Spoiler Space

by MrsHamill (thamill@mgfairfax.rr.com) (with Special Guest Appearance by Hiperbunny [hiperbunny@hotmail.com])

Archive: By Master & Apprentice only, please. Too many other writers and fic are involved.

Rating: NC-17

Category: Oh, hell. Just put Humor and Other. Either that or "Everything!"

Spoilers: Are often seen on the backs of muscle cars.

Warnings: HAHAHAHAHA!!! As Lil said... this story contains many, many words!

Disclaimer: Okay... George owns the boyz (mores the pity); the authors listed in the "Notes" section own their own words and OCs; I own Mark Hamill and his daughter Rosie and am owned by two cats and a sumo hamster. I think that covers it. Sue me if you dare.

Notes: Are almost as long as the fic! This rabid little jackrabbit was spawned by the pages and pages of emails over the subjects of Warnings, Squicks and Spoiler Space. I'm no longer on the Robitussin so I can't claim that as an excuse. For this fic, I've borrowed - with massive thanks - Master Ruth, Master Eliz-mar Von, Master Elayna, James Walkswithwind, Emrin Alexander, Augusta Pembrooke, Emma Woodhouse, Rogue, Trinity, Layna, Kaiburr, Hiperbunny's OC's (and her, too!), Fox, myself; geesh. Many snippies of their stories are herein, anyone wanting more info should just write to me (HOWEVER; two vignettes reside in this story and this story alone, and were written by Hiperbunny specifically for this fic, I think. You won't find them anywhere else... sorry. Thanks, babe!). I guess I'd have to add Sockii to the list as well, but I don't really think Bant's quite as ethical as Sockii, for some reason.

And thanks, Trinity and Fox, for the beta read on this. Hope you both get out of the hospital soon <snerk>!

Qui-Gon Jinn was a bit worried about his apprentice; at least he was now, now that he could think again. Said apprentice was lying half-buried under him, soaked in sweat and sated from very enthusiastic loving. Qui-Gon's cock was still embedded inside Obi-Wan, but it wouldn't be for long.

Rolling carefully to one side and pulling the smaller man with him, Qui-Gon wrapped his long arms around Obi-Wan and cuddled. "Are you all right?" he murmured into the ear under his nose.

"Mmmm..." was his soft reply, and in fact, was about the only noise he'd heard from Obi-Wan for the past hour, and that was unusual.

"You sure?"

Obi-Wan looked over his shoulder at his Master. "What?"

Shrugging, the bigger man said, "You're just so... well, quiet. I thought perhaps you had your mind on something else."

"'Something else'? I don't think that's possible Master, not while you're pounding me into the mattress." Qui-Gon chuckled softly, kissing soft spiky hair. After a moment, Obi-Wan continued. "Um, I guess I usually am a bit noisy then?"

Shifting Obi-Wan to his back, Qui-Gon propped himself up on one elbow and regarded his student. "Somewhat, I would say. I mean, you usually don't break glass, but..."

Sighing, Obi-Wan said, "But I am loud." Another sigh, and Qui-Gon waited patiently. Whatever his Padawan had to say would be said, sooner or later. "Master, would... would you say I'm VERY loud? I mean, loud enough to be heard outside our bedroom?"

Blinking, Qui-Gon examined that question from different levels. It was obvious this was bothering his apprentice for some reason, but the reason for the concern stymied Qui-Gon. And as for the question itself... "Well, maybe. Sometimes. Do you remember a couple of months ago, when we gave ourselves that day off? The last time we used the.. uh, the dildo?"

Grinning in fond memory, Obi-Wan said, "Oh. Yeah. That was great. I could barely walk for three days. Neither could you." After a moment's pleasant remembrance, he said, "Well, I guess I was loud then."

"WE were loud, love. VERY loud. Don't you remember? We broke the chair in the..."

"Oh, yeah. That was when I tripped you onto the table."

"Yes. And the kitchen counter... it took us a while to get the cracks patched. And, well, you know I've never had the soap tray fixed in the 'fresher."

Chuckling slightly, his penis twitching at the memory, Obi-Wan looked up at his Master. "So, yes. I guess we were. Why?"

"Master Sluluk happened to be home that day. He was ill. He, um. Well, he came to me the next day and..."

Master Sluluk was the Bothan who lived in the apartment directly beneath theirs. Obi-Wan's eyes grew round in desperation. "B-but, Master! There's four inches of plasteel between floors! We weren't THAT..."

Placing a finger over his Padawan's lips, Qui-Gon said, "He wasn't really complaining. In fact, he thanked me for the entertainment, and..." Blushing a rich red, Qui-Gon took a deep breath and continued, to Obi-Wan's consternation. "He - he propositioned me. Said if I could make my Padawan scream like that..."

Groaning in despair, Obi-Wan buried his face in his Master's chest. "I knew it. I just knew it. I might as well join the Force now."

Becoming slightly alarmed, Qui-Gon pulled Obi-Wan's shoulders back so he could search his student's face. "Obi-Wan, what is it? You shouldn't be embarrassed. Master Sluluk's people are very sensual..."

"No, Master, that's not it... well, not ALL of it anyway..."

"Then what is wrong? Please, Obi-Wan, you know you can tell me anything. To be honest, I've always enjoyed your enthusiastic response to our lovemaking."

