Qui-Gon brushed his lips against Obi-Wan's. Shall we
begin?
Please. Obi-Wan pulled his master down further. There
was no way in which he could be too close to Qui-Gon.
I could not be closer to you without lying on top of you,
padawan.
What's preventing you?
An eyebrow raised. Nothing, I suppose.
Obi-Wan tugged more insistently. Then come here.
Slowly, Qui-Gon moved over him, distributing weight carefully,
and Obi-Wan fought back his impatience with an effort. He
needed full contact, wanted to feel that bare skin pressed
against his until he was surrounded by that heat...
With an effort, Obi-Wan calmed himself. He would get it. It
would happen. There was no reason to feel this desperation.
None at all. Qui-Gon covered him, chest resting on
Obi-Wan's, their legs tangled together. Better?
There was the heat he'd been missing. Much. Obi-Wan
sighed with pleasure. His master was holding back a large
portion of his bulk with his arms, pressing against Obi-Wan
without crushing him. Obi-Wan didn't mind the weight, would not
have minded being crushed either, as long as it was by Qui-Gon.
He writhed under Qui-Gon, and felt the deliciousness of the
movement cut off, prevented by his master, and the little
motion that remained to him became still more erotic.
The satisfying feel of Qui-Gon against him met his need for
closeness. But much as he wished to simply enjoy their new
position, Obi-Wan felt a driving force inside him that wanted
him to do more, to get more. Master, he begged, not
knowing for what, but knowing that Qui-Gon could provide it.
You will have it, Qui-Gon promised, then captured his
lips again, tenderly, teasing them with his tongue until
Obi-Wan panted, open-mouthed for more.
More. That was part of the need. He needed to touch Qui-Gon
also. To reciprocate his master's actions, to act, not only be
acted upon. It was a strain to divide his concentration yet
again, between the feel of Qui-Gon's body on his, the motion of
those tantalizing lips, and his own movements, but he did,
needing to touch.
Obi-Wan reached out, his hands running down Qui-Gon's sides,
stroking the smooth skin and cherishing the scars his fingers
ran across. He did not appreciate the pain his master had gone
through in getting these scars, but they were a sign of who and
what his master was. A Jedi who had endured pain in the name of
galactic peace. His bonded and his love.
Qui-Gon sighed softly, breaking off the kiss. "They are only
scars, my Obi-Wan. You have your own."
"Yes. But these are yours." Obi-Wan thought then of a better
way to honor those marks of experience. Not just with his
fingers, but with his lips and mouth and tongue as well.
He rolled out from under Qui-Gon, using a touch of the Force
to move the heavier man. When Qui-Gon would have turned over to
look at him, Obi-Wan pushed firmly on his shoulders. "Lie down.
Please." He had to do this, had to take an active role in this.
Qui-Gon's eyebrow quirked up again, but he did not question
his padawan further, instead following the instruction until he
was sprawled on his stomach on the bed.
Obi-Wan forgot what he had wanted to do as he saw so much of
Qui-Gon exposed before him. The large expanse of back, the
sensuous line curving down to a pair of extremely shapely
buttocks, the long legs... Obi-Wan could not suppress his moan.
He crawled closer in order to touch Qui-Gon, to give his
desire form, and found himself not just touching, but instead
draping his hips over the rounded curve of Qui-Gon's backside.
His groin rubbed against the mixed hardness and softness of the
flesh underneath him, and Obi-Wan groaned when Qui-Gon shifted
for him, legs widening so that Obi-Wan fit more easily there,
almost easily enough to...
He groaned again, and despite not being fully erect, pushed
into the other man, grinding himself against Qui-Gon. He wanted
that connection so badly. He needed, and his mind was
pressuring him as much as his body to seek completion in his
other half.
Needed, but was not ready for. His body was simply not
capable. He felt mentally and emotionally as aroused as he
could possibly be, but his body did not seem to agree.
Disappointed, torn from his struggle, Obi-Wan let his head
fall to the hard plane of Qui-Gon's shoulder and breathed
steadily, trying to regain what little semblance of control he
could muster.
He could feel Qui-Gon's emotions, felt a matching turbulence
in his master's thoughts, and was grateful that he was not the
only one being so affected. He was not imagining the emotional
undertow that kept catching him off-guard and sweeping him
along without warning.
With an effort, Obi-Wan got back some of his control and
pulled himself away from Qui-Gon, moving to kneel beside him.
Qui-Gon's head turned. "You don't need to change your
position."
"Yes, yes, I do." His voice held clear for that, but then he
corrected himself. Was it his imagination, or was there a sob
there? "I did."
Soothing emotions were sent his way. But even Qui-Gon's
soothing contained tendrils of their mutual longing. Obi-Wan
held himself very still, wanting to keep that longing from
abrading the raw emotions within him. He needed. Force, how he
needed.
But his body wasn't capable. He had to slow down. But how to
accomplish that?
Obi-Wan remembered then what he had wanted to do earlier, and
set himself to the task, as a kind of penance. It was soothing,
and it might keep him from another experience like the one he'd
just had. The hint of the end was what had shook him so. He was
not ready yet to brush against a moment as climactic as that.
Lips pressing against Qui-Gon's back, he laved each scar he
found with his tongue, letting the tension build up between
them again. Each touch, each contact inched the level of
tension higher, but despite what the tension did to him, it was
preferable to losing contact with his master altogether.
Obi-Wan wanted that tension as much as it destroyed him, needed
it to hold himself together. He nuzzled against the unscarred
skin, finding in this yet another way to pay homage to his
master. I want this. I want to do this. I need to do
it.
Then do.
I am, or hadn't you noticed?
Qui-Gon's chuckle was muffled by the bed, but Obi-Wan could
feel it rumbling through his chest. Yes, love, I
noticed.
Obi-Wan smiled, and continued. He could deal with the
relatively neutral territory of his master's back with aplomb,
despite the rising need between them. Everything he did at this
moment was sensual, and added to the pressure inside him to
complete the bond. But as he kissed his way down from Qui-Gon's
shoulders to his mid-back, and then down to his lower back,
Obi-Wan could not help but rub his face against the hollow of
his master's lower back. Could not stop himself from reveling
in the sweet dip there that presaged -- he brushed his cheek
against the roundedness so temptingly close -- so much, oh so
much more.
Mindlessly, as though meditating, Obi-Wan began to lick and
kiss that flesh as well, experiencing only those tastes and
those sensations. All of Qui-Gon was not too much for him, and
he could not stop himself from nibbling, from exploring every
texture his eager lips found.
The images and emotions his master was sending to him did not
help him to stop, instead, they reached the part of him that
most resonated with those heated thoughts. Qui-Gon was thinking
of Obi-Wan, and the plunging feeling of sinking himself into a
warm, willing body. How it felt to be penetrated, mind as well
as body, and the counterpart to his own actions -- Qui-Gon's
reactions to Obi-Wan's touch.
