Snapshots: Obi-Wan Kenobi, this is your life (December 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.

December 2, 1999

I often wish I was a servant like Liuku who attends me. When he is done he goes home and has his own life. I live in this world of grownups and responsibilities and when I am not in the public eye I am expected to study. I hate it.

So I rebel. Nothing really bad -I am, after all, the Regent's son- but little things to keep me sane. Like tonight at the State Dinner -as if every dinner is not a state dinner. This night however is our first meal with the two Jedi who have come to help ease our joining with the Republic. One of them is my age. He is even more serious than the courtiers and the ministers; his face is calm -a reflection of the one he calls Master.

I scratch at the collar of the green velvet overcoat I must wear as I wait to catch his eye. Then I screw my face up, cross my eyes and stick my tongue out at him. His eyes grow round and his mouth drops open. His shock only lasts a minute and then that mask drops back in place. But for a moment he was more than just another dull face and I suddenly have hope that their visit will be most enjoyable. I am eager to crack that facade again.

End.

December 3, 1999

Their ship shuddered and then hummed as they dropped out of orbit around Kas and slipped into hyperspace for their journey home. It had been a long mission with very little down time for the two Jedi and Obi-Wan headed for their quarters as soon as they entered hyperspace. Sitting on the bed, he began to tug at the fasteners on his boots. Kicking them off, he shifted until he could rest against the back of the bunk. He let his eyes drift closed, the hum of the engine soothing him into a light doze.

Moments later a scent tickled at his nose and he was transported back to a meadow. His lover's body was atop his own, pressing him into the ground; the scent of crushed grass and flowers rising around them. He murmured happily, pressing his hips up into Qui-Gon's weight.

The clunk of something mechanical shifting as the engines turned pulled him from his reverie, but the scent remained. Obi-Wan opened his eyes to find Qui-Gon sitting on the bunk next to him, passing a small purple flower beneath his nose.

Obi-Wan smiled warmly up at his lover, taking the offered flower. It wilted for a moment as it passed from one to the other, but Obi-Wan bathed it in a small pulse of the Force as Qui-Gon had been doing and it bloomed again, sending a waft of it's scent towards him.

"Thank you," Obi-Wan said with a smile. For the flower and the day it remembered. He knew Qui-Gon would hear the unspoken words.

"You're welcome." Qui-Gon smiled back, mouth curving and issuing a silent invitation. Obi-Wan lifted his head for the kiss, wrapping his arms around Qui-Gon's neck and pulling him close.

They kissed for a long time, the flower in Obi-Wan's hands becoming crushed as his hand clenched around it, releasing strong wafts of it's gentle perfume. The smell brought their one day of rest back to them -a shared memory that warmed through them as they kissed passionately. Obi-Wan cried out, body convulsing with remembered orgasm, his pleasure doubled as Qui-Gon gasped and shook beside him.

Letting the crushed petals of the flower drift to the bed, Obi-Wan curled into Qui-Gon's embrace.

End.

December 4, 1999

Obi-Wan lay with his cheek pillowed on the crest of his lover's ass, his chest pressed against the warmth of Qui-Gon's lower back. Qui-Gon's arm was wrapped around his waist and his face nuzzled against Obi-Wan's thigh. Obi-Wan was idly playing with Qui-Gon's tattoo, tracing it and occasionally tickling his lover's flanks to make him squirm, which in turn made the tattoo ripple and move enhancing the illusion that the tattoo was a living entity separate from Qui-Gon. He placed a soft, open-mouthed kiss at the base of Qui-Gon's spine, smiling as the gesture was repeated at his own thigh.

"Tell me a story," he said softly, rubbing his cheek against the soft flesh.

Qui-Gon chuckled. "A story?"

"Yeah. Something about you."

"Like what?"

"Tell me how you got your tattoo."

"I don't know if I should. I don't want to put ideas in your head."

Obi-Wan slapped the flesh in front of him.

"You see," said Qui-Gon with another chuckle, "you're getting cheeky already."

"Master!"

Placing another kiss on Obi-Wan's thigh, Qui-Gon cleared his throat and began. "Shortly before my knighthood trials I went to Varonat to hike through the Visan Canyons -a trial of my own making as I didn't feel ready yet to leave my master and was resisting the hints he was dropping that I *was* ready. I fasted, cleansing myself, and meditated as I walked. It took me nearly a week but I made it.

"Once I was through I was met by a shaman of the people. He was flanked by two warriors. They congratulated me on the completion of my journey and brought me to their fire. They fed me ceremonial cakes and wine. I had never tasted anything so good. Of course you understand that I had been fasting until then and I probably would have quite happily eaten yaro root.

"As darkness fell everything became foggy, dreamy. The shaman told me that it was the tradition of his people to mark the event when one passed through the canyons on a journey of the spirit. I was to open myself to him and he would read what my mark should be. I did so and he worked the tattoo you are licking -stop that, padawan, unless you want me to stop? No? Well then, when I woke they were gone as if they had never been there, even their fire had left no trace of itself. Only the tattoo remained of my experience and I am still not entirely convinced that they were ever really there or if they were instead a figment of my imagination."

"If they weren't real, how did you get the tattoo?"

"I like the somewhat romantic notion that it was the Force itself that placed it there."

"It does seem alive with the Force."

"Master Yoda was furious. It delayed my trials by several months -he said it showed I was unready -that I had allowed it. But I have always thought of it as the Force's way of telling me that I was ready to take my trials and stand on my own."

"So you still will not let me get one?"

"No my Obi-Wan."

"Do you remember what you said to me that day?"

"The day I forbade you to get a tattoo? Something along the lines of 'NO' I would imagine."

"Well, yes. But do you remember exactly what you said?"

"You obviously do."

"You said: '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'."

"That was rather possessively put."

"Yes, and I loved it! Do you know how many fantasies I created where you repeated those words?"

Qui-Gon pushed Obi-Wan's hips so that the young man lay on his side and kissed the hipbone gently before growling, "Your body is mine and I will not have anyone touching it."

Obi-Wan gave a low moaning chuckle and his penis began to grow hard at Qui-Gon's words.

"Hmmm. I see the words have not lost their potency."

"No MasTER!" Obi-Wan managed, shouting the last syllable as Qui-Gon's mouth enclosed the tip of his erection. Obi-Wan shifted until his head was comfortably resting on his own arm and then tugged Qui-Gon's hips until his lover lay on his side as well. He began to lap at Qui-Gon's penis, long licks, tongue swirling around the base, across the tip, then dropping to tease the sensitive balls in their sack. Qui-Gon continued to suck on him, taking him fully into his mouth and swirling his tongue around the hot flesh.

In moments they were both blindly sucking and rolling their hips, coming together.

"Mmm. Love you," said Obi-Wan, curling into his Master.

"Too," murmured Qui-Gon, placing a last kiss on Obi-Wan's hip as they succumbed to sleep.

End.

December 5, 1999

Layna pointed out to me that yesterday's snapshot was probably more NC17ish than Rish. She may have a point about the ending. On the other hand I thought that it wasn't *that* NC17, so to demonstrate the difference, for me anyway, today's snapshot involves a similar sex scene that is far more deserving of an NC17 label.

His mouth is sweet, a delicacy I find myself returning to again and again as I hold his head in my hands. His taste is as familiar to me now as my own, but I am delighted by it every time our mouths touch. I plunder him, taking my pleasure. I suck on his tongue, swiping across the roof of his mouth and licking over the soft skin of his lips.