Anguish-filled gray-green eyes met his. "You have?"

"Absolutely," Qui-Gon replied, kissing the younger man thoroughly. "Your delight in everything you do is a great part of your charm, Padawan. It's what drew me to you in the first place."

"Oh, Master. Thank you," Obi-Wan said, smiling sadly. "I-I love hearing you too. But..."

Qui-Gon just waited again, patiently. Finally, Obi-Wan sighed, again, and spoke. "Do you remember our first time? When you asked me where the dildo came from."

Smiling nostalgically, Qui-Gon said, "I will never forget our first time, Obi-Wan. Never. And I do remember where the dildo came from. Bant gave it to you."

"Yes. She knew about how I felt about you, I thought I could confide in her."

"You... thought?" Qui-Gon's throat suddenly felt dry.

"Uh-huh. Turns out she had a... oh, Master, she had a betting pool going on us! On whether we would get together!"

Qui-Gon closed his eyes. // A betting pool. On whether I would make love to my Padawan. Oh, my. I knew I should have had a talk with her Master. // After a few minutes, he looked back down at his apprentice. "She had... all right. She had a betting pool on us. What else?"

Hardly knowing where to start, Obi-Wan settled for the whole story. "Well, she found out that you and I - that we had talked. And that you returned my love. And, well, she told me, she told me..."

"Yes?"

In a rush, Obi-Wan spit it all out. "She said she wanted details. But I didn't give her any, Master! Really. I told her I'd talk to her, but that she wasn't getting ANY details."

Nodding, doing unobtrusive deep breathing exercises to maintain his equilibrium, Qui-Gon said, "Good for you, Padawan. Your personal life is your own, and you should never feel compelled to share it with anyone."

"Exactly. That's exactly what I told her. She got angry with me. I told her I didn't care, that I wasn't going to talk about my sex life with her. I mean! Friendship is one thing..."

"Yes, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon interrupted. "I understand. I also sense this isn' t the end of it."

Miserable now, Obi-Wan said, "No, Master." Obi-Wan rolled over onto his stomach, still touching but not willing to look at his Master, and picked at the quilt. "A few days ago I met her for lunch. She had this datachip with her, and an insufferable expression on her face. She gave me the chip to view and..."

Deep breathing was not cutting it. Glad his student could not see the trepidation in his eyes, Qui-Gon said, "Go on. What was on the chip?"

"It was a story. About... about us."

"A story. A story?" Qui-Gon's brain wasn't quite absorbing it. He figured it was some kind of recording of the two of them making love, like that time they sneaked into the Temple pool late at night... "What kind of a story?"

"Well, it was by another Padawan - I mean, Knight, her Master apparently found the chosen one so she just took her trials - in the Temple. About us. Us... um, doing it."

Qui-Gon could only stare at the back of his Padawan's head. Finally, Obi-Wan's head came up and he looked at the older man. "Master?"

Trying and failing to find his voice, Qui-Gon managed only a strangled, "How?"

"It wasn't true, Master, really. Knight Trinity wrote it... it was very odd. Something about you being grouchy and having to relive a day over and over again until we finally made love. It was quite a well written story actually... except, well, it was... about... us."

Obi-Wan's face was a mask of despair and confusion as he studied his Master, whose face was about the same. // Maybe I shouldn't tell him the rest, // Obi-Wan thought, but he knew he had to. Qui-Gon must have picked up on something on his face, for his next words were, "There's more, isn't there, Obi-Wan?"

Nodding dejectedly, Obi-Wan said, "Uh-huh. When I yelled at Bant about this, she, um, well she laughed. Said it was only the tip of the iceberg. She told me it really didn't MATTER if I told her about us, because all the Padawans... most of the Knights... and some of the Masters... were writing about it anyway. About our, well, about our sex life. There's... there's even a site on the Temple intranet."

A strangled sound from Qui-Gon brought Obi-Wan's attention immediately back to his Master. He couldn't tell whether the big man was laughing or crying or just merely choking to death, and considering his own abject misery, he really couldn't find it in him to care.

Getting control of himself again, Qui-Gon took a few deep breaths and said, "So how does this tie into you making a lot of noise?" He was actually quite proud of the fact that his voice barely shook at all.

"Well, that was Knight Terrih's stories. She's... she's always got me yelling. It's, it's rather embarrassing. So I started to think back and I realized, yeah, I guess I do. I thought maybe that's what started this... that they could hear us. But Master Sluluk isn't one of the writers on the site."

Somewhat in control of himself again, Qui-Gon pushed himself up and off the bed, then held out his hand to his Padawan. "I think you're going to have to show me these stories, Obi-Wan."

Once more sighing his very lungs out, Obi-Wan took the proffered hand and climbed out of bed.

They drew two chairs up before the dataset and Obi-Wan typed in a site address. Shortly, pages and pages of data began scrolling past the screen, lists of titles, authors, descriptions... and it was all about them. Qui-Gon felt his mouth go dry and his brain begin to fry as he absorbed the amount of data before him.

"Padawan," he said in a strangled voice, "HOW many stories are there on this site?"

"I don't know, Master," Obi-wan answered him sadly. I've been looking through it for the last couple of days and I think I've only scratched the surface."

