Master Apprentice Archive Two Wrongs Quick search:

Two Wrongs

by Bonnymagret ( BonnyMagret@hotmail.com )

Category: Non-con, Angst, First-Time.

Pairing: Qui/Obi

Rating: Adult, very adult

Warnings: borderline chan, rough sex

Summary – Obi-Wan falls for some pressure from Bruck and tries to move things along with his master but disaster results. Feedback: When I first started writing I would fill this space in with "Are you kidding? Of course!" A few years and several stories later and I now know that if a reader takes the time to send even a short message that says "I read it", just knowing that the reader took the time to let me know that my words hadn't disappeared into the vast nothingness of cyberspace is treasured.

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, Lucas thought these guys up, and owns them entirely. I am just trying to bring them to life off screen. I not only don't make any money off this, I lose a lot because of the time and attention these boys demand.

Thanks: This story started out two years ago, but Jedi Rita and Alex (bless their intelligent souls) took me to task on some plot and characterization problems. It's amazing how a diplomatic beta can tell an author their story is clich้ without ever using those words. It was so easy to let it languish rather than fix it since `Lazy' is my middle name. But I tried to take their advice to heart and I hope I have improved it now. To Inya Dreems for a final quick beta and for being my very good friend. I get to claim credit for all mistakes, I worked hard for `em.

Obi-Wan lay on his bed trying not to make a sound, not to breathe too loudly or to draw attention to himself in any way. He could hear the ruckus out in the common room, could hear Master Qui-Gon bellowing his rage, Mace trying to calm him, the healer tittering a bit, flustered in the face of such an uncontrolled outburst. Obi- Wan didn't know who the other two beings were that Master Windu had brought with him, but the large blue Terrellian should be able to contain any being, even one the size and shape of Qui-Gon.

The room was dark as a womb. Obi-Wan was drawn into a fetal position, his knees tucked under his chin, his arms tight against his chest beneath them. He'd done some really stupid things in his lifetime but this one was a ripper. And he knew he was going to pay for it. But how? Dismissal from the Order? Demotion wasn't an option when someone was a mere padawan to begin with. Ten extra hours at katas? That wouldn't work because everyone knew how much he loved to do the exercises. Banishment for a time? To where? Or with whom? He had no one who cared about him outside these Temple walls. He had nowhere to go.

Qui-Gon seemed a bit quieter now. He still was thrashing about but with less force than earlier. Obi-Wan could hear the end table crash over as a lamp flew and broke against the wall. But he had finally ceased his roaring. There was a scuffle at the door, then silence. Deep, profound silence.

They had forgotten all about him. Maybe if he just stayed here and didn't show his face, it would all blow over. Surely they would have Qui-Gon in the healer's ward for a few days. He didn't have any classes scheduled because he and Qui-Gon were supposed to leave on a mission in a day. That was obviously out of the question now.

If only he hadn't let Bruck talk him into this. That taunting smile was going to be the death of him. It almost literally had been the death of him. If the datapad hadn't been there, if he hadn't been able to comm out and call for help, the Sith only knows what would have happened.

Maybe he should just leave. Surely he could find a place for himself in this galaxy. Granted that failed padawans were not sought- after employees, at seventeen, he was of average size and his training had honed his body into a lithe strength that should be good for manual labor off world. His education was otherwise pretty limited. He wasn't bad looking, or at least he had been told so. Perhaps he could contract himself out in the sublevels. No. That wouldn't work either. Anything smacking of Jedi would be an anathema to any sublevel employer. Besides which, the pain in his rectum told him that being a whore was not a profession at which he would do well. A customer would expect an experienced pleasure boy and tonight was the only experience he'd ever had. It wasn't exactly what the customers were likely to expect. He'd been fucked. Oh, how he had been fucked. But he'd never been kissed.

Oh, Sith, it hurt. It hurt deep and high. He could still feel the liquid trickling out of himself. He didn't think Qui-Gon had climaxed, but he wasn't positive. Carefully, he reached a hand between his legs and a finger to his opening and dipped into the flow, bringing his finger tip to his lips. He sniffed tentatively. Not semen. Blood. His own. At least it wasn't a heavy a flow. Wherever it was coming from inside of him would heal. He knew he ought to meditate and focus healing Force into himself, but he couldn't manage the concentration required.

When the drug started to take effect, Qui-Gon had looked at Obi-Wan with such longing and tender regard. He had been so beautiful at first. That was probably the sweetest moment of Obi-Wan's entire life: that one look of love. He'd waited all these many years, watching carefully for any sign that his master felt any degree of desire or love for him. But to no avail. He never saw anything except the respect and regard that a Jedi Master should have for his apprentice. Nothing through the bond either. He'd spent hours sitting at his Master's bedside, just watching the great man sleep, feeling carefully along the mental tendrils and wisps that leaked out when Qui-Gon was off guard.

But nothing he was looking for ever slipped out. That hurt. In fact, it hurt a lot. But it was nothing he shouldn't have expected, either. He longed to be desired, to be considered desirable. He wanted to be touched. But only Qui-Gon's touch would do. Not the touch of a master teaching his padawan a meditation position, or the occasional brush of a comforting hand across his shoulder. He longed for the touch of his beloved as a lover.

It had been so very thrilling to be gazed at over the candlelit table, those incredibly bright blue eyes reflecting the wavering light. Focused exclusively on him, not on his training, not on their next mission. On him. Watching his reaction to the gaze. Watching him as he leaned back in the chair, deliberately licking his lips lightly. Qui-Gon had licked his own lips, mimicking his padawan's actions. But not mocking. No. Not mocking. Sending a signal that they were thinking on the same wave length; thinking the same thoughts. Obi-Wan's cock had instantly come to full attention. It made him feel a good five standard years older – a real adult – to be desired by such a man.

But now he felt like the stupid child he was. A stupid, wounded little boy. That was all he really was. Now that he was alone in his quarters, now that they had taken Qui-Gon away, he let the tears he had fought against for so long slide quietly down his cheeks. He would have liked to have sobbed, to cry out like Qui-Gon had, releasing all his frustrations. But he couldn't. He wasn't entitled to the luxury of that release. Because it had all been his fault.

"Quit your mooning, Obi," Bruck had said. "Just go out and get laid. Like the rest of us. You sit around here moaning about `Qui- Gon this' and `Qui-Gon that', but you never do anything about it."

The rest of the padawans seated in the lounge snickered. This wasn't the first time they had heard this rant from Bruck. Nor were they opposed to hearing it again. When was Obi-Wan not going on and on about how wonderful his master was, how strong, how handsome, how kind, how wise? It had gotten to be more than a bit tiresome, to tell the truth. And what made it even more frustrating was that Obi- Wan was often right: Qui-Gon did have the ear of the Council and he was one of the most highly regarded masters at the Temple. So if Bruck could get Obi-Wan to stop, he had their support.

A little more teasing by Bruck had accomplished silencing Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan hadn't mentioned the masterful Qui-Gon Jinn for the next hour. But about the time that they had all decided to sneak out for a few drinks in the sublevels, Obi-Wan started up again. He couldn't join them, he said. He needed to get home. He couldn't disappoint the great and powerful Jinn by staying out late.

"You're still a virgin, aren't you?" Bruck had taunted, the rest of the padawans listening carefully. All of them had been the brunt of Bruck's teasing at some point, so although they all sympathized with the current object of his attentions, not a one of them would intervene on Obi-Wan's behalf. When Bruck focused in on tormenting someone, everyone else tried to get out of his way. Because he couldn't be stopped until his victim was totally humiliated. Most of the padawan group were still virgins, and even if they weren't, they certainly didn't want that question posed to them in public.

"What of it?" Obi-Wan had said, as defiantly as he could under the circumstances.

"You think you are saving yourself for him? Hah! Until you've been knighted? If he's going to have to wait that long, he'll expect you to have lots of experience. Trust me. Virgins are no fun." Bruck was on a roll now. It was beginning to get to Obi-Wan. He had a little muscle on the side of his right eye that twitched, just a little, when he was getting nervous. That, and he blushed. You could always tell with Obi-Wan. His face gave him away.

Bruck leaned in toward his victim conspiratorially. "You could have him now, you know," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Obi-Wan looked up and met his eyes. "How?" was all he said.

"You forget that your master is the one who is famous for ignoring the Code. Do you want to wait all those years? Until the Code says it's all right for your master to screw you? Or do you want him now? Because I don't want to ever hear another word out of you about it if you aren't willing to face him now." Bruck's voice was getting louder and more confident now. He had his victim hooked.

"He wouldn't. I can't." Now Obi-Wan was carefully picking on the cuticle of his left thumb.

"Ah, my friend, you are wrong. You can. Stay here." Bruck strode out of the room. There were a few nervous whispers while he was gone, but for the most part, the crowd silently awaited the star performer's return.

Back again and standing in front of Obi-Wan, Bruck held out his hand. There were three small clear capsules in his palm. "Begaran," Bruck said, taking Obi-Wan's hand into his own, and turning it palm up. "Picked it up in the sublevels of Luder on our last mission. It's the best aphrodisiac in the galaxy. Intoxicant, inhibition suppressant and sexual stimulant all rolled into one. It's supposed to be one for a girl, two for a guy. But Qui-Gon is equal to one of each, so here's three." He folded Obi- Wan's fingers over the capsules. "Slip it into a cup of tea. It's odorless, tasteless and he'll never know what hit him. He won't be able to keep his hands off of that prime little ass of yours if you wiggle it his way after a few of those. They say it can make you last forever."