It was too much. Obi-Wan could not hold his emotions and his
sense impressions at the same time he held Qui-Gon's. Not with
the need to bond threatening to swamp his consciousness
entirely and turn him into only a thing which needed.
Obi-Wan fell back onto the bed, unable to continue under the
onslaught of those feelings. So much tension, so much need, and
all harnessed by a control that was only barely withstanding
the demand of the soul bond to be together completely.
And yet, somehow, he knew that he had to hold out longer. He
could not, but he had to. Had to let his body become as fully
aroused as his mind, else this would fail. He did not question
how he knew that. It did not matter whether he had read it in
the text on soul bonding, or deduced it, or if the thought had
even come from his own mind. What mattered was holding on, and
not breaking down and sobbing like a small child.
You do not need to guard yourself so closely, came the
warm, much appreciated response from Qui-Gon. I will aid
you.
And then, a need was met that he didn't know he had, as
Qui-Gon turned over and pulled Obi-Wan close in his arms. The
aloneness and anxiety that had begun to creep in unawares were
seared away by that embrace.
He was protected again, although he didn't quite know what he
was being protected from this time.
I will take care of you, love, and help you retain your
sense of self should you lose sight of it. There is no need to
worry.
Of course not, he affirmed, suddenly certain that
everything was all right again. Not with you here,
master. He unfolded himself from the tight mental ball he
had curled himself in, and let himself be caressed. I don't
understand why, or how I can want you so much, and yet...
And yet your body will not cooperate?
Yes. It made no sense. How could he desire Qui-Gon so
much, and yet, not be erect? His body was not responding to his
emotional state as it usually did. And if he could not channel
these feelings... Obi-Wan remembered the Force explosion in the
training salle so long ago now.
He was being kissed again. Lack of space in which to speak did
nothing to stop Qui-Gon from talking. Do not worry. It must
be a side effect of the bonding or the bonding process. I feel
it, too.
What can we do?
Very simple, love. I shall reason more directly with your
body.
Reason? With my body?
Qui-Gon moved down, and though lips were no longer preventing
Obi-Wan from speaking out loud, he could not manage words.
Despite the sensations Qui-Gon had fed him, having Qui-Gon's
lips on him, touching his chest, was a much more intense
experience than sharing in his master's own experience had
been.
The dark head, still with the hair firmly tied back, bent over
his torso. That image indelibly marked into his mind, Obi-Wan
closed his eyes. He did not need to see in order to feel what
was happening to him.
Lips trailed down his stomach, and a tongue drew a teasing
line down from there, to his hip and onto his thigh, leaving
Obi-Wan trembling and nearly breathless. It promised so much.
And you will not be disappointed.
Qui-Gon shifted his position so that he was half-kneeling,
half-sitting between Obi-Wan's thighs, a hand grasping each,
palms covering the vulnerable expanse of skin. Thumbs made slow
circles on the sensitive skin of his inner thighs, and then
that head dipped further down.
Obi-Wan took a deep breath in anticipation, and held it until
he started to become dizzy. He was forgetting everything he
knew about breathing, and it didn't matter at all.
He felt warm steam play over his genitals, as lips traveled
from the root to his tip. The open mouth breathing made him
feel Qui-Gon's desire, and he reached out to his master,
tasting the other man's emotions, the eagerness, the
willingness, and the need.
Then the tongue licked him back along the path that the mouth
had taken, along the top of his shaft, and took his thoughts
away.
That sensation was more real than breath alone had been, and
Obi-Wan was brought to the reality that this was truly
happening.
Reality took a sharp turn as that tongue continued licking him
along both sides of his penis, moistening him as it delved into
the soft separation between the shaft and the nubbly sac it
rested on. The tongue slid along that dividing line and Obi-Wan
wanted to moan, wanted to writhe. He felt himself getting
harder, and knew then that Qui-Gon's direct reasoning was
working. He would experience physical arousal. He would be able
to meet the demands of the bond.
Yes, love.
Obi-Wan nearly moaned with the pleasure of that casual
endearment. He wanted to send his own emotions to Qui-Gon, but
then the other man's hand curved across his groin, thumb and
index finger sliding down the slickened sides as they followed
the path the tongue was taking. His penis was lifted, and his
heart began pacing frantically as his legs tensed and fine
tremors began.
His thoughts, what remained of them, began to splinter. I
think... I think he's going to do it... Oh, Force. He
tilted his hips, wanting more, begging for more.
A hand gently pulled the loose skin of his penis down, and
then he was taken in full-length, Qui-Gon's mouth moving slowly
over the length of him, savoring.
Suction pulled at him, encouraging him to full erectness, and
Obi-Wan felt that this was what he'd been waiting for. Don't
stop. Please, don't stop.
I have no intention of stopping, and every intention of
continuing.
Obi-Wan relaxed into that assurance, hearing the emotion more
than the words. He let go of all of his control even as the
process repeated, the mouth moving slowly over him for several
long minutes as he was slowly tasted.
The speed was nowhere near enough to push him into orgasm, yet
he felt as though he was already there. This was pleasurable,
oh so pleasurable, this slow savoring, and he allowed himself
to be taken, to go wherever Qui-Gon wanted him to go.
And then Qui-Gon moved from his awkward half-kneeling position
to kneel fully before him, never letting Obi-Wan's penis drop
from his mouth.
The shaft turned as Qui-Gon moved, the full length of it now
along the roof of the throat, and Obi-Wan could feel Qui-Gon's
lips touching the base of his erection.
He raised his knees instinctively to get more control, and
felt the urge to thrust. He had been content a moment before to
let Qui-Gon do as he pleased, but now... now he wanted to go
deeper, wanted to release the pressure within him, satisfy the
bond and feel the culmination of his mental and physical
arousal. A sob escaped him.
Qui-Gon's hands moved to the bed, on either side of Obi-Wan's
hips. Obi-Wan didn't care. The only things that existed were
his penis and Qui-Gon's mouth.
Please let this be real, please don't stop.
But Qui-Gon had stopped, was not doing anything but kneeling
there.
Obi-Wan wanted to thrust so badly.
Then do. I am here.
Light. Force. There was nothing more erotic than Qui-Gon's
voice in his mind, telling him to do what he most wanted to do.
Obi-Wan thrust upwards, and again, as he lost knowledge of
anything but that mouth and what it was doing to him, what he
wanted to do to it.
His hands came up to Qui-Gon's head instinctively, cradling
it, guiding the motion so that he knew where Qui-Gon was, would
not thrust too deep and harm his master.
It was the only semblance of control he could muster as the
tension built. On every thrust it seemed as though he grew
harder, his need more insistent. He was tightening and felt the
release coming closer and closer...
And still was not there yet. He moaned deep in his throat as
the combination of anticipation and frustration dominated his
mind, making his thrusts harder, more frantic. He needed this.
