Snapshots: Obi-Wan Kenobi, this is your life (November 1999)

by Pumpkin (a_pumpkin@home.com)

Archive: yes

Rating: G - NC17

Warnings: none

Spoilers: none

Feedback is always appreciated

Summary: The date listed is the date the 'snapshot' was written/posted. Each piece is a segment within the same universe, but they are not in any sort of order. Each piece stands alone (iow-there are no "cliffhangers"). The snapshots will run the gamut from G to NC17. Some may be several pages long, some only a couple of paragraphs; some will contain smut, many will not; they will be different styles with different voices.

Disclaimers: Lucasfilm, Lucasfilm, Lucasfilm.

November 02, 1999

Mother will be furious with me if she finds out. But I think it's worth the risk and I creep forward until I'm pressed up against the smooth bark of a trail tree. A fork in its branches at just the right height allows me to watch the occupants of the natural spring glade without myself being observed. I seem to be always watching, unseen, from the wings.

My mother wishes me to take one of the noblewomen's daughters from a neighbouring county as my mate and give her lots of grandchildren. She says that my infatuation with the male body is a distraction that I don't need, that it will lead me to ruin. She may well be right, but watching the two ambassadors of the Republic disrobing by the springs, I find myself not caring. I have long been bored with the gentle curves of the female form, but very few of the not'hes were all that much different. The two males before me are.

Padawan Kenobi undresses quickly, the Master taking his time, perhaps planning only to relax on the shore. The sun flashes on Kenobi's skin as his tunic falls from his shoulder's, joining the heap at his feet. He is all angles and bone -his skin sliding over muscles as he moves. He pulls off his boots, his pants stretching tightly over his behind as he bends. His pants quickly follow and he turns briefly to Master Jinn before heading for the water. I catch a flash of genitals, prominent hips and flat belly before he starts to run. I only have a moment to admire the pale globes of his bare behind, similar and yet different from the generous mounds of my people, before he is diving into the pool.

He surfaces halfway to the other side, shooting out of the water and shaking his head like a seal. The fascinating braid that trails over his chest is dark against his skin now that it is wet. He laughs and I have to smile at the delighted sound.

"The water's great! Come on in!" he shouts. I cannot hear the other's reply.

"It's not that cold, Master," he says with another laugh and then he hits the water with his hand and the most amazing thing happens. The small wave he had formed grows and it rushes towards the shore where it breaks over Master Jinn, thoroughly dousing him. He doesn't say a word, but his eyes never leave the bobbing form as he slowly strips the sodden clothing from his body. He stands at the water's edge for a long time, making Kenobi wait as punishment for the splash.

His stillness affords me a unique opportunity to observe a real male in the living flesh. I look with eager eyes at his body. He is long and lean, with lots of muscles and I am fascinated by his genitals. His penis is much larger than the not'he that serve us and his sack of balls has not been removed as is done to our not'he at birth.

Kenobi has swum to the edge of the pool, unnoticed by me as I stare in fascination at Master Jinn's very male body. Kenobi pulls himself out of the water and I put my hands over my mouth to keep in the noise that tries to escape. His penis is very large and it stands out from his body, pointing towards the other man. He's speaking again, but too low now for me to hear the words from my hiding spot. Then, as I watch, Master Jinn's penis begins to expand, to rise and grow larger. Padawan Kenobi looks pleased and he steps forward and they press their bodies together, mouths meeting in a deep kiss. Jinn grabs Kenobi's behind and pulls him up and against him. The large cocks are crushed together and the men are rubbing their bodies together, moaning.

Kenobi turns and bends slightly, putting his hands on a large tree trunk and spreading his legs. I press my hands into the tree I'm leaning against, watching now with morbid fascination. His penis is very large and red, jutting from his body; it seems to me to be demanding something. Jinn's is larger and darker and the feeling of hunger coming from it is just as clear. He steps forward, pulling Kenobi's cheeks apart and starts to push his enormous penis into Kenobi's behind.

I close my eyes, wishing I could turn and run. This is far more than I wished to see. I had been curious about humanoid males who were whole, unlike the not'he, but I hadn't expected this act of copulation. A voice cries out "harder" and with horror, I open my eyes. I can't not watch the scene unfolding in front of me. Jinn is shoving his penis into Kenobi over and over again and with an aggression that is startling and frightening. I am suddenly very glad the we geld the not'he at birth. I cannot imagine such violence -such violence enjoyed- being let loose on our peaceful planet.

Jinn continues to gore Kenobi but now he's also pulling on Kenobi's tumescent penis. The young man is growling and whimpering and his face is pulled tight in an expression of fierce joy. Suddenly they both freeze and liquid bursts from Kenobi's penis, spilling to the grass. They collapse in a heap together, panting harshly.

I turn my back on them and slide to the ground, shoving my back against the tree and pushing my palms into my eyes, trying to shut out the terrible beauty of them rutting madly like animals. Shame flows through me as I realise that I am moist. Some part of their violent joining has excited me. How could such savagery be enticing? I hate it when my mother is right, but obviously in this case she is - males are very dangerous.

Laughter drifts up to my hiding spot -both bass and tenor intermingled. That they had enjoyed it very much was obvious. I will have to speak with my mother, urge her to reconsider joining this "Republic" where such violence and base pleasure was enjoyed and pursued by even their ambassadors. We have heard so much of the Jedi legend, of their capability and control. If their finest can act in such a way, I don't believe that our small planet wants any part of it.

There is so much peril in what I have witnessed here today. I must protect my people from it.

November 03, 1999

"No," said Qui-Gon.

"What?" Turning, Obi-Wan looked up at his Master.

"No."

"But I haven't asked yet."

"Were you going to ask at all? Or just present me with a fait accompli?"

Obi-Wan just gazed up at his Master in amazement. How did he know these things?

"You figured if you didn't ask, I couldn't say no."

"Yes, Master." He turned back to the store-front with a sigh, taking a last, lingering look. The walls were covered with thousands of drawings, all done in dark black outline, many coloured in, some not. They ranged from garish to delicate. A large, black chair dominated the room -a young girl sitting in it, her arm held out and tied down. She had a small piece of bark between her teeth, which she was biting on as her body arched up out of the chair. The artist was bent over her arm, a small silver tool tipped with a needle buzzing in his hand as he marked her.

"How did you know?" he asked, falling into step beside his Master as they resumed their daily stroll.

"You were broadcasting your desires quite loudly."

Obi-Wan's eyebrows met over his nose as he frowned and, testing his shields, found them in order. Qui-Gon chuckled.

"That's not the only way to broadcast, Padawan. You have stood at that store window for at least several minutes every day that we have been here."

Obi-Wan digested that. Qui-Gon must have known that he wanted a tattoo long before he himself had realised it. He'd been fascinated by the small store since their arrived, wondering why people would do it, how badly did it hurt; it was only recently that he had begun to wonder what it would be like to have one himself.