Gasping for breath, I drag his head down to my chest, pulling him first to one nipple and then the other. His eager mouth laps and nips and tugs and my legs give out, dropping us both to our knees.

Somehow I've maintained my grip on his head and I push him down to my groin, guiding him. But his hands come up and pull mine away, linking our fingers behind my back.

That sweet mouth is a disguise, a ruse, the bait. It is the mouth of an angel used with such effect by a devil. I don't want to close my eyes. I want to watch him on his knees, head bowed low at my groin, but he begins to nuzzle my hips, first one and then the other. My eyes close.

He nudges against my hips with his nose and then mouthes them with open lips -my hips bones first and then the soft flesh around them. He licks along the crevice where my thighs and hips meet. He know how sensitive I am there and he uses that knowledge to his advantage -pointing his tongue and drawing it along the crease. I shudder when that sweet torture is finished and a new one begins as he lays his tongue flat to draw it along the same path.

I tear my hands from his and fall to the ground beside him, pulling and tugging until we both lie head to groin. His hands have grabbed hold of my hips and he lets his gaze slowly climb my body until his eyes meet my own. He arches one brow and grins, a slow lazy smile that lifts the corners of his mouth.

"Think you can keep up?"

I murmur something about age and experience winning out over youth and stamina in the past, but my words are more confident than I feel. My Obi-Wan is a Master at fellatio. Sheer enthusiasm for my pleasure has made him thus and it my wish for his pleasure that will give me a chance in this erotic contest.

My hands grip his hips and I let my thumbs gently caress his soft skin, let them dance among the coarse, tight curls that adorn his groin. I lean forward and begin to sniff, moving my face along his shaft and over his balls, using the scent of him to focus, to ruthlessly push the activities taking place south of my navel from my mind.

I let my nose drag against the underside of his erection and it jerks, the tip of it pressing briefly against my chin, wetting it. I point my tongue and press it into the slit, tasting the hot, salty pleasure of my lover. His hips jerk and I allow the movement to carry his cock into my mouth, barely closing my lips around it as I pull away. I hear him moan and I echo the sound as he redoubles his own efforts, dragging his tongue over my phallus -soft then hard then soft again.

I thrust my hips helplessly and I grasp the base of his erection, bringing the tip back into my mouth. I try to push from my mind what his sweet, talented mouth is doing but I cannot. So I take a deep breath and relax the muscles of my throat, shifting my hands to his hips and pulling him forward. He is moaning as I take him fully into my mouth, the vibrations of the sounds he makes rushing over the sensitive skin of my penis. I hold tightly onto his hips, holding onto them as though they are my only anchor, as I increase the suction of my mouth and let him plunge in and out of me.

All the while he is licking me, lapping at my flesh and mapping each variation, each bump and vein with his tongue. I can feel the beauty of my own phallus as he worships between my legs.

Where my hands are only holding on as he rides my mouth, his hold my hips still. He controls the pleasure I receive while taking his own. And I am almost mindless from it, from the hard cock slamming now into my yielding mouth, the hard, hot body shifting against me and that sweet, elegant mouth moving basely over my own hardness, dragging groans and keens of pleasure from me. Sounds that are choked by his plunging cock.

He reaches along my body and, with a single finger, flicks across my nipple and I convulse, losing my focus entirely. Mouths, bodies, cocks, hands -they all mesh together into silky, wet pleasure and I'm screaming but there is no sound.

I shudder and quiver with aftershocks of pleasure and it takes a moment to realise that his shaft is still moving within my mouth, his body frantically rubbing against mine. He moves within my lax mouth -as I inadvertently punish him for making me forget myself. I tighten my lips around him and firm up my jaw. He cries out as the suction returns and two deep thrusts send him spiralling into his own climax. I greedily swallow his essence -this purest taste of Obi-Wan.

He has won again this most pleasurable of contests, but it is I who finds the energy to shift until we are face to face once again. I gather him into my arms, cushioning him from the floor.

Perhaps it is because in this I am better motivated.

I take his face once again in my hands and hold his head still as I plunder the depths of his mouth. It's subtle flavour is decorated now by the tang of myself and I suck on his tongue before nibbling on soft lips.

I will never tire of kissing him and, despite everything else that talented mouth can do, it is the kisses that I cherish the most.

End.

December 6, 1999

"What is wrong?"

"My life is over."

"Really? I did not realise that your species' life-span was so short.

"My species generally live to be quite old. At least a hundred years. Often more.

"Then perhaps you age differently than most humanoids and are not as young as you look."

"No, I'm pretty young."

"Well then, may I inquire as to why you say your life is over?"

"I broke my arm."

"Ah, I see -a fatal wound."

"Nah, I'm not going to die from a broken arm."

"Well then, if you aren't old and your species is long-lived and your injury is not a mortal wound..."

"My master is going to kill me."

"He has to end your life because you are broken? I did not realise the Jedi required perfection."

"Perfection? What are you talking about?"

"You said your master will kill you because you have a broken arm."

"No -not because of my arm. He'll probably heal that first and then he'll kill me."

"He is going to heal your broken arm and then he is going to kill you."

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because I disobeyed him."

"So the Jedi do require perfection."

"No, but Jedi Masters do require obedience from their padawans."

"But if you knew what the punishment was, why did you disobey?"

"Because I had to see if the view from the top of the telis trees was as spectacular as I thought it would be."

"You are willing to die for a view?"

"Oh, he's not going to *kill* me kill me -he's just going to make me wish I was dead."

"If you don't mind my saying so, you already look like you wish were dead."

"Well that will never do. How's this?"

"You look...resigned to your fate."

"Well, it's not serenity, but it should do just fine. I guess I'd better go get this over with."

"Good luck."

"Not that it will save me, but thank you."

End.

December 7, 1999

Obi-Wan stood at the edge of town, looking out over the blackened expanse that had been the Great Woods of Nivra. Sadness poured through him at the immense quiet -the absence of wind in leaves, of birdsong, of the hum of insects and he suddenly found himself fighting back tears.

"You did what you could, love. We all did." Qui-Gon came up behind him, standing at his left shoulder and Obi-Wan leaned into his Master's strength.

"I know. It's just -we should have been able to do more and now it feels...it feels like the Force is dying."

"Yes. I feel it too."

Obi-Wan gripped his Master's arms as they came around his chest and leaned back into the warmth and safety that was his Master's embrace. The first tears began to fall; he couldn't stop them. They slid from his eyes, burning a trail down his cheeks. He let Qui-Gon gently turn him and he burrowed himself beneath his Master's robe -head mashed into the broad chest and arms winding tightly around the trim waist.

He cried. He cried for the beautiful forest so full of life, both ancient and young, that now lay smouldering behind them. He cried for the people of Tresa, whom they had been unable to help. He cried for Bati, the boy they'd been searching for on R'nchal, who had perished in the same sandstorm that had nearly taken their own lives. He cried for every person he had failed to help, every person who had suffered or died because his effort had not been enough.

Through it all his Master held him. Held him until the sobs slowed and the tears stopped. Obi-Wan stood with his face buried in Qui-Gon's damp tunic, breath still hitching occasionally, surrounded by the man he trusted and loved above all others. He hated showing weakness in front of his Master, hated not being strong enough, but when he looked up, Qui-Gon's face was wet too. Obi-Wan lifted a hand to touch a damp cheek.

