Feedback: Yes, yes please! I will beg, plead, and write more
for feedback!
Summary: Qui-Gon is dealing with emotions that he doesn't know
how to handle.
Disclaimer: They aren't mine. Nope, not one bit. But I'm
abusing them anyway! Bwaa ha ha! No one can stop me now! It's
too late! I..uh, ahem. I mean, they belong to Lucas, I'm only
borrowing.
Note: Destina asked for a PWP from me for x-mas. It's a little
late Des, m'dear and it isn't a PWP but I'm assuming that the
NC-17 rating is going to be close enough. :)
The sun was just rising again over the Jedi temple, drawing
living beings from their sleep and falling in broken shafts of
light over one who had not slept. Deep in the Jedi gardens of
Coruscant, knees aching and skin chilled from hours of
meditation, Qui-Gon Jinn nonetheless remained motionless,
focused deeply inward as he struggled with an emotion that was
deeply unworthy of the Jedi master that he was.
Possessiveness.
It was not an emotion that he was intimately familiar with. His
earliest memories were of being raised in the temples and
ownership was taught to be a trivial matter. All things
belonged to the Force and as such the only thing a Jedi truly
owned was his own spirit. Even a lightsaber could and often was
lost and Qui-Gon knew this, he knew it well. But emotion
refused to leave him. It lingered over him like a dark mist,
every time he breathed he felt as if he took more of it inside
him even as his sense of wrongness grew.
I have no right, he chanted silently, letting the words echo
through him. I have no right, no right, I do not possess, I do
not own. The words felt like the worst of lies, even after
kneeling here for hours, his clothing damp with morning dew, he
had not been able to convince himself of the truth of those
words.
Nor had he been able to chase away the other dark emotions that
were tormenting him, things that he had never before felt, even
as a child. Petty emotions like envy and jealousy were very
quickly discovered in the initiates and rooted out. They were
taught that all beings had their strengths and weakness and
coveting skills that other possessed was of little use.
Instead, they were encouraged to develop the skills that they
did have. Qui-Gon had been taught that as well. And yet here he
knelt, awash with darkness.
But he had also been taught that he must deal with this emotion
now, at its conception. To ignore it, to allow it to remain
would take him down a far darker path. And so kneeling alone,
as he had for hours, swamped with jealousy and envy, Qui-Gon
ignored the minor protests of his body and instead sought a way
to deal with these unaccustomed emotions. After nearly twenty
hours of meditation an answer had yet to appear.
Still, Qui-Gon had not gotten his reputation among the Jedi as
a top negotiator without possessing a great deal of persistence
and a large amount of sheer stubbornness. He would deal with
this, there was no other option. Any other path lead in
directions that he didn't even want to contemplate.
A faint pulse of despair fluttered through him, like draught of
bitter cold. If only he knew how to handle this. He couldn't
even speak of it to anyone, whom was he to ask? Who could
advise him on what he should do upon waking one day and finding
that he wanted to possess his own Padawan?
He forced that coldness aside, immersed himself once again in
the embrace of the living Force that flowed through the garden
around him, again seeking an answer to a question he could
hardly allow himself to think about.
It had begun the day before, during the second level initiate's
lightsaber practice. Standing on the sidelines, Qui-Gon had
watched with distinct amusement and not a small amount of pride
while Obi-Wan had instructed the excited children. Several
padawans had been roped into assisting; helping to train the
initiates was an expected part of their duties. And while
Obi-Wan had rather grudgingly accepted the duty, he now
appeared to be truly enjoying himself.
With boundless patience, Obi-Wan helped a young boy again,
adjusting the boy's grip on his practice saber and carefully
walking him through a simple maneuver. Qui-Gon remained on the
sidelines, ostensibly supervising the children but in reality
his eyes hardly left the figure of his Padawan.
Perhaps they should try to spend a little more time on
Coruscant between missions, Qui-Gon thought, a bit indulgently.
Obi-Wan was obviously a natural teacher and spending a bit more
time with the young ones would help promote that talent. All
Jedi were expected to pass along their knowledge to the next
generation but that certainly didn't mean that they were all
good at it. Certainly Qui-Gon had had serious questions about
his own ability to teach...
