, trying not to squirm
beneath the intimate lick of the bristles. Qui-Gon tried not to
notice the boy's growing erection.
Qui-Gon flicked the wickedly sharp blade over his Padawan's
vulnerable skin, firm enough to nick away the hair, yet light
enough not to draw blood. The Jedi Master reined all his
strength to keep himself from reaching down to lick away the
cream from Obi-Wan's nipples.
Of course Obi-Wan sensed the struggle burning beneath his skin
and he opened his eyes to look at his master. A sly smile
parted his lips and again he willed his master to give into
him.
Give yourself over.
It would have been so easy for Qui-Gon to rid himself of his
clothes and take him right there on the soft mat.
Obi-Wan's smile widened and then coalesced into a chuckle.
Qui-Gon's eyes lifted to his face and gave him a sharp, but not
wholly reprimanding glance. Obi-Wan let his eyes close again.
"Over, Padawan," Qui-Gon ordered.
Obi-Wan groaned, but he nevertheless turned over, having to
push his erection into the mat.
Qui-Gon made it quick, as to not torture the boy any longer. He
turned Obi-Wan over again and after quickly but delicately
shaving his legs, he sat back on his heels again. He worried
his bottom lip.
Obi-Wan waited, holding his eyes closed. There was only one
possible place his master had left to go. As the realization of
it washed over him, he bit the inside of his lips together to
still the groan threatening at the back of his throat. Sweet
agonizing tension swelled within him and if his master
continued his ministrations, he knew he would soon explode.
Qui-Gon surveyed the damage he'd done, he studied the effects
of his touch on Obi-Wan's lightly trembling body.
He grinned in spite of himself.
With a flourish, he picked up the painting brush again. He
could see Obi-Wan watching him intently through the slits of
his eyelids. He wanted Obi-Wan to watch what was about to come
next. He wanted Obi-Wan to see through his appreciative
expression, how beautiful he was to him.
Gently, ever so gently, Qui-Gon closed his hand about the base
of Obi-Wan's erect cock. Obi-Wan sucked in a quick breath and
clenched his teeth around a choked moan. His body undulated
smoothly, wracked with rapture and he lifted his hips off the
pallet. Obi-Wan tried in vain to keep quiet and Qui-Gon could
feel his battle as well as see it on his face and in the soft
sheen of sweat that glistened on his body.
Then just to push his apprentice further out of his senses, he
raked the flat back edge of the razor quickly up the length of
his engorged cock. A miserable sigh escaped him and he
tightened his hands into fists at his sides.
Qui-Gon grinned, allowing himself an inkling of complacency and
quietly, as if he had nothing to do with the boy's sticky
predicament, he lathered his ginger pubes and gently stroked
the length of his erection with a cream slick hand. Obi-Wan
cried out, his voice breaking. He ground his teeth harder
reigning himself from breaking down and pleading with his
master to at least put him out of his misery.
He was sure to die from the exquisite torture.
It was an area to be very delicate, and Qui-Gon knew that. He
cut cleanly through the curls, shaving down to the pale skin.
He aimed carefully, sheering delicately in long firm strokes.
Obi-Wan was purring contentedly beginning to thoroughly enjoy
the torture and lay there naked and open to his master's touch.
But it was over all too soon. Qui-Gon wiped his skin clean with
a warm damp cloth.
"Ohhh master..." Obi-Wan sighed, sated.
Qui-Gon sat back on his heels again and as he cleaned and put
away the instruments, he noticed his hands were shaking and
that he was a little lightheaded. After he secured the items
within the velvet folds, he sat flat on the floor and folded
his legs before him. Qui-Gon closed his eyes, centering
himself. He fingered the thin-necked vial and after an instant,
he opened his eyes.
Obi-Wan had not moved and Qui-Gon uncorked the vial rising to
his knees.
Qui-Gon rubbed Obi-Wan's highly aroused body with warm lightly
scented oil, his feather touches driving the young man to the
tattered edges of his control. Finally Qui-Gon spoke his voice
soft but rough edged.
"Padawan," he murmured.