He needed it so much.
And then, finally, he felt the head of his penis beginning to
swell, white-hot and more sensitive than before, and knew that
this was it. Obi-Wan sought out Qui-Gon's consciousness,
knowing he could not be separate at this moment, could not
endure a lovemaking devoid of mental presence. He tied them
close together, needing that contact as much as he needed the
orgasm that had built up, was building inside him.
I am here, my Obi-Wan. I am here.
That reassurance sent a streak of pleasure down from the tip
to the root of his shaft, a silent signal, and then he was
erupting, pumping his hips harder to keep the sensation from
ever stopping as a wave of sensation traveled out from his
groin to the rest of his body, his tensed muscles and tensed
mind finally releasing together.
The spurts of his orgasm were timed with the movements of his
hips. Obi-Wan wanted to move his whole body, to keep these
sensations coming, but could not move as much as he needed to,
could not manage to move more than his pelvis.
And then Qui-Gon's mouth pressed deliberately against his
penis, not swallowing, but instead tongue stroking at the
sensitive underside of the tip and conspiring with tight
suction and lips to milk the head, to provide the greater
sensation he'd wanted and not known how to achieve.
He could not form words, was past words. He felt Qui-Gon's
presence in his mind and could not form even thoughts to speak
to him.
Instead, he laid there, hips pumping weakly as that mouth,
that wonderful mouth laved him again and again, until he had no
more left to give.
When there was no more left, he rested back, dimly aware of
Qui-Gon moving, of that mouth leaving him, and finally, after
what seemed like a very long time, Qui-Gon's weight returning,
settling on the bed next to him.
He was raised to a sitting position, and the cool rim of a
glass placed to his lips.
"Drink, padawan," he was commanded, and Obi-Wan did so,
realizing only then that he was thirsty, that his throat was
raw as though he had been screaming.
"You were," Qui-Gon said, then placed the glass aside, and
gathered Obi-Wan close to him in his arms. The bond glowed
between them, and Obi-Wan was content to simply lie there.
He listened to the steady beat of Qui-Gon's heart. His sweaty
cheek was pressed against his master's cool chest, and he was
exactly where he wanted to be.
He felt Qui-Gon testing their bond, felt it reverberate to
that deft touch. To Obi-Wan, it felt stronger, more valid, and
yet... something was missing. He could not think of what. His
higher thought processes were returning slowly as his arousal
had finally been satiated.
I must also go through what you have gone through, came
the quiet answer from Qui-Gon, responding to his unspoken
question. That is what you feel as unfinished.
Of course. Why hadn't he thought of that?
Energy was returning, if only in dribs and drabs, and
languidly, Obi-Wan turned his head to press kisses against his
master's chest.
The smooth movement of Qui-Gon's lungs paused for a moment,
then continued as Qui-Gon mastered himself.
Strangely, Obi-Wan felt little of that response. He could
sense Qui-Gon's need, and under any ordinary circumstance,
would have become aroused again by his partner's desire.
But not now. He felt drained, more completely drained than he
had ever been in his life, and neither his body or his mind
seemed capable of need or want. It's the soul bond, isn't
it?
If it is not, then I have a much lower opinion of the
stamina of youth than I did previous to this. Obviously, you
must be neglecting your training.
Obi-Wan grinned, lips moving against Qui-Gon's skin. I
would be happy to devote as much time to this kind of training
as you wish, master.
You would?
Of course. I think perhaps it should be a part of our daily
training.
Qui-Gon's hands explored him, one cradling his head as the
other moved from its position at his waist down to clasp the
curve of his hips. It's unfair to bring this topic up now
when I cannot help but agree with you.
A Jedi must pick his time wisely, Obi-Wan replied,
coiling his leg over Qui-Gon's until his thigh was pressed
against the hardness at Qui-Gon's groin. And, as always, I
am obedient to my master's commands.
He was teasing Qui-Gon with his words. Not with his body. With
his body, he was promising, because there was nothing he would
withhold from his master. Not now, not ever. No longer did he
have to hold himself back or leash his emotions. He could do
and feel and say the passion and love that consumed him.
Yes, love, you can.
Obi-Wan left off with his kissing to prop himself up more
directly on Qui-Gon's chest so that he could look into
Qui-Gon's eyes. "And what do you want, master?"
"You."
And he was pulled up to the level of his master's mouth, body
dragging against Qui-Gon's, and kissed thoroughly.
Obi-Wan grinned as he was kissed yet again.
His body molded pliantly to Qui-Gon's, completely relaxed
after what Qui-Gon had done to him. And you, master? What
would you like? he asked even as his mouth was thoroughly
taken.
He felt the answer more than heard it, as Qui-Gon communicated
directly with his mind.
Images of penetration, of their bodies moving together came to
him, and Obi-Wan realized that, despite the impression of
control Qui-Gon had been projecting, his master felt the same
urges he did. Qui-Gon had been holding back and restraining
himself to ensure that his more susceptible padawan was not
harmed by the demands of the bond.
Not any more, Obi-Wan soothed. I am well now, and
can take care of your needs. Assuming he could muster up
the strength to move. But that was a small consideration.
Qui-Gon's mind reached for his, entwining them. Obi-Wan
responded eagerly, sharing his satisfaction with his master to
alleviate the strain on the other man's senses.
But there was no lessening of desire.
Obi-Wan's own completeness triggered an intense craving in his
master, and Qui-Gon called on the bond again, reaching for it
to assuage his need.
I'm here, Obi-Wan reassured. I'm here, master.
And that was something he had never told Qui-Gon, that every
time he said 'master', he meant 'my love'.
Oh, love, Qui-Gon said into his mind. I never
knew.
You must be deaf, then.
Quite likely.
Qui-Gon paused in his ravaging of Obi-Wan's mouth, his
breathing more heavy than normal. He stared down at Obi-Wan,
not speaking.
Obi-Wan sensed his master's control faltering. What do you
want me to do?
Desire enfolded him, so much passion held back, and despite
himself, despite his exhaustion, Obi-Wan felt the bond quicken
within him again. Master? he questioned.
Yes, padawan?
The word wrapped around him, and Obi-Wan knew then that
Qui-Gon meant all of the same things with 'padawan' as he did
when he said 'master'. How had he never noticed before?
Perhaps because I only recently realized myself what you
mean to me.
Are you certain? Now that he had Qui-Gon, had his soul
bonded there with him, it seemed as though the signs had always
been there. That he had always known what Qui-Gon was to him
and would be to him. From the first, still as a student at the
Academy and then as a failed initiate, when he had been so
desperate to call Qui-Gon 'master' and so shattered when he had
finally accepted that Qui-Gon did not want him. Even then
Qui-Gon had been all the galaxy to him, although he had not
known why.
And even then you were finding your way into my heart.
Not that you let me know about it. Obi-Wan grumbled a
little as his fingers traced over Qui-Gon's chest.