Shaking his head, Qui-Gon started paying attention to the author names. Padawans, Knights, initiates, even a few Masters... "And you say ALL of these are about us?"

"Yes, Master."

"WHY Padawan? I don't... I just don't understand! Why wouldn't they create their own fictional characters?" Completely aghast, Qui-Gon began skimming the data. It was a database of stories, clearly set out by title, author, summary, rating...

"Rating?"

Wincing at the pitch of his Master's voice, Obi-Wan said, "Bant told me that 's for the initiates. Some of them are quite young, and she didn't want to take a chance of getting into trouble."

"She didn't want to...!" Under his breath, Qui-Gon began counting backwards in Wookiee. Obi-Wan recognized that as stage three frustration, and began to worry. He had never seen his Master progress past stage three and there was a lot more he hadn't discovered yet. "I see," Qui-Gon finally gritted out, "while it is perfectly all right to write sexually explicit fiction about a living Master and his Padawan, it is NOT all right to expose such fiction to the initiates. How... thoughtful of her."

After a moment, he was able to continue through the archive. "Padawan," he asked, frowning thunderously, "what does p-w-p mean?"

"I'm not exactly sure, Master," Obi-Wan murmured, "but... well, those are the hot - I mean, worst ones."

The look Qui-Gon shot his apprentice might have made Dagobah freeze over. Then he turned his attention back to the screen. "I don't understand this. I simply don't understand this! And... and all these writers are female! Why would the entire female population of the Temple care about... wait. Here 's a male, Master James Walkswithwind. A story about a... sling?" Frowning, Qui-Gon thought for a moment. "I don't recognize that name. Who is that?"

"I think... I think it may be a pseudonym, Master," Obi-Wan said, quite nervously. Luckily, his Master was too preoccupied to notice his nervousness. "It's hard to say. Bant claims that Master Yoda has even contributed."

Brow still furrowed in thought, Qui-Gon opened the story, hoping for a clue to the strange name, and began to read....

It was no use.

Obi-Wan came out of his meditation and hung his head, weary. It hadn't helped at all. He was tired; the deep rest and contemplation of his meditation had only served to heighten his feelings. If even that wasn't going to work... Obi-Wan hated to think what his remaining recourse would be.

"Padawan." His Master's voice came from behind him, not startling him though he hadn't been aware of Qui-Gon's approach.

"Yes, Master?" he responded without thought, lifting his head to look over his shoulder. His thoughts were still quieted; only vague images and impressions of what he desired played in his mind.

He shut them away as he faced his Master. Qui-Gon was looking down at him with a serious expression. His Master waited another moment, looking at his apprentice intently until Obi-Wan began trying to recall every possible Bad Thing that had happened lately that he had done or might have been construed to have done.

He had half-opened his mouth to ask what he needed to do to redress whatever it was Qui-Gon had come here for when he realised there was only one thing.

He froze.

Qui-Gon sighed, slightly, and walked around to kneel before him. His Master looked at him thoughtfully, and worriedly. Obi-Wan felt his heart leap. He'd tried so hard to shield these feelings, these needs; he'd thought he'd succeeded. Apparently he had not.

He hung his head again.

He felt Qui-Gon's hand on his arm an instant later. "Obi-Wan, look at me. You are not wrong."

Obi-Wan blinked at the strength he heard; the words didn't surprise him, he never expected anything but support from Qui-Gon any more. But the urgency with which he was insisting....

"These feelings are not wrong."

Obi-Wan lifted his head and glared at his Master. "How can you say that? How can you say that something so dark and twisted and--"

Qui-Gon raised his hand to grab Obi-Wan's chin, not quite forcing him to keep silent but seizing his attention completely. "Obi-Wan." His voice was as soft as his grip was hard. "I'm telling you this because it is true."

Obi-Wan stared for a moment, then pulled himself free. He looked away, ashamed. "You say that but you don't know what it's like. What I'm feeling...." He squeezed his eyes closed tightly, wanting to fight the images that came but unable to hinder them even into speech. "What I want, what I need.. it's debasing, it's horrid. Humiliating and--"

Again his words were cut off. But this time Qui-Gon had taken Obi-Wan's face with both hands and kissed him, lovingly as he ever did.

Obi-Wan wanted to pull free. "Please don't."

"Listen to me, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan pulled back, away from his Master, his lover, and scrambled to his feet. "How can you sit there and be so calm?" he cried out. The frustration and anxiety of holding his feelings back surfaced with a rage. "How can you be so calm when I want--" he cut himself off again, unable to name the image in his mind: the image that threatened to arouse him with its mere thinking, despite all his struggles to disallow it.

He turned away, wishing he knew why these things had come to him, these despised feelings. These twisted needs he had never suspected were inside him -- how had they got there?

How did he get them out?

Hands closed on his shoulders, and a tender voice whispered, "Let me help."

He let himself be turned, and looked up, poised at the very edges of his control. "How? How can you help? Can you get rid of them for me? Tell me what I did to want them?"

Qui-Gon was looking at him with patience and understanding -- and Obi-Wan wanted to scream. Qui-Gon held him firmly. "Why do you fear them?"

Obi-Wan looked at his Master in surprise. "Are you joking?"

"I am not. Tell me why you fear them."

"I can't." Obi-Wan managed. Telling would mean naming what he feared, and he could not speak of them to his lover. Of the one he wanted doing those things to him.