He pushed aside those thoughts, dismissing them as useless.
Dwelling on the past would only cause him pain in the future.
He had learned in the past few years to focus on the now and to
release the past. The future would care for itself.
Forcing his wandering attention back to Obi-Wan, he couldn't
stop the faint frown that curved his lips as he saw that his
Padawan was speaking to one of the other helpers as they both
assisted their young charges. The other was another human, the
young man probably Obi-Wan's age or close to it and they were
both smiling and talking.
Their words were carried away by the din of the room but it
hardly mattered what they were saying. It was Obi-Wan's hand
that had caught Qui-Gon's attention, resting casually on the
other boy's shoulder as they chatted.
Such a simple touch and yet it conveyed a kind of intimacy to
Qui-Gon and it took a moment for the older man to realize why.
One casual touch, a sideways glance between the two young men
and even without the words of their conversation it became
obvious that Obi-Wan was flirting with the other boy. And
Qui-Gon saw with a distant sense of rage that other padawan was
flirting back.
Blinking, Qui-Gon tore his eyes from the sight. And so what if
they were? Obi-Wan was of age and if he wished to have a sexual
encounter with someone it was hardly Qui-Gon's business. And
yet, a faint bitter taste filled Qui-Gon's mouth as his eyes
were drawn unwilling back to the sight of his padawan quite
obviously offering himself to another.
Obi-Wan had always given of himself to his master, with
astonishing and humbling loyalty. Even believing that Qui-Gon
would never accept him as his Padawan Obi-Wan had regardless
nearly sacrificed his own life for Qui-Gon's. After that, even
after a somewhat rocky beginning, Obi-Wan had always freely
given of himself to his master. To Qui-Gon and only to Qui-Gon
to the point where obviously he had come to take Obi-Wan's
giving of himself to his master alone for granted. It hadn't
really occurred to him that Obi-Wan might offer himself to
someone else in the same manner.
And now, watching him flirt with the other Padawan, watching
him offer the brilliance of his spirit to someone else,
unpleasant emotions took root in the Jedi master, ones that he
hardly recognized. Jealousy, that Obi-Wan would dare touch
someone else in such a manner, envy of the young man who was
oblivious to Qui-Gon's anger. And then, horror, as realization
came of what he was feeling and for whom and Qui-Gon had turned
and abruptly left the practice hall, feeling the weight of Obi-
Wan's puzzled look on his back as he swiftly walked away,
directly to the gardens where he had knelt and immersed himself
in meditation.
And now, hours later he had nothing to show for his efforts but
sore knees and stiffening muscles. With a last sigh, Qui-Gon
struggled to his feet, ignoring the protests of his joints.
"Well, that was useless," he murmured irritably and then sighed
at his own temper. Hours of meditation and he didn't even have
a sense of calm from it. The Force had provided no answers to
his questions and had offered no solace. All he knew was what
the totally unexpected flash of insight had shown him the day
before. That he wanted his padawan, and that he wanted the
young man to belong only to him.
Even acknowledging this to himself made him wince. He had no
rights to Obi-Wan; he was the young man's teacher, surrogate
parent. Master was only an honorary title and it did not give
him rights over the boy. These thoughts, these feelings were
-wrong-.
Enough. Perhaps rest would give him further insight into
this...situation. He had spent most of the previous day and all
of the night meditating; the sun was only just rising over the
temple now.
Staggering a bit with stiffness and exhaustion, Qui-Gon made
his way through the temple to his rooms. He had no
responsibilities today, thank the Force, and a lazy day spent
in bed sounded at this moment like divine paradise.
Upon arriving at his quarters Qui-Gon had barely shut the door
behind him when it reopened, Obi-Wan creeping quietly into the
common room of their shared quarters.
They stared at each other in mutely, Obi-Wan starting violently
when he saw his master. A thousand things assaulted Qui-Gon's
tired mind at once; Obi-Wan's so abruptly flushed skin, the
bundle held tightly in the younger man's arms that seemed to be
his cloak and boots, his tousled appearance, his bare feet. And
his scent.