"So you're saying -no tattoo?"

"No tattoo."

"Not even a small one?" he pushed, wondering how firm a stand his Master would take on this issue. Perhaps they could discuss it and he could convince Qui-Gon to let him get one. Or at least convince Qui-Gon to let him decide whether or not he really wanted one.

"Require these things Jedi do not."

Obi-Wan nodded, letting it drop. Once his Master started channeling Master Yoda the conversation was over.

"If you were to have a tattoo," Obi-Wan asked, suddenly curious, as it was the question that had plagued his own thoughts the last few days, "what would it be?"

Qui-Gon was silent as they left the market, turning towards their lodgings near the outskirts of the village. Just as Obi-Wan was about to ask the question again, Qui-Gon spoke.

"You are assuming that I don't already have one."

Stopping in his tracks, Obi-Wan stared at his Master.

"You already have one?" He realised his shock might be somewhat insulting, but it just didn't seem like something the Jedi Master would do.

"As a matter of fact, I do," was the mild reply as Qui-Gon came to a stop several steps ahead of Obi-Wan and turned back towards the younger man. Tugging at Obi-Wan's arm, he started walking again and they resumed their leisurely walk.

Obi-Wan was silent until they reached the small inn where they were staying. He was grateful when they finally entered their quarters. The door had barely shut behind them when he rounded on his Master.

"May I see it?"

Qui-Gon silently undid his belt, giving himself access to the waistband of his leggings, which he pulled down to his thighs before turning and leaning over to one side.

"Wow," Obi-Wan breathed. Reaching forward with a hesitant finger he traced the outline of the small blue flame that sat high on Qui-Gon's left hip. Whoever had done the work had been an incredible artist. The flame seemed to flicker and dance before Obi-Wan's eyes.

"It's the Force," Obi-Wan said quietly, as he stepped back. Qui-Gon nodded. "If you have one, why won't you let me get one?"

"Obi-Wan when you are no longer my Padawan, you may do as you wish with your body, until then it is mine and I will not have anyone marking it."

Bowing his head slightly, Obi-Wan accepted the words.

"Yes, my Master."

November 04, 1999

"I need to speak with you, Master."

"Of course, Padawan."

"It is a matter of some importance."

"Then let us sit together and you will tell me what you need to."

"I love you, Master!"

"Of course you do."

"What?"

"I love you, too, Padawan."

"No, no. I love you, Master."

"Of course you do."

"What?"

"Every padawan falls in love with his master, Obi-Wan. You cannot become a Knight unless you have, at some point in your life done so."

"Really?"

"Yes. It is quite natural and expected. After all, there is nothing quite like the master/padawan relationship. There is a closeness in it that seems to encourage such attachment."

"Even you, Master?"

"Even me."

"But, Master -Master Yoda..."

"Beauty and love travel far deeper than the skin, Padawan, surely you have learned by now not to judge others by what is on the surface?"

"Yes, of course, Master."

"I thought I was nuts, in love with a being so obviously not compatible with my race in that way and some 700 years older than me to boot! At any rate, I must admit that I expected to be having this conversation with you several years ago. But that's okay, Padawan, you are ahead of your age-mates in so much, it only makes sense that you would be a late bloomer in other areas.

"Master."

"Is there something more, Obi-Wan?"

"Yes, Master."

"Should I stay sitting?"

"Yes, Master."

"Well, go ahead. You know you can say anything to me."

"I love you, Master."

"Didn't we just have this conversation?"

"No, we didn't."

"Because I'm pretty sure we did."

"I have loved you since I was 15. Yes, maybe when I was 15 it was the infatuation of a padawan for his master, but I didn't speak of it then because I knew that you would dismiss it as merely that, when the Force told me it would become so much more."

"Obi-Wan."

"And it has become more -I don't just love you as a boy loves his mentor, I love you as a man loves another above all others, as my mate, as the other half of my soul. You are as necessary to me as the water I drink and the air I breathe."

"Obi-Wan."

"I beg you not to dismiss this as some crush that will fade. I assure you, I pledge to you that it will not."

"Obi-Wan."

"Yes, Master?"

"I love you, too."

November 05, 1999

Qui-Gon covered his glass with a hand, shaking his head 'no' in reply to the silent offer as the steward held a bottle above the heavy crystal. This wine was far more potent than any they had yet been served. Hearing Obi-Wan swallow a laugh, he glanced over at his apprentice. The steward was pouring Obi-Wan a third glass while the young man responded to a comment made by the Governor's nephew. He was smiling rather widely. Qui-Gon was going to say something to warn Obi-Wan about the strength of the liquor in his glass, but in the end decided that there was no harm in letting his apprentice discover the payment for overindulgence the hard way. It would teach him to pay more attention to his surroundings and it certainly wasn't a lesson that would need repeating.

Some twenty minutes later, Obi-Wan stood up somewhat unsteadily.

"Begging your forgiveness, Governor," he said with a bow, turning and offering one to Qui-Gon as well. "Master. I'm not feeling all that well and with your permission will retire." The Governor made a dismissive gesture and Qui-Gon inclined his head slightly, knowing the young man would correctly interpret it as his permission. He watched, unable to hold back the indulgent smile as his Padawan very, very carefully negotiated the walk to the doors. Qui-Gon imagined that it looked more steady than it was, thanks to Obi-Wan's robe, which flowed smoothly about his legs. {Sleep well, Padawan, you will need it in the morning -Masters are known to treat hangovers with physical activity, and plenty of it.} Turning from his thoughts he once again joined the conversation flowing around him.

Some time later he felt a nagging at the back of his skull. Obi-Wan was in trouble. Not that his young apprentice was calling for him, but Qui-Gon could feel that something was not quite right. He wrestled with himself for a moment; Obi-Wan was, after all, drunk, that alone could account for the feeling of unease that gnawed at him. He stood though, deciding to check up on his apprentice on the off-chance that it was something more serious. Making his own excuses, he hurried from the table as casually as possible.

The doors shut noisily behind him and his boots seemed loud as he strode along the corridor to their rooms, not seeing the columns and artwork on the walls that usually fascinated him. As he rounded the bend, he discovered Obi-Wan, 'saber drawn but not powered up, and four Dinarian males scrambling down the hall.

"Trouble, Padawan?" he asked, amusement bleeding through now that he knew his apprentice to be safe. He grasped the young man's arm tightly and was offered no resistance as he turned them towards their assigned quarters.

"Nothing I couldn't handle, Master." Obi-Wan said as he tripped against Qui-Gon. He giggled softly as Qui-Gon steadied him without breaking his pace. "Just a few brigands who waylaid me."