Qui-Gon simply waited a moment more, then nodded. "Obi-Wan, do you trust me?"

"Of course!" Obi-Wan frowned. That hadn't been an issue between them since he'd been thirteen years old.

"Come, then."

Skipping ahead, Qui-Gon suddenly coughed, then quickly closed the story out. "Uh, no style I recognize..." he said, adding mentally, // Oh Force, please let it be NO ONE I recognize...//

Closing his eyes again momentarily to regain his equilibrium, Qui-Gon shook his head sharply then continued reading. Suddenly his eyes grew wide. "MASTER CROWE?"

Not daring to look at his Master, Obi-Wan sat still and tried to be invisible. He had read the story Master Crowe had written... an interesting piece about treating his Master rather, er, roughly... and he knew Qui-Gon and Master Crowe were good friends. Next to him, Qui-Gon was muttering darkly in Huttese, words that Obi-Wan was pretty sure he wouldn't want to remember.

He thought that might be stage four.

Continuing to both scroll and swear, Qui-Gon suddenly stopped, went pale, then buried his head in his hands. "What, Master?" Obi-Wan asked tentatively.

Now it was Qui-Gon's turn to sigh. "Master Gifford is writing these, too. Tell me that..." and he pointed to the legend 'BDSM', which had also appeared next to Master Crowe's story... "doesn't mean what I know it means?"

Obi-Wan swallowed. He had read a couple of Master Gifford's stories, and was pretty sure his jaw would recover from hitting the floor. "I've... I've been meaning to ask you about that, Master," he said. "Do you think it would be fun to..."

"Wait, Padawan," Qui-Gon interrupted, clutching his hair in both fists. "I' m not at all certain I want to have this conversation with you right now. Later. I promise." // AFTER I choke my dear friend Ruth to death, // he thought.

Massaging his head where he had pulled his hair, Qui-Gon finally got to the bottom of the database. "This is... unreal. I don't understand this. WHY would perfectly sane women... and men... want to write about us... I mean, I understand Master Eliz-mar doing something like this as a joke, she and I have always been close, but all these Padawans and Knights...?" Looking over at his mortified Padawan, Qui-Gon asked, "Are all these Padawans year mates of yours? Did you do something to anger them? Did you ask Bant why? Did she give you any idea at all?"

Glancing again through the extensive list, Obi-Wan said, "Well, some of them are yearmates, and I've even dated a few of them... like Knight Fox, Padawan Trinity, Padawan Rogue, Padawan Kaiburr... but Knights Andersen and Terrih are older than me, and the Masters..." Not daring to look at Qui-Gon, since he could feel the thunderous expression the older man wore, he continued. "As for why... well, when I asked her, she said they were 'tired of waiting' and decided to take matters into their own hands. Master, some of these stories...! A lot of them are about our 'first time' and... and..."

Risking a glance at his Master confirmed his fears. Qui-Gon sat naked before the dataset, his arms crossed, the expression on his face a long ways beyond thunderous. "All right. Show me one, Padawan."

Gulping, Obi-Wan scrolled up to a story by Master Gifford. "I - uh, I read this one yesterday. You might en-enjoy it..."

Opening the story, Qui-Gon started to read quickly. "Padawan, I do not meditate nude."

"Maybe you should try it?" Obi-Wan said, trying for a light tone and failing. "I have to use the 'fresher. Excuse me."

No matter how long he lingered in the 'fresher, it still wasn't long enough. When he emerged, Qui-Gon was still sitting before the dataset, his face a mask of shock - and something else. Before taking his seat again, he looked over his Master's shoulder and began to read the story opened there...

"Your boy is drawing quite a lot of attention, Your Grace," the Captain mentioned to his noble guest. Both men turned to watch the boy in question, and it was certainly true that theirs weren't the only eyes following his progress through the crowded salon.

>From the feet clad in jewel-strapped sandals, to the form-revealing white leggings that ended at mid-calf, to the black full-sleeved blouse that displayed more than it concealed of the finely muscled chest, adorned with a nipple-ring... the boy was a walking inducement to sin. But it was the face, with strong arrogant jaw, and large eyes made exotic by the use of a strategic amount of kohl, and the feline stride as the young man approached the buffet table, that caused the most devastation among the glittering and wealthy travelers convened in the First Class dining room of the Pleasure Cruiser St'e-Ros.

The two watched as the beautiful young man was approached and addressed by a slightly older man, one of the lords of Carazon, by his dress. Tried not to laugh when the Lord took his departure, and the young man went back to his task of filling a plate at the buffet, his entire bearing broadcasting to all observers the unmistakable message: You Can't Afford To Fuck Me.

"I was certainly lucky to be able to snap up his first contract," the elegant Duke of g'Voir agreed. "If his availability had been more widely advertised, I'm fairly sure I would have had quite a bidding war on my hands."

// Master, // the Duke heard in his mind, // You are enjoying this entirely too much. // The Pleasure Boy across the room had his back to him, but said back positively radiated displeasure.

// Just inhabiting the character, Padawan, // and he inserted a mental chuckle into his thoughts. // You wouldn't believe the number of compliments I'm receiving on my exquisite taste. //

The Captain and the Duke were reclining on couches set side by side, on the Captain's dais. On this trip, only the Duke and two other nobles had been considered sufficiently grand to be invited to dine on the Captain's dias, and the others had already made their excuses to the Captain to pursue their gaming addiction at the card tables.