Why should it have been necessary to tell you of something
you caused?
For that, Obi-Wan tweaked a nipple. Just remember, he
said, smiling, there's no need to mention that, since I
already know about it.
Good. Then I shall not mention this.
And Obi-Wan's hand was pulled down, Qui-Gon's fingers rough
and incautious on his wrist, pushing it until Obi-Wan's hand
encountered the softness of his master's penis.
Obi-Wan felt Qui-Gon's immediate remorse as he realized he had
done something in his passion that his padawan might well
object to. I apologize...
No, master. I'm happy to assist in any way I can.
And that was putting it mildly.
Obi-Wan slid down Qui-Gon, enjoying the feel of their bodies
rubbing together. He curled around his master's waist, head
cushioned between stomach and thigh, one leg thrown carelessly
over Qui-Gon's, and his hand remaining where it had been
placed, idly stroking Qui-Gon.
Qui-Gon's hand moved to Obi-Wan's head, testing the spiky
softness of his hair yet again.
Obi-Wan could have purred.
Instead, he rubbed his head against Qui-Gon's touch, and began
playing with the organ under his hand.
He could see for himself now that Qui-Gon had been right --
his master also had not been able to sustain an erection,
despite the arousal that Obi-Wan felt thrumming through
Qui-Gon.
He felt the textures under his hand, and better still, the
reactions in his bonded's mind to each touch. He was needed,
greatly needed at that moment, and it contented Obi-Wan deep
down in the part of his self that hungered for identity,
hungered for a relationship that would not break. He rubbed his
face against Qui-Gon's stomach, reaching out with his tongue to
lick the spots his mouth passed over.
The hand on his head urged him downward, and Obi-Wan went.
Delightedly.
This was not yet the time for quickness, and so Obi-Wan
settled in for a long, slow session of teasing. He would have
to bring Qui-Gon to full erectness through physical skill
alone. He didn't see a problem with that. A leisurely session
of lovemaking with Qui-Gon, finally his Qui-Gon? He
would enjoy that extremely, and was glad that their current
circumstances allowed it. He hoped his master would give
himself fully to it, and not draw on Jedi control to resist.
What good would the sensations do if Qui-Gon was ignoring them
and shunting them off into the Force?
You have much to learn about the nature of control,
Obi-Wan.
He did? A thrill of pride and pleasure went through him at
having a love who could teach him in all ways. And the joy of
learning. He would have to make certain to need many, many
lessons.
You may have as many lessons as you desire.
Thank you, master.
He mouthed the semi-erect penis, enjoying the softness that
allowed him to hold it all comfortably in his mouth. He
manipulated it with tongue, lips and teeth, setting teeth
gently on it, then soothed the non-existent hurt with the tip
of his tongue.
He wanted to do more, but was disappointed when Qui-Gon began
to swell under his attentions.
Obi-Wan applied himself instead to increasing that swelling,
curving his tongue around the bottom of the shaft, hollowing
his cheeks around the side and applying a steady pressure.
Qui-Gon groaned sharply. Obi-Wan!
Yes, master. He didn't know what he was saying 'yes'
to, but it didn't matter. Right now, 'Yes, master' was the
proper answer to almost anything Qui-Gon might ask of him.
In his current position, lying half across Qui-Gon's stomach,
Obi-Wan had little control. He could not speed his rhythm
without chancing the loss of his master's erection. All he
could do was continue the slow seduction.
The hand in his hair was joined by another one, both gripping
his head and very clearly expressing their owner's frustration.
Rather tightly, too.
Obi-Wan let a little of what he felt echo through their bond,
and Qui-Gon released his head instantly.
You don't have to do that, master, Obi-Wan said, mouth
still carefully attending to Qui-Gon's erection. Just don't
grab so hard.
Qui-Gon's hands fisted around the bed coverings. No,
Obi-Wan. I don't think I can... His mental voice faltered,
and instead Obi-Wan heard the mental groan of need. I can't
hold myself back like that.
Obi-Wan felt a throb of excitement at that admission. Then
don't, master.
He continued his slow ministrations, and then realized the
problem. Slow wasn't what Qui-Gon wanted any more, but it was
all he could give in this position. His mind wondered over the
problem. Obi-Wan wanted to give Qui-Gon pleasure, wanted
his master to feel the same things he had -- but he didn't want
to be hurt either, and he didn't see how he could give Qui-Gon
control over this without making matters worse. Perhaps Qui-Gon
would settle only for thrusting with his hips, would not try
something that would hurt him.
And maybe his jaw wasn't becoming sore from this awkward
positioning.
Obi-Wan sat up.
Qui-Gon's body bucked, and his eyes flew open. "What are you
doing, padawan?"
Obi-Wan thought he could definitely hear echoes of command in
that particular use of 'padawan'.
"I am repositioning myself, master." His eyes twinkled.
Qui-Gon possessed little of his normal control now. It was a
treat to view his master like this -- face taut, body tense,
and well... naked.
"If you wouldn't mind moving?" Obi-Wan said politely.
Qui-Gon looked steadily at him. Was that a glare? Yes, it
definitely was.
Obi-Wan could have chuckled. Would have, except that his
teacher would certainly not approve of or appreciate the humor.
"Please move. I need to lie down."
Obi-Wan took full advantage of the space made on the bed,
lying on his stomach, head turned to look at Qui-Gon.
His master looked quite frustrated now. Obi-Wan could almost
hear the Now what? that was threatening to push past
what remained of Qui-Gon's controls. Obi-Wan's half-grin wasn't
helping matters.
Fine. You know the question now. Tell me what you have in
mind.
Obi-Wan felt laughter breaking out over him, and could not
stop it. He turned his face into the bed, and let himself shake
with the force of it.
"Padawan..."
The voice was very definitely threatening now, and Obi-Wan
swallowed the laughter with an effort, almost choking on it.
His lungs hurt when he spoke. "What do you think I have
in mind?"
"I have no idea."
Obi-Wan knew from their bond that Qui-Gon did not mean it. His
master knew, but was resisting the knowledge. He let his grin
spread a little wider, and then, very deliberately, wriggled on
the bed, pushing his buttocks into the air. "No idea, master?"
he enquired archly.
"Obi-Wan..."
"Please."
A sigh, and then Qui-Gon curled next to him, one hand stroking
Obi-Wan's body from shoulder to lower back.
A little lower would be nice, too.
You don't know what you're asking for. I can't -- I can
barely master myself tonight. You've already seen my
difficulty. And I have no wish to hurt you.
As it happens, I know precisely what I'm asking for. And as
to your control, Obi-Wan caught his master's gaze fully,
meeting his eyes as though that would be more convincing than
his mental voice. "I believe you have much less chance of
hurting me this way."
Qui-Gon's eyes squeezed shut.
Obi-Wan felt his master's deep desire to do this, battling
with a small, still rational part that said he could not, could
not force himself upon his padawan this way.