It was the last that invaded Qui-Gon's tenuous control, the
scent rising from Obi-Wan's skin to wind its way around
Qui-Gon's fragile grip on his restraint, tangling itself
within. His Padawan reeked of sex, sharp and musky with the
mingling of sweat and semen, his and someone else's. Someone
who had touched and tasted and done things to the young man
that Qui-Gon did not even let himself dream about, not even in
the privacy of his own mind.
Qui-Gon watched with distant bemusement as his own hand rose
and lightly touched Obi-Wan's crimson cheek, feeling the
fevered heat of his padawan's embarrassment. The stubble on
Obi-Wan's cheeks abraded the sensitive skin of Qui-Gon's
fingertips and silently, looking into Obi-Wan's pale, confused
eyes, Qui-Gon surrendered to the battle within without a word
of protest.
Grabbing Obi-Wan's shoulders, Qui-Gon shoved the smaller man
against the wall, scattering the things that Obi-Wan was
holding and pinning his stunned padawan there with his own
weight as he devouring the young man's mouth. Obi-Wan gasped
and Qui-Gon took advantaged of his parted lips to thrust his
tongue inside, tasting Obi-Wan's sweetness and the Other, that
other who had touched what did not belong to him.
Thrusting his tongue deeply into the wet velvet of Obi-Wan's
mouth, Qui-Gon sought the younger man's sweetness, furiously
trying to burn away the wrongness of the Other's flavor.
Obi-Wan whimpered softly, and dimly Qui-Gon could feel that he
wasn't fighting, was in fact arching his hips forward, into the
hard length of Qui-Gon's heavy erection that was pressing into
the padawan's belly.
"How dare you go to someone else?" Qui-Gon pulled back enough
to whisper harshly against Obi-Wan's swollen lips. Obi-Wan said
nothing, only panted and stared at his master, the tip of his
tongue flicking out as he nervously wet his lips. Qui-Gon
watched it through a strange haze of lust and possessiveness,
wanting this beautiful young man more than he had thought
possible.
Almost roughly, Qui-Gon managed to work his hand between them,
sliding it down to cup the younger man's erection and squeezing
almost uncomfortably hard. He watched as Obi-Wan gasped, his
eyes dilating until only a thin rim of gray was visible around
the darkness of his pupils.
"Mine, you are mine, my Padawan. Aren't you?" he leaned in to
croon softly against Obi-Wan's ear, tracing the soft shell with
the tip of his tongue. He waited for the denial, for the
struggle as Obi-Wan registered his words. He would stop then,
Qui-Gon told himself. He would, he could never force this,
never take it like that no matter how much he wanted it. He
-would- stop, he would. As soon as Obi-Wan told him to.
One word, a husky, barely there sound, a cry, an affirmation.
Obi-Wan's hands tightened on Qui-Gon's shoulders as he threw
his head back and gasped out a single word. "Yes!"
This can't be happening, it can't, it simply can't. Obi-Wan's
mind gibbered frantically even as the young man struggled to
get closer to his master. Years of fantasizing, of hoping and
of offering to his master all that he was, only to be ignored
time and again, had led Obi- Wan to believe that this would
never happen.
And now, still sticky with sweat from an extremely brief
interlude the night before, Obi-Wan found himself caught up in
his wildest dreams, in his master's arms with Qui-Gon all but
-growling- that he owned the young man.
"Yes!" Obi-Wan managed gasp out, fear of this ending dragging
affirmation from him. His head dropping back, hitting the wall
hard and he saw stars briefly, blinked them away as Qui-Gon
rocked against him again, pressing him harder against the wall.
Pained gasps for breath as Qui-Gon hands slid to Obi-Wan's
backside, physically lifting him from the floor so that their
groins were pressed together, hardness against hardness.
Obi-Wan wrapped his legs tightly around his master's hips to
keep himself from sliding downward, dimly cursing the clothing
that separated them.
The coarse fabric of his pants abraded the sensitive skin of
his erection, even as he thrust up against Qui-Gon again. Yes,
Obi-Wan cried silently, his voice stolen from him by need. Yes,
oh yes, Force yes, I needed this. I need this! Words mouthed
against Qui-Gon's lips as they rocked urgently against each
other.