The striking young man returned to his place between the two couches and sat on the floor, holding his plate filled with buffet items at shoulder height so that the Duke could pick through the offerings.

"What's this?" The Duke held up a purple and red vegetable stalk. "You know I don't like Pak'na spears"

"They're for me," the boy said, taking the offending spear out of his Master's hand. "I love them." He put the tip of the vegetable in his mouth and swirled it around, sucking the sauce off and making a delightful moaning sound.

// Obi-Wan, // his Master chided. // You're showing off. //

Obi-Wan bit down hard on the spear, enjoying his Master's wince as he chewed the crunchy treat. "They're really good - your cook is a wonder," he said to the Captain. "Most people cook them too long, and then don't use enough sauce." He licked his fingers, ignoring the salivating around him.

The Captain shook his dazed head to clear it and said, "I'll convey your compliments to him."

"Will you need me tonight, Master?" the young man looked up at the Duke through his artfully colored eyelashes. "Or should I look for a berth with the crew?"

The Duke had been sampling a meatcube, and had to swallow before replying. "Little slut," he said, rather dotingly, the Captain thought. "You'll share my bed as usual. You know I find space-travel chilling." He turned to the Captain. "You may wish to warn your crew that I don't take kindly to any egalitarian nonsense of sharing. The last time we traveled commercial, I had to pay the line some exorbitant sum to replace the two crewmen who thought they could borrow my personal property."

"I'm a Contract Employee," the young man said indignantly.

"Yes, and I hold the contract for your time. ALL your time. Remember that." The Duke looked sternly at his mutinous charge.

"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan said contritely, forming a perfect pout and leaning his head over to rest his cheek on his Master's thigh.

Stroking the sleek copper hair so near to hand, the Duke asked, "What did the Carazon lordling say to you, little one?"

"Wanted to know when my current contract expired," Obi-Wan murmured sleepily; the first day out of port was always a long one on a pleasure cruiser. "Only the eighth inquiry I've had since we boarded."

"And what did you tell him?" The Duke prodded.

"What I always tell them - that they can inquire as to my contract status through the Union." He sat up and stretched his shoulders. "I feel like I should ask the Captain here to include that in the morning announcements ... 'you may discover the contract status of the Duke of g'Voir's Pleasure Boy by inquiring at the offices of the Independent Pleasure Workers' Union'. Save me having to repeat myself."

The Captain laughed, then said, "You're Union, then. I would have thought you'd be Guild."

The Duke lifted a forestalling hand. "Oh, don't get him started, Captain. I've already heard many times the lengthy list of reasons why the Union is a much better option for a young person entering the pleasure field than the Guild. Ask him sometime when I'm otherwise occupied."

The Captain's eyes glittered. "I will certainly avail myself of your so kind permission, Your Grace."

// Uh-oh, // Qui-Gon sent to his apprentice. // Forgive me, Padawan. I'm very much afraid I've left you open to some lovelorn yearnings. //

// You will get yours someday, Master, // the sleepy answer came back. // I promise you that. //

"MASTER!" Obi-Wan yelped in shock.

Wrenching his eyes guiltily away from the dataset, Qui-Gon closed the story. "Uh, sorry, Padawan, it's just that I know Knight Pembrooke, and..."

Regaining his seat, it was Obi-Wan's turn to bury his head in his hands. "Please, Master, please tell me that's not how I look to everyone! 'A walking inducement to sin!'"

Upset over his Padawan's distress, Qui-Gon pulled him in for a quick hug. "It's all right, Obi-Wan. Really." He hoped his apprentice didn't notice how he carefully avoided a direct answer to the question.

"I mean, that's almost as bad as the one Knight Alexander wrote," Obi-Wan said mournfully, luckily for his Master not noticing much of anything. "She... she..." Unable to continue, he merely pointed, and his Master opened the story.

After a moment, he yelped, "She made you pregnant? Padawan, that's..."

Obi-Wan just nodded. "Uh-huh. Anatomically impossible. WHY would she do that to me, and WHY would someone want to read it?" he wailed.

"Uh... maybe they're just upset that men don't have to face the consequences?" That was obviously the wrong thing to say, Qui-Gon reflected, wincing under his Padawan's glare.

They both turned back to the archive, looking through the stories. Shaking his head finally, Qui-Gon finally asked, fretfully, "Padawan, you don't want to marry me do you?"

"Well, no Master, not now, I'm barely twenty," Obi-Wan answered frankly, still a bit miffed. After a moment, he continued, less upset, "But I will admit," and he flushed a bit, "that once I reached my knighthood..."

Qui-Gon took his hand. "My dear Padawan, you are wise. I would not want you to rush into anything, especially not with your old Master. I guess... I think these so-called A-U stories had me wondering. Why would everyone assume we have some sort of connection like that?"

"I have no idea, Master," he said in a defeated tone. "Knight Andersen even put us in a whole different century. I know she's got a fixation on 22nd Century Republic romances, but still! And, Master, what in the worlds is a 'lifebond?'"