"Master?"

"We do what we can, Obi-Wan, we do everything we can, but we cannot do more, even when it is not enough. And sometimes," Qui-Gon's voice broke slightly, "sometimes we need to let go of the pain -acknowledge the hurt."

"I love you, Master," murmured Obi-Wan as he buried his himself within the folds of Qui-Gon's robe once again and hugged his Master as tightly as he could.

"I love you, too." Qui-Gon hugged him back. "You see -the Force asks much of us, but it gives us much in return too."

"Yes, Master."

Obi-Wan stepped back and took a last look at the desolate land that had once been the home to trees and plants that were thousands of years old, to animals and insects that numbered in the millions. Then he took his Master's hand in his own, their fingers twining together automatically, the heat and breadth of them familiar and reassuring.

"Come on, we have work to do."

End.

December 8, 1999

"I do *not* hog the covers." Qui-Gon's was most emphatic on this point.

"Yes, you do," insisted Obi-Wan, unimpressed by the stern tone in his master's voice.

"Well you hog the bed itself."

"I what?"

"Hog the bed. You always have, you know. Even when you were younger, before we were lovers and we had to share. I never could figure out how someone so small could possibly take up so much room."

"I am not small!" Obi-Wan sounded outraged, though not as outraged as he had when he'd accused Qui-Gon of cover thievery.

"Well, no," admitted Qui-Gon, "but when you were thirteen you weren't exactly large and relative to myself..."

Obi-Wan stared at Qui-Gon for several moments, jaw working. Finally, making a noise sounding like a cross between a snort and a sigh he hit his pillow, once, very hard, with his fist and threw himself down, back to his master. He pulled the covers up to his neck, making a show of tucking them tightly around his body.

Chuckling, Qui-Gon slid in behind Obi-Wan.

"Good night, Obi-Wan." He kissed Obi-Wan gently behind his ear and wound his arm possessively over Obi-Wan's chest.

Obi-Wan stiffened and wiggled, ostensibly to remove himself from Qui-Gon's embrace, but managing to bring their bodies closer together before murmuring "g'night, Master."

End.

December 10, 1999

We pray to Lantha for victory. Her morning mists are a hopeful omen. I am confident we will overcome our enemy. Recent skirmishes have left them few weapons and fewer bullets.

As the sun begins to burn the clouds from the ground, we blow our horns to ready ourselves and warm our enemy that we will not fail. Only silence greets us as we fall into place on the battlefield.

The mists finally clear, leaving us not facing our enemy, but two men in unfamiliar clothing. They stand impassively before us, hands in the sleeves of their robes.

Only two weaponless men in the place of the armed hundreds we had expected. It should be a marvellous portend but I have a bad feeling about this.

End.

December 11, 1999

"Is there something wrong, Padawan?"

I was not surprised by his question, I had been trying to let go of my annoyance, or at least temper it, since my master had divided the tasks between us.

"Well, as you did ask..."

"Yes?" I wasn't looking at him but I could hear his expression in his voice. One eyebrow would be arched, mild look of curiosity in his eyes, face otherwise impassive. Yet something about the bland look, or perhaps his posture would be screaming that he knew what I was going to say and disapproved. So I continued not to look at him while I asked my very impertinent question.

"Why am I staying with the child while you go out looking for it's mother?"

"*Her* mother."

"That's what I said." I was surprised that he was choosing to correct my grammar rather than my attitude.

"No, you said 'it'. The child is a female."

"You see, you are so much more attuned to these things -you should stay with i-her." I corrected myself at the last moment, hoping, quite vainly, that he hadn't heard the slip.

"I believe, Padawan," and with that one word, I knew that no quarter would be given and it would be useless to debate (if that was what you could call what we were doing) further, "that this would be a good chance for you to learn patience with what you so endearingly call 'pathetic life forms'." Sarcasm in others is never a pretty thing, but I knew it was time to retreat when my master resorted to it. If I pressed he would fall into *his* master's speech patterns and I would suffer the enforced-lessons equivalent of gimer stick hitting shins.

"Yes, Master." I said as I watched him gather his pack and go. I could feel my lower lip sliding outward and I caught it between my teeth in an effort not to pout. I allowed myself an ungracious moment to wonder why my master insisted on turning every moment into a lesson before taking a calming breath and turning to my charge just in time to receive a missile fabricated of mashed fev and gravy in my face.

I only hoped my master would complete his portion of the mission with all due speed, but, with the child in the relative safety of my care, I feared that he would deliberately dawdle.

End.

December 12, 1999

I run into young Kenobi in the hall near the training rooms. He and Jinn aren't at the temple very often and usually not for long when they are here. But Kenobi must take a number of tests this time around, to make sure that he isn't losing ground in his general studies while on missions and Master Yoda and I feel he should take advantage of this more lengthy stay and have lessons in cooking. I take this opportunity to tell him so.

"Padawan Kenobi."

"Yes, Master Windu?" He seems surprised to have me stop him.

"I have arranged for you to take lessons with Master Cook Dra-Son during this rotation at the temple.

"What sort of lessons, Master?" The boy is endearingly confused.

"What sort of lessons would one expect to learn from a cook?"

"Cooking lessons?" I nod at him and, if anything, his expression becomes more puzzled. "But why?"

"Possibly because Qui-Gon Jinn can't cook and the Council would hate to see you inherit this failure."

"My Master *can* too cook!"

It's nice to see that padawans are still loyal to their masters.

"Sure he can, but aren't you getting tired of soup, sandwiches and campfire weenies?"

"I've learned a thing or two besides that."

"Yes, and the complaints regarding the smells following your failed attempts are what prompted this suggestion." He looks embarrassed but rallies quickly enough.

"It's not always easy figuring out what they mean in the cookbooks and the vids aren't much better."

"Exactly my point, Padawan. Report to the dining hall kitchen every afternoon after your last class until you are sent on your next mission. I'll let your Master know where you are."

"Yes, Master Windu."

As we part company I can't resist teasing the boy.

"Some say Qui-Gon's cooking was why Xanatos turned."

"Master!"

I chuckle as I head off towards the classrooms, his outraged shout echoing in the hall.

End.

December 13, 1999

Obi-Wan twirled through the air, feeling the currents swirl around his body, this flip even less graceful than the one before. Qui-Gon hit his legs with a long fighting staff as he passed.

"Again," said the Master, voice an unforgiving rumble.

Obi-Wan performed the flip again, failing once more to complete the pass without being hit. The dull ache in his shins was beginning to throb painfully and it was becoming painful to breathe.

"Again."

Standing at the edge of the mat, Obi-Wan bent slightly over, hands on his knees, gasping for breath.

"Master..."

"Again." The tone gave no quarter and Obi-Wan nodded, taking a deep breath, pushing the air into his burning lungs as he stood and readying himself to attempt the flip once more. This time a slight whimper escaped his lips as the staff connected solidly with his shins.

"Ow." He rubbed his abused flesh, looking accusingly at his Master.

"If you complete the flip properly, my staff will pass under your legs." Qui-Gon's voice was mild as he reminded Obi-Wan of the exercise. "Again."

"Master, please. I am tired." Obi-Wan hated to disappoint his master, hated admitting defeat and hated even more the whining plea, but his body hurt and he couldn't remember his energy ever being so low.