It ended far too quickly, heat and desire pulsing between them
as Qui- Gon's hands gripped Obi-Wan's hips brutally hard,
holding the younger man still as he arched against him and
came. He muffled his moans against Obi-Wan's shoulder,
shuddering almost painfully.
Obi-Wan closed his eyes and felt everything, the ridge of teeth
pressed against his shoulder as Qui-Gon struggled not to cry
out, the wetness that was seeping through the thin fabric of
their trousers. He fought against his own orgasm, warm tendrils
of Qui-Gon's pleasure binding him through their bond and he
trembled to feel it, struggling to hold back.
Friction burned briefly against his back as they sank down to
the floor and Obi-Wan ignored it. Instead, he pressed gentle
kisses to his master's face, murmuring meaningless words of
comfort as the man's breaths came in near sobs as he fought for
control.
"Obi-Wan...Padawan...I'm sorry...so sorry...I didn't mean
to..."
He silenced the older man with a kiss, stealing away his
distress and replacing it with warmth and caring. Qui-Gon tried
to pull away, to speak and Obi-Wan refused to let him, twining
around his master like a vine.
"Shh, it's all right. It's all right," he murmured softly,
pressing gentling kisses against Qui-Gon's temples and cheeks,
tasting the salt of perspiration. The older man quieted,
rubbing his cheek against Obi- Wan's and the younger man
shivered to feel the coarse hair against the smooth skin of his
cheek.
Qui-Gon raised his head at that, his eyes questioning and in
answer Obi-Wan shifted his hips upward, letting Qui-Gon feel
his arousal. The question in Qui-Gon's eyes gave way to wonder
and then delight. He lowered his head, hesitating with his lips
a breath away from Obi- Wan's.
Carefully, Obi-Wan traced those parted lips with the tip of his
tongue, lingering on the lower lip. The tentative brush of
Qui-Gon's tongue, a marked contrast to his earlier fierceness,
dragged a soft sigh from him and Obi-Wan deepened the kiss,
exploring the warm darkness of Qui-Gon's mouth.
Again, a hand slipped between them to cup Obi-Wan's firming
shaft but this time the fingers were gentle, stroking
carefully, seeming to take his measure as they deftly touched
him.
Obi-Wan barely had time to choke out a moan before they
vanished. He whimpered in protest against Qui-Gon's lips but
was shocked into silence as he felt warm fingers again on the
bare skin of his stomach, parting his tunics as they nimbly
worked the fastenings of his trousers.
Strong fingers wrapped around his shaft and Obi-Wan cried out,
his eyes glazing as he stared up into Qui-Gon's. His master had
pulled away, studying his Padawan's face with a strange
intensity, similar to his expression as he did battle. A heady
surge of desire pulsed through Obi-Wan, at being the focus of
that intensity.
Qui-Gon dipped his head again, nipping at Obi-Wan's lips and
pulling back before the younger man could retaliate. He pulled
his knees up under him, moving so that he was crouched over the
younger man. Obi-Wan tried to protest, tightening his legs
around Qui-Gon's hips and abruptly found himself pinned to the
ground by invisible bonds, spread out and helpless underneath
his master's hungry gaze.
Too startled to even struggled, he watched as Qui-Gon slid
downward, neatly unfastening Obi-Wan's belt and sash with his
free hand and shoving them aside so that he could bury his face
in the soft skin of Obi-Wan's belly.
Inhaling deeply, Qui-Gon let his breath out in a rush and
Obi-Wan squirmed against his bonds, helpless whimpers escaping
him. The hand that was holding his shaft hadn't moved and the
gentle grasp was almost too much to bear.
"I hate the way you smell, my Padawan," Qui-Gon murmured
against Obi- Wan's belly and the younger man shivered at the
words. "You smell like yourself," Qui-Gon continued, inhaling
again and then exhaling, letting the warm tendrils of his
breath caress the younger man who was twisting helplessly,
fighting his invisible tethers. "And you smell like -him-. I
hate that smell." He looked up, his darkened eyes catching
Obi-Wan's and holding them while the younger man trembled
against him. "You will never smell like this again, do you
understand me, my Padawan? Never."