Groaning, Qui-Gon released his Padawan's hand and shook his head. "It's a very bad plot device, I think, and a terribly romanticized one at that. Obi-Wan, these stories! They have you and me turning into cats, you beating me, me tying you up with ropes..."

"Well, that one..." Obi-Wan started, an intrigued expression on his face.

"No, Padawan. Nor will I dress in women's clothing, cut myself while we're having sex, or," here he shuddered, "or fist you either."

His face twisting into a grimace, Obi-Wan said, "I'll agree with you on that one, Master. And I don't think either one of us has ever screamed anything like 'fuck me now' during lovemaking. At least I hope I haven't."

The absurdity of the situation was finally brought home to Qui-Gon, and he chuckled, releasing some of his tension to the Force. "No, you haven't, Obi-Wan." Reaching out, he embraced his Padawan tightly again, reassuring both the young man and himself. "I just can't understand the motive behind these stories. Why would we be considered such objects of interest? We're just the average Master/Padawan pair, aren't we?"

Shrugging, Obi-Wan turned back to the database. "That's what I thought, but I guess not."

"And some of these stories...well. Some of them are fairly innocuous," Qui-Gon twisted his mouth wryly, "but some of them... good heavens. Why aren' t there warnings on them, to keep away anyone unwary enough to stumble across this site? Have they no SHAME?" Not allowing his Padawan to answer, he continued. "And of course now, it just begs the question of what THEY are doing behind closed doors as well."

"Master!" Obi-Wan was caught between hilarity and shock.

"Well, it DOES, Padawan," Qui-Gon said, his eyes never leaving the screen. "For heaven's sake, I dated both Master Eliz-mar and Master Gifford and never ONCE did either of them try to tie me up or even hint about such a thing." // And come to think of it, // Qui-Gon reflected to himself, // I have to wonder why...//

"I will admit, Master," Obi-Wan said slowly, "that the idea of role playing like this has some appeal. Some of these stories... were quite... uh, stirring." He glanced at his Master out of the corner of his eyes. "Didn' t you find them so? This one by Master Crowe..."

Squashing his initial reaction to grind his molars into dust, Qui-Gon opened the story in question and started, again, to read...

Qui-Gon did his best to steady his breathing and relax into the restraints. There was nothing to worry about. Obi-Wan would never hurt him. Not really. Not in the lasting sense. He hoped.

"Well, slut, I told you there would be a price to pay if you disobeyed my word. I suppose you thought I wouldn't find out," Obi-Wan's voice was ice-cold and razor sharp.

NOT find out about me grabbing my ankles in the gym showers? Hell, I'm a little miffed at how long it took you to notice, Qui-Gon thought, but wisely said nothing. Instead he leaned his weight into the wall before him and let his arms find their natural resting point, bound as they were above his head. There was a hissing sound, then a sharp crack as the wide leather strap laid a mark across both buttocks. His muscles tensed at the sudden pain, and he breathed with it, surfing out the sensation.

"Answer me," Obi-Wan ordered.

"No, Padawan. I knew you would find me out," Qui-Gon admitted.

"I see. So you were merely attempting to provoke me. Well," Obi-Wan's body pressed close to Qui-Gon's back, one hand snaking down over his hip to grasp his balls firmly. "If you need this, Qui-Gon, you have only to ask. I'll give you what you want, however you want it, whenever you want it. Now, though, you have disobeyed me. Now we play by my rules."

A helpless whimper escaped Qui-Gon's lips, the only reaction he had time for before a knotted cloth was forced into his mouth. "Count it a mercy, slave. You're going to need it."

Qui-Gon hung his head and steadied his breath once more, reminding himself that it was a game, he could safeword out if he wanted to, nothing bad would happen...

The feel of the singletail's sting drove all such thoughts from his mind, leaving only the hazy confusion of lust/pain and a soulful yearning to obey, to please, to make amends by whatever means available.

"PADAWAN!" Qui-Gon yelped, his eyes huge. "You want to act out THAT? Are you CRAZY?" To himself, Qui-Gon added, // Kourt! I never knew you wanted THAT out of me! //

"Um, well, not exactly the way it's written of course," Obi-Wan said, blushing and ducking his head to hide his grin. "More of the other way around."

Studying his apprentice, Qui-Gon couldn't decide whether he was amused or appalled at the young man. "Obi-Wan. Such a story... it should have had warnings on it. That is... that is... I don't know what that is but it really turns my stomach. I'm sorry Padawan, but no."

"There are others, less... um... rough? Here. Knight Woodhouse wrote this one. It's just role playing, Master."

Unconvinced, Qui-Gon opened the story his Padawan pointed to, wondering how, if Obi-Wan had only recently discovered this archive, he was so familiar with it...

Waking up was a surprise, because it meant that he was still alive.

The young knight opened his eyes, but could see nothing in the dimness. He was lying on a soft surface. He tried to move his arms and legs. They met resistance. He was bound.

So his memory was correct. He had lost the battle. Surprising, though, to still be alive.

Obi-Wan took a deep breath, and reached out with the Force. He encountered nothing but massive, adamant Force shields. Very well, then, what could his more mundane senses tell him about the situation?

Sight told him very little. While not fully dark, the chamber was dim enough that nothing but vague shapes met his eyes. A faint hum and even fainter vibration told him that he was on a ship and the ship was traveling through space.