That's ridiculous, Obi-Wan thought. "This is as much my
choice as the other was. Did I not warn you about protecting
me? Particularly," Obi-Wan said, smiling without any animosity,
"when I neither need nor want it?"
Qui-Gon hrmphed, a sound that Obi-Wan knew from long habit
that he was throwing up his mental hands and consigning his
padawan to the lower netherhells, or, in Jedi terms, kitchen
duty.
Obi-Wan slithered forward, until his head was once again in
Qui-Gon's lap. "Perhaps you're concerned over an issue of
lubrication? Let me take care of that for you."
He felt a slight shock from Qui-Gon, who seemed to disbelieve
that his polite, obedient padawan could be so wanton, and
smiled even as he took Qui-Gon's erection in his mouth. It
needed work to return it to its fullness, work Obi-Wan was
happy to do. If he was a wanton, then Qui-Gon bore a large
responsibility for it -- Obi-Wan had lived a near ascetic life
since realizing his feelings for Qui-Gon. Before that, things
had been different. It had made his self-control all the more
painful to know what he was missing. And made Obi-Wan all the
more hedonistic now, as that control could finally be released.
He worked his mouth over the organ, feeling it swelling again
even as he ensured that it was fully wet.
He stopped only when he felt Qui-Gon's hands moving to clutch
him again.
Obi-Wan backed off, returning to lie on the bed, but not flat.
He laid his chest down on the bed, and arched his hips high.
I'm glad you're certain about this, love.
Obi-Wan finished the thought for him, because you are
not.
Hands smoothed over him, testing the resilience of his flesh,
and then, fingers, moistened, came down to feel for his
opening.
"Are you sure of this, Obi-Wan?"
Yes! Obi-Wan said, nearly howling his frustration over
Qui-Gon's over-gentleness.
The hand left him. "Because I find myself with doubts."
Doubts? His master had doubts now?
Obi-Wan was torn between an un-Jedi-like desire to curse, and
the need to resolve his master's uncertainties.
However, a caring concerned conversation about what they were
doing, what they were going to do, and how badly Qui-Gon was
misreading him that he would try to protect him, and exactly
how it could be that Obi-Wan was both on bottom and quite safe
and very much in control, just didn't fit in with the need to
curse.
What he wanted was for Qui-Gon to continue now.
He settled on a raw plea. "I trust you, master. Please."
He felt Qui-Gon waver, knew that the almost completed bond was
close to forcing his master to continue whether he liked it or
not.
"It's what I want, master," Obi-Wan said, giving as much
encouragement as he could think of.
Qui-Gon shuddered between Obi-Wan's legs. "I should not. I
have little control left."
"Do you think you will gain more if you hesitate?" Obi-Wan
asked persuasively. "The soul bond is driving this, I believe.
If it is, then the longer you wait, the more of your control
you'll lose." Obi-Wan projected his complete and utter
sincerity. He remembered how he had nearly collapsed in tears
only a few moments before when his body would not cooperate
with the demands of the bond.
"You are right."
Obi-Wan caught a glimpse of what he looked like from Qui-Gon,
his master's attention on his posterior. In Qui-Gon's eyes,
Obi-Wan was canted ever so slightly to one side, right hip
thrust slightly forward, making a cocky and enticing picture.
There was a definite advantage, Obi-Wan decided, to being
mentally bonded with one's partner.
Qui-Gon's hesitation lasted only a moment longer, then reached
forward again, part Obi-Wan, and letting his fingers plunge in
to ready his lover.
At least that's what Qui-Gon thought he was doing.
Obi-Wan clung to that knowledge. It made the experience
somewhat more bearable.
Those fingers pushed easily in until they reached the ring of
muscle inside. He tried to relax into it, but Qui-Gon's touch
was uncharacteristically clumsy. Rushing himself, and hurting
Obi-Wan as well. Fingers could bend and explore, unlike a
certain other body part, and exploration wasn't what he wanted
at all.
Even as he let himself fall forward, pulling away, Qui-Gon was
recoiling. "I did not mean to hurt you, Obi-Wan."
Obi-Wan flipped himself over. "I know."
He could feel his master's emotional withdrawal, a very bad
thing indeed, and drew on their bond to steady him. Let me
help. As you helped me. I have an idea.
Qui-Gon's mental state was dubious. I will not hurt you
again, padawan. I cannot.
Obi-Wan used the Force to come to a swift kneeling position
before his also kneeling master. He reached out for Qui-Gon,
caressing the sides of the other man's arms. "I understand. And
you're right, it did hurt. I'm not asking you to hurt me."
Qui-Gon was trembling under Obi-Wan's hands, the strain
clearly telling on the older man. "Then tell me what you are
asking for, padawan, because my patience seems limited
tonight."
"Let me prepare you again. And when I finish, simply take me."
"That does not sound like a wise plan."
Obi-Wan managed a grin, despite Qui-Gon's grim tone. "I'm
reasonably certain that it will work. And this way, I emerge
with my hair and head intact."
He paused a moment, waiting for a sign from his master that
Qui-Gon was willing to begin again, and when none was
forthcoming, took silence as assent.
Quickly, but thoroughly, he rewetted Qui-Gon's erection with
his mouth, quite aware that any lack of care on his part here
would directly affect his own well-being in a few moments.
When he'd finished, Obi-Wan turned on his stomach yet again,
angling his hips up, knowing that they had caught Qui-Gon's
eyes before.
If I feel any pain from you, padawan, this is over,
Qui-Gon threatened.
"Yes, master." Privately he thought that if Qui-Gon's
reactions were anything like Obi-Wan's own had been, his master
would have difficulty stopping once he finally began.
Obi-Wan felt pushing against his entrance, and set himself to
relax. Despite his advice, it seemed as though Qui-Gon was
intent on toying with him. He felt the sensation as though he
was being teased by the heat of the erection with no real
penetration about to occur.
Obi-Wan growled low in his throat, ready to protest, when he
realized that something was sliding into him.
Wonderfully hard and warm, it eased inside, then was quickly
pushing past the muscle that stiffened despite Obi-Wan's
efforts. Finally, Qui-Gon was fully sheathed in him, and all
Obi-Wan could think was, Oh, yes. I like this. I want
this.
He felt Qui-Gon tasting his feelings, and was amazed by the
degree of control his master still retained that he could even
care about such a thing at a time like this, and doubly touched
that Qui-Gon cared about him so much that he would think of his
welfare even now.
It was touching... and completely unnecessary.
Obi-Wan pushed up further, bucking against Qui-Gon, and smiled
with satisfaction as Qui-Gon finally grabbed onto his hips and
began to thrust.
Obi-Wan continued to push back until those large hands grasped
him more firmly, preventing him from moving. Qui-Gon, it
seemed, wanted to do all the moving.
Obi-Wan was fine with that.