Bruck stepped back and braced his hands on his hips. "So. You come with us, and get laid. Or you go home and get laid. I don't care." Bruck leaned in, only inches from Obi-Wan's face. "But either way, I don't want to hear another word about your Master unless it's to tell all of us about how good he is in bed." Bruck turned to his audience for approval, nodding as the group nodded back.

"Come on, guys. Let's go. I need a drink." Bruck announced as he swaggered toward the exit, the group following behind him like the faithful lambs going to the slaughter that they were. All except Obi-Wan, who remained in his chair. He opened his palm and inspected the capsules. When he finally stood and left the lounge, he turned toward the lifts that would take him to the quarters he shared with Qui-Gon.

He knew better. All of his initiate and padawan years, he had refrained from joining any of Bruck's escapades, managing never to be caught up in any of the scheming boy's plans. He had watched numerous of his padawan friends suffer for their inability to resist. This time it was harder. In the palm of his hand, he held his future. He held the ability to make his dearest dreams come true. He held the ability to make Qui-Gon Jinn love him; love him in the way he had loved his master for these past three years.

Obi-Wan had been fourteen when he began to feel sexual urgings toward his master. The Code didn't prevent padawans from engaging in sexual activity from the time that they achieved sexual functioning. It was the job of every master to teach his or her apprentice the points of sexual responsibility, which Master Qui-Gon Jinn had dutifully done.

The rules did not expressly prohibit sexual contact for all Jedi, nor was it particularly encouraged due to the potential problems with emotional attachments. But the Code did prevent a master and apprentice from engaging in sexual contact without special permission of the Council or until after the apprentice's knighting. Obi-Wan knew his master well enough to know that any attempt to get Qui-Gon to break that particular Code requirement would only make Qui-Gon think less of him for having asked.

So for the next three years, Obi-Wan had fought his urgings, suppressing his physical responses to his master at every turn. Qui- Gon didn't make it any easier. He was comfortable with his body and, although reserved in public, he did not suffer from any excess of personal modesty. If Bruck thought he could torment Obi-Wan with sexual teasing, he couldn't hold a torch to the torment Qui-Gon could inadvertently inflict by merely walking from the fresher to his room, his body pink and still moist from a hot shower. Or glowing after an hour of shared katas.

Qui-Gon had told Obi-Wan that sexual release was a normal need of all humans, and that masturbation was an appropriate means to achieve such release. But it didn't feel right to Obi-Wan. He still felt guilty and dirty after he had achieved a climax by thinking of his master's naked body. He'd never seen that prodigious member in a state of sexual arousal, but his imagination made up for what his eyes could not provide.

These three little pills could change all of that. Or maybe Bruck was just playing with him again. Maybe these little capsules held nothing but table salt or sugar. How could he know if he didn't give them a try.

When he entered their quarters, Qui-Gon barely gave him a nod. He was curled on the common room chair, datapad in hand, concentrating on his reading, apparently preparing for the mission for which they were scheduled to leave the following evening. He was dressed only in sleep pants and an undertunic. Obi-Wan went into his bedroom. Taking off his boots and placing them carefully next to his bed, Obi- Wan debated with himself. He'd given up a night with his friends and Qui-Gon couldn't have cared less. Obi-Wan felt he might as well be part of the furniture as far as his master was concerned.

"Tea, Master?" Obi-Wan asked, returning to the common room.

"Sure, thanks, Padawan," Qui-Gon still hadn't looked up from the blue screen.

Obi-Wan laid the three capsules on the kitchen counter while the water came to a boil. He didn't have to do this. Maybe he should just try one and see what happened. But if nothing happened, he would only have two left, and that might not be enough if he decided to try again. And he certainly wouldn't ever ask Bruck for more! He studied the capsules closely as the tea brewed. Tiny white granules in their gelatinous containers. Probably nothing at all. Obi-Wan carefully strained the tea into Qui-Gon's favorite mug. Stirring in the cream, watching the clear brown liquid swirl with the thick white cream, Obi-Wan realized that the powder would be invisible. No taste, no smell, no sight. He carefully pulled one of the capsules apart, intending to taste the contents, but the granules flew as the two parts of the capsule separated. And fell right into the tea.

Well, in for a credit, in for a pound. He opened the other two and stirred the tea, noting that the powder disappeared instantly. He took a tiny sip. Not his favorite without sugar, but he couldn't taste anything out of the ordinary. Obi-Wan prepared a tray with the two mugs and a few chocolate cookies, Qui-Gon's favorites. He put the tray on the table and lit the table candles. Then he lit the two candles on the sideboard.

"Master, your tea is ready."

"Thank you, Padawan." Qui-Gon didn't rise from his chair.

"Master, come to the table. Join me. You will have plenty of time on the ship to finish that report. You need a break."

For the first time, Qui-Gon looked up and studied his apprentice. "Very well, Obi-Wan," he said, taking a seat at the table.

As Qui-Gon picked up his mug and brought it to his lips, Obi-Wan almost stopped him. Maybe he shouldn't be doing this. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. For goodness sake, why was he going along with one of Bruck's wild schemes? "Master. . ."

Qui-Gon stopped, the mug in mid-air. "Yes, Padawan?"

Obi-Wan was flustered. How could he get the mug back now? Qui-Gon would think him a complete idiot if he tried to take it away. And Obi-Wan wasn't at all sure that he didn't want to see what would happen.

"Tell me again about our assignment, Master," he said, picking up his own mug and taking a sip.

Within ten minutes, Obi-Wan could see a difference. Qui-Gon wasn't exactly slurring his words, but the brogue had returned.

"Well, laddie. You'll need to be finishing the packing, now, won't you?" He'd been called `laddie' twice already. Obi-Wan could only remember a very few occasions when his Master had called him `laddie' and they had all involved a lot of alcohol consumption.

"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan had replied. "Do you think we will be more than two tendays?"

"Aye, that's a possibility. It's a good five days on the transport and at least a tenday for the negotiations. " A smile tweaked at the corner of Qui-Gon's mouth. "Unless, of course, we ask for a private ship. Smaller, but faster. We might have to share sleeping quarters for a few days." Those piercing blue eyes were looking straight into his soul. "You wouldn't be minding that, now would you, laddie."

Qui-Gon had started absently stroking his chest as he spoke, slipping a finger under the edge of his undertunic. Obi-Wan tried to swallow, but the lump in his throat made that impossible. He wasn't sure if he was reading more into these comments than his master intended.

"No, Master. I wouldn't mind. Not at all. In fact, that would be very nice. That is, if we can. If you don't mind." Obi-Wan realized that he sounded like he was babbling. Qui-Gon seemed not to have noticed.

It was the cookies that got Obi-Wan hard. Qui-Gon was pulling the cookies apart, licking the cream filling carefully from each wafer with long strokes of his tongue. By the second cookie, Obi-Wan could feel every stroke of that tongue on the cream as if it was right up the back of his cock.

"Do you know how beautiful you are?"

Obi-Wan almost jumped out of his chair when he heard those words. He was too stunned to think of any reply.

"Your eyes are like chameleons. They change colour. On Bandomeer, they were blue, like the sky. Here, with the candles, they are a deep green." Qui-Gon's hand had slipped under the fabric of his undertunic and Obi-Wan could see that his fingers were aimlessly stroking across a nipple. His own got hard in response.

"All these years, Padawan. All these many years. Can you imagine?" Qui-Gon took another sip of his tea. Qui-Gon would never have spoken those words were he of his own mind. There was no question now that the drug was already taking effect, and Qui-Gon still had half a mug left. Obi-Wan slowly shook his head.

"You've turned into a fine young man," Qui-Gon went on, looking at his padawan over the rim of his mug. "I can take credit for the skills you've acquired, but the Force gets credit for your beauty. You were a cute little boy, laddie, but you're a handsome man now. All growed up and filled out. But I'm not supposed to be touching you, now am I?"

"Master," Obi-Wan interjected, beginning to regret this adventure. It was a bit embarrassing for his Master to be showering him with compliments about his appearance.

Qui-Gon just smiled at him, lowering his mug and taking up another cookie. His long, deft fingers separated the wafers delicately, the creamy filling sticking to both sides.

"Sometimes, I long to just reach out and touch you. To feel your skin against my fingertips. But I can't. Not allowed." Qui-Gon voice sounded strained as he looked down at the wafers in his hands. "You'd cringe from me. You'd be afeared of me. No, it wouldn't do." He looked back up at Obi-Wan longingly. "I'd rather have this, you being here, across from me, than nothing."

"This, Master?" Obi-Wan managed to croak out.

"Aye, laddie. Maybe some day you'll love me back, but for now. . ."

"I do love you, Master," Obi-Wan whispered, lowering his eyes to his hands. He hadn't realized he was clutching his own mug so tightly until he saw how white his knuckles were. Oh, Sith, maybe it was true. Maybe all his hopes were not in vain. If there was ever going to be an opportunity, this was it.

Obi-Wan looked up. "Master," he said firmly. His master looked away from the cookie he was licking and met Obi-Wan's eyes. "I feel that way about you, too. You are so much more to me than just my master."

That was when Qui-Gon had leaned back in his chair, watching Obi-Wan carefully. They assessed one another across the table. Abruptly, Qui-Gon sat forward again. Obi-Wan was startled and a little confused. He wasn't sure if anything had been resolved.