"Ah, you are tired. Well, then, let us finish for today. Perhaps you can take a nap." Qui-Gon moved to the edge of the mat to retrieve his cloak and slip it over his shoulders. Obi-Wan watched warily as his master moved towards the back of the room to replace the training staff in the cabinet there. "You really must try this defence the next time you face a real opponent, Obi-Wan. I am sure a nap is exactly what he would suggest once you informed him that you were too tired to engage him."

Obi-Wan glared at his master and calmed his breathing as Qui-Gon made his way towards the door. The Master stopped and turned back towards Obi-Wan.

"Aren't you coming?"

"Point made, Master. I will try again."

Qui-Gon smiled at him and reversed his movements; going back to the cabinet and retrieving the training staff before sliding his robe off his shoulders and stepping once more onto the mat.

Obi-Wan attempted the move twice more and received two more whacks to his shins for his troubles. He moved slowly around the mat, walking off the sting of the blows and closing his eyes against the disappointment of failing yet again.

"Obi-Wan, you are trying too hard. Let the Force have your exhaustion and trust in it to carry you through the air."

Nodding, Obi-Wan stood at the edge of the mat, breathing deeply and ignoring the aches in his body. He kept his eyes shut, concentrating on the feeling of the mat beneath his feet, the open space of the training room, the strong presence of his master within the Force. Drawing on that strength he threw his body forward, executing the flip flawlessly. The staff whistled through the air as he landed on the other side of it.

"Again."

He jumped and flipped through the air again. And once more the wood passed through air.

"And again."

Feeling now as though he could jump a hundred times more, Obi-Wan completed the flip perfectly.

"Good. Very good."

"Thank you, Master."

"Do you think you are ready to try the reverse flip now?"

Obi-Wan suppressed his groan, ignored his body's complaints and nodded, stepping to the edge of the mat and preparing to do his master's bidding.

End.

December 14, 1999

* Our world is one of water. It rains every day, often for most of the day. Most visitors find it damp and uncomfortable and do not stay long. They complain daily about the daily rains.

The Jedi however, never complain. They come and spend their time here and never say a word one way or another about the rain. The Jedi that came this time are different. Oh, they still don't say anything, but they seem, nonetheless, to enjoy the rain.

Every day Padawan "please call me Obi-Wan" Kenobi leaves his Master and his robe behind and goes for a walk in the rain. I watch him from the floor to ceiling parlour windows until he disappears around the bend. It is usually an hour later before he returns.

He walks briskly, but unhurriedly -usually more eagerly on the return trip. I cannot decide if he is doing it more for the exercise or for the pleasure.

On his way out, he is dry, the rain slowly spotting his cream-coloured uniform. By the time he reaches the end of the path from the house, the clothing has begun to lie heavily against his body. When he returns, the material is plastered against him and fat drops of water roll down his face. Despite this, his expression as he comes towards the house is one of peace, often a small smile gracing his pleasant face.

I wish I could ask him what exactly it is that makes him smile so.

End.

December 16, 1999

Mind on the information the council had just given him, Qui-Gon palmed open the door to his quarters. He went immediately to his padawan's door, knowing that Obi-Wan would be excited to hear about their new mission.

It only took a glance to realise that Obi-Wan was in the midst of pleasuring himself and Qui-Gon quickly stepped back, pulling the door shut quietly behind him. It had only been a second; Obi-Wan hadn't noticed his presence; he himself had barely seen the boy. Only enough to realise what was going on before retreating. Only enough to be reminded yet again that Obi-Wan was no longer a boy. So why was the image of his Padawan's glistening form straining in pleasure burned into his mind?

He went to the kitchen and, leaving the lights off, began to prepare himself a pot of tea. The darkness forced him to concentrate on the soothing movements; setting the water over the fire, measuring out the crushed leaves to make his favourite blend -one spoon of bellberry, two of black leaf, one of spice and a touch of willow bark to soothe.

He poured the boiling water into the pot and began to gently swirl the pot around, allowing the leaves to blend properly with the water. The motion of his wrist was easy, familiar, reminiscent of another's wrists movements, though it was not the handle of a teapot that Qui-Gon imagined in Obi-Wan's hand. He set the pot down rather abruptly and the tea sloshed against the sides, a small bit of the liquid spilling over the edge and onto his hand. He gasped, realising his penis had grown hard and that his mind had never really given up the image of his padawan's hand stroking along his thick, reddened shaft.

Looking for new distraction, Qui-Gon strode into the common room, bringing the lights up to a comfortable level. He went to the bookcase, taking down a book of Caldarian philosophy. He usually found the book absorbing and intellectually stimulating -just the thing to get his mind and his body off the tempting picture of Obi-Wan -naked on his bed, one hand dragging his braid across his right nipple, the other wrapped around his phallus, hips thrusting upwards, head thrown back, tongue wetting dry lips...

Qui-Gon started as the book dropped from his fingers, bumping against several of the shelves before landing with a thump on the floor. He bent to pick it up, but straightened again, making himself concentrate on something other than Obi-Wan's muscled frame and use the Force to bring the book up to his hand.

"Good evening, Master."

Qui-Gon nearly dropped the book again as his padawan's voice interrupted his concentration. Looking over at the young man he managed a weak smile in response, noting the bemused look on Obi-Wan's face.

"Dropped my book," he said, inanely, feeling suddenly like he was the padawan and not the master.

"Picked it up again too," replied Obi-Wan with a gentle smile. Qui-Gon schooled his features into his usual mask of serenity.

"I have just made a pot of tea and was going to spend the evening reading. Perhaps you would like to join me?" He was pleased that his voice sounded normal and that he'd managed to tear his eyes away from Obi-Wan's hands and look instead into his padawan's face, though he wasn't sure what had possessed him to issue the invitation given he was having a hard enough time keeping his mind off what he had seen without Obi-Wan's presence.

"As long as I don't have to join you in your choice of bedtime reading," Obi-Wan replied, amusement and satiation lending his voice a gruff edge that left Qui-Gon wanting to hear his own name spoken in passion by his padawan.

The evening passed quickly enough, though Qui-Gon spent as much time contemplating what he had seen, and admonishing himself for said contemplation, as he did reading. Giving up his book for lost sometime after the 15th hour bell, he quietly excused himself and retired to his own room.

It was only after he had completed his evening ablutions and relieved his growing arousal in the shower, deliberately keeping his mind blank to all but his own pleasure, that he realised that he had failed to tell Obi-Wan about their upcoming mission.

End.

December 17, 1999

I watch my instruments closely as I bring my ship in under the cover of darkness. The slightest hint that I'm discovered and I'm out of here - I won't be caught on this brutal planet. I wouldn't be here at all except that the Jedi pay well and I only have to wait for 180 seconds before I can leave again. I know they'll be the longest 180 seconds of my life. I was paid half before coming and will receive the other half when I return to Coruscant, whether or not I have my cargo with me.

Starting the chrono as I land, I lower the ramp, my eyes tight on my indicators. There's no one and no thing detected other than the two figures that I'm expecting. Their signatures are melded together on my radar, as if one were supporting the other.

I turn to watch as they come aboard and sure enough, one Jedi carrying another. Before they have cleared the ramp I'm raising it again, forcing the Jedi to hurry downhill now. He glares at me as he strides over, but I'm already gunning the engines that I hadn't powered down.