"What for, I wonder?" It was too much of a coincidence, that they should be served a potent enough beverage to become drunk and his padawan should be waylaid on the same evening. Obi-Wan stumbled against Qui-Gon once again and Qui-Gon decided that any speculation could wait until he had the young man safely in bed.

"I don't know. Perhaps they felt a need for a thrashing. I told them to wait 'til you could join me -that your lightsaber was quite impressive, but they were impatient." Obi-Wan laughed as he spoke and he half-skipped, using Qui-Gon's arm to keep himself upright.

"I think, my young apprentice, that you shall be not quite so amused come morning."

The trip to their assigned quarters was accomplished with much giggling, tripping and stopping to admire the bricks in the wall, the way window frames hugged their thick glass panes and once to closely examine a crack in the marble flooring. Each stop would be accompanied by an earnest discussion about said bricks or windows or cracks.

Qui-Gon was relieved that they met no one in the halls as he tried to hurry along his young charge. Obi-Wan seemed to be growing less lucid and less capable of walking as time passed and the last of the alcohol entered his system. Drinking was not something that the Jedi, as a rule, indulged in. Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan, on occasion, would have some cider or spiced ale with their meals, so it was hardly surprising that he had been hit hard by the heavy sweet wine they had been served with their dinner.

Finally arriving at their rooms, Qui-Gon wrestled Obi-Wan into a leaning position against the wall while he turned the heavily ornate knob that opened the door. Seeming to catch a second wind, Obi-Wan slipped under Qui-Gon's arm and danced his way into the room. Flinging himself at the bed, he missed and landed heavily on the floor, which he seemed to find incredibly funny as he began to giggle once again. Smiling indulgently, Qui-Gon wondered when he had last heard the light-hearted sound from his apprentice. He was disturbed as he realised that in the four years Obi-Wan had been his apprentice, he could not remember the boy ever giggling -laughing certainly, but never the abandoned giggles of glee that he was indulging in now. He would have to correct this and make sure that Obi-Wan had more opportunity to express his encompassing sense of humour.

"And in the meantime, Padawan, I think it would be best to get you into bed."

"I've already tried, Master, but it would seem the bed repels me." Despite his words, he staggered gamely to his feet, promptly tripping over a corner of his robe and landing face-first on the mattress. Lifting his head, he looked about himself in triumph.

"I made it!" he informed Qui-Gon loudly.

"Indeed you have, now lets just see if we can get your clothes off and get you tucked under the covers." Qui-Gon suited action to words, tugging at the robe that seemed to be caught on Obi-Wan's arms.

"Master, I assure you that I can address myself."

"I'm sure you can, Padawan. But while you are doing so, how about you let me help you remove your garments."

"It's a deal."

Qui-Gon finally managed to remove Obi-Wan's robe, folding it neatly and leaving it on the chair next to the young man's bed. He worked on the belt next, pulling the sash off with it and carefully rolling them and placing them on top of the robe. Obi-Wan watched him rather bemusedly.

"What am I supposed to be doing again?"

"Undressing."

"You seem to have that well in hand, Master."

Qui-Gon looked down to where his hand rested on Obi-Wan's chest, the young man's tunics having fallen open without the sash. He could feel the warmth of Obi-Wan's skin; the soft flesh boasting just the beginnings of chest-hair. His apprentice was a boy no longer. Castigating himself, he pulled his hand away and worked quickly to remove the rest of Obi-Wan's clothing, not in the least bit aided by the flopping dead weight the young man had become, growing heavier with each passing moment.

It would be so easy to forget that this man's body belonged to a youth who was not yet fully grown. So easy to give into his desires. But he didn't want Obi-Wan in a drunken haze -he wanted Obi-Wan to come to him, as an adult, and offer that which Qui-Gon could so easily at the moment take.

The beautiful body was naked now and Qui-Gon gently urged Obi-Wan under the covers, bringing them up to his chin. He smiled down at his apprentice, softly running his hand through the short hair. Obi-Wan gazed up at him, blue eyes dilated with the drink.

"Tired, M'ster," he murmured.

"Then sleep, Padawan," said Qui-Gon, passing his hand over Obi-Wan's face.

"'m love you."

Qui-Gon sat, fingers idly playing with the thin plait of his padawan's braid until Obi-Wan's breathing evened out into sleep.

"I love you, too," he said softly as he leaned forward to leave a soft kiss on Obi-Wan's forehead before going to his own bed.

November 06, 1999

I bide my time, watching the head table from under veiled eyes. My plan of making the Jedi drunk seems to have half succeeded and half failed. My potent wine doesn't seem to have affected the older one, but the younger doesn't look too steady and he nearly falls as he gets up. He bows awkwardly at our Governor and then his own Master before turning to go. He walks with that deliberate carefulness of someone who is more than a little inebriated. I wait impatiently until I can follow.

My men have their orders -they will detain him and bring him to the stables where we will hide him until the mediations go the way I want them to, but I am anxious to oversee this daring kidnapping. I give it a few more minutes, smiling inanely at Lady Darla though I haven't a clue what she is saying. Finally there has been enough time since he left and I make my excuses, bending over the Lady's hand and trying not to glare at her simpering. I walk with as much deliberation as the young Jedi -for I must not seem to eager. It is only as the door closes behind me that I speed my steps along the hall. I turn the first corner and come up short at the scene before me.

Four of my guardsmen, in civilian clothing of course, have their knives drawn and circle the young Jedi. He seems to be almost floating, and has pulled the cylindrical tube from his belt -I assume now as I did when I first was introduced to the two men that it is a weapon. He tosses it from hand to hand and then he flicks his wrist and it springs to life. An energy weapon. My men all take a step or two back.

"Impressed? Ha! You should see my Master's lightsaber!" He goes into a fit of giggles at that.

"Oh Maaassstterr" he calls out, singsonging it, and there is more giggling. My men tighten their grip on their knives and I can see them eyeing each other, getting ready to rush him.

I hold my breath as they move as one towards the young Jedi. He makes a half-hearted swipe towards them and seems to trip over his own robe, falling forward. He doesn't actually fall though and when he stands again, I realise that he has managed to disarm all four of my men. Pressing my back into the wall, I try to become lost among the shadows.

He has one hand on a hip, the other twirls the now extinguished energy weapon, a smug half-smile on his lips. The pose is rather ruined by another giggle and he almost drops the weapon. His attackers carefully reach towards the floor for their weapons. A door opens and closes down the hall and boots ring on the marble floors causing my men to disperse. It is the other Jedi and he has one eyebrow raised as he watches them scurry away.

"Trouble, Padawan?" The young man shakes his head as his arm is taken in one large hand and he is led in the direction of the guest suites.

"Nothing I couldn't handle, Master." He says with another giggle. The sound is beginning to irritate me no end. "Just a few brigands who waylaid me."

"What for, I wonder?"