"Aye, beautiful." That long tongue ran across the surface of one of the wafers, the tip turning white with cream and disappearing into Qui-Gon's mouth.

"Beautiful?" Obi-Wan could barely speak.

"And your skin. So fair. All those little sweet freckles across your shoulders. You can't imagine how hard it is not to kiss them sometimes. I'd like to be licking them; to see if they taste any differently than the rest of your skin."

Obi-Wan hadn't known that just words could bring a man to climax, but it was taking every ounce of his self-control to not come in his leggings. They were so tight. He tried to shift a little in his chair, but the friction of the cloth against his penis almost made him lose it, so he held still. He wanted this moment to last forever.

"Have you ever been licked, laddie? All over? I know that you and your friends experiment with sex. You're of age. Have you ever licked someone else?"

Obi-Wan was physically incapable of making any response except a tight little whimper, which escaped before he could stop himself.

"I thought not." Qui-Gon grinned at his apprentice. "So many more years, I have to wait for you. Do you have any idea how hard that is, my Padawan?"

Obi-Wan shook his head. Now he was holding onto the base of his penis through his leggings, squeezing tight to keep the climax at bay.

"Yes. I know you do. Don't lie to me. I hear you pulling yourself off."

Obi-Wan looked up, shocked.

Qui-Gon laughed. "Thought it was a secret, did you?" Qui-Gon's hand had dropped into his lap and he was stroking himself lightly through the cloth of his sleep pants. "You moan and whimper and I can always tell. And your room smells like sex when I come to wake you up some mornings."

Obi-Wan's erection was flagging in embarrassment.

"Do you have any idea what that smells like? It's a head rush: straight from nose to cock. I have to go jerk myself off before I can touch you."

Obi-Wan's erection was coming back.

"Some days I want to touch you so badly that I have to send you away before I lose control."

Obi-Wan remembered the numerous senseless errands he had been sent on: run out to the quartermaster, just in case we need a few more clean towels; go to the commissary for more tea when the canister hadn't been empty; check the gardens to see if anyone is in Qui- Gon's favorite meditation spot.

Suddenly, Qui-Gon was standing beside Obi-Wan's chair. Obi-Wan had been so lost in his thoughts that he'd momentarily lost his attention. He looked up and saw those blue eyes boring into him. Then he felt the pull on the training bond. A strong suction in his mind, like his thoughts were being drained out of him.

Qui-Gon chuckled. "You think of me when you pull yourself off, don't you? You want me too!"

Obi-Wan still couldn't speak. He could smell the musky odor of his master, a combination of lust, sweat and heat, mixed with the sweet vanilla scent of the cookie filling. It was intoxicating. Those lips, the ones he had dreamed of so often in his lonely nights, were coming down toward him. He couldn't move. They touched the tip of his nose. No, it wasn't the lips. It was a firm probing tongue. It started at the tip of his nose and swept up to his hairline, leaving a damp trail. Goosebumps broke out all over his body. His eyes closed as he shivered uncontrollably. And came. Pouring out his essence into his pants as his body contorted with the spasms. He could feel the fluid; it was warm at first, but grew cold quickly and spread around his groin. He moaned and Qui-Gon laughed again.

"Oh, laddie, you can't hide from me now." Qui-Gon's voice was low and husky, his lips next to Obi-Wan's ear. "Take your clothes off."

Obi-Wan was almost afraid to open his eyes, but forced himself to. Qui-Gon was smiling down at him hungrily. There was something demanding in the narrowed eyes and the set of his master's jaw. Standing next to Obi-Wan's chair, Qui-Gon's crotch was at Obi-Wan's eye level. Obi-Wan couldn't help but see the huge tenting in Qui- Gon's pants, a spreading damp spot at its peak. Obi Wan wanted to take it into his mouth, to taste that fluid. Looking into his master's eyes, Obi-Wan leaned forward and took just the end of the tent into his mouth, the cloth rough against his lips. He didn't know how hard he could press down, but Qui-Gon showed him by pushing his pelvis forward, forcing more of himself into Obi-Wan's mouth.

Obi-Wan kept his eyes closed, as if opening them would make this dream end. He felt himself being pulled to his feet, his clothing being deftly removed, layer by layer. He felt large warm hands caressing every bit of his flesh as it was exposed to the cool air. Thick fingertips rubbed across his nipples, which hardened almost painfully under the touch. Obi-Wan hadn't realized they could be so sensitive. Tentatively, he looked up , but was momentarily taken aback by the expression on Qui-Gon's face. He looked like a lion king, his mane of hair loose about his face, confidence radiating from every pore. A lion who would brook no resistance from his pride, his ownership stamped on his features.

When Obi-Wan was naked, Qui-Gon pulled the younger man up against his chest, his hands roaming up and down the flanks, kneading the buttocks, pulling the cheeks apart. "I want to come inside of you," he whispered huskily. "I want you to come with me while I'm inside you. Will you do that for me?"

Obi-Wan groaned at the thought of them coming together, sharing that ecstasy at the same time. He nodded quickly.

"Say it," Qui-Gon demanded.

"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan breathed. "I want that too."

Obi-Wan's penis had recovered quickly and was hard again. He could feel it rubbing up against Qui-Gon's groin, only a layer of cloth separating the two erections. He wanted to feel that against his skin. He wanted to touch it, to taste it. He wanted to feel it move inside of him. He'd never done this before. Bruck was right. He was a virgin. But Qui-Gon was his master. He'd learned almost everything he knew from his master. This was just one more lesson. A very special lesson. More than anything else he could imagine, he wanted to learn how to do this from his beloved master.

"On your knees." Obi-Wan could hear Qui-Gon walking into the fresher and back as he got down onto his hands and knees. He wasn't sure if it was the right position, but he was confident that if it wasn't, Qui-Gon would show him how to do it right.

"Good, laddie. Good."

Obi-Wan felt the oil poured into the cleft of his bottom, dripping onto the carpet. He hadn't realized that sex would be so messy. Or so fast. He thought they were supposed to kiss and touch for awhile first. That thought was quickly banished when he felt fingers at his entrance, one of them pushing slowly into him, then joined by a second, moving inexorably to his core. It burned. Oh, Sith, it hurt. He almost pulled away from that pain. He knew that it would hurt the first time. He'd heard that it could be painful. But it was supposed to feel good, too. This didn't feel good.

Until a thick finger rubbed against a spot inside him, sending shock waves throughout his body. Now that felt good. If only the fingers wouldn't move in and out and would just stay there and rub against that one spot. But the fingers did move. All the way out. Then it was three of them back in again, thrusting in and out, sliding a little more easily now as the oil spread and as his body responded to the preparations. Obi-Wan heard himself moaning each time they brushed across that spot. He felt each breath catch in his throat, the air rasping across his vocal cords on its way out of his lungs.

Then the fingers were gone again. Obi-Wan had held himself very still up until that moment, but when his body was suddenly empty, he found himself pushing toward Qui-Gon, his body seeking instinctively to be filled. Swiftly, in one quick move, Qui-Gon's cock penetrated him. Obi-Wan tried not to cry out, to take it like a man, but he couldn't control the scream he felt come from deep within himself. This was so much thicker than the fingers, so much longer. It felt like he was being split apart. Once sheathed to the hilt, Qui-Gon began to thrust, slowly at first, his hands holding Obi-Wan tight around the hips, moving the receiving body to match his pace.

"Oh, you have a beautiful ass. I knew you would be tight. And you're hot. So hot. Better than I ever dreamed you would be." Qui-Gon's voice sounded distant. "You've never done this before, have you?"

He had never lied to his master, and he was grateful that he didn't have to lie now. He shook his head, knowing it to be the truth that his master sought.

"Yes. I'm your first," Qui-Gon panted. "And only. No one else. Only me."

It hurt. It felt like a lightsaber handle shoved up inside of him. Then, when the thrusts started rubbing across that spot inside again, it still hurt, but the bursts of pleasure felt really, really good. Obi-Wan was filled, his whole being consumed with the feeling of his body being stretched to its capacity. His desire to experience the pleasure overcame his instinct to avoid the pain. The hands on his hips set the rhythm; he just had to go along with it. His elbows gave out and he let his chest collapse onto the floor, surrendering his body to his master's control. The thrusts got faster and deeper. Obi-Wan tried to say something encouraging or sexy, but all he could do was groan with each impact. Then he felt his balls draw up toward his body, his concentration drawn and centered in the pit of his stomach.

Obi-Wan found his voice. "Yes, yes, yes," he chanted. And he climaxed, shouting out as he was wracked with the intensity of the internal explosion, his untouched cock spewing his seed onto the carpet.

Qui-Gon seemed not to have noticed. He continued the same brutal pace of thrusting, forcing the hips to him, the flesh wet with sweat smacking on contact. He would slow down a bit, grinding his hips when he was fully buried, then resume the thrusting.

Obi-Wan wasn't sure, but he thought he was doing this wrong. He was supposed to wait for his partner. Bruck was right. Virgins were no fun. He'd already climaxed twice tonight, both times alone. This was not turning out to be the romantic encounter he had envisioned. In fact, without any sense of pleasure, it was anything but romantic. It was starting to hurt worse, this time really bad. Qui- Gon's hands gripped Obi-Wan's waist bruisingly tight, the long fingers pressing hard into Obi-Wan's belly.