"Buckle in, we don't have time to play about." My words forestall what is sure to be a lengthy lecture and he sets his burden down.

"I can do that, Master. Go. Sit."

So, not dead or unconscious, but definitely injured. The older one fastens the buckles himself, ignoring the young man's words, before moving to the co-pilot's seat. I accelerate even though he isn't strapped in yet -I'm sure I'm already in for yelling anyway and I'd rather be away from this place- and he does something Jedi-ish and stays seated until the turbulence ends and he can deal with his own restraints.

"Master?"

I glance over and see the young one reaching out with his hand.

"Here," says the Jedi, reaching out his own hand and his young companion turns towards the sound. That's when I realise that he can't see, which explains the Jedi's protectiveness. As their hands join they both seem to calm down.

I zigzag my way out of orbit, doing what I can to avoid detection and then I throw us into hyperdrive, breathing a sigh of relief as the stars blur around us.

Relaxing, I undo my buckles, lean back and wait for the lecture I had didn't let him give me earlier. But the Jedi surprises me.

"Thank you." His voice is soft and heartfelt.

I don't say anything -what *could* I say?

End.

December 18, 1999

As soon as the door to the fancy salon closed behind him, Obi-Wan began to run towards the guest quarters as if the Dark Side itself were after him. Indeed he believed it was, though now he knew that it wasn't something that chased you, but something that attacked from within.

It had started in the salon during another endless cocktail party. He had been sipping slowly at his drink -something fizzy and overly sweet- half listening to one of the senators' daughters ramble on about crop yields and acreage, when he had caught his master out of the corner of his eye. His master was speaking to a young man, not much older than Obi-Wan himself, near a secluded alcove in one corner of the large room. Obi-Wan had looked away as he felt a strong emotion, like a wave of darkness pass through himself and when he looked up again, the two had disappeared.

It wasn't that his master had left with the young man as much as the expression on his face as he did so. His master had been smiling broadly, looking carefree and relaxed -happy. Just the memory of it brought the dark feelings flooding back through Obi-Wan.

When Obi-Wan got to his room he slammed the door closed behind him, dropping to his knees right where he was and slipping into the soft trance that preceded meditation.

He recognised the darkness now as jealousy.

End.

December 20, 1999

For the third night in a row I watch as my master hangs his head and rubs the back of his neck while grimacing. We have not been together all that long, but I already recognise the move as a gesture of tiredness and pain. If things follow the pattern I have noticed he will not be in a very good mood in the morning.

Not knowing how he will take it, I steel myself to do something this evening to help him, if only to help myself tomorrow.

"Master?" I start tentatively.

"What is it?" He doesn't snarl or growl but his body tenses, which makes him wince slightly.

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

"What?" He looks up from his commpad and I finally have his attention. "Help with what?"

I don't think he's trying to shut me out; he seems genuinely confused. I move to stand behind him, placing my hands on his shoulders and squeezing gently. He flinches and I drop my hands, worried I've overstepped my bounds.

He turns to me and I am caught in his stare. I am beginning to be able to read him, but I have not yet deciphered every mood and look.

"You don't have to, Obi-Wan," he tells me softly. "You are my student, my responsibility, not my servant."

"I would like to do it, my Master, if it would please you." He looks at me a moment longer and then smiles at me and nods.

"I would like that, Padawan."

And so I stand behind him and grip his shoulders, running my hands along them and digging fingers into his flesh. He groans as if in pain.

"Are you okay, Master?"

"Yes, it just hurts, but a good hurt. I didn't realise I had become so stiff."

He *is* stiff, the muscles in his shoulders are tight, knotted. I close my eyes and let the Force guide my fingers. I wonder idly if Master Yoda had ever thought that his early lessons might be put to use this way. I move my hands slowly over my master's back, curling my fingers over his shoulders, pressure changing as the Force dictates; now hard, now soft, but always with as much of my hand covering him as possible, the warmth acting as balm. It is almost as if I can feel the pain and stiffness leave him.

Opening my eyes, I stepped back.

"Thank you, Padawan." His voice is low and he sounds much more relaxed.

"You're welcome, Master." I smile and, feeling daring, hug him quickly. I bow slightly, somewhat self-consciously, before making my way to my bed.

End.

December 21, 1999

When my master's shoulders become sore and knotted or his back begins to ache, he gets grouchy and short tempered. I have learned to read the warning signs and I have learned how to massage away the pain.

When I was still young to our relationship of master and padawan, I would ask nervously if I could rub his shoulders. We have been together three years now and I still ask, though I don't really need to. The words have become a component in the ritual of our lives. After evening meal we sit together and work. There are either duties associated with a mission -writing reports, studying customs, preparing for the next day; or there is time to study for classes, write a letter, read. Before I go to bed I ask if I may rub his shoulders. He always stops what he is doing and lets his head hang forward, anticipating the massage as he says yes.

It is a familiar feeling, this closing of my eyes and calling on the Force. I touch his body, letting the Force guide my fingers to where they are most needed, letting it rule the path and pressure. Tonight his lower back is especially sore as he has spent the day trying not to be obvious in his bending down to the level of the much shorter Trenians we are visiting. I let my fingers dig deeply past the barrier of his tunic and sash to the sore flesh beneath, working out the aches and cramps. He makes a small noise of appreciation -not quite a purr.

I work until all the knots have disappeared and the muscles feel loose beneath my hands. I run soothing circles over his back, extending the moment of closeness. All too soon I am opening my eyes and taking a half a step back.

"Thank you, Padawan."

"You're welcome, Master." This too has become a part of our personal ritual, as has the hug I give him when I am done.

End.

December 22, 1999

"May I?" I ask, already sliding between the back of the couch and my master as he drops his head forward and murmurs his assent. I press my bare chest against his equally bare back, spreading my legs along either side of his. I move my hips snugly against him, my somnolent penis taking notice as I press tightly against his behind. I run my hands over his arms, shoulders and back, encouraging the Force to warm the small space between us before I start to massage.

Closing my eyes I let the Force guide me, though I already know what he needs. My master has spent the day in negotiation, devoting his time to persuading, or rather attempting to persuade, the feuding tribes of Acacia to come to an agreement, so there is a tight line across his shoulders and down his spine. If he had spent the day practising saber routines and katas with me, his muscles would hold a more even aching that merely needed soothing. For today's ailment I start at the rounded edges of his shoulders, digging my fingers in and using a bit of the Force to help loosen the tightness there.

I slide my spread hand along his back to his shoulder bones, working them with my fingers and the Force again, moving slowly inward until I reach his spine. Then, one at a time, I slowly run my fingers down his vertebrae, from the base of his skull all the way down to his coccyx.

He mumbles indistinctly, a lovely rumbling sound of pleasure that vibrates through us both.

"Thank you, Padawan."

"You're welcome, Master." I rest my cheek against his back, my hands slowly drifting over his flesh to wrap around his chest in a lazy hug.

My eyes are still closed as I begin to explore his body, something other than the Force guiding my fingers now as they dance over his skin. I press gentle kisses over the broad expanse of his back as my fingers become bolder in their explorations -brushing over his nipples and along his flanks.

I thoroughly explore the length and breadth of his chest, memorising anew each line of muscles, each scar, each dip and hollow. He takes a deep shuddering breath and I can feel the muscles in his arms tighten. Taking pity on him, I let my hands drop to the waistband of the loose pants he is wearing this evening. I run several fingers along the barrier, dipping them beneath it once or twice before undoing the buttons and slipping my hands inside to capture the straining flesh.