Obi-Wan realizing the absence of his master's hands on his skin
hissed out a breath that he didn't know he'd been holding. He
opened his eyes. Qui-Gon sat back comfortably on his heels, his
feet relaxed beneath as opposed to his slightly rigid posture
of a moment before. Obi-Wan propped himself up on his elbows,
completely unaware of how his sexual excitement had manifested
itself in his lower extremity. He'd been captured by his
master's look.
Qui-Gon's navy blue eyes bore into his and he too seemed
unaware of the boy's arousal. But Qui-Gon nevertheless reached
across Obi-Wan's body and draped a towel over his hips.
"I'm sure you know, Obi-Wan," he began, saying his name for the
first time that day, "that since this is your Ritual of Four,
that I will present to you a decision to make."
Before Qui-Gon even completed his statement, Obi-Wan shot
upright, a pleased grin spreading wide over his handsome face.
Qui-Gon arched a dark brow and just as quickly as it came, his
smile vanished. Qui-Gon narrowed his eyes, keeping his
expression composed. But inside, his heart trembled, fearing
Obi-Wan's rejection but at the same time inside he felt like a
predator, preying upon Obi-Wan's love and reverence of him.
How could he take advantage of the boy like that?
Qui-Gon caught himself. Obi-Wan was no longer a boy, by no
stretch of the fancy and how their relationship would progress,
lay with him.
"Obi-Wan. You are of age and mind to make this decision that I
am placing to you. It would..."
The Jedi Master paused suddenly unsure how to handle his words.
He looked away from his Padawan ashamed of the desire and love
he felt for him. Ashamed of how vulnerable his need made him
feel. A Jedi must always be in control, yes, he was well aware
of that, but as with everything, there was an exception, an
undoing of the rule. Beautiful and graciously loving Obi-Wan
was his undoing.
He started from his thoughts, feeling Obi-Wan's touch. He met
the encouraging green eyes of his beloved Padawan and it gave
him strength. He started to speak once more, but ever the
dutiful apprentice and ever reading his master's thoughts,
Obi-Wan interrupted and spared him the uneasiness of asking the
question out loud.
To him, it was much more intimate to communicate with his
master through their thoughts. It was much more intimate than
any Qui-Gon's lips and tongue could ever manage.
/Mine, Padawan/ Qui-Gon told him silently.
/Is it what you wish?/
Obi-Wan shuddered and closing his eyes clasped his hands with
his master's. It was the Qui-Gon he knew and wanted, the
forceful confident man who did not mince words.
/ Yes, master. It is what I wish /
Obi-Wan answered swiftly, hearing his own silent moan of
pleasure vibrate all through him.
It seemed an eternity he sat there, his fingers tight on his
master's fingers, feeling the warm pulse of the Force twining
about them, knitting into their bond with its unbreakable
power. It was an eternity before he realized Qui-Gon was
kissing him.
Obi-Wan let his eyes flutter open in disbelief and he gasped
with joy. Qui-Gon's lips against his forehead were warm and
gentle and after a moment he finally drew away.
Obi-Wan smiled at him aware that tears were shining in his
eyes. But he didn't care. All that mattered now was that
Qui-Gon possessed him.
Lovers.
The word spoke itself in Obi-Wan's thoughts and it stirred the
organ beneath the towel.
Qui-Gon watched the boy's face carefully. He waited for him to
make the next move.
Lovers!
Obi-Wan again said it again and a delicious tremor trickled
into his core.
Well, he thought, if it was so, if they were truly bound, then
act as if it is.
Obi-Wan reached out to his master, gently clasping his face in
both hands and drew him close. He did not say a word, mentally
or vocally, but the broken flood barriers behind his eyes spoke
in waves. Qui-Gon understood. He breathed his shuddering breath
and at the moment Obi-Wan covered his mouth with soft kisses,
his heart burst, flooding his body with new life, with new hope
and ecstasy.
If he died at that moment, he would have had neither wants nor
regrets. He closed his eyes. It was exactly what he wanted.
Obi-Wan slid his arms about Qui-Gon's neck, pulling him even
closer, holding onto him still while he lay back.
Obi-Wan tugged away the towel that separated them before
Qui-Gon rested his weight atop him. He breathed out slowly.
Qui-Gon's body pressed him into the mat and never had the boy
felt so possessed, so captured. Qui-Gon held him locked between
his hands.