"Yes," Obi-Wan groaned. If Qui-Gon had ordered him to walk
naked through the temple he would have done it, without
question or protest. "I'm yours," he whispered, heard an
answering shudder from his master.
The wet flicker of a tongue against his skin made Obi-Wan gasp
and he closed his eyes tightly as Qui-Gon trailed it downward,
leaving a damp path to cool in the air. A second hand joined
the first, gently lifting Obi-Wan's penis from his trousers and
Obi-Wan barely had time to feel the coolness of the air before
a hot mouth closed over the head.
Biting his lip, Obi-Wan stifled the scream that tried to
escape, fighting against his Force-bonds to arch up into the
liquid warmth. His own control of the Force had skittered away
from him at Qui-Gon's first kiss. Finally he surrendered, lying
back on the cool floor while his shaft was taken deeper and
Qui-Gon laved the sensitive tip with his tongue before sucking
gently, ignoring Obi-Wan's broken protests for more.
Qui-Gon's hands shifted to Obi-Wan's hips, pressing down and a
moment later Obi-Wan discovered why, as the bonds holding him
dissolved away. His body jerked up reflexively, curling around
his master and Qui-Gon held him firmly, preventing him from
hurting either of them.
A moment later Obi-Wan settled back to the floor, gasping
raggedly. His skin felt clammy where his clothing was dampening
with his perspiration. Obi-Wan ignored it, focusing his
attention on the sweet warmth of the mouth surrounding him,
watching with narrowed eyes as his master took his shaft deeply
inside, sucking strongly.
Even as he trembled, hot tendrils of ecstasy pulsing through
him, Obi- Wan couldn't help but see how beautiful his master
was. On his knees before his Padawan, pleasuring him, the cool
silk of his silvered hair draped over Obi-Wan's hips.
Pleasuring him. Possessing him.
Teeth scraped lightly against the underside of his shaft and
Obi-Wan cried out loudly, his hands flying up to knot into
Qui-Gon's hair. Hands captured his wrists, gentling his grip
and remained, thumbs stroking the soft skin inside his wrists.
Again, he was taken deeply, felt Qui-Gon swallow against the
head of his erection and with a last, pained cry he came,
pleasure sparking through him like an electric jolt. His vision
dimmed as he shuddered, waves of almost painful ecstasy washing
over him before he collapsed weakly back to the floor.
Dimly, he realized his teeth were chattering slightly, tiny
aftershocks running through him as Qui-Gon pulled away, his
hands still holding Obi-Wan's as he tenderly caressing his
lover's softening cock with the tip of his tongue.
The gentle touch was soothing and Obi-Wan relaxed into it,
letting tension drain away as he moved his hands enough to
lightly stroke Qui- Gon's hair.
Qui-Gon shifted, sliding up and draping his body over Obi-Wan's
to press tiny, soft kisses to the young man's lips, letting him
taste a faint bitterness of his own seed on his master's lips.
And then he sighed, burying his face into the warm skin of
Obi-Wan's neck.
"Mine."
Hardly more than a breath, a soft gust of air against Obi-Wan's
neck and he smiled a little senselessly to hear his master say
it.
"Yes, I am yours, Master," he murmured and was rewarded with a
tender kiss on the sensitive skin of his neck. Believe what you
will, my Master, he thought, letting a smile curve his lips.
Believe what you will. His eyes slit open a tiny bit and
Obi-Wan looked down at the tousled head resting against his
chest. There was no need to argue over who owned who.
Carefully, he shifted, urging the older man to stand and
coaxing him to walk into the bedroom where Obi-Wan stripped
them both efficiently and settling them comfortably beneath the
thick blankets.
Lying there, his master asleep in his arms, Obi-Wan let the
smile come again, amused at how this had turned out. Believe
what you will, my Master, he thought again, laughing silently
in the darkened room, but even you must know that it is the one
who gives the most that is the true owner, because the giver is
also the one who can take it away. Still, at this moment
Obi-Wan was where he most wanted to be in the entire galaxy. He
saw no reason to negotiate terms of ownership.
Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, inhaling his master's
scent before he relaxed into his own sleep, allowing himself to
think one word before he drifted off, one that he would never
say aloud.
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