His penis is hot and hard and huge. I wrap both my hands around it, completely covering him and begin a slow, easy stroke. He moans and begins to move his hips, small thrusts into my hands that cause his buttocks to rub against my own erection.

I bite my lip, my eyes closed tightly as I fight my own imminent orgasm, working my hands faster along his length. He cries out as he comes, his seed spilling hotly over my skin, even as my own pulses warmly between us.

I pull him back gently and he doesn't resist, letting his body rest bonelessly against the cushion of my body.

End.

December 23, 1999

I bring breakfast down to the seaside cabin at the hour I had been requested to, my cart bumping over the cracks and bumps in the pathway. Arriving at the door, I knock tentatively, half expecting to be informed that the time on my serving sheet is a mistake.

"Come."

"Breakfast," I call out as I slowly open the door, wincing as the hinges squeal in protest. I'll have to let Dulcet know about that. A tall, male humanoid turns towards me with a smile.

"Ah, good. If you would be so kind as to set it out on the table outside, please." He nods his head in the general direction of the outdoor table and then turns back towards the back of the cabin. "Padawan! Breakfast is served."

I hear a groan coming from one of the bedrooms as I turn and let the door close behind me. I am soon joined by the tall humanoid as I set the dishes on the small table, first laying out the cutlery and plates and then the food. Before I am done a shorter, young humanoid male stumbles out, face screwing up as the door protests yet again. He is covered only in leggings and scratching at his head.

"Master, I thought we were supposed to be on vacation?" A definite whine accompanies the words but my swift glance at the tall one shows only amusement at the boy's expense.

"But we are, Padawan."

"Maybe I'm confused then. I thought vacations were for rest and relaxation."

I bow unobtrusively and leave as slowly as possible, drawn to catching the rest of this conversation.

"No, you aren't confused at all. That's exactly what a vacation is."

"Then why are we still rising at dawn?!?"

I cannot hear the tall one's reply and so I wind up spending the rest of the day wondering why indeed. Perhaps there will be a chance later in their time here for me to discover the reason.

End.

December 24, 1999

Sometimes he asks if he may and we end the evening with him giving me a backrub and making love. Other times I ask him if he will and we end the evening with hair brushing and him holding me close.

It is an odd reversal of care-taking in our relationship and I cannot quite pinpoint when it began. Perhaps as long ago as when he first, hesitatingly, asked permission to ease the pain I carried in my shoulders. Perhaps it was even before then, before I had accepted him as my padawan and he fought the draigons, and later Xanatos, with no thought for his own survival. It began long before we became lovers in the physical sense, though I sometimes suspect that he has been the lover of my soul, of *me*, far longer than I realise.

I am the master and he the apprentice. It is my duty to teach him, to care for him, to prepare him, to love him; to bring him into adulthood as the fine Jedi he is destined to become. And I do. It is his duty to learn, to obey me, but to learn to listen to and trust himself as well; to grow into the fine Jedi he is destined to become. And he does.

That he is the caretaker of my heart, my body, my soul -this he does because he desires to. The Force has truly gifted me.

End.

December 24a, 1999

I know him. I know he is convinced that I take care of him more or better or something than he takes care of me. I can see it in his eyes every now and then.

He forgets all that he has done for me. Not the training or the teaching, but the loving; the soft hand through my hair when I am sick, the sure, steady presence at my side and in my mind when I am lost. When I was blinded, he was my eyes; when I was frightened, he was my courage; when I was weak, he was my strength. He is my rock and my comfort.

I am a good Jedi -I know this. With him at my side I am better.

The Force has given him to me; he is mine.

End.

December 25, 1999

"Master, why are we here?" Obi-Wan tried to keep the exasperation from his voice, but the cold weather was taxing his patience.

"All in good time, my Padawan." Qui-Gon was calm and serene, as always.

"You are being very mysterious."

"Now that we are lovers it is more important than ever that I have a few secrets from my Padawan."

"All the better for me to ferret them out."

"You are so sure that you could?"

"I am only sure that we would both enjoy the attempt, my Master." Obi-Wan's voice was husky, full of promise.

"Perhaps you should demonstrate this secret-ferreting trick of yours."

"Perhaps. I would need warmer conditions, though," Obi-Wan said dryly, looking out over the ice plains of Rivka.

"I can provide that. This way." Qui-Gon took the lead again as they resumed their hike away from the ice-bound town behind them.

Obi-Wan followed silently, treading in his master's footsteps. He noticed that he didn't have to stretch his step to do so.

"You don't need to coddle me, Master, but thank you."

"I just want to make sure you have enough energy left for your 'interrogation', Padawan, but you are welcome. Now stop dawdling. We need to be there before dark or we will freeze to death out here."

"Yes, Master."

Here proved to be an ice cave at the top of a small hill some distance from the town. A barrier made of see-through durasteel, which opened when Qui-Gon palmed the panel next to it, covered the entrance. It whooshed closed once Obi-Wan had stepped through it.

Qui-Gon powered up a small lantern, revealing the cavern to Obi-Wan's curious eyes. Carved out of the side of the hill itself, it was comprised of rock and ice. A large ledge, covered in brown furs, took up most of the space with two smaller and lower squares near the back of the room serving as chairs.

With the door keeping out the wind and the cavern walls acting as insulation it was surprisingly warm and Obi-Wan followed his Master's lead, removing his robe.

"Keep going," Qui-Gon suggested softly, eyes travelling over Obi-Wan's body.

Obi-Wan smiled and turned to face Qui-Gon fully. He worked on his belt, deliberately letting his fingers fumble with it. Finally he drew it from around his waist and let it drop to the floor. He unwound his slash, moving his hips from side to side as he did so.

Keeping his gaze on his master, Obi-Wan slid his hand up along the front of his open tunics, pulling them apart before shrugging them off his shoulders and letting them drop along his arms. He let his eyes rake over Qui-Gon before turning and bending over to unfasten his boots. Obi-Wan pulled them from his feet and tossed them into the pile of clothing beside the fur-covered bed. As he slowly straightened, the cavern went dark, the lantern next to Qui-Gon having been extinguished.

"Master?" asked Obi-Wan as he turned back.

"I want to watch the growing darkness and starlight paint your skin," Qui-Gon told him.

Obi-Wan turned to look out over the snowscape. It *was* getting dark, having been twilight when they first reached the cavern. With evening came the howling winds that swept the snow across the plains and a few dim lights began to show in the town, their light seeming to be lost in the vast grey. Obi-Wan shivered. To him it looked cold.

Qui-Gon came up behind Obi-Wan and wrapped his arms around him, placing warm, wet kisses on Obi-Wan's neck. Obi-Wan leaned back into his warmth, murmuring appreciatively when he realised that Qui-Gon was nude behind him -hot flesh warming his own. He let his head fall back onto Qui-Gon's shoulder and his eyes drift shut, bringing his hands up to loop around the back of Qui-Gon's neck. The position stretched his torso and Qui-Gon took advantage by running his hands along the muscled expanse, teasing over ribs and flanks, finding the small nubs of his nipples and the dip of his navel.