"Master?" Obi-Wan tried to call out to the older man. He craned his neck to look up, but could only see Qui-Gon's chest, neck and chin above the undertunic, his face to the ceiling, his back arched.

"Please, Master," Obi-Wan called out.

Qui-Gon froze for just a second at that, but then he resumed his thrusting. "Please what?" It sounded like he was speaking through gritted teeth.

What was Obi-Wan supposed to say? Stop? Ask his master to stop when he was the one who had defaulted on the deal: Qui-Gon had asked him to wait so they could come together, and he hadn't been able to hold off. He'd made a promise and he needed to fulfill his end of the bargain. But Force, it hurt, and was getting more painful by the second. To Obi-Wan, it felt like his master's cock was sandpaper, grating and abrading on every pass into and out of his body.

Whimpering with the pain of the invasions and his own failure, Obi- Wan croaked out, "Please, Master. You. . .you're hurting me."

But Obi-Wan received no response from his master. The pounding, growling and grunting continued unabated. A few times, at the point of deepest impact, Qui-Gon would hold still for a moment, shouting out. Each time, Obi-Wan hoped that he had reached his climax and would pull out. But the respites were brief, and Qui-Gon would quickly resume the pace.

"Please, Master," he tried again. "Please stop." He was crying now, begging for relief, mortified at his own weakness and what had become of his master. Bruck had said that the drug could make you last forever. He didn't how much more of this he could take.

Obi-Wan tried to center himself, to draw upon the Force, but he was unable to separate his mind from the pain that was flooding his body, obliterating his other senses. Obi-Wan tried to reach out through the training bond, but all he could sense was a black empty space. Obi-Wan could not remember a time when he couldn't reach his master through their training bond. Now he was starting to panic.

"Mine." Obi-Wan heard. "You are mine. Do you understand? Mine."

Finally, Obi-Wan's mind had to accept what his body had been telling him. Whatever the drug had done to his master, he was out of control now. Obi-Wan knew that Qui-Gon would never have knowingly hurt him. He had to stop this.

Obi-Wan tried to scramble away, but one of the hands that had held his hips grasped onto his arm. Qui-Gon leaned forward and sank his teeth hard into Obi-Wan's shoulder. Obi-Wan's knees gave out and he hit the floor hard, pulling away from the cock that was ravaging him. The impact forced the breath out of him like a fist in his gut.

"You aren't going anywhere. You made a promise. You are mine. Hold still." Qui-Gon was back inside him, pumping and pushing him into the floor, the weight of his body full across Obi-Wan's back. The voice didn't sound like Qui-Gon Jinn. It growled like an animal. "Get back up here."

Obi-Wan tried to obey his master, but he couldn't get his legs to respond. He felt himself lifted off the floor and thrown face down into a chair, his legs spread roughly with Qui-Gon's knees. Obi-Wan tried to clench his buttocks, but he was impaled again. He tried not to whimper with the pain, but he couldn't stop himself.

Qui-Gon took one hand off his hip, and for just a moment, Obi-Wan thought he was going to be released. But the hand came down on one of the cheeks of his bottom in a hard, stinging slap. "That's it," Qui-Gon grunted out. "Tighten up for me. Yeah." Another slap, this one on the other cheek.

"Please, Master," Obi-Wan begged again. "Please stop. You're hurting me." The tears flowed freely now. Obi-Wan tried to hold onto the sides of the chair to brace himself, but he couldn't get a grip on the upholstered surface. His nose was running, his chin was getting raw as it grated across the fabric with each thrust.

The datapad. The one that Qui-Gon had been reading when he came into the room. It poked into Obi-Wan's cheek. Obi-Wan tried to become limp and compliant, using every bit of his strength of will to not resist Qui-Gon's invasion of his body. Remembering that the datapad was remotely connected to the comm unit, he carefully, so as not to draw attention to the move, pulled his hand up as if to wipe the snot off his nose.

"Master. Please Master. Please don't hurt me anymore." His thumb was almost on the key pad. Another small move, another swipe at his nose with his wrist combined with another round of begging, and he was able to push down on the recall switch. "Help me, please, help me," he called out, hoping that whoever Qui-Gon had commed last would answer the call and that Qui-Gon was past noticing.

Obi-Wan had lost all track of time. He felt a lifetime had passed while he lay there, his body accepting the pounding, no longer attempting to escape, crying out his pain and frustration to no avail. If he wiggled too much, even if he was just scrabbling to hold on and keep from falling, Qui-Gon would growl, "You're not going anywhere," and would bite him again. Obi-Wan couldn't tell if the bites were drawing blood, but they hurt enough that he wouldn't have been surprised. Qui-Gon continued to growl and chant various obscenities, the most chilling being "Mine. Fuck you `till I come. Mine."

Suddenly, the pounding stopped and the roaring started. Qui-Gon was pulled off Obi-Wan forcibly, and Obi-Wan was able to claw his way out from underneath. There were other beings in the room, but the only one that Obi-Wan saw clearly at that moment was Master Mace Windu. There was a lot of shouting, mostly from Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan had managed to crawl to the wall next to his bedroom door. Qui-Gon had removed his sleep pants, but not his undertunic, when they had joined. The fabric of the shirt was plastered to his torso drenched in his sweat. His raging erection poked out in front, angry and red. Obi-Wan quailed at the sight, remembering that he had not ever actually seen it before. It was much bigger than he expected and he couldn't imagine how it had fit into his body.

Qui-Gon was thrashing against the arms that tried to restrain him, shouting "He promised. I haven't finished. Let me go." He lunged free for a moment, and started toward where Obi-Wan cowered against the wall, but was pulled back away by stronger arms. Then Obi-Wan saw that the beings were trying to get a hypo spray to Qui-Gon's neck.

"No," Obi-Wan shouted, forcing himself to his feet, unaware of his nakedness, throwing himself between his master and the hypo spray, landing across Qui-Gon's back. "Don't drug him. Stop. I gave him Begaran."

His rescuers were momentarily taken aback, and Qui-Gon pulled free again. A chair went flying across the room as Qui-Gon tried to throw it at his captors and Obi-Wan was tossed back against a wall, collapsing to the floor. Mace understood. More drugs would only compound the problem.

"Use the Force," Mace ordered. "No more drugs. He can't fight against the Force." The room began to glow a sickly yellowish-green as beings in the room became focused and very still, all except for Qui-Gon who was thrashing futilely against Force restraints. He still had some mobility, but only enough to damage the furniture in his immediate vicinity. "Away, Obi-Wan. Away. Now!" Mace said sharply, not breaking his concentration.

Obi-Wan backed into his bedroom. The door slammed shut without being touched. He headed for the bed in the dark, tripping on the boots he had left there earlier. That triggered a memory. Right before he went out to offer his master some tea, he had looked at the three capsules in his palm one more time, wondering if he would regret this in the morning, assuring himself that he would not. What a cruel twist. If only the Force had warned him. It had warned him of other hidden dangers in the past, a feeling of unease, or an urge to be cautious. Then he remembered that he had been warned. He had felt those things and disregarded them. And it was too late for second guessing now. Obi-Wan curled himself up on his bed and tried to shut out the bedlam in the other room.

Then it stopped and the quarters had been silent ever since.

As the fog in his brain began to dissipate, Qui-Gon started to regain consciousness. The first thing he could sense was the pain; in his head, his back, his legs, but mostly in his head. It hurt so bad that he didn't even want to try to open his eyes or let in any more light than was filtering through his closed eyelids now.

His second lucid thought was that he was alone. Very much alone. How he knew that, or why it should bother him, didn't immediately become clear to him. He just knew that something was very wrong if he was experiencing this aching soul-deep loneliness.

Very carefully, Qui-Gon extended his senses, testing his circumstances. He was on some kind of a rough cloth surface with some give to it - a pad. He was lying curled on his side. He had on a shirt, but could feel cool air on the skin of his backside and legs, so he must not have on any clothing below the waist. He tried to open his eyes, just a slit, but the light flowing through hit his retinas like a knife blade, so he quickly squeezed them shut again.

Moving his hand slightly, he confirmed that the surface below him was indeed some kind of pad. Slowly, carefully, he reached out his hand in front of his chest and over his head, then tilted to extend his arm behind him. He could feel no edge to the pad. If it was a mattress, it was a very large one. He pushed himself up slightly with his hands and arms. Pain screamed through his body on the first movement, but quickly receded to a dull ache. That he could tolerate. He was not unfamiliar with pain. His brain might not be fully operational, but years of Jedi training had put some functions on automatic pilot. He instinctively knew that the way to deal with pain was to acknowledge it and then release it.

But he couldn't. When he tried to release the pain, it didn't feel any less intense for his efforts. He tried to center himself, to draw his resources together. But his body and mind seemed intent upon not cooperating. Throughout this process, he had felt his mind becoming clearer, as if the mist that had occupied his head was slowly evaporating. Then the realization dawned upon him that he was unable to access the Force. He gingerly raised a hand to his neck, feeling for and finding the cold hard metal of the Force- collar.

Once again, Qui-Gon tried to open his eyes, this time shielding them from the light with his hand, and, although blurry, he was able to see his surroundings. He was in a small room – the floor and walls were covered in the thick white padding. The lights dangling from the ceiling were encased in woven metal bars and the small window on the door contained the same bars.