If this was a dungeon, it was not an uncomfortable one. No noxious odors or cold drafts or dankness or rustling of rats.

He would escape somehow.

Obi-Wan centered himself and sought calm. He thought back, seeking the memories of how he got into this predicament.

The Sith. That legendary villainy from the dimly remembered past had resurfaced to trouble the peace of the Republic. Many Jedi had faced the new Sith Lord, and none of them had succeeded. Singly and in force of numbers, they had all uniformly failed.

Why Master Yoda had thought that a new-minted knight with limited experience could succeed where so many others had failed was a mystery. But Obi-Wan's faith in the little Jedi Master was so absolute that when Yoda told him that he must face the new Sith Lord, he had taken the assignment without question.

A battle. He remembered the battle now, a lightsaber duel with the premier swordsman of the galaxy. It had been an epic affair, long and arduous, and all of Obi-Wan's athletic ability had been brought to bear. He could still feel the sense of fatalistic despair as his saber was wrested from his grasp, and then the blow to the head.

And that should have been the end of it. One more Jedi up against the Dark Lord, defeated and destroyed. But it seemed that he still lived. For the moment.

When he awoke again, there was more light. He saw now that he was lying on a large bed. His arms and legs were tied to the bedposts and he was naked.

Obi-Wan tried the Force again, hoping that the head blow had temporarily damaged his Jedi abilities, but once again the knots remained. He tried pulling, but the cords that bound him were too strong.

Interesting that the cording was of a soft material, and the bindings not tight enough to damage his hands and feet. It was a consideration that surprised him. Was he to be held as a hostage? But none of the other Jedi had been offered in trade.

He could raise his head a bit and look around. The chamber was large and well-furnished, the bed comfortable. He did wish he wasn't naked, though.

And what was the purpose of these pillows? One pillow supported Obi-Wan's head in the usual manner, but several more were under his hips, causing his nether regions to be elevated in a manner that was really rather embarrassing.

A faint swishing sound and the movement of air told Obi-Wan that a door had opened. Booted footsteps sounded, coming nearer, and he craned his head around to see. The Dark Lord approached.

Hooded and cloaked in black, tall and broad. Familiar, of course.

The figure moved to the side of the bed, and the hood was thrown back. "Good evening, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan steeled himself to show no dismay. There was very little change to see in the villain standing before him. The hair was perhaps a bit more silvered and a trifle longer, but the severe beauty of the well-known features had not altered in the slightest. The eyes were still as blue, the nose as crooked, the voice as serene.

"Hello, Qui-Gon," Obi-Wan said at last. "Long time."

"Yes, it has been a long time," Qui-Gon agreed. He slipped off his black robe and flung it over a chair, sitting down on the bed beside Obi-Wan. He was dressed as he had always been, in tunic, leggings and boots, but the brown and cream of the Jedi order had been replaced with solid black. "I've missed you," he said.

"I didn't know Dark Lords of the Sith missed people," Obi-Wan said, trying to sound defiant.

"This one does." The large hand approached his face and stroked his cheek gently. Obi-Wan pulled his head back. It was too familiar, the same stroke a concerned Master had bestowed on a young boy waking from a nightmare.

Qui-Gon pulled his hand back, but smiled.

"What are you going to do with me?" Obi-Wan asked, hoping he didn't sound too concerned about the answer. "I was surprised to find myself still alive."

"Oh, I'm not going to kill you, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon assured him. "I'm not even going to hurt you."

Oh, right!" Obi-Wan said sarcastically. "I'm just a guest, right? That must be why I'm tied up."

"Not a guest, exactly," Qui-Gon admitted. "But I do hope the binding will be temporary. It all depends on you, my Padawan."

"I'm not your Padawan anymore!" Obi-Wan snarled.

"But you are," Qui-Gon insisted. "Not still, but again. You'll find the curriculum a bit different this time."

"If you think I can be turned --" Obi-Wan began, but Qui-Gon's fingers covered his mouth impatiently.

"Hush, Padawan, it doesn't matter whether you turn or not. Dark side, light side, either will do fine."

Obi-Wan was about to demand an explanation, but just then Qui-Gon leaned down and covered Obi-Wan's mouth with his own. He tried to pull away but his head was held firmly, as his lips were explored and then his mouth invaded by a questing tongue.

'Bite him!' he mentally instructed himself, but the sensation was so intensely pleasurable that he surrendered to the fulfillment of a young Padawan's long-held fantasy. He'd always wondered what it would feel like to kiss and be kissed by Qui-Gon. It felt spectacular.

Qui-Gon kissed him again and again, and it shamed Obi-Wan to realize that he was kissing back.

After a lengthy exploration, Qui-Gon sat up and gave a satisfied sigh. "I always wondered what that would be like," he said. Seeing Obi-Wan's start of surprise, he nodded. "Oh, yes. Did you think I didn't notice what a beautiful young Padawan I had? Did you believe me so made of stone?"

"Obi-Wan, I am not a Sith."

"But Master... It's just role play... and the rest of it is really, very..."

"No, Obi-Wan."

// Oh well, // Obi-Wan thought to himself, // it was worth a shot. // "Well, not all of them are like that, you know, Master. Some of them are rather sweet. Look at this one, Knight Hiperbunny wrote it. I - I think she's got a crush on you, you know. Here..."