Obi-Wan reveled in the light patient kiss, though wanting with
his whole being to be devoured by him. He wanted to be consumed
by the full power of the Jedi Master until he could no more
think, until he could no longer feel or breathe or see anything
but his lover.
He dug his fingers into the broad shoulders above him, hastily
deepening the kiss. Pleased and surprised at how incredibly
turned on he was by his Padawan's flare of aggression, Qui-Gon
pressed his knee down on the mat, pushing Obi-Wan's legs
farther apart. He stroked his tongue over and around Obi-Wan's
while slowly working his knee in small gentle circles against
Obi-Wan's stiff erection.
The boy's moan of satisfaction was soft and breathy and he
clenched his fingers into Qui-Gon's loose top. Qui-Gon without
breaking the kiss, arched a little and with Obi-Wan's help, he
pulled it off and immediately was upon him again. Skin pressing
to skin, lips seeking and finding the other's and the scent of
sex and desire all served to drive the young Jedi to his limit.
He sucked harder at Qui-Gon's tongue and lips craving the
sultry taste of him. He pulled his hands into the thick silky
mass of chocolate and tan coloured hair, nearly chanting
Qui-Gon's name, over and over, growing more and more breathless
and anxious by the moment. He was on fire, and once conscious
of it happening, he loved the taste of his control crumbling.
He cried out suddenly wanting Qui-Gon to know his feelings, his
passion. Qui-Gon brushed his lips along Obi-Wan's clean bare
jaw and then down his throat and into the valley between his
collarbones. He could still taste the sweet cream with which
he'd shaved the boy and it was a lovely combination with the
natural flavor of Obi-Wan's skin. He felt the boy urgently
thrust his hips up pressing his erection into his belly.
/ Patience, my love / Qui-Gon chided gently.
/ Please master! / Obi-Wan begged.
/ I need it! I need you! /
Qui-Gon smiled lightly biting his flesh, and licked his tongue
over his flat belly. Obi-Wan's body came alive under those
kisses and it was all he could do to stop his wild gyrations.
The skin, freshly shaved was soft and new beneath his hungry
mouth. When he reached the base of Obi-Wan's cock, the boy sat
up slightly, mouth open, and eyes still squeezed shut. He was
weak with pleasure and starved for the taste of Qui-Gon.
Qui-Gon looked up. It was frightening to see how rapture and
need could be painted so plainly upon a surface of flesh as it
was on Obi-Wan's face. He paused to study him a moment,
intrigued at the range of his Padawan's emotion. He bent down
again kissing the pale naked skin around his swollen organ. He
flicked his tongue up and down the hard throbbing length,
eliciting wet shuddering whimpers from the young man beneath
him. Qui-Gon smiled moving to easily swallow his cock.
Obi-Wan's voice broke at the shock and heat of the mouth that
engulfed him. His heart raced beneath his ribs and he struggled
to keep from coming so abruptly.
By the Force! he shouted silently. Please help me not to lose
my mind!
How he loved Qui-Gon.
How he needed him.
He held Qui-Gon's head in his hands, urging him on, faster!
A knock on the door startled both of them. Obi-wan gave a harsh
cry as Qui-Gon drew his mouth away. He sat up and reached to
draw Obi-Wan up into his arms. He tenderly kissed his bruised
mouth. He let the moment stretch between them and then he rose,
not to answer the knock but to retrieve a blanket to cover his
love. Giving him a sly I-shall-return smile, Qui-Gon grabbed
his robe and leisurely strolled to the door.
Obi-Wan watched his master confer with a Jedi council member at
the door. It was strange that a council member would make the
journey to a door himself. A wave of uneasiness roiled into his
gut. He quickly got up and dressed.
Qui-Gon stood there as the door slip shut and after taking a
moment to compose himself from the shock of his newly received
information, he turned from the doorway and swiftly crossed the
room. He closed his large hands on Obi-Wan's upper arms and
yanked his slender body to him. The kiss left Obi-Wan
shuddering and clinging to him, but his master drew back.
"There is trouble," he said softly, holding Obi-Wan's dear face
between his hands. "We must hurry."
Obi-Wan nodded, neatly tucking his tunic down beneath his belt,
straightening the thick material. The two Jedi finished
dressing in silence and after Qui-Gon regretfully snuffed the
candles they armed themselves and left the quarters.