Large hands plucked at the ties that held Obi-Wan's leggings together and then slipped into them, cupping his growing penis. Moaning, Obi-Wan shifted his hips, rubbing himself against Qui-Gon's hands -the cold world outside forgotten as the heat between them rose.

Wet, hot kisses covered Obi-Wan's neck and shoulders, while Qui-Gon slowly teased Obi-Wan's pants from his legs. Then Qui-Gon was turning him, moulding their bodies together as their mouths fused in a hungry kiss. Knees to shoulders and in between, they warmed each other. Qui-Gon pushed Obi-Wan onto the fur-lined ledge, following him down, tongue and hands soon exploring his body with abandon.

Obi-Wan arched his back, digging into the furs with his heels as Qui-Gon's explorations arrived again at his navel and Qui-Gon's tongue teased him there. The blood rushed to Obi-Wan's head as it slipped off the edge of the ledge. Opening his eyes to relieve the slight sensation of disorientation as the blood rushed to his head, Obi-Wan gasped.

"Master..." he whispered reverently. Qui-Gon paused in his ministrations, lifting his head slightly from the hollow at Obi-Wan's hip to gaze up along his body and out into the night.

"Yes, love, that is what I wanted you to see."

Obi-Wan moaned as Qui-Gon returned his tongue to Obi-Wan's body. Obi-Wan watched as more and more lights appeared in the town below them. It was too dark to see the town itself, but the houses all twinkled with small lights that were reflected by the snow and ice and echoed the stars above. The otherwise moonless night was filled with thousands of pinpoints of brightness.

Another moan came from Obi-Wan's throat as Qui-Gon slid into his body, joining them. Obi-Wan watched the lights as Qui-Gon's body flowed above him, entering and retreating in the timeless rhythm of their love. The lights seemed to roll as if on a ship as Obi-Wan's body moved with the back and forth of Qui-Gon's movements.

Long and slow, Qui-Gon moved within him, Obi-Wan moving sinuously along the tide of pleasure that built within him. The lights merged together as Obi-Wan came - merging, splitting, becoming a part of his orgasm and then slowly settling back into themselves.

"Wow," he murmured indistinctly as Qui-Gon gathered him into his embrace. Qui-Gon chuckled.

"Looks like my secrets are safe."

"But are you going to be able to keep up these diversionary tactics forever?" asked Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon's laugh mingled with the sound of his heartbeat beneath Obi-Wan's ear and Obi-Wan let himself be lulled into sleep by that lullaby.

End

December 26, 1999

I creep into their room, silent as a moisa. I'm not sure what I'm hoping to find, but I know I'll know it when I see it.

They are so calm and still and I feel the need to find something beyond that. Renny, m'lord's houseman says that their kind are always so, that they are all the same, but I can't think of such beauty locked away behind the plain robes and serene faces with nothing beyond that. I want there to be more, so I'm here searching for it.

It's past two bells since the household settled for the night. I waited this long to be sure that I would not be discovered in my information gathering mission. I would not want to be brought before m'lord to be chastised for invading his guests' privacy.

The sitting room of the guest suite is just as it always is -no thing of theirs is here, so I move towards the door to the sleeping room. I open it soundlessly, gliding in on silent feet. I look up, freezing as movement catches my eye.

The window is open and the shades have not been drawn across it. Light from the three moons orbiting our world shines in, bathing the room in a blue glow. Two figures occupy a single bed -the other remains neatly made. They are naked, the blue light shining on their furless skin; skin that is like some pale, malleable metal I can easily see their muscles moving beneath this skin, changing it's shape.

They are coupling. I know I should leave but I cannot. I am caught by the emotion, the passion spilling across their faces as their bodies undulate together. A moan reaches my ears along with a sigh and soft words. "Yes" and "Qui-Gon" and "love you". They stop moving and I tense to run, worried I've been seen but in a moment they are moving again, moving to twine their bodies together on the bed and murmuring too quietly for me to hear.

When they grow still I slip away the same way I arrived. Renny says their kind are all alike. I would like to believe that he is right.

End.

December 27, 1999

Father has suggested that I show the younger Jedi around the compound. He is about my age and Father said that he believes we might have much in common. What he meant was that it could not hurt us to be friendly with the Jedi, to have them like us. I know it's my duty but sometimes I'd like to make friends with someone just because I like them.

As I turn the corner my ears are assaulted by a terrible noise. Piercing and high-pitched, it sounds like a cross between someone shrieking and metal scrapping along a graphite surface. I wince, noting that the door to the Jedi's rooms is slightly ajar and the sound seems to be coming from there. I linger in the hall debating whether I want to interrupt whatever it is they are doing that is making that sound or if I should leave and come back later. I'm still dithering when the noise shrieking thankfully comes to a stop.

"Well, Master, what do you think?"

"I think, my dear padawan, that you should have asked the priestess for lessons when you accepted her gift."

"I'm sure I'll get better with practice, Master."

"Yes, indeed."

The poor man sounds very resigned. I hope the young Jedi is a quick study!

End.

December 28, 1999

They entered their quarters, Obi-Wan slamming the door closed behind him with some aggression, enjoying the loud noise it made as it met it's frame. The stone floors made a satisfying sound under his boots with every step as he paced from one end of their small room to the other. Qui-Gon stood by the door, hands folded within the sleeves of his robe, watching, letting Obi-Wan pace for several minutes. Obi-Wan started when he finally spoke.

"Calm down, Obi-Wan."

"NO! I won't."

"Padawan!"

Obi-Wan just glared at his master. If Qui-Gon told him to go meditate he was going to...he didn't know what he was going to do but he was *not* going to meditate.

"Go meditate and release your anger into the Force."

Obi-Wan turned his back on his master and continued to pace. "It's not fair you know," he said, aware that he was whining and not caring. "You tell me that I count, that my opinion matters and so you pretend to listen to what I have to say and then just ignore me. And these petty officials -they are all the same -they think I am just a child." "Be reasonable, Obi-Wan. You are only 14. In many cultures that is still a child."

Reasonable? His master wanted reasonable? Obi-Wan stopped pacing to stand in front of his master and put his hands on his hips, stretching to his full height, which remained stubbornly at five feet.

"No matter what I look like, I am Jedi. I stand at your side. I stand with you, ready to die, to kill."

"The ability to kill does not make you an adult," Qui-Gon said roughly. Obi-Wan flinched from the anger in his tone. Qui-Gon moved swiftly to kneel in front of Obi-Wan, putting them almost even and grasped his face in both hands, holding him steady as Qui-Gon looked into his eyes. "And neither does the ability to die." Qui-Gon's voice had gone soft, full of sadness and Obi-Wan wanted to look away from the pain in his eyes but could not.

"There is none other I would want at my side, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon continued. "And I realise that as a Jedi, and especially with me as your master, you have grown up far more quickly than your peers. I would not have you grow up faster still." He let go of Obi-Wan's face and stood, moving over to sit heavily on the wooden chair by the window. "Do not be so quick to throw away your youth."

"I'm sorry, Master," said Obi-Wan, the anger and frustration gone from him in the face of his master's emotions. He knelt at his master's feet, hands resting on Qui-Gon's knees as he gazed earnestly up into the beloved face that seemed older now than it had a few moments ago, exposed in the bright afternoon sunlight. "I should guard my temper and mind my master better."

Qui-Gon smiled and ran his hand through the short hair on Obi-Wan's head, gently rubbing his scalp.