"I don't know. Perhaps they felt a need for a thrashing. I told them to wait 'til you could join me -that your lightsaber was quite impressive, but they were impatient." The last is delivered with more laughter.

"I think, my young apprentice, that you shall be not quite so amused come morning."

With that they turn the corner and their voices fade. Damn them to the eighth level of hell, I need some leverage or the Governor will walk all over me once negotiations recommence in the morning.

I wonder if they would be impervious to poison, something fast acting and merely debilitating...

November 07, 1999

Obi-Wan stretched, enjoying the pleasure of his bare skin moving over simple cotton sheets. The sheets were worn soft by many washings, the bright yellow faded almost to off-white. Small patches of dark shifted across the top cover, forming a lazy pattern matched by the flow of traffic blocking the last of the fading sun into their windows. His own shadow stained the wall, thrown there by the small lamp lighted on the desk. It was good to be home.

"Come to bed, Master," he called softly, watching as Qui-Gon placed a finger on his datapad, keeping his place, before turning to look at him. Was that desire Obi-Wan could see twinkling behind the serious expression?

"I just have a few more reports to read and I'll be all caught up."

"They'll keep," he suggested, shifting in the bed and letting the sheet drop to his hips.

"So will you."

Ah...so it was amusement then. Another peek at Qui-Gon's face revealed that his Master was still gazing at him. With desire mixed in. And a touch of longing.

"Don't be too long," he murmured, pulling the sheet slowly back up and settling into the familiar pillow that fit his head just so.

"Just a few minutes," Qui-Gon answered absently, mind back on the report.

Obi-Wan shifted so he could watch his lover as he read at his desk. The expressions on his face shifted as he read -aggravation, amusement, anger, agreement, Obi-Wan could read them all. His gaze never wavered, but his sight slowly blurred as he drifted in and out of a light doze.

The bed shifted as Qui-Gon slid next to him, Obi-Wan instinctively turning towards the warmth of his body, murmuring his Master's name softly as he half-woke. A finger stroked softly along the underside of Obi-Wan's penis, bringing a soft wave of pleasure and a sleepy version of the tight ache of need to his groin. The finger came back and lightly traced the glans through the foreskin and a chuckle brought a waft of warm air to his neck. Obi-Wan sighed, shifted closer and let himself drift, still not wholly awake, on the small waves of pleasure that Qui-Gon was setting up in his body.

Qui-Gon continued to tease his now erect cock, sliding a finger along the seam just under the surface of the skin along the top, pressing his thumb into the slit at the tip. Fingernails dragged over the entire length, barely touching him, but leaving little shivers spreading out over his skin, right down to his toes. He drifted in and out of consciousness, Qui-Gon's heat and skimming fingers a constant in both states.

As was the pleasure. The sweet, skin-crawling delight that grew with every touch until he had to have the next one. He floated on the edge of waking, wrapped in a blanket of sensation.

The touches kept coming, varying in speed and length, always light. Shifting his hips, Obi-Wan moaned a soft, sleepy noise. The delicate touches continued to dance over his most sensitive skin, now and then moving lower and teasing his entrance or nudging his balls.

And still he floated on the feelings. The pleasure coursed over his skin in a voluptuous loop that began and ended in his cock. His hips moved again and his back slipped into a lazy arch. Fingers stroked briefly upward, fluttering along his belly and slipping into his navel before moving down and back to his cock, once again.

The need for the next touch and then the next and then the next grew until he could feel nothing, was aware of nothing, other than the hot fingers stroking him. Qui-Gon whispered in his ear, the words warm and delicate.

"I love you, my Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan's body arched, touching the bed at shoulder and buttocks, his cock spurting his completion against his own hips and thighs. Small waves of sensation, shuddery and good, coursed along his skin as he held the arch.

Collapsing, he curled into a ball, pressing his knees and head into Qui-Gon's body and letting sleep pull him irrevocably in.

November 08, 1999

It was cold and damp and dark. But I am Jedi and could have ignored that; let the inclement weather roll off my back like water off a duck's feathers.

The ground was wet and hard. But I am Padawan Learner to Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn and could have tolerated that; using the techniques he has taught me to imagine myself dry and on a soft bed.

We were tired, achy and weary. But I am young and strong and able and could have meditated until serene and calm and centered once again; quiet shadow to my Master.

Except for the damn frogs. There were hundreds -no thousands- of them. Soft bellied, croaking, splashing little toads that were everywhere. In our bed rolls, on our plates; we squished them under our feet as we walked and became covered by them as we sat.

I kept my robe tightly around myself, but they managed to get in and squirm against my skin, their bodies cold against my flesh, their little hearts beating, pulsing.

I made a promise to myself -that when we got off this swamp of a planet, I would eat frog legs every day. I repeated the promise aloud. My Master gave no indication that he'd even heard me, but the frogs seemed to have backed off, just a little.

November 09, 1999

Obi-Wan watched me warily as I set my bundled cloak in the middle of the floor. It twitched and a low growl came from it. Obi-Wan backed away, his hand on his lightsaber.

"Tsh. You won't need that, Padawan," I admonished him gently.

"That's what you said last time," he accused. And what could I say? He was right. The last wounded animal I had brought home had immediately decided that Obi-Wan was responsible for all it's problems and had viciously attacked him any time he went near it.

"What is it this time?"

"Nothing harmful, I assure you." I spoke softly, whether to calm him or the animal, or both, I wasn't entirely sure, but he still looked skeptical and the growling increased so I had failed on both points.

"You should look upon this as a lesson in the Living Force, Obi-Wan." If anything his skepticism increased, as did the growling. "All things are linked. The more upset you become, the more upset the tragle becomes. And you both feed the cycle."

"You brought home a tragle?!"

"He's only a baby." I spoke mildly, using my best inscrutable Master look. He was unimpressed.

"Master, have you seen the teeth on those things?"

"He's staying until he can fend for himself." Where inscrutable doesn't work, rank does.

"Very well."

"Where are you going?" I asked as he headed for the door, his whole body pouting.

"To stay with Master Yoda until the tragle is gone."

I nodded, knowing he would find sanctuary with my former Master. I had, after all, learned my habit for rescuing strays at my Master's knees.

November 10, 1999

Waking from his dream, Obi-Wan climbed out of his bed and padded to the common room as quietly as possible. He didn't want to wake his room-mates, or the Master assigned to look after them at night. He'd just be sent back to bed if he did and he definitely didn't want that.

He turned the lights on low, by hand because he was worried he'd mess it up if he tried to use the Force and turn them on all the way. He quickly rooted out some paper and coloured pencils out of the big bin, putting them up on the table and clambering onto the stool. The metal was cold, but he tried to ignore it, to keep focused on why he was awake.

Closing his eyes, he took four deep, long breaths and counted to 10 and back to 1 in Grok -calming himself like Master Yoda had showed them. Then, without opening his eyes, he picked up a pencil and began to draw, letting the Force guide his hand.