Sighing, Qui-Gon forced himself up onto his knees and made his way carefully to the wall where he slumped down, resting his back against the cushioned surface. He pulled his knees up, circling them with his arms. He realized that if he was wearing a Force- collar and locked in a padded cell, something horrific had happened. He thought that if he just concentrated on his memories, starting with waking up in the morning, he might be able to sort out what had happened.

But the pain interfered with his ability to concentrate. Pain in his head, mostly, but also the aching in his muscles . He was cold, partially naked and confused. Without conscious thought, he reached to scratch an itch in his groin, but stopped when he felt himself respond to his own touch, his penis filling and hardening quickly, achingly. Then he noted the dampness. Not sweat, but something else. He raised his hand before his face and forced himself to open his eyes. The fingers were covered in dark blood, old blood. He looked down, seeing that there was blood drying on his full erection, smeared on his balls and lower abdomen with sticky rivulets running down his inner thighs. He heard himself gasp and made himself slowly release the lung full of air, suppressing the bile that rose in his throat and the panic that rose in his heart.

Where was Obi-Wan? Why were they not together? Had something happened to his padawan? Once again, he closed his eyes and forced his concentration back to the events of the day. Once again, the pain in his head almost overwhelmed him, but this time he persevered.

Qui-Gon was concentrating so hard that he didn't hear the soft whoosh of the door opening. He'd already processed through his morning, his classes, his mid-day meal with several fellow masters, keeping his watchful eye on his padawan a few tables over. He'd had a salle booked for the late afternoon. . .he couldn't remember if he'd gone. . .or if Obi-Wan had joined him. . .he couldn't remember. . .he. . .

A warm hand broke his concentration, gently shaking his shoulder. Qui-Gon looked up, eyes squinting against the bright light, into the shadowed dark face of his friend and for the first time since waking up, he felt relief.

"Ma-a-a. . .," he tried to say, but the tightness in his throat prevented the flow of words. He swallowed with great effort and tried again. "Mace. What has happened?" Qui-Gon made a vague gesture toward his neck, indicating the Force-collar. "Where is Obi- Wan?"

"Have you no recollection, Qui-Gon?" His friend asked gently, his hand resting on the broad shoulder.

Qui-Gon lowered his chin and shook his head slowly, noting that his erection had not subsided, idly acknowledging that he should have felt embarrassed about being found in a state of sexual arousal by his friend. Oddly, he felt no shame, only fear over what must have happened but which he could not recall. "I have tried. I cannot. Well, I can remember parts of the day, but then I can't seem to get past. . ." He looked up, braving the light, into his friend's concerned countenance and asked "Please, tell me."

Mace nodded briefly. "Obi-Wan put Begaran in your tea."

Qui-Gon's expression turned from fear to puzzlement. "But he couldn't have. He didn't. . .he wouldn't. . ." Then the realization hit him. Qui-Gon gritted his teeth and demanded, "Tell me, Mace. Tell me all."

As gently as he could, Mace told his old friend of the evening's events. That he had been reading a report when his commlink had buzzed. He'd seen Qui-Gon's identity and turned the unit on, only to hear Obi-Wan calling for help and Qui-Gon's voice in the background. He'd alerted a few guards and shown up at Jinn's quarters and forced the door when no one answered. They had found Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan. "You were having sex with him," Mace concluded.

"Sex? With Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon shook his head in disbelief. "I would never. . ."

"No, my friend, you wouldn't. But with the drug and the tannic acid in the tea, you were having a reaction. Luckily, Obi-Wan was honest with us and told us what he'd done before we tried to subdue you with a hypo spray. We had to use a Force-lock on you until we could get the collar on, and then you sort of collapsed. We brought you here."

"Begaran. Where in the Sith's hells did Obi-Wan get that?"

"I don't know. Give the boy credit; at least he told us the truth. If he hadn't, the combination of the drug, the tannic acid and the hypo spray - you could have died."

Through gritted teeth, Qui-Gon growled. "And what the fuck did he do that for?

"I would have to guess, but I expect that he was trying to seduce you."

"That little shit. What kind of idiot have I been training all these years? Fucking great job I've done. I should have left the bastard on Bandomeer when I had the chance." Qui-Gon attempted to rise, but was restrained by pressure from the hand on his shoulder.

"Calm down, Qui-Gon," Mace soothed. "I'm sure he didn't know. He's just a kid. He just wanted. . ."

"To get fucked," Qui-Gon finished, turning on his friend with a scowl. "If he just wanted to get laid, why didn't he just walk up to me and ask? And he's not a child. He's a mid-level padawan. Even if he did just turn seventeen, I would have thought he knew better."

This time Qui-Gon shook off the restraining hand, rose and began pacing the small cell, seemingly oblivious to his partial nudity. "He ought to know better, Mace," Qui-Gon fumed. "He ought to know ME better."

"I agree. He ought to know better. But I think he's in love with you. Does that surprise you?" Mace asked gently. "After this past year, with you suppressing your feelings, after all you have told me? You haven't said a thing to him at all, have you?"

"Of course not," Qui-Gon turned on his friend. "And I shouldn't. You said so. We decided."

"No," Mace countered. "I didn't tell you not to say anything at all. I told you not to tell him you were sexually attracted to him."

"As if there's a difference," Qui-Gon spat.

"There's a huge difference," Mace continued calmly. "Maybe he just wanted to love you. Maybe he thought this was the way to show his love."

"To drug me into fucking him?" Qui-Gon sounded incredulous.

"To drug you into releasing your inhibitions and making love to him." Mace countered.

"But I didn't make love to him, did I? I raped him." Qui-Gon dropped into a crouch next to the dark master. "That's what really happened. I raped him, didn't I?"

"I'm not sure I could call it rape under these circumstances, " Mace said evenly. "He didn't know any better than to use tea to administer the drug. And you didn't know the tea was drugged. I can't call that rape, Qui-Gon."

"I raped him, Mace. Don't quibble with the words. And the blood?" Qui-Gon asked, raising his red-smeared hand between them.

"I'm sure it's Obi-Wan's. We didn't find any injuries on you, although the examination was rather cursory."

Qui-Gon dropped his head between his hands and rocked back and forth for a few moments. Mace allowed the silence to lengthen.

"Can you take this off?" Qui-Gon asked, gesturing toward the force collar.

"I'm not sure. . . The Begaran is still in your system. You would never talk to me this way if you were totally out from under its influence. And you're still. . .um. . .hard."

"Please, Mace. Right now I'm so consumed with anger and guilt that I can't think straight. I can't center myself. I can't release any of this frustration. " He waved the bloody hand in the air. "I can control myself. I promise."

"Very well." Mace rose and went to the door, knocking lightly on the bars across the window. The door opened and a large guard entered the room, followed closely by a dark-green robed healer.

"Release him," Mace instructed. When the healer raised his eyebrows and the guard frowned, Mace intoned in his most councilor-like tone, "Now."

The guard stepped forward, pulling a device from his pocket and, with a touch, the collar fell into his hand and the guard stepped back.

Qui-Gon felt the Force flow back into him like the sun coming out after a heavy rain. He felt it seep into his mind, pushing the anger into the background. This was the only good thing about Force-dampeners: the beautiful, almost ecstatic feeling that a Force-sensitive being experienced when the dampeners were removed. Qui-Gon sighed heavily and sank back against the padded wall.

"You may leave," Mace said to the guard and healer. The healer started to reply, looking pointedly at Qui-Gon's erection, but Mace said again, "You may leave." And they did.

After several minutes of silence, Qui-Gon said, "Tell me the rest, Mace."

"What `rest', Qui?"

"What happened after you came into my quarters. The part you haven't been telling me."

Mace nodded, understanding. "We had to pull you off him. You had him face down in a chair, on his knees. You tried to get him back as he was crawling away, and the guards tried to get a hypo spray to your neck. He jumped on your back to stop them, but you threw him off. The guards and I put a Force-hold on you and I ordered him back into his room."

Qui-Gon raised a tear-stained face to his old friend. "Is he all right? Did I hurt him?" When Mace swallowed, taking a moment to answer, Qui-Gon pressed on. He reached for Mace's hand, but when he saw the blood on his own, he stopped, dropping his hand to the floor again, lowering his head. "Please, Mace. Tell me," he whispered.

"I think so, Qui-Gon. He had bite marks on his shoulders and I expect that the blood on you is from his rectum. None of his injuries required immediate attention. He'll heal. It's a small price to pay for what he did to you."

"Has no one seen to him?"

"Not yet. To be honest, getting you here and under control and starting to get the drug out of your system was my primary objective. I figured he could wait."

"Oh, Force. Please." Qui-Gon didn't move except for the hitching of his shoulders and the irregular intake of breath as he allowed himself to feel his humiliation and guilt and to cry bitter tears. Slowly, his breathing became more regular. Finally he raised his head and used the hem of his undertunic to wipe his eyes.

"No, Mace. You are wrong," he said gently. "He should not pay the price for my dishonesty. I should have told him how I felt and let him make his own decisions. But instead I decided for him. I decided to keep him in the dark, to maintain the silence between us. So I am also at fault."

"No," Mace started to protest, but Qui-Gon raised a hand to stop him.

"I'm not saying he's blameless. Obviously, none of this would have happened if he hadn't given me that stuff. But I cannot honestly say that I am guiltless in this, either."

Mace maintained his silence, digesting his friend's words.