Wreckage and people crammed into the center square before the
Jedi Temple. Black smoke wafted thickly into the sky. The
traffic above would certainly have a hard time of seeing
through it enough to maneuver safely. The two Jedi plunged into
the dusky evening light and dashed down the wide stairs leading
to the square. An explosion and then three more in rapid
succession rocked them off balance, but they kept going.
Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan were promptly separated when they rushed
into the melee. But in keeping mental contact, they drew
together a plan.
Qui-Gon ran into Adi Gallia and grabbing her arm he shouted
over the commotion.
"Who is dropping these explosives!?"
"We're trying to find out!" she shouted back.
Her blue eyes were fired with concentrated heat and her touch
burned Qui-Gon. He put his other hand upon her shoulder, trying
to calm her. But how could he calm her when the same emotion
eluded him at the moment. He gave her a quick smile. She nodded
and they went their separate ways.
Qui-Gon turned into himself and called to his Padawan.
/ Obi-Wan. Stay by me /
/ Yes, master / came the quick reply.
Swiveling promptly Obi-Wan made his way through the sea of
worried faces and panicked people. Pain so blinding seared into
the vulnerable core of him as the sudden nearby explosion
blasted him from his feet. Obi-Wan, unable to even scream
tumbled backwards, landing hard on his back in a jumble of
foreign legs and arms. Someone grabbed him about the throat and
crying in terror, she hung on for dear life. Obi-Wan clawed
free of those hands and staggered upright. He looked down at
his hands and arms. He was covered with bright red splashes of
blood and bits of flesh. The stench of the newly dead hit him
like a fist to his gut. Obi-Wan turned away. He slung his wet
hands free of gore and quickly without checking himself or
tending to his own well being, he did his best to help out the
writhing and wailing civilians.
Fire and soot from subsequent bombings, rained down upon them,
burning any and every bit of exposed flesh. People ran
everywhere, their panic preventing any rational thought.
Obi-Wan brushed the sparking embers from his hair and clothes.
The child he held on his back tightened his little grubby
fingers on his shoulders and clutched his waist with his legs.
"Move!" he barked to the people cowering before him. "This way.
This way!"
Obi-Wan efficiently directed civilians towards the shelters
that surrounded the base of the temple. It was the best place
for them to go considering the urgency of the situation. He saw
three more padawans swiftly approaching him and nodding to
acknowledge his presence, proceeded to help herd the crowd to
safety.
Obi-Wan, loosening the child's legs from about his hips,
swiveled to survey the raw damage. Blackness was all he saw lit
only by mounds of twisted junk topped with flickering flames.
Night had fallen hard upon Coruscant and so had this unseen
attack. Bodies lay like beached dead fish upon a black shore.
He put the boy down and pushed him to go with the fleeing
crowd. What he had to do, he didn't think would be appropriate
for a child's eyes.
Obi-Wan picked his way through the smoking destruction, poking
and examining the corpses for any sign of life. Some were
charred so badly it was hard to tell if they were actually
human, or otherwise. Some lay sprawled without heads at all, so
he didn't bother to identify their race. He reached one heap of
bodies and swallowing his revulsion he dug through the bloody
and mangled limbs.
A hand grasped weakly at his arm. Obi-Wan scooped up the
elderly man, and tucked his arm about his shoulders.
"You're going to be all right," Obi-Wan assured him. "I'm going
to get you out."
Obi-Wan carried the man to the shelters and went back to find
more survivors.
He worked until he could move no more. With his outer tunic
soaked with blood, vomit and other foul smelling fluids, he
pushed passed the fatigue and the pain of his own injuries to
continue on. He pushed passed his growing worry. He had not
received an answer from Qui-Gon since the order that he return
to his side. No one knew where his master was. He caught up
with Master Windu hours later within an over crowded shelter.
The bombing had stopped and the cleanup was tapering off.
"I'm sorry, Padawan Kenobi," Mace Windu said softly, walking
outside with him. "I have not seen him. I hate to say, but try
the Healers. He may be there."
Panic roiled in his gut, making him feel ill. He did not like
the uncertainty in the Master's voice. He thanked the Jedi
Master and turning away, couldn't stop himself from running the
entire two miles to the Healers' temple.