Finished, he opened his eyes, gasping happily at how perfect the pictured was. He had drawn exactly what the Force had showed him in his dream. Carefully, he ran a finger over the long cylindrical shape, tracing the lines and curves with awe. Now that the Force gave him the picture, it was time to speak to Master Yoda. The old Master couldn't say no if the Force wanted it, could he?

November 11, 1999

Silent and steady, he runs ahead of me. His muscles flow smoothly at his command, his feet finding easily the most quiet path as we run through the trees.

His breathing is not laboured. We have been running for hours but he seems as fresh as he did when we started. I can almost see the Force as he calls it to himself with grace and ease.

I strive to be his shadow in all these things; to be the Jedi that he is.

I have lofty goals.

November 12, 1999

I had been waylaid in the hall by Padawan Selna with a question, or twenty, regarding point of order for Council meetings. While I was a busy man, it was my duty, as it was the duty of all Jedi, to answer the questions of our initiates and padawans. And, truth be told, I quite enjoy a good discussion on such matters. We were deep in conversation when I noticed Qui-Gon stop in the middle of the hall some yards away from me and turn his padawan to face him.

Murmuring something appropriate at Selna, I watched surreptitiously as Obi-Wan's face was cradled in large hands and his eyes drifted closed.

I gave up any pretence of paying attention to Selna, staring frankly at the pair who halted traffic as they kissed. Obi-Wan's body sank against Qui-Gon's as the kiss went on -a long and gentle exploration.

It didn't look like Obi-Wan would wear that cloak of innocence for very much longer. Just as well -he was far too naive when it came to the ways of the flesh and he needed to learn so as not to be taken advantage of by those who would use him.

The love that coloured the Force around their joined bodies was none of my business, but I couldn't help being warmed by it. As they parted Obi-Wan practically glowed and Qui-Gon looked flummoxed, as if he'd been bested by an initiate in a training match.

Selna cleared her throat and I brought my attention back to her. When I glanced down the corridor again -they were gone. Good. I would not have enjoyed having to suggest to them that they take it to their rooms.

November 13, 1999

It wasn't going well at all. I had planned to take things slowly, to let him make the first move. I hadn't counted on his innate shyness and inexperience. The days following his confession had turned to weeks and as each day passed since our grand declarations, things became more strained between us. My desire not to overwhelm him, to let him set the pace had led us to this awkward place. Enough. I was the Master, it was about time I started to act like one.

I stopped him in the hall, heedless of those around us. Taking his smooth face in my hands; I tilted his head up. He was trembling, eyes gone brilliant green.

I could feel eyes upon us, but his drifted closed, his lips parting in unconscious invitation. One I couldn't refuse; didn't want to refuse.

He breathed into me as our lips touched -sweet, hot breath that made me just a little dizzy. I kept my eyes open as I gently probed his mouth with my tongue -I wanted to see his passion on his face as we kissed for the first time.

Touching his tongue for an instant, I then retreated. I felt my own eyes close as he sagged against me and I pushed my tongue forward once more. He tasted like spiced tea and berries underlain with a deep, almost nutty flavour that echoed the way he smelled, only sweeter. I was already addicted to the taste and darted my tongue into his mouth again, sliding along his tongue.

This time, as I retreated from his mouth, his tongue reached forward and hesitantly touched mine. Heat exploded through me, my penis hardening at the sweet caress. I pulled away, intending to calmly suggest we adjourn to our quarters, but when I smiled down at him, I was caught by his beauty and the words died on my lips.

November 14, 1999

I had expected life to change after my big confession. More so after Qui-Gon admitted that his love matched mine. Much to my confusion (and frustration) it has not. I had remained celibate, preferring not to indulge in sex with anyone other than my Master. I knew, for as long as I could remember, that he was the other half of me, but that I would have to wait to become whole. What I couldn't understand was why I was still waiting.

The question tickled around the edges of my mind both day and night, haunting me until I thought I would die if I did not get even just a kiss from the man I called Master. The man I loved, who loved me in return. I knew I was innocent and naÔve, but surely when two people declare mutual love for one another -love of the ever after life-bond, take me now you fool variety- kissing, at the very least, follows?

These were the things I pondered as we returned from the dining hall one afternoon, some weeks after my confession. I'll admit that this wasn't the first time I thought on the subject (by far) and it probably wouldn't be the last either.

Suddenly my Master stopped and grabbed my arm, turning me to face him. I looked up into his face and the halls we walked in faded from existence. His hands cupped my head, tilting it. I felt cradled and safe within their expanse. My eyes drifted shut as his thumbs stroked over my cheeks. My skin tingled wherever he touched me.

My lips parting, I held my breath, waiting for the touch of his lips on mine. When it came, I was lost.

I had been kissed before -several bumbling meeting of lips between equally unsure friends and once, or twice, on missions, by more experienced partners. But even if I had become an expert myself, kissed a thousand, even a hundred thousand, I would not have been prepared for this kiss.

His lips covered mine and my breath left my lungs in a gasping rush. Warm and soft, they moved gently against mine and if we had never done more than this I would not have been disappointed. Then his tongue flicked across my lips and I gasped at the wet heat, granting the entrance he was silently requesting.

The darkness behind my eyes exploded with colour and stars as his tongue slid past my lips, making me shiver as it slid over sensitive skin. He pushed past my teeth, and along the roof of my mouth. Then his tongue was touching mine, retreating and coming forward to gently touch again.

His heat was around me and in me and I couldn't breathe, couldn't think, didn't care. How could I have known? I was wooed, taken, absorbed into him. If this was just his kiss, how was I to survive more?

November 16, 1999

The sun came up over the courtyard, setting the two figures on fire, turning their glistening flesh to warm yellows and oranges. Naked, glistening, they move slowly together, bodies shifting in unison.

A before and after shot.

One was tall, lean, muscles sliding slowly beneath the burnished skin. His movements flowed, moving quietly from one form to the next. His long hair hung loosely about his shoulders, blowing in the wind.

The other was smaller, limbs covered by a thin layer of pale skin and fledgling muscles. He followed the flow of the older man; a smaller shadow.

They were two but moved as one.

November 18, 1999

Hands reach out to touch me as we walk to the plaza. I try not to flinch. We are Jedi -their saviours. This time I do flinch.

"Master..." But what am I going to say?

"I know." He says softly, voice low and deep with empathy as he stops to look at me. He shares my pain. I swallow and nod. Even though it is not cold I pull my robe more securely around myself as I tighten my shields.

It is no use though. I can still feel the pain and need around us. The Force is heavy with despair and, somehow, we are the only flicker of hope. We have food and blankets and medicine. But not enough. And despite our best efforts people here are going to die. By the hundreds, thousands, perhaps millions.