"May I see him?" Qui-Gon's voice was very small for such a large man. When Mace didn't answer, Qui-Gon pressed on. "I need to know he is all right. I need to tell him I'm sorry just as much as he needs to tell me. We have both been fools and we both need to ask one another's pardon."

"I cannot say that I totally agree with you," Mace said, rising. "But he is your padawan, not mine, and you know him better than anyone. And I probably know you better than anyone else. You may be a maverick, but you love him and I have no doubt that he loves you. Whether you can really pardon one another and move past this, I just don't know. But it is not for me to say.

"I'll go check on him." Mace leaned down and patted Qui-Gon on the shoulder. And, before Qui-Gon could ask "and see if he's ready to face you."

Qui-Gon looked gratefully up at his friend. "And Mace?"

"Yes"

Gesturing toward his still-erect penis, Qui-Gon asked, "Can I have some pants, please?"

Mace smiled and was pleased to see Qui-Gon smile back as the door closed behind him.

Obi-Wan had no idea how long he lay there, unmoving, naked and cold. He couldn't tell if his eyes were open or closed. The dark was the same either way. He could feel an aura of the Force all around him, but he hadn't called for it to be there. He didn't deserve the right to reach out and call to the Force to comfort or heal him.

The door opened and Obi-Wan squinched his eyes shut against the painful brightness. Someone sat next to him on the bed, but Obi-Wan didn't move. A warm broad hand rested on his shoulder, and he tried to pull away from the pain that the touch caused as it put pressure on the bites and bruises. He felt a gentle Force restraint hold him down.

"Obi-Wan?" It was Master Windu. "Are you hurt?"

Obi-Wan could only nod his head. His tears were flowing again. He was seventeen years old. He shouldn't be lying here crying like a crechling. But he couldn't stop himself.

"I'm going to touch you. Try not to move." The voice was soft, comforting.

Obi-Wan forced himself to hold still and felt the hands move across his back, resting lightly when they came to the bite marks on his shoulders. Obi-Wan kept himself from cringing from the touch. The hands moved down, one sliding between the cheeks of his ass to his anus, fingers touching lightly. He felt the warmth of a healing touch creeping into him, soothing some of his pain. He heard a sigh and realized he had made the sound.

"Better?" the voice asked.

"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan answered.

"Good. I want you to get some clothes on. Do you need me to stay and help?" Mace asked.

"No, Sir." Obi-Wan opened his eyes and saw that the room was no longer totally dark. There was a faint light creeping in around the edges of the window blinds. It was morning.

"Very well," Mace said. "You may need to use the fresher. Come out when you are ready." Mace closed the door behind him, leaving Obi- Wan in the gloom again.

Obi-Wan needed to use the fresher, but he couldn't bring himself to. He would have to touch himself to do that, and he would rather wait. He carefully pulled on sleep pants, the movement causing him to wince. It was better after the Force-healing, but it wasn't completely healed. He started to pull on a tunic, but when the coarse fabric drifted across the bites on his back and shoulders, he hissed with the pain. He opted for wrapping himself in his soft blanket instead.

Obi-Wan tried to muster a bit of dignity before meeting Master Windu, but he was unable to do so. He slunk through the door. In the dim light from the kitchen, Obi-Wan could quickly see that the common room was a wreck; the aftermath of a Force tornado. Broken furniture pieces were scattered around with shards of glass from the lamps and table top. There was a long smear of what appeared to be blood on one wall. The sight of it took Obi-Wan's breath away. He sank to the floor, holding his head in his hands.

Instinctively, he started to assume the first meditation posture sitting cross legged on the floor, but when his rear end touched down, he quickly pulled himself away, falling forward onto his hands and knees. "Wait," he heard as Mace went into the fresher. He returned with a towel and folded it, placing it behind Obi-Wan's knees and gently pushing him back into a kneeling position. "Better?"

Obi-Wan nodded.

Mace tested one of the chairs and found it sound. He pulled it up near where Obi-Wan had landed.

"Who gave you the Begaran? You can't get that on Coruscant, and you haven't been off planet in months." Mace's voice was firm, demanding.

Obi-Wan just shook his head. He wasn't going to spread the blame for this any further, even if Bruck did deserved some of it.

"Protecting someone?" Mace asked. "I'm sure you think you are being noble. But you aren't. Obviously, none of you knew what you were dealing with. You gave it to him in tea, didn't you?"

Obi-Wan nodded.

"Tannic acid and Begaran should not be mixed. Ever. Even a novice to a pleasure planet or brothel learns that quickly. And tea is full of tannic acid."

Obi-Wan sat in silence, his head bowed.

"Who gave it to you?" Mace asked again. After a pause, he said, "Tell me now, Obi-Wan. I cannot permit this to happen again."

Obi-Wan thought for a minute, the faces of the other padawans admiring Bruck's swaggering bravado flashing through his mind. Under similar circumstances, they would be just as vulnerable to the peer pressure as he had been. "Bruck," Obi-Wan whispered.

"Thank you," Mace said. "I think that admission took some courage on your part. You and I both know that you will face his wrath for not keeping his secret."

"Will Master Jinn be all right?" Obi-Wan asked.

"Yes, he will. He is calm now, although he will require a few more hours in confinement until the combination of drugs wears completely off. You were smart to warn us before we added to the problem with a hypo spray. Tranquilizers and Begaran can be a lethal combination. "

That was a thin concession, and Obi-Wan didn't take it as a compliment to his intelligence or quick thinking.

"What will the Council do to me?" Obi-Wan was almost afraid to ask, but he would rather face the consequences now than be consumed with worrying about what was going to happen later.

Master Windu let the silence in the dim room lengthen. "Are you in pain, Padawan?" he asked gently. "Don't try to hide it. You won't succeed."

Obi-Wan just nodded.

"Can you imagine your master's pain when he came to himself just now and I had to tell him what has happened?"

Obi-Wan looked up quickly. "But it wasn't his fault. . ."

"You and I both know that you were responsible, but that will not ease his agony. Nothing anyone says or does will accomplish that. Only time and a lot of sessions with the healers will give him relief. Both of you will require that."

Obi-Wan nodded again. He knew his master well enough to know the truth of Master Windu's words.

"He loves you, you know," Master Windu pressed on. "He has worked so hard this past year to abide by the requirements of the Code. It has taken all his strength and devotion to the Order to accomplish that. And you ripped that away from him. You took his dignity, his self-respect and his love for you and you made a mockery of them. And for what?" The tone of voice was not bitter, but the words were.

There was no answer to that question. Obi-Wan let his tears fall without attempting to restrain them.

"Other societies permit bonding after the age of eighteen standard years. The Code does not prevent sexual contact between consenting beings once they have attained sexual maturity. Why do you think that the Code prevents sexual contact between master and padawan until after the age of twenty one and even then only with Council permission?"

"Because we are Jedi and we demand more of ourselves." Obi-Wan knew that answer. It was the standard answer to any question regarding the requirements of the Code. It also sounded trite. "And because the relationship between Master and Padawan is sacred and should not be abused," he added.

"Did you demand more of yourself?" Mace asked softly. "I think not."

Mace shifted forward in his chair and let his hand rest lightly on the center of Obi-Wan's back, mindful of the bites on his shoulders. "He asked me to bring you to him."

Obi-Wan felt a band tighten around his heart at those words.

"He wishes to ask your forgiveness, if you will accept his apology." Obi-Wan started to protest, but Mace silenced him quickly with a bit of pressure on Obi-Wan's back. "And you must go to him and give him your pardon. It was a boy who put the Begaran in his master's tea. It will take a man to deal with the consequences and make things right again between the two of you. But it will take a lot more for you both to forgive yourselves for this night's doings. If you truly love him as much as he loves you, you will make yourself do this."

Obi-Wan mulled this over carefully in his mind. He did love Qui- Gon. If nothing else good came of this night, Obi-Wan would never again question whether he had been loved back in equal measure by his master. If all Qui-Gon wanted was to have sex with Obi-Wan, he could have transferred his padawan to another master's care and taken any liberties he chose and to which Obi-Wan consented. But he hadn't. Instead, he had endured the forebearance and self-denial and was prepared to continue to endure them several more years. And it had all come crashing down on both of them. For a quick fuck? Because Obi-Wan hadn't been able to see through the restraint to the depth of the devotion underneath? Obi-Wan had set these events in motion and he would cope with whatever was required of him if it meant he didn't have to be separated from his master.

"You asked me what the Council will do with you." Mace interrupted Obi-Wan's thoughts.

Obi-Wan nodded and steeled himself to receive his fate.

"I cannot speak for the Council, but it is my expectation that they will do nothing at all."

Obi-Wan looked up into Master Windu's brown eyes, shock and disbelief evident in his own grey-green ones.

"You and I both know you could successfully handle any punishment which the Council could or would mete out to you. To do so might encourage you to think that your transgressions had been pardoned. I should think it a much better idea to make you seek your pardon elsewhere."

The shock and disbelief on Obi-Wan's face were joined by confusion.

"Ah, Padawan. You are not thinking clearly yet. What more punishment could we inflict upon you than that which you will inflict upon yourself? If you and your master can stand to stay together, you will spend every day of your life making up to him for what you have done. The memories will get less painful, but they will never go away. The Force does not allow things to happen without a purpose. If this draws you closer to your master, and he to you, then the hurt you and your master experience will not be in vain."

Mace sat quietly, letting the boy digest his words. Then he stood and reached a hand out to help Obi-Wan up. "Do you understand now?"