"Please," Obi-Wan begged the cloaked woman who stood before
him, arms folded, refusing him entrance into the camp. "Please
I must see Qui-Gon Jinn... my master..."
Qui-Gon had indeed been wounded in one of the explosions and
Obi-Wan had already known that much. But how bad the damage
was, he wasn't sure.
"Knowing you," she answered with an hopeless sigh, "You won't
heed me if I keep telling you no. Go, but stay only a moment.
He needs his rest."
"Thank you," Obi-Wan gushed gratefully and then sidestepping
her, he quickly trotted down the quiet hallway.
Wringing his hands worriedly, Obi-Wan stood quietly at the
mouth of the room in which his master lay. The Healers had done
all they could for Qui-Gon's wounds and had left only moments
before to let the Jedi Master rest and mend.
Obi-Wan had been warned, not to try to rouse his master, but to
leave him to his rest; but Obi-Wan never one that followed
directions too well. He moved quietly into the warm darkness of
the room and reached out across their bond, speaking softly,
hoping his distress wouldn't show through.
/ Master /
The man tucked neatly beneath the covers did not stir.
Obi-Wan swallowed hard. Maybe Qui-Gon had been more seriously
wounded than he realized.
/ Master /
A pause and then as a glancing whisper, he heard it.
/ I hear you, Obi-Wan /
The young Padawan gasped out with relief. Qui-Gon shifted
beneath the blankets, pulling the covers down from over his
face to look at his Padawan. He looked terribly tired and in
pain.
/ Oh Master... I have feared your well being. I... /
Qui-Gon interrupted.
"I'm sorry, Obi-Wan..."
His voice was so weak it made tears rush to the young man's
eyes. It wrenched his heart to see his lover in such a state.
"Why?" he whispered, "why, master? You've done nothing wrong?"
"Your ceremony. It should be finished..."
Considering his master's current condition, Obi-Wan nearly
laughed at the absurdity of the subject upon which Qui-Gon's
mind was adhered. He reached out in the dark and placed his
hands upon Qui-Gon's shoulders.
"It's not important, master. Really, it's not."
"It is important, Padawan," Qui-Gon insisted. "Not to be
taken lightly."
Obi-Wan leaned down and looked into his master's half closed
eyes.
"If it's not important to me and it's my
ceremony, then why is it important to you?" Obi-Wan countered
with a smile.
He stroked the loose hair away from Qui-Gon's forehead,
savoring its soft texture and relishing the fact that his lover
still lived.
"I love you. All that matters is that you are well," the young
man assured him. "That's all. Nothing else. Not me, not this
war, not anything. Just you."
Then, on the spur of thought, he slipped off his boots and
soiled outer tunic and eased beneath the covers. He snuggled
his body close to his lover's strangely cold one. He gently
embraced Qui-Gon, who flinched when he unwittingly touched his
slowly healing scars.
/ I'm sorry, beloved / Obi-Wan said silently, apologizing for
hurting him.
He softly began kissing Qui-Gon's forehead and cheeks and then
lightly brushed his lips with his own.
/ Please, Obi-Wan / Qui-Gon pleaded.
He was unsure if his wounded body was going to be able to
handle the arousal he knew was pending, if Obi-Wan continued to
caress and kiss him.
/ Not now /
/ Yes, now / Obi-Wan answered, his lips still resting on
Qui-Gon's closed mouth.
But nonetheless, Obi-Wan drew back and held his master, his
lover, against his chest.
Qui-Gon firmly closed his eyes. Obi-Wan's presence was exactly
what he needed. He had hoped Obi-Wan would be stubborn and
dismiss the orders from the Healers, for he didn't want to
spend the night alone, cold and hurting in a strange
uncomfortable bed. Obi-Wan's body heat seeped into every pore
of him, warming him to the core and he felt himself relaxing,
felt the knots running up and down his back and legs loosening.
The pain slipped away as sleep crept upon him.
Before he did sleep, Qui-Gon vowed to continue Obi-Wan's Ritual
of Four with full vigor. It was the least he could do, in
return for Obi-Wan's unconditional love and respect.
--end
feedback is welcomed and thank you so much to those who have
encouraged me. :)
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