"You will have to make the hard decisions yourself soon enough, Obi-Wan. I would shield you from that responsibility as long as I can."

"Yes, Master." Obi-Wan put his head on his master's thigh, vowing to be more patient and accepting of how others saw him. Qui-Gon continued to run his fingers through the short hair on Obi-Wan's head.

They sat together until the shadows grew long and their duty called them once more.

End.

December 29, 1999

"Will you pay attention!"

"I am."

"No, Master, you are not."

"I don't see why you are insisting on my learning to cook."

"This isn't learning to cook, it's learning a few basic survival skills."

"I know how to make enough to survive on."

"Wouldn't you like to rely on something more than campfire weenies?"

"Why does everyone say that as if it were an insult?"

"Because it is, Master."

"Really."

"Campfire weenies, at their best, are wretched. Yours are virtually inedible."

"You eat them."

"When they are the last resort, yes I do."

"Well if you don't like them then I suggest that you do the cooking when we are out of doors."

"I do, Master. I just thought maybe you'd like to know how to make something else yourself."

"Are you planning on going somewhere?"

"I am hoping to be knighted one day, Master."

"Oh. Right."

"Wouldn't you at least like to know how to make those little rolls you enjoy so much with your morning meal?"

"I could make those?"

"Yes, Master, they are actually quite simple."

"Well then pass the thing next to you there -the one with the sides."

"Bowl, Master?"

"Yes, pass me the bowl and lets get started."

End.

December 30, 1999

Qui-Gon sat at the edge of the bed watching as the first rays of sun lit Obi-Wan's skin, giving the pale flesh a gold hue. He hoped this vacation would put colour back into skin too long hidden beneath thick robes. The sheet sat low on Obi-Wan's hips and Qui-Gon leaned forward to place a soft, wet kiss in the small of Obi-Wan's back. His padawan stirred, hips shifting, but Obi-Wan did not wake.

Chuckling, Qui-Gon ran a finger softly along each flank and the shifting became squirming.

"Master." The word was long and drawn out -definitely a complaint.

"I waited until the sun was up," Qui-Gon protested. One eye opened to check -a thin sliver of the ambiguous grey that Qui-Gon so loved.

"Barely."

"But it *is* up."

"I'm going back to sleep."

"You aren't going to argue the matter with me, Padawan?"

"No, I am not. Because if I do I will be awake and I do not wish to be awake."

"But it's the first day of our vacation."

"Exactly."

"After all our years together, I fail to comprehend your need to sleep away your free time, even less so now that we are together."

"And in all that time I fail to comprehend *your* need to haul me out of bed at the same time we rise every single morning."

"We don't always get up at dawn."

"I'm not doing this." Obi-Wan shoved his head under his pillow.

"Not doing what?"

"Arguing with you," came the muffled reply. Obi-Wan's head came up for a moment and he poked Qui-Gon in the chest, most emphatically. "This is me going back to sleep."

Qui-Gon placed another kiss to the small of Obi-Wan's back. With infinite thoroughness, he began to bathe Obi-Wan with his tongue, following the line of spine upwards and nibbling as he came to Obi-Wan's neck.

"This is me starting my day," Qui-Gon whispered as he nuzzled under the pillow covering his padawan's head. A groan sounded from beneath the covering and a moment later Obi-Wan shifted and sat up, glaring at Qui-Gon.

"Did anyone ever tell you that you fight dirty?"

Qui-Gon merely quirked an eyebrow, which Obi-Wan kissed. He then kissed Qui-Gon's nose and his chin and finally his mouth. Qui-Gon couldn't think of a better way to start a vacation.

End.

December 31, 1999

Qui-Gon and the Ser Tar-Ai joined Obi-Wan outside on the balcony where the festivities had already begun.

"Quite the display, heh my boy?" asked the Ser.

"Yes, it's amazing how pretty setting fire to various materials can be. Not too much smoke left behind either -good choice of combustibles and luck with the wind patterns.

Obi-Wan could see Qui-Gon's eyebrow rise behind the red-faced official. There was a gentle mental rebuke and Obi-Wan turned his full attention on the magistrate, gracing him with an ingratiating smile.

"It is an incredible display, Ser Tar-Ai. I can honestly say that I have never seen anything quite like it before."

"It's the biggest display of its kind" Ser Tar-Ai assured him, face beaming happily now. "We're very proud."

"I am sure you are."

"Well I must mingle, make sure that everyone is enjoying themselves this night." The Ser bowed before the two Jedi. "I thank you again for the honour you do us by being present for our celebrations."

"It is we who are honoured," they replied as one. Another bow and the Ser Tar-Ai was moving to the other end of the large balcony where a small group of laughing women had congregated.

"Padawan," Qui-Gon rebuked him gently as soon as they were alone.

"I'm sorry, Master, but I don't understand why they do this."

"They hold this celebration every year. It is to mark the birth of their people, to honour the planet beneath their feet -their first mother."

"But these skylights are damaging their environment -how can that possibly honour the planet?"

"It is a symbol only and the people find pleasure in it, Obi-Wan. It is good for their morale."

"It wastes funds that could be spent instead on improving conditions in the po-"

"Padawan."

"Yes, Master?"

"Why not try just enjoying it for no other reason that that it is pretty."

"Are you suggesting I relax, Master?"

"I am suggesting that not everything is a lesson, Padawan," said Qui-Gon as he came to stand directly behind Obi-Wan, slipping his arms around his apprentice and tugging gently. Obi-Wan let himself be pulled into the embrace, enjoying the extra warmth of his master behind him and his master's arms and cloak around him.

Obi-Wan put his head on Qui-Gon's shoulder and leaned back to look up at his master. The colours from the skylights moved across Qui-Gon's face, playing with the shadows and painting his beard. Qui-Gon slowly lowered his head and Obi-Wan's lips parted in anticipation. The meeting of their lips thrilled Obi-Wan. It was long, slow, and sweet; the sounds of small explosions in the sky marking the passage of time as they indulged in the flavours of their mouths.

Obi-Wan could feel Qui-Gon moving backwards, pulling him gently into the recess directly behind them. Obi-Wan moaned into his master's mouth as Qui-Gon's grip moved to Obi-Wan's hips, holding them tightly against Qui-Gon's own. Qui-Gon began to press his hips against Obi-Wan's behind, his erection nudging Obi-Wan, hard and unmistakable through the layers of their clothing.

Obi-Wan felt the explosions of the skylights now as if they were inside himself, burning him up with every tiny thrust of Qui-Gon's hips. His own penis had grown hard, aching for a warm touch. "Master," whispered Obi-Wan.

"Yes, my Obi-Wan?"

"I need..."

"Go ahead," said Qui-Gon -his words permission and encouragement together.

Fumbling, Obi-Wan slipped a hand beneath his waistband into his leggings. His voluminous robe hid his activities as he grasped his erection and began to slide his hand along the hot, demanding flesh. His other hand clutched awkwardly at Qui-Gon's hip, encouraging his master's movements. Qui-Gon broke away from their kiss, but Obi-Wan left his eyes closed, hand moving almost imperceptibly beneath his robe, mouth open and waiting for his mate to return.

"You are so incredibly beautiful," Qui-Gon told him before diving back into his mouth, catching Obi-Wan's tongue and sucking on it.

Obi-Wan's cry as he came was swallowed and then echoed by Qui-Gon, both drowned out by the loud climax of the skylights.

End.