"I think I'm beginning to, Master." Obi-Wan took the outstretched hand and, with Mace's help, stood. "I would like to see my master now – if I may be permitted."

"Are you ready?"

Straightening, Obi-Wan faced the councilor. "In a moment, Master. I wish to put my tunics on."

Frowning, Mace said, "But your wounds. It will . . ."

With all the dignity the young man could muster, bowing to the senior Jedi Master, Obi-Wan said "If my master wishes to ask the pardon of his padawan, it will not be a sniveling foolish little boy who asks his forgiveness in return."

Smiling broadly, Mace responded, "There's a Jedi in you yet, Obi-Wan Kenobi. I will await you here."

It took Obi-Wan over a half hour to clean himself and dress. The dried blood was not easy to get off and he had to steel himself for each pass of the cloth. At least Master Windu's healing touch had stopped the bleeding. He cupped his hands at the sink and let the cold water flow through, holding his face in the water stream until he was forced up for air. That seemed to take some of the puffiness from crying out of his face, although he still looked rather haggard when he caught sight of himself in the mirror.

Obi-Wan dressed as quickly as he could, securing each tie as he had been taught. He refused to succumb to the urge to cry out when he pulled his undertunic on and the fabric grated against his shoulders. Once the outer tunic was on, the weight of the fabric kept it from moving against his skin and it was easier to tolerate. He tried to sit on the side of the bed to put on his boots, but he still could not abide the pressure on his bottom. Instead, he figured a way to half bend, half lift his legs up so that he could get the buckles fastened. He was not going to his master half- dressed.

Obi-Wan hoped that, although he was still moving very stiffly, a walk to the healer's ward would loosen him up a bit. The whole time he was dressing, his thoughts were whirling on how he was going to handle his meeting with his master. He tried to think of how to start a conversation, how to accept an apology that wasn't due him, and how to get his master to accept his. No clear idea had emerged from those ruminations and his time was up. Master Windu was waiting.

Obi-Wan Kenobi came out of his bedroom looking more a man than when he had gone in. Master Windu was sitting in the chair, holding a bundle of cloth on his lap. He stood as Obi-Wan approached, taking his cloak from the hook by the door. Master Windu handed Obi-Wan the cloth bundle, Qui-Gon's discarded sleep pants. Obi-Wan donned his own cloak and, taking the bundle, bowed his head respectfully, letting Master Windu lead the way.

Although it was barely past dawn, the corridors of the Temple were far from deserted. The Jedi that passed by them averted their gaze and avoided eye contact. Obi-Wan knew that the word would have spread of this incident. He would be the object of many padawan jokes for a while and he would probably be the object of any number of masters' discussions with their padawans on inappropriate behavior for many years to come.

Obi-Wan followed Master Windu down the corridors, grateful for these moments of reflection. Master Windu did not set a brisk pace, but rather walked deliberately and evenly, neither hurried nor slow. With his hood pulled over his head, Obi-Wan had only to put one foot in front of the other, his eyes fixed on the councilor's boots before him, to follow.

Even at a steady pace, their footsteps had brought them near the healer's ward and Obi-Wan still hadn't made a decision on how to handle the confrontation. Obi-Wan now knew that Qui-Gon loved him, and as more than just a padawan apprentice. Would Qui-Gon's anger be greater as a result of Obi-Wan's betrayal? Or would his love temper his ire? Had Obi-Wan destroyed any possibility there might have been for a future together? Obi-Wan wished he could know the answer to those questions. But there were no answers for him.

Master Windu's boots slowed and then stopped. Pausing at the door to the healer's ward, he turned and faced the padawan. "Are you ready, Obi-Wan?" he asked gently, brushing a hand lightly on the younger man's arm.

Obi-Wan was thoughtful for a moment, seriously considering his response. "I don't know, Sir," he answered honestly. "But I can't think of anything that would help me out here."

Master Windu nodded understandingly. He led the padawan into the ward and to a console showing several monitor screens. A healer was sitting in front of the console. Master Windu consulted the healer in whispered tones, then turned back to Obi-Wan.

"Qui-Gon is calm, now. You can see for yourself," he said, indicating several of the monitor screens. Obi-Wan could see that the screens showed a small bare room that appeared to be surrounded in some kind of thick padding. His master was seated cross legged in the middle of the room in a meditation posture, his hands resting palm up on his thighs, his chin low. He was dressed only in the undertunic he had worn the previous evening.

The healer spoke up. "You may go in to see him now, Padawan Kenobi. He has been calm since Master Windu went to fetch you. We will not be eavesdropping on you, but we will be watching you on these monitors while you are in with him, and we will interrupt at the first sign of any danger to either of you."

The healer looked up from the console and at Obi-Wan. "Please try not to provoke him. It has taken a great deal of his energy to overcome the effects of the drug and his emotional status is fragile." He frowned deeply. "You do understand, do you not, Padawan?" The tone of voice indicated to Obi-Wan that the healer held him responsible and would do whatever was required to protect his patient from the cause of any further harm.

Obi-Wan bowed his head, unable to maintain eye contact with the healer in his shame. "Yes, Sir. I do understand."

"Very well, then you may enter." The healer touched a button on the console and a door nearby opened slightly with a soft click. "Please remove your footwear first."

Master Windu put his hand briefly on Obi-Wan's arm again, nudging him forward. "I'll be right here," he said softly, "if either of you have need of me."

Obi-Wan bent down carefully to remove his boots, leaving them by the door. He walked into the padded room feeling more trepidation in Qui-Gon's presence than he could ever remember feeling even on their most dangerous missions together. He stood right inside the doorway, watching his Master carefully for any sign of reaction. He saw none. He could tell that Qui-Gon was not meditating, however, for the characteristic serene facial expression was not present. Watching his master carefully, Obi-Wan took another step into the room, hearing the door quietly close behind him.

Holding the sleep pants out in front of him, Obi-Wan said, "Master, I've brought your pants."

There was just a twitch of a muscle in his cheek, as if Qui-Gon was clenching his jaws, and a slight pull of the shoulders. Obi-Wan felt that his master had flinched, but was trying to hold himself still. He was trying to hide behind his eyelids. Obi-Wan held still again, and sent just a tiny tendril of energy through the training bond, but it was closed to him. He felt as if his heart would break. He tried to pull himself together, to maintain a semblance of dignity for both of their sakes, but he just couldn't.

In a flash, Obi-Wan threw himself to his knees at Qui-Gon's side, disregarding the pain that the movement caused him. He wrapped his arms around the stiff shoulders and hugged as tightly as he could, his face buried against Qui-Gon's neck. "Oh, Qui-Gon. Can you ever forgive me?"

Obi-Wan waited a few moments, but there was no response except for a tightening of the shoulder muscles, a resistance to the hug. To hell with his dignity, he was far past the right to that now.

"Please, Qui-Gon. Please don't shut me out. I know it was wrong. I know I should never have done it. Please forgive me." There was still no response, but Obi-Wan was undeterred and did not lessen his grip. "You have every right to be furious at me. You have every right to never let me live this down."

Obi-Wan felt tears rising. His hands slid down Qui-Gon's back, and his face fell to his master's shoulder. It took all the self- control he had left to keep himself from sobbing and crumpling into a useless heap, knowing that it would only make him look more the foolish child that he felt he was. He looked up into Qui-Gon's face and could see that the eyes were open now, but staring aimlessly and unfocused into an unseen distance.

He knew that they were being watched, and he knew that the healer would jump in and pull him away if he had any concerns that Qui-Gon could not handle this confrontation any longer. Qui-Gon seemed unfazed, but the room was filled with the tension he had released into the Force.

Even a rejection was better than the nothingness he had now. Obi- Wan pulled himself together. His emotional outburst had not helped anything at all. He sat back, folding his knees beneath himself and sitting gingerly on his heels. He held the sleep pants out in front of him. "Master. . ." His voice trailed off lamely as he leaned forward and put the pants on the mat next to Qui-Gon.

Obi-Wan could hear the door slide open behind him. He bowed low, until his forehead rested on the padded floor. "Please, Qui-Gon. Please," he begged. "If you tell me to go, I will, but please at least let me know that you hear my apology. I can bear your anger. It is your indifference that will break my heart."

The footsteps were closer and Obi-Wan felt a hand on his arm urging him up. "Please, my Master. If you love me at all. Please." Just then, he felt a warm hand on his head. Qui-Gon's hand. The other hand lifted in a brief movement toward Master Windu and the healer. It was just enough of a gesture for the healer to release his grip on Obi-Wan's arm and to back off.

The hand on Obi-Wan's head began to move softly, up and down, as gentle as a caress. Obi-Wan looked up to see Qui-Gon looking down at him. It was hard to read the expression, but Obi-Wan wasn't going to waste time trying to figure it out. He leaned forward again, touching his forehead to the floor.

"Please accept my most humble apology for having wronged and offended you," Obi-Wan said in a voice that sounded more steady than he felt. "I am unworthy of your forgiveness, but I do ask your pardon."

The hand on his head stopped moving, but did not withdraw. Although his master still spoke not a word, Obi-Wan could feel the tension in the room lessen. He heard the footsteps of Master Windu and the healer retreat toward the door. "Master Jinn," said the healer, "with your permission, we will leave you in peace and privacy."

The hand on Obi-Wan's head still did not move. "Yes, thank you," Qui-Gon said softly. "We will be. . .all right." The door slid shut leaving them alone together. Neither of them spoke or moved for a few moments, the only sound in the room being their breathing.