With each thrust in, Obi-Wan felt a surge of something
go through him. He'd thought he could feel no more tonight, but
apparently he had been wrong. Each time Qui-Gon pulled back,
there was pain, but even that pain was mixed with pleasure, and
he was linked to Qui-Gon and Qui-Gon's pleasure held no taint
of pain, only overwhelming need, both for the sexual release
and for the resolution of the tendrils of energy that hung
around them, demanding that they be acknowledged, woven into
the bond...
Impossibly, he felt himself coming again even as Qui-Gon
pushed heavily against him, moaning with the force of his own
orgasm, fingers leaving prints in Obi-Wan's pale flesh.
They were one. One finally, and together.
The Force reverberated around them with a deep pealing tone
that sounded like the beating of an immense heart. We did
it, didn't we? Obi-Wan asked as Qui-Gon pulled him close.
We've completed the bond.
Wearily, Qui-Gon kissed him. Yes, my Obi-Wan. Can't you
feel it?
I wasn't sure what it was. The sound, I mean.
Qui-Gon cocked his head. The only sound, love, is that of
our hearts beating together.
Obi-Wan made a face. We went through all of this so that we
could share a heartbeat? That we could have accomplished
in an afternoon of meditation.
An entire afternoon, padawan? Have let your training lapse
so badly?
Solemnly, Obi-Wan pretended to consider the issue. I
believe that I've not been getting enough personal attention
from my master of late.
That can be rectified.
Content, soul as well as body, Qui-Gon fell gradually to sleep
with his apprentice held close in his arms.
He could have let Obi-Wan go only with an effort, and even
then, he wasn't sure. Should he be called to arms right now, to
defend the Jedi temple against assault, even then, he would not
let Obi-Wan part from him.
That bothered him, went against his Jedi training. He had to
be able to detach from anything, anyone. An obsession had to be
rooted out, had to be dealt with...
In his own exhausted sleep, Obi-Wan nuzzled closer, and
Qui-Gon's arms tightened automatically.
It was the soul bond. It had to be the soul bond.
Because otherwise, he had somehow lost control of himself, and
he had no idea how to deal with that.
Then the peace and lassitude swelled within him again, and
Qui-Gon surrendered himself to it, letting it pull him all the
way into slumber.
When he awoke in the early morning, Qui-Gon felt a brief
moment of panic.
He knew that the panic was not caused by a dream. It must be
something around him. Was something wrong? Something missing?
He reached out with the Force, ascertaining that all was calm,
he was indeed in his quarters, that his lightsaber was where he
left it... everything was in order. What was wrong, then?
His emotions did not respond to the evidence of everything
being in place, and Qui-Gon opened his eyes, prepared to seek
out the source of his discomfort, whatever it might be.
And saw Obi-Wan's sleeping figure curled up on the bed, not
touching his own, but rather positioned as he had been the last
few nights, as though he had no right, no claim to touch
Qui-Gon.
Qui-Gon felt compelled to make contact with his padawan, and
reached out, then hesitated. He had no wish to wake Obi-Wan.
There was no need for the other man to rise this early.
But that driving sense of wrongness persisted, and finally,
Qui-Gon laid his hand on Obi-Wan's bare shoulder.
As he had anticipated, Obi-Wan moved under his hand,
stretching and yawning deeply.
But the wrongness had disappeared.
That was the source of the panic. He needed to touch Obi-Wan.
He needed that contact, and nothing was right without it.
Qui-Gon froze into place, thinking deeply, forehead creased.
Obi-Wan turned over, looking sleepily at his master. When he
saw Qui-Gon's face, all traces of dreaming disappeared from his
eyes. "Master, what's wrong?"
Qui-Gon contemplated not telling him, then sighed and gave the
information to Obi-Wan freely. I am troubled.
Obi-Wan waited patiently.
You... All was not well this morning until I touched you.
Despite our soul bond, despite the events of last evening, I
still have not completed our bond properly.
Obi-Wan caught the image of himself sleeping peacefully,
rolled away from Qui-Gon.
I don't understand, master.
Qui-Gon let his hand fall, and was again assailed by the need
to touch Obi-Wan. He should deny the need. Should start the
process of learning to behave like an ordinary person despite
the soul bond. He knew it was possible. Had seen other soul
bonded couples and knew that they were able to manage this. But
the need cried out within him...
Obi-Wan took the decision away from him by moving close to
Qui-Gon, snuggling into his side.
And that felt right. More than right, as though this were the
shape of things to come, a vision of the future.
He felt Obi-Wan's puzzled concern for him. He took the
conversation to the level of words, to hide as much of his
feelings as he could. "You do not seem to share my difficulty.
I am concerned that my own deficiency will harm you, and that,
possibly, there is nothing more that can be done to repair the
problem. We have gone through the mastering of the emotional
and the physical -- if there are still problems, it may be that
we will not be able to complete the bond at all. And the
consequences of that would be severe."
Immediately, he felt reassurance through their bond. Obi-Wan's
new confidence in him and in the bond should be heartening. But
instead he felt only a sad anger that it was he who would be
responsible yet again for shattering his padawan.
He rested his head against Obi-Wan's hair. Why couldn't he
simply live in the perfect moment that was last night?
Because you can't, Obi-Wan said, from his position
tucked under Qui-Gon's arm.
That remark came as a shock, and Qui-Gon was surprised at how
hurt he felt at the rejection. He mastered the emotion, and let
his reaction slip into the Force. Obi-Wan's opinion was his
opinion, and wishing to change it would not make his padawan's
thoughts any less -- or more -- accurate. What do you
mean?
Only that we cannot live in any one moment. Each moment
must give way to the next.
Obi-Wan had heard his hurt. Qui-Gon had felt the startlement,
then the flow of comfort from his padawan.
Comfort he was receiving now. "That is not quite what I
meant."
Obi-Wan switched easily to speech as well. "It's still true.
Today is a different moment than yesterday. If you feel
differently today than then, is that so surprising?"
Qui-Gon frowned at his padawan, who was not looking at him to
see the frown. Taking lessons from his padawan always reminded
him somewhat of receiving a lesson from Master Yoda. As though
he'd suddenly been bashed in the knee with a stick.
That's not quite what I meant.
You said that already.
It's still true.
Obi-Wan sat up, his knees coming up as well. He folded his
arms around them, all the while staring solemnly at his master.
His toes were tucked under Qui-Gon's body, their only point of
contact. I said that already.
Qui-Gon thought back, and sighed. "Yes, so you did."
He was trying to avoid a real conversation with Obi-Wan. The
repetition of phrases only confirmed it. He did not want to
hurt Obi-Wan, not again. But evasion, conscious or
subconscious, wasn't working particularly well for him.
He looked up. Obi-Wan continued to watch him, perfectly still.
Painfully, Qui-Gon began to speak, this time from the heart.