I almost trip, but catch myself, catch my rolling emotions and lock them tightly away in a small corner of my mind. There will be time enough to examine them later in quiet meditation. When we have abandoned these people to their fate.

I slow a half a step, letting my robe fall open, letting the hands linger as they touch. I will remember this day, these people and the soft, grasping touch of their hands. In the end, it is the only thing I can do for them.

November 19, 1999

Qui-Gon watched his apprentice with amused sympathy as the young man attempted to extricate himself from the clutches of the Senator from Tran'nok's verbose husband. The man had cornered Obi-Wan shortly after they'd arrived at the opening of the Inter-Galactic Art Museum. He had dragged poor Obi-Wan from display to display, imparting his hackneyed and often incorrect knowledge of each piece in overloud tones; the young man having been chosen at random for just this purpose. Qui-Gon was about to mount a rescue when his Padawan made good his escape on his own.

It was a couple of hours later when Qui-Gon next saw his apprentice. He actually had to search for the young man when he wished to leave as Obi-Wan seemed to have disappeared entirely after his escape from the senatorial spouse.

Letting the Force guide him, he moved away from the crowd in the main hall and down several levels. There were fewer people at each successive level and when he at last found his Padawan on the very lowest level, the young man was the only other being there.

Down here were the amateur offerings. One entire wall boasted drawings of the museum building in every conceivable medium created by the school children from Coruscant. The rest of the floor was a maze of corridors whose cream walls were hung with the exuberant artwork of youngsters from all over the galaxy.

He found Obi-Wan around a corner, standing in the middle of the room, head tilted to one side as he considered a finger painting by an infant Ewok. Qui-Gon came up behind the young man, sliding his arms around his Padawan. Obi-Wan leaned into his warmth.

"What do you see?" Qui-Gon asked him.

"Laughter, joy, home. There is far more true emotion in this piece than in most of the official works on the floors above."

"The Force was used, however unconsciously, in the creation of this painting," Qui-Gon suggested.

"Yes, Master, that's it exactly. The artists didn't care what anyone else thought and wasn't trying to become the next great discovery, she was just painting what she felt."

"Shall we check out the rest of this level before taking our leave?"

"I would enjoy that, Master."

Hand in hand, they did so.

November 21, 1999

"Excuse me, old mother."

He speaks soft and me moves, making me smaller in me corner. Me knows he sits anside of me cause me feels the heat of him. He sighs loud. He sounds tired likes me be.

"Here, Padawan."

"Thank you, Master."

The heat of him moves -he musts be leaning against the other now. Too bad, me was likes him heat. Me curls tighter in meself, wishing me hads me a master still to keeps me warm.

November 22, 1999

"Bantha balls." The Viceroy's voice rang out clearly and I had to work hard not to laugh as my apprentice choked on the morsel he'd just popped into his mouth with abandon. He continued to chew gamely, but his face had become rather pale and, despite the fact that we had eaten nothing more than a few travelling rations between us in the last several days, he was having a hard time swallowing.

As I watched surreptitiously, he surprised me, taking another bite of the "delicacy" in front of him. In fact, he ate his entire portion, accepting and finishing seconds when the offer was made -filing his empty belly despite the nature of the nutrition.

"You did well, young sir," boomed the Viceroy, obviously pleased by my Padawan's enthusiasm for the local dish.

"It was quite tasty." I believe he was quite sincere.

"But it is usually an acquired taste," pressed the Viceroy.

"I found if I put the notion of what it actually was from my mind, I could concentrate on the flavour of it, rather than the fact of it."

The Viceroy laughed loudly at that, thumping me on the back quite enthusiastically.

"That's a good boy you've got there," he told me. I nodded and permitted myself a small smile at the boy. We had only been together a few months and were slowly getting used to each other. I have to admit that he constantly surprised me with his maturity and serious nature.

I waited until dessert had been served and Obi-Wan had taken his first bite before asking: "And what, may I ask is this?"

The Viceroy laughed again.

"I had thought you would never ask!"

November 23, 1999

Obi-Wan stretched luxuriously, enjoying the soft warmth of his Master's robe beneath his back and the velvet heat of the sun on his limbs. He could feel the sun warming his skin and the muscles beneath. He silently thanked the Kasi for their insistence that the first day after the night without a moon was a day of rest. Complete rest. It didn't matter that the factions were essentially at war with each other, their representatives locked in heated negotiations that had remained free from blows thanks only to the concentrated efforts of the two Jedi. They had assured that all fighting would cease on the day -even the most lowly member of their society would not go against this tradition, nor would the highest ranking general or the richest faction member- the Jedi were to rest as well. It was more than welcome.

Keeping his eyes closed, Obi-Wan let his Force sense loose, feeling the cool light of the grass, flowers and trees peppering the hillside with warm spots. And to his right was Qui-Gon -an even larger presence within the Force than he was with plain sight; a warmth against Obi-Wan's spirit that rivalled the warmth of the sun upon his skin.

Turning onto his stomach and letting his eyes open, Obi-Wan watched as his Master slowly performed the red peace kata; a routine that combined both serenity and passion. Qui-Gon was as naked as Obi-Wan himself and the young man watched the play of muscles and sinews beneath the flesh. Qui-Gon made the kata look effortless, though the sheen of sweat that covered his skin belied that ease.

Qui-Gon dipped with the kata, feet planting firmly on the ground as he crouched, knees splayed wide. The position afforded Obi-Wan an unrestricted view of his lover's groin and he examined the flaccid length of Qui-Gon's cock. Even soft it was an impressive organ -erect it was quite magnificent.

Obi-Wan's thoughts returned to that morning when Qui-Gon had declared this was "the spot" and they had stopped their hiking. They had made slow, sweet love in the grasses, Qui-Gon's robe beneath them, the sky and sun above them. Afterwards they had lain together, holding one another with somnolent joy. Obi-Wan had been almost asleep when Qui-Gon had stood and started the kata without bothering with his clothes.

Obi-Wan began to rock his hips unconsciously as he remembered their morning activities, his eyes following Qui-Gon through the complex forms of his work-out. The movements of the kata echoed the movements their bodies had made earlier that morning and it was as if Qui-Gon were making love to him even now over the currents of the air. Obi-Wan closed his eyes again and followed the movements through the Force. It was even more beautiful like this.

The kata came to an end with Qui-Gon on his knees in front of Obi-Wan, and the young man opened his eyes, getting caught in Qui-Gon's gaze and all the love that lay between them, swirling through the eddies of the Force.

Obi-Wan gasped eyes widening in surprise as he came, his body having instinctively travelled this path without his realising it, answering the call of his lover. Qui-Gon smiled at him, having reached a different sort of climax at the culmination of his kata. Joining Obi-Wan on the blanket, Qui-Gon wrapped him in a sweaty embrace, their bodies echoing their souls.