Finally, Qui-Gon spoke. It was barely above a whisper, and Obi-Wan could hear the pain in his voice. "Are you. . .hurt?"

Obi-Wan took his time in formulating his reply. He had never lied to his Master and he didn't intend to start now. Honesty was required. Such a very different kind of honesty than he had contemplated last night. But he had to ease Qui-Gon's mind about having caused him any injury because whatever he suffered he had brought on himself. "Master Windu has given me his healing touch. I will be sore, but nothing worse than when I fell down the rock face when we went mountain climbing on Alderaan."

"But inside. . .?" Qui-Gon's voice cracked a little as he spoke, the hand on Obi-Wan's head trembled. "There was blood. . ."

With a little more confidence, Obi-Wan replied, "I will submit to a healer's examination if you wish, but I do not believe that it will be necessary."

The hand retracted and Obi-Wan sat back, looking up at his master. Qui-Gon had both of his hands over his face. Pulling himself upright, Obi-Wan gently pulled the hands down. "No, my master. No. You did nothing wrong. Except maybe trusting me too much."

Qui-Gon leaned forward resting his forehead against Obi-Wan's collarbone. "No, Obi-Wan. You are wrong. I am not blameless here. I loved you too much. I should have been honest with you a long time ago. We should have discussed this, made mutual agreements as to how to handle our feelings. Instead, I tried to hide how I felt about you from everyone, and especially from you. Because I was afraid I would lose you."

Obi-Wan started to sit back on his heels, but felt a sharp pain in his rectum that stopped that movement short. Qui-Gon saw him wince and quickly wrapped his arms around Obi-Wan's shoulders, causing Obi- Wan to jerk away reflexively from the pain. Qui-Gon lowered his hands. "You aren't being honest with me. You are still hurting, aren't you?"

Obi-Wan smiled ruefully. "Only when you touch me there. Or if I try to sit."

Qui-Gon stood, turning away from Obi-Wan as he pulled on the sleep pants. He turned back and pulled Obi-Wan up, but when Qui-Gon started to pull at the ties on Obi-Wan's tunic, Obi-Wan tried to pull away. "No, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said sharply, "I need to see what I have done to you."

"No, Master, please no," Obi-Wan protested, but Qui-Gon continued to pull away the layers of clothing until Obi-Wan's upper back and shoulders were exposed. Obi-Wan let his Master turn him around and braced himself for what he knew was coming. He had not seen his back, but he had seen the smear of blood on the wall in their quarters, and he had felt the bites and bruises when he had gotten dressed. Qui-Gon gasped at the extent of the damage. "It's only on the surface. Really. I'm okay," Obi-Wan tried to reassure him.

"Will you let me touch you? I would like to try to make this better," Qui-Gon asked softly, "if I can."

Obi-Wan couldn't answer. He did not want to be touched. Not because it was Qui-Gon who asked but because his skin was so painfully sensitive. But he could not deny Qui-Gon, so he just nodded his head. Again, he braced himself for what he knew was coming. But he was wrong. He felt a warmth radiating from Qui- Gon's hands as they brushed across his shoulders and upper back, as lightly as a feather's touch.

After several seconds, he could feel the palms of Qui-Gon's hands pressing more firmly into his flesh. Surprisingly, it did not hurt. Then the fingertips began a gentle massage and Obi-Wan could feel the stiffness and bruising melt away under the Master's healing touch. Master Windu had seen his back but had not tried to heal those injuries. Obi-Wan wondered whether that was because Master Windu had wanted Obi-Wan to experience the pain, or if he wanted to save that healing for Qui-Gon to perform.

Very gently, Qui-Gon turned Obi-Wan back around then reached out and ran a hand along Obi-Wan's cheek. Obi-Wan spoke quickly, trying to cover up the anguished expression he saw. "I asked Master Windu what punishment I could expect from the Council and he seemed to think that I would not be formally reprimanded. He said the worst punishment he could think of was for me to have to spend my life making up to you for what I've done."

"Well," Qui-Gon said, "I'm not sure that I agree with him. That pre- supposes that you are totally at fault here, which I do not think is right. But I would be grateful to the Force if the Council leaves it to us to resolve this between ourselves." Again, Qui-Gon reached out and ran his fingertips along Obi-Wan's cheek. "Can anything make this right between us, my Padawan?"

Obi-Wan could not maintain the eye contact. "Do you mean you can forgive me?"

"I honestly don't know," Qui-Gon replied. "But I'm willing to try if you are. I'm afraid that the problem is going to be less about forgiveness than about trust."

Obi-Wan felt a cold stab of fear. "Trust? But now I know how much you love me. If we love each other enough, we can fix this."

"I wish it were that easy, Padawan. No matter how much I love you or you love me, your actions tonight breached the trust we had in one another. When you first came into this room, I didn't know if I could move without breaking down and either ranting at you as a master should or hugging you as a lover would. That is a confusion which cannot exist if I am to continue to train you."

The cold stab of fear penetrated deeper. "We can try. . ." It was more a question than a statement of fact and it was cut short by two fingers pressed against Obi-Wan's lips.

"Please," Obi-Wan whispered behind the finger pressed to his lips.

"Can you trust me and do something for me?"

"Always, my Master."

"Then close your eyes."

Obi-Wan closed his eyes.

"I want you to reach out to me through the training bond, but this time, I want you to push it open wide. To do that, you have to project your feelings into the bond and let them flow."

Obi-Wan concentrated on condensing his feelings of love, trust and admiration for Qui-Gon and when he felt he had them under control, he pushed them toward the bond. He was surprised that they flowed easily, without any sensation that the bond was still closed to him. As the emotions began to flow, he felt them grow, rather than lessen in his mind. And then he felt the return. It started softly, just a little touch, a gentle comforting feeling that he was loved. As the sensation grew ever stronger, he gasped, feeling overwhelmed, his eyes flying open.

"You really do love me," Obi-Wan said in awe.

"Feel again," Qui-Gon said softly, a touch of regret in his voice.

Obi-Wan could tell that Qui-Gon was still holding back, that a small part of his mind was still shielding some thought or emotion. He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on pushing past those shields. "Yes, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said softly, "there."

Obi-Wan knew that Qui-Gon was giving him the option of whether or not to press forward. If he withdrew now, he was essentially acknowledging that he couldn't trust his master; that whatever relationship they might have in the future, this barrier would always be between them. But he wasn't sure if he could take whatever might be there.

With more resolve than he actually felt, Obi-Wan made a mental push at the shield, which crumbled and Obi-Wan was consumed with the feeling of Qui-Gon's horror and guilt as he saw himself being plunged into repeatedly, trying to escape, trying to call for help as his back bled from the bites and his body trembled from the assault. At first, he thought he would drown in the sensation, like he was being sucked down into the vortex of a whirlpool or up into a tornado. Then, almost as if he had taken a deep breath and steeled himself for a difficult maneuver, he pulled those emotions together and tried to push them out of Qui-Gon's mind into his own.

But he couldn't. So many times during his training, Qui-Gon had used the training bond to push something into Obi-Wan's mind: a silent encouragement or quiet reprimand. Over time, Obi-Wan had learned how to use the bond to go seeking those responses from his master and pull them to himself, to sense his master's approval or disapproval before proceeding on a path. But not this time. The resistance was not coming from Qui-Gon; it was originating on his own side of the bond.

Suddenly the bond went limp and Obi-Wan was consumed with both guilt and relief.

Obi-Wan felt warm lips against his own, warm breath puffing across his cheek. He froze, not knowing whether to respond to the kiss or to pull back. It was Qui-Gon who pulled away. Obi-Wan opened his eyes and saw the sorrow etched on his master's face.

"It is a lesson no padawan should ever learn," Qui-Gon whispered. "To be afraid of his master's touch."

Without even knowing what he was about to do, Obi-Wan stretched up and joined his lips to his master's, silencing whatever Qui-Gon was about to say. This time it was Qui-Gon who froze. Ever so gently, Obi-Wan pressed his tongue into Qui-Gon's mouth and slowly, Qui-Gon began to press back, sharing the sensation of taste and flavor. There was no urgency to the kiss, no need for it to be anything more than what it was; a tentative exploration of sharing the experience together. It was Obi-Wan's first kiss and his mind reeled at the prospect of all the experiences that he and Qui-Gon could share this way in the future – if they could only get past the present.

Carefully, without the necessity of words, and by mutual consent, they both backed off, their eyes remaining locked. It was Obi-Wan who broke the silence. "Do you think that maybe this was what was supposed to happen?" he asked. "That maybe this was the plan all along? That the Force is testing us somehow?"

Qui-Gon thought for a moment. "I don't know," he answered. "I learned long ago not to question the will of the Force. But you can't use that as an excuse for your conduct. Or mine."

The silence that stretched between them, while not as comfortable as some they had shared in the past, was no longer fraught with strain. Obi-Wan reached forward and took Qui-Gon's hand into his. "Please, Master." There was no way to know how the events of this night would change them; whether the changes would be for the better or the worse. Only the future held the answer to some questions and it was a future that Obi-Wan wanted to face with his master by his side. For the first time since he'd entered the room, Obi-Wan saw hope in Qui-Gon's eyes and he knew that everything he needed to say for now could be said in five small words.

"Can we go home now?" Obi-Wan asked.

An Ceann.