"Our bond is damaged. You will be harmed by it. I find myself
reluctant to bear that pain." For himself, he could stand it,
had dealt with pain. But not for Obi-Wan.
"Isn't there usually a period of adjustment after a bonding?"
Obi-Wan asked.
"Yes."
"Doesn't it take time to become used to the bond? To having
someone constantly with you?"
"Yes, again. But Obi-Wan..."
Obi-Wan shook his head, and continued speaking. "Didn't you
have the same feelings I did before we recognized the bond?
After it formed, but before we knew about it? I remember being
even more lonely than before, despite our sharing of emotions.
It was good that we had, but I needed to reach out for your
presence constantly so that I knew you were still there."
Qui-Gon did remember. "Yes, but..."
Obi-Wan would not allow his master to speak. "Doesn't it make
sense that we might feel some of the same things after sharing
our bodies?"
"Yes." This time he reached out to Obi-Wan, physically placing
a finger over his padawan's lips to prevent him from speaking.
"However, you do not share the same need I felt this
morning when I woke and you were not in contact with me. You
were able to handle what I could not."
Obi-Wan's eyes went down to his lips, and belatedly, Qui-Gon
removed his finger. To his resigned dismay, it went almost
automatically to Obi-Wan's interlaced fingers, stroking that
clasping of hands.
"Because I did not wake up next to you? Master, please."
"Please what, my Obi-Wan?"
"Believe in me a little." Obi-Wan's eyes had changed, and
Qui-Gon understood now the emotions that he'd been feeling from
his padawan. Frustration, yes, and directed at him, but not for
the reason he'd thought.
"I believe in you a great deal, Obi-Wan."
Obi-Wan looked at him dubiously, but did not comment.
"What would convince you, love?" Qui-Gon asked.
Obi-Wan captured the finger that had been teasing him, pulling
it to him until he had Qui-Gon's full hand in his own. "If you
cannot trust me or my feelings for you..." Obi-Wan began, then
shook his head. "No. If you do not, then there is no point in
my continuing, is there? There's nothing more to say."
Obi-Wan stood, getting up from the bed, and gathered
yesterday's cast-off clothing in his arms. Pain radiated from
him.
Not anger, though. Nor hate. Again, Obi-Wan had resigned
himself to Qui-Gon not being willing to accept him. Easily, as
though it were something he did on a daily basis.
Qui-Gon felt the bite of tears. "Wait."
Obedient through years of habit, Obi-Wan stopped and looked at
him, face blank.
Calming himself, feeling Obi-Wan's pain as his own, Qui-Gon
said, "Please, love. Give me another chance. I've made too many
mistakes with you already. I only wished not to hurt you again
by my failure in this bond. I meant no slight to you."
Tentatively, Obi-Wan's mind reached for his, and Qui-Gon
opened himself, letting his emotions show clearly.
To Qui-Gon's relief, Obi-Wan relaxed his own mind, not keeping
himself so tightly contained.
Yet in that relaxation, Qui-Gon felt Obi-Wan's sense of
failure. That once again, this time by reacting too quickly to
something Qui-Gon had not meant the way Obi-Wan thought he
meant, his padawan felt that he made the wrong choice and
disappointed his master.
As I have, have I not? came the quiet question, backed
up with pain.
Qui-Gon shook his head. Forget Jedi serenity. Forget control.
Forget mastering's one's emotions. If they were going to find
serenity, he was going to have to act.
He flowed to his feet, and took swift hold of Obi-Wan, eyes
boring directly into the other man. "I will tell you when you
have failed me, Obi-Wan. It is not yours to decide. And you
have not done so here."
Obi-Wan stared up at him, eyes wide.
"Yes, Obi-Wan. I mean it. You have not failed me."
He let the words slip free in the privacy of his own mind.
I have failed me.
Arms went around him, as Obi-Wan let go of his burden, and
leaned into Qui-Gon's grip. Qui-Gon let his hands loosen, and
accepted the embrace. "We should have our bond evaluated by an
expert. Then we will know what we need to do to further
complete our bond. If there is any failure, it has been on my
part. I have been slow to acknowledge my own feelings, and
that, if anything, is the cause of any disorder."
Obi-Wan examined him closely. "Should I repeat your own words
to you again, master?" He licked his lips, and when Qui-Gon did
not answer, stretched his hand up to stroke his master's cheek.
"You have not failed me. If anything, you've given me
everything. Everything worth having. From the moment you called
me padawan. Last night," he closed his eyes for a moment, then
opened them again, this time with bare emotion shining in his
gaze, "was a gift I will never forget. Not ever. That you might
be my soul bonded love as well... I can hardly encompass the
joy of it."
"Obi-Wan--" Qui-Gon swallowed. He couldn't find the words for
what he needed to say, not even in his mind, and took refuge in
action, using his hold on his padawan to pull Obi-Wan closer.
He bent over Obi-Wan and kissed him thoroughly, tongue
thrusting in to claim Obi-Wan's mouth, and claim that marvelous
young man as well.
Obi-Wan responded with equal passion, pressing his hips
against Qui-Gon and rubbing sensuously against him.
His very naked hips.
Qui-Gon broke off the kiss, and leaned his head against
Obi-Wan's. "This is not promising for our discipline, padawan."
Obi-Wan's features creased into a smile. "Perhaps we should
have a schedule?"
Qui-Gon laughed, caught off-guard by the comment. He pulled
back, no longer as melancholy. "I think that would be
counter-productive. I believe spontaneity is considered useful
in this activity."
Obi-Wan gave the idea due consideration, frowning and looking
away, then turned back to Qui-Gon. "I don't see why one could
not be spontaneous on schedule, master."
"Very well then, we shall have a schedule."
Obi-Wan looked up at Qui-Gon through his lashes. "Is now on
the schedule?"
Qui-Gon made a show of mentally checking to see what they had
to do that day. "I believe that we need to meet with Master
Etil about the state of our bond."
Obi-Wan nodded. "Yes, master."
Obi-Wan's complete submission to his wishes both pleased and
saddened him. It was the proper behavior for a padawan to show
his master, and all at the same time, not. He would have to
work further with Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon decided. Encourage his
independence more. One day, Obi-Wan would be a knight, and
would need the experience in thinking for himself. Not to
mention how the soul bond affected the dynamics of their
relationship.
Should I be insulted, master? I believe I've had a thought
of my own on one or two occasions.
Obi-Wan's mental voice was teasing, but Qui-Gon felt the
seriousness of the question. "What would you like to do at this
moment, Obi-Wan?"
Obi-Wan quirked his eyebrow. Do I really need to say
it?
Given that his padawan's erection was brushing against his
thigh... I suppose not. "But what then is stopping you
from asking?"
Obi-Wan frowned again. "You said that we needed to see Master
Etil."
"I did. Why did you not question me?"
"It was what you wanted, master." Obi-Wan was genuinely
puzzled.