November 24, 1999

There is a loud clanging and our cell door opens. We all pretend to be uninterested, but I know I'm not the only one surreptitiously watching. Two humanoids are thrust in; for a moment they are only outlines against bright light, and then the door closes again.

They stand where they are, blinking, waiting for their eyes to adjust to the near darkness we live in. The first is a big man -tall and well-built with a beard and hair down past his shoulders. Despite the worn clothing and the visible wounds on his face -the hidden wounds beneath the clothing too, we know how our captors operate- he stands straight and ready.

Behind him is a smaller, younger man similarly dressed and beaten. He has one hand stretched out, touching his companion's back. It takes a moment for me to realise that the darkness will not fade from this one's eyes. He is blind.

The big mans eyes adjust quickly and he glares at us all before striding to an unoccupied patch of ground on the floor by the far wall. The smaller man follows silently.

For such a large man, he settles easily onto the floor, legs crossed, back straight. The young man sits next to him, leaning into him. He shivers, only once -I almost miss it in the near darkness of the cell-, and then goes still.

The larger man puts his hand on the other's knee and his eyes drift closed. None of us are foolish enough to believe him to be sleeping. Hours later I finally succumb to sleep myself -the two of them holding their pose still.

When I awake they are gone.

November 25, 1999

Undressing quickly, Obi-Wan watched as his Master slept in their bed. The late evening sun shone through the bare windows, casting warm golden rays over Qui-Gon's skin.

Sitting on the bed, Obi-Wan ran his fingers along the solid bone of Qui-Gon's clavicle. Eyes wandering the same territory as his fingers. The broad shoulders were topped by the beloved face, beard showing mostly grey, though the long brown hair was only slightly silvered. Obi-Wan spread the hair out from his Master's head and it sparkled where the waning sun caught the silver strands.

He slid gentle fingertips over Qui-Gon's eyelids, tickling the tips of his fingers with the dark eyelashes. Tiny lines radiated from the closed eyes; these, like the grey hairs, were more numerous now than they had been. Obi-Wan resisted the urge to run his tongue over the fine lines; his intent was not to wake his lover -Qui-Gon badly needed the sleep.

Obi-Wan moved to the delicate skin beneath the eyes. Marred by dark circles, the skin held a fragility that insisted he do something. Running his fingers gently over the bruised flesh, Obi-Wan pushed a touch of the Force into the skin until the colour lightened, leaving Qui-Gon looking more peaceful.

He traced the long nose, skiing his fingertips over the bump where it had been broken and down, landing on soft lips. Obi-Wan smiled as Qui-Gon's head turned, trying to follow the butterfly touch, but he didn't linger. He scraped his fingernails through the beard, very gently scratching the flesh beneath the hair before trailing down over the long neck.

The sun was almost down now, throwing Qui-Gon's chest into broad relief -the curve of muscle and dips and hollows of bone becoming deeply shadowed. Obi-Wan ran his hand down Qui-Gon's chest, palm flat against the flesh. He lingered over the soft skin of the abdomen, tracing each muscle with loving attention and running through the navel with each pass. In the ebbing light is was easy not to see the scars.

Shifting where he sat, Obi-Wan turned his attention to the sharp bones of Qui-Gon's hips and the expanse between them. The curly hair was slightly springy to the touch, a little rough too, especially when compared to the soft flesh in the midst of it. Obi-Wan touched Qui-Gon's penis. A single gentle stroke from base to tip along the flaccid length. The organ reacted to his touch, firming a little.

Obi-Wan watched as the last bit of light played over Qui-Gon's body and then disappeared altogether, leaving the two of them in relative darkness. Obi-Wan's hands repeated their journey, this time without his eyes as companions.

He spread himself out next to his Master, arms and legs moving to tangle with Qui-Gon's, indulging himself in the presence of his lover.

November 26, 1999

Qui-Gon looked up from his book as Obi-Wan came into the room. He frowned at the expression on his Padawan's face.

"Something has gone very wrong, Master."

"Perhaps I can help?"

"I think it's beyond that."

"I could try."

"If you really think..."

"What could it hurt?"

Obi-Wan preceded his Master back into the kitchen and morosely pointed out the very flat, very dark lump.

"Oh," said Qui-Gon, rather faintly. "Is that the..."

"Yes, it is," answered Obi-Wan quietly.

"I see."

They both stared for a moment, Obi-Wan sucking worriedly on the end of his short braid. Finally Qui-Gon turned to his Padawan.

"I do believe you are right. There is nothing I can do to salvage this."

Obi-Wan sighed deeply and threw the whole mess into the recycler.

"That was the last pan," he told Qui-Gon.

"You begin again, I will go down to the stores and buy another one. Or maybe I should make that two..."

Obi-Wan turned imploring eyes upon his Master.

"Master, I'm so very hungry."

"As am I, Obi-Wan."

"Couldn't we just-"

"Certainly not."

"I'm almost ready to eat one of my failures."

"Yes, I must admit, so am I." He placed his hands on Obi-Wan's shoulders and squeezed comfortingly. "Take heart, my Padawan, and let your hunger guide you."

Obi-Wan opened his mouth as if to speak and then closed it again sharply.

"What is it?" Qui-Gon asked.

"It's just that it would be easier if you instructed me yourself."

"I'm afraid if I did so we might never eat."

"Master?"

"I couldn't cook a loaf of bread to save my life."

"Why then are you putting me through this?"

"Because one of us must know how, in case one day our lives do depend on it."

November 27, 1999

I can feel him watching me like he does when he thinks I'm not looking. This time he thinks I'm asleep. The bed dips as he sits at my side and I let myself roll towards him. He starts trailing his fingers over my body the same way I sometimes do when he's asleep. Or at least, when I think he's asleep.

Unlike me he usually starts at the bottom. His hands are gentle but sure as they hold my feet. He's touching just hard enough not to tickle and he's only just started but I can feel my body begin to react. That's okay though because I react to his touch even in my sleep, I probably would even if I were dead, so my rising cock doesn't give me away.

He doesn't linger long in any one spot, but there is no part of me that he doesn't touch. His hands are so large and strong, but gentle, always gentle -like all powerful men he knows the intrinsic strength in his form; like all good men, he knows not to use that power unless he absolutely must.

So his hands travel up my body, long fingers touching calf and knee and thigh. He doesn't linger over my cock, merely affords it the same gentle touch he's given every other part of me. For some reason this turns me on as much as special attention would have and I am now quite hard. I have to control the muscles of my abdomen to keep them from quivering as his fingers skim over my belly, dipping into my navel and sliding over my flanks.

His hands are moving more quickly now, like he's got a destination in mind and is in a hurry to get there. My nipples receive only a cursory touch and my arms are barely skimmed, though he does make sure his fingers trace each of mine. My neck, the cleft of my chin, my lips, my cheeks, my eyes and the hair on the top of my head, each one is touched briefly, nothing is left out or forgotten, but his attention is already ahead of his hands.