Obi-Wan watched with calm detachment as Qui-Gon bent to unfasten his boots. The Master stepped out of the footwear and continued disrobing, dropping each article in an untidy pile by the sofa. Obi-Wan held his ground, mouth set in a firm line of calm acceptance. His cock was rock hard, skin flushed and heart racing, but he'd be damned if he was going to move from this spot. Qui-Gon still said nothing, but walked away into the bathroom.

So Qui-Gon had heard 'rumors' had he? Learned that Padawan Kenobi was 'easy' and 'good'? Wanted to find out for himself, did he? Well, it would seem Master Jinn's research left something to be desired. For while Obi-Wan was good, he was never easy. Anyone who'd actually been with him could confirm this. Before you were fucked by Obi-Wan Kenobi, you always begged.

Qui-Gon returned from the bathroom and took his place before Obi-Wan once more. He turned his back on Obi-Wan and bent slightly forward, legs spread wide. Obi-Wan crossed his arms and waited. He was a little surprised at Qui-Gon's unashamed display. His master had always seemed so reserved. And yet here he stood, cock a long, steely shaft of unsated passion, his body a simple tool for sexual stimulation, and oh skies above, he wasn't going to...

He was. Obi-Wan leaned forward for a better look as one long, lubricated finger slid deep into Qui-Gon's anus. With slow, deep strokes Qui-Gon prepared himself, inviting... no... demanding that Obi-Wan observe the proceedings. Obi-Wan was more than happy to do so, sighing with renewed desire as a second finger entered, slowly sunk in, then both withdrew. More lubricant was added and both fingers entered and retreated at a leisurely pace, stretching and working the entrance until Qui-Gon moaned with pleasure. Obi-Wan bit his lower lip to prevent a similar sound from escaping him.

Qui-Gon slowly turned, hand never slowing its ministrations, and knelt before Obi-Wan. "Please," he whispered.

"Please what?" Obi-Wan growled, voice thick with need.

"Please, anything you want, any way you want, with no one but me ever again," Qui-Gon murmured, eyes locked on the floor.

Obi-Wan considered the petition as he watched Qui-Gon's continued self-preparation. Qui-Gon's hips stirred as he continued to wait, cock bobbing invitingly, occasionally slapping against his belly. The tip glistened with clear fluid and Obi-Wan had to tear his eyes away, least he pounce upon his master and drink there.

With careful movements Obi-Wan stood. He slowly shrugged out of his bathrobe and put it aside. With equally slow precision, he removed his sleep pants and ran his hands over his bare chest. When he glanced down he saw that Qui-Gon watched him, naked hunger shining in his eyes. Obi-Wan closed the distance between them and twisted one hand into Qui-Gon's loose hair. With the other hand he guided his cock to Qui-Gon's lips. "Suck me."

Qui-Gon's mouth and throat relaxed as Obi-Wan thrust forward, eagerly accepting the tumescent flesh. Obi-Wan removed his hands and allowed Qui-Gon to control the proceedings. As Qui-Gon sucked hard, tongue working along the underside of Obi-Wan's thick shaft, Obi-Wan pinched and tugged his own nipples, gasping at the powerful pleasure. Qui-Gon withdrew until he held just the tip of Obi-Wan's penis between his lips, then looked up at his young partner. Obi-Wan locked his knees as he took in the stunning beauty of his master. Qui-Gon's eyes drooped closed and he breathed out, swallowing Obi-Wan to the base once more.

Obi-Wan let his head fall back as he groaned, his hips bucking once, twice, and he stepped back, catching himself around the base of his cock, just barely preventing his ejaculation. Qui-Gon simply kept still as Obi-Wan regained control over his breathing. When he could once again focus, Obi-Wan looked at Qui-Gon once more. "Anything I want?"

"Yes," Qui-Gon replied.

"Desk. Now. Bend over," Obi-Wan ordered.

Qui-Gon rose gracefully and moved to obey, draping himself over the desk-end and spreading his legs wide.

"Grab for the other side," Obi-Wan rasped as he picked up the tube of lubricant and coated his own cock.

Qui-Gon obeyed, stretching his arms out before him.

Obi-Wan stepped closer, running his hands over Qui-Gon's ass, taking in the luxurious softness of his skin. "Will you always wish to love and be with me?"

"Oh yes," Qui-Gon breathed.

"Will you be mine, alone?"

"Without hesitation."

"Then I give myself to you for all time," Obi-Wan swore, and plunged deep into his lover's body.

Qui-Gon grew very still as he read, apparently forgetting he was sitting next to his Padawan and that both of them were still naked. Glancing down, Obi-Wan saw that the story had had an effect on his master, and dragging his eyes away from the words on the screen Qui-Gon noticed his Padawan watching him. No, watching his cock. No amount of swallowing seemed to moisten his suddenly dry mouth.

"That..." he rasped, then cleared his throat. "That was very... interesting."

"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan answered, his voice a throaty purr. "I will admit... I find the image of you doing something like that... stimulating."

Licking his suddenly dry lips, Qui-Gon studied his Padawan, who studied him right back. "Bed," he rasped finally. "Now. Please."

"Actually, Master," Obi-Wan murmured, rising slowly to tower over the sitting man, "the desk is closer."

end (please don't kill me!!! <g>)