The touch trails over the shells of my ears and move behind them. One hand continues the journey back downward, stopping to rest over my heart, the other traces my braid.

His fingers run up and down the braid like he's gotten stuck there. There's something about it that always catches his attention. He'll tug on it to pull me into a kiss, or wrap it around his hand and hold me down against the bed with it while he makes love to me. If I use it to tickle his nipples or tease his cock it's often enough to push him over the edge and make him come.

I called him a hair fetishist once. He looked at me, startled almost, and then laughed.

"An Obi-Wan fetishist," he corrected, giving one of those great rumbling chuckles that I can feel all the way to my toes.

Tonight he lingers only a moment or two at my braid before sliding into the bed beside me. His body acts as a gravity well and I let mine roll into him, sliding back into sleep as his arms come around me.

November 28, 1999

My Obi-Wan paces from one end of our quarters to the other, bemoaning the colossal waste of our situation. He is right of course. It has been a waste. Of our time, of our talents and of the faith these people put in their negotiators. We have been summarily dismissed, sent away, our ship leaves in the morning and we are to be on it. Nevertheless, we are still Jedi.

I tell him meditation would do him good and I call him padawan when I do it. I use his title knowing he will respond to my words as an order as a result.

He wails that he cannot as he comes to a stop in front of me and indeed I can see that he is fairly vibrating. I have grown lax, I suppose. The Qui-Gon Jinn of 10 years ago, even of 3 years ago, would have insisted and aided my padawan in calming himself, finding his centre and meditating. Perhaps that man would have insisted on meditating all night. But the Qui-Gon Jinn I am today decides there is a far more enjoyable way to make this young man relax and forget all that has him so wound up.

He has resumed his pacing and without warning I tackle him. I use a tendril of the Force to cushion his fall, only enough that it doesn't cause any lasting pain, but I let him feel the impact of his body hitting the floor with the full weight of my own atop him. He immediately begins scrabbling at my clothes but I take his wrists in my hand and hold them on his chest.

I tell him not to move them, my voice already rough with anticipation. I let his hands go and he moves them only far enough to cross them over his chest, grabbing hold of his biceps. I shove his tunics, belt, sash and all upwards and grip his leggings in both my hands. I tear them apart. His hips arch up at the sound of tearing fabric and a whimper comes from him.

I look up at his face, my grin feral. He is looking at me, eyes glazed and mouth open, panting. His hips come off the ground again and I move to straddle his legs just below his knees and take a hip in each hand. I love his hips, love the way they feel, the way they fit in my hands -the tips of my fingers just reaching the underside of his buttocks.

His panting grows louder and his hands are grasping convulsively at his arms. He starts begging, calling me Qui-Gon, calling me Master and begging, begging so desperately.

I let him beg for a while, drawing the moment out and then I slowly lower my head. He is trembling again, his body shaking and jerking as he waits for the heat of my mouth to cover his erection.

I stop just above his organ, letting my breath brush across the sensitive skin and his hips are bucking again, only now I have a hold of them and I keep him down, my hands holding him down tight against the floor. Then I surround the tip of his shaft with my mouth and let go of his hips.

He drives himself deep inside of me, coming on the first stroke. He thrusts two or three more times, body twitching. And then he goes still and his hips fall back to the floor, pulling his penis from my mouth. I lick him gently, making sure he's clean. I pull off the rest of his clothes and slide my arms beneath his shoulders and hips. He makes some protest, something about not being a boy any longer and I remind him that I am not such an old man yet and carry him the rest of the way to his bed.

I curl up there behind him.

I am almost asleep when I hear him murmur something about meditation. I tell him that meditation isn't always the best solution. His chuckle is sleepy and fades quickly. I hold him, listening to him breathe as I let sleep claim me.

November 29, 1999

The shadows in the room had grown long by the time Qui-Gon stood up from his desk and stretched. Obi-Wan watched over the top of his commpad as muscles were flexed and relaxed beneath sand-coloured clothing.

"I'm hungry," his Master murmured, flicking the switch on the console of his desk and turning towards Obi-Wan. Putting the pad aside, Obi-Wan started to get up from the couch.

"I'll get us something, Master. There's some left over Endi soup and soda bread that would be nice reheated."

A gentle Force shove kept him in place and Qui-Gon regarded him with a half smile on his face.

"No," he said softly. "I'm hungry."

"Oh." Obi-Wan was silent a moment before letting a slow smile pull the corners of his lips up into a silky smile. "In that case..."

Obi-Wan raised his hands over his head and arched his back, doing a little stretching of his own. Staying seated, he let his hands drop, first to his head, then down along his chest until he reached his belt. Loosening the clasp and pulling the leather from around his waist, he rolled his neck first to the right and then to the left.

He let the belt drop to the floor and began to work on his sash, peering coyly up at Qui-Gon from beneath lowered lashes. Qui-Gon had remained where he was and was watching as Obi-Wan, his face a study of shadow and dark in the waning light. Obi-Wan couldn't see his eyes, but Qui-Gon seemed frozen in place.

Sitting forward, Obi-Wan twitched his shoulders and his tunics fell open a couple of inches, just enough to reveal a thin river of skin between the two banks of material. He ran one hand back up his body along the narrow band of flesh while the other pushed itself into the top of his leggings. Qui-Gon hadn't moved but Obi-Wan could hear his breathing -short draws of air that werer beginning to sound suspiciously like panting.

Shrugging his shoulders, Obi-Wan let the material fall down to his elbows and then slowly pulled his arms from the sleeves, dropping the tunics on top of his belt. He lay against the couch again, shifting so that the soft material caressed the bare skin on his back. His fingers pulled at the fastenings on his leggings, loosening them before he lifted his hips and slid the pants past his buttocks.

He moved forward again, pushing his leggings down until they reached the top of his boots. He pouted, as if having forgotten he was still wearing them and shot another half-lidded look in Qui-Gon's direction. The sun had lowered to a sufficient angle that Obi-Wan was blinded by it's brilliance. But even though he couldn't see a thing, he knew that Qui-Gon could see him, that his Master's eyes had in fact not left his body since he'd begun to disrobe.

He leaned forward and worked at the fastenings on his boots, taking his time, opening and closing his hands so that the muscles in his arms and back rippled. He tugged the boots from his feet, letting his leggings be pulled off with them.

Completely naked now, he leaned back against the couch, arms spread along the back of the couch, legs splayed wide open. His nipples had tightened in response to the cool air, though the chill had done little to quell his eager cock. He tensed as many of his muscles as he could and then released them again. He shoot Qui-Gon another sultry look and then spoke, voice almost purring.

"Well here I am. Come and eat."