"It was not an order. You only need obey my orders, padawan.
Not my wishes."
Obi-Wan considered this carefully. "I think I understand,
master."
"Do you?"
"Yes." And, taking Qui-Gon off-guard yet again, Obi-Wan pushed
him hard on the chest with Force-aided power. As he landed on
the bed, Obi-Wan leaped gracefully on top of him. "Wouldn't you
agree?"
"Yes," Qui-Gon said, smiling. "I suppose you do understand."
When he awoke again, now quite late into the morning, Qui-Gon
felt a brief moment of panic.
Was something wrong? This time he opened his eyes first,
before doing anything else, and saw Obi-Wan curled into his
side. Qui-Gon took a deep breath, and let the knowledge sink in
with the oxygen. He held Obi-Wan. His padawan was there.
Qui-Gon could feel the warmth of his body, could taste his
mind.
The panic ebbed and finally slid away entirely. He had his
Obi-Wan. He would be all right.
Why was that thought so reassuring?
Yes, he knew the soul bond was influencing him, but on some
level he felt disturbed by the shift in his priorities. He had
not yet come to terms with the new value system that had been
imposed upon him. Once the Force had been the most important
thing in his life. By tradition and training, his priority
should have been the Jedi. But he felt that the two -- the Jedi
and the Force -- were too often conflated. They were not
necessarily the same thing, and he preferred to use his own
judgement in following the Force's dictate. Himself, his own
needs, he placed well below that.
But now, something else seemed to have become more important
than any of those priorities. And that something was Obi-Wan.
It went against all of Qui-Gon's training and experience to
have anything be more important than the Force. No one person
was worth that much.
Except that, right in this moment, he knew with perfect
clarity that, for this, he would have stayed on Bandomeer with
Obi-Wan if he had known then that there truly was no hope of
Obi-Wan becoming a Jedi.
Would even have aided Obi-Wan if it had been he, instead of
Xanatos, who had set out to conquer a planet.
That none of that had occurred, Qui-Gon was fortunate. He was
truly fortunate that his life's love had a good heart, and that
they shared the same goals. Together, they could serve the
Force, and in that way, Qui-Gon would be able to combine his
priorities and so let neither lapse.
As it would have to be, for he knew now that he could not let
Obi-Wan go.
Obi-Wan woke for the second time that morning, but this time
much more pleasantly. Strong lips were placing kisses on his
neck. He stretched languorously and then turned over to face
Qui-Gon.
"Good morning master," he said, smiling. He leaned in for
another kiss.
"Good morning, padawan."
Qui-Gon met him halfway. The kiss was no less satisfying for
being delivered without the pressure of the soul bond demanding
that they mate. It felt like coming home, like the same
sensation he had gotten when he had returned to these quarters
to stay. Like Qui-Gon had always felt to him, even when he had
not known why he felt that way. No mere place would ever be
home to him again. Home would always be this man.
Their lips melded, and even with the blankets between them --
Qui-Gon under and Obi-Wan over -- heat stirred again.
Before anything could move forward, Obi-Wan pulled away from
the kiss and stood up. Smiling, he collected the laundry.
Where are you going?
He tossed a grin over his shoulder at his master. I believe
you said something about a schedule?
Oh, yes. Blast it.
He stopped in the doorway, leaning back against the frame.
"Master, I believe I would recommend meditation before the
morning meal, and certainly before we pay a visit upon Master
Etil. I'm fairly sure that Jedi masters are not supposed to
curse."
Obi-Wan ducked the pillow tossed at him, and still smiling,
went to ready himself for their day.
Ruefully, Qui-Gon admitted that his padawan was correct. Oh,
not for the reason Obi-Wan had mentioned. But it was true that
he needed to integrate his feelings and experiences of the last
night. Especially before facing Master Etil.
He padded naked into the bathroom, beating Obi-Wan there. The
first shower was his. Hah!
We could always share, came the playful thought from
his apprentice.
I don't believe that would be conducive to my
meditation.
I apologize, master. The 'apology' contained definite
overtones of teasing. I didn't realize that you were in the
habit of meditating in the shower.
Qui-Gon considered the hour, considered that neither of them
had eaten, and exactly how long this shower would take if he
invited Obi-Wan in with him. The reasonable thing to do would
be to say 'no' and forget the matter, especially given
Obi-Wan's apparent opinion of his stamina -- which, he admitted
to himself, seemed to be holding true so far.
No. Easy to say. It would be simple...
...and this was exactly why he needed to meditate. Because he
wasn't being reasonable. Because even though the answer was so
simple, he still couldn't say what he needed to say.
He stood in the shower, water coursing over his body, taking
the dried sweat, and yes, even the smell of Obi-Wan away. He
could not come to a decision, nor make an action.
Then Obi-Wan looked in. Not trying to speak above the noise of
the water, he spoke directly into Qui-Gon's mind, I've
placed a clean towel here for you.
He'd stepped into the shower without making sure he had a
towel. Qui-Gon resisted the urge to groan. Thank you,
Obi-Wan.
You're welcome.
Obi-Wan didn't leave.
Yes, padawan? Qui-Gon asked.
Obi-Wan stepped into the shower, crowding the small space with
his nude body pressed against Qui-Gon's.
What are you doing? Qui-Gon asked mildly.
Joining you. I seem to recall there being a lecture earlier
about how I should act upon your orders, and not upon your
wishes, should I have a differing opinion.
I meant, Qui-Gon said repressively, that you should
voice your opinion if it differs from mine.
That's strange, Obi-Wan replied, filling his palm with
soap and bringing it up to Qui-Gon's shoulders. I remember
you being very... enthusiastic about my acting on my
opinions.
Qui-Gon sighed, and turned his back on Obi-Wan, allowing the
other man to lather him. This was not what I wanted.
He felt Obi-Wan controlling the self-doubt that rose within
his padawan at those words. Then what do you
want?
Honestly? For my life to make sense again. For calm and
order to return.
Obi-Wan's hands came around his body, lathering his chest as
well. Is there a need to wait? I believe all of these things
are true. We are told, are we not, to be mindful of the future?
And yet to live in the moment? To trust our emotions, even
while the Jedi code teaches that 'There is no emotion; there is
peace.' Our lives are full of contradictions.
Qui-Gon felt the impulse to switch to teacher mode and begin
arguing the philosophies of those statements, but ruthlessly
tamped it. Yes?
So might it not also be true that a wish for calm and order
is also a wish for disorder?
Obi-Wan's hands paused as he thought. Or that calm and
order proceed from disorder? Because I am certain that having
you as my soul bonded is the best thing that has happened in my
life since you accepted me as your padawan, and I count all of
what I went through, all of my struggles, as being worthwhile
because they brought me to this point. Had I not struggled, had
I not endured those trials, I might not be here now. His
hands returned to their motion, caressing now instead of
impersonally washing. And that would have been a great
waste.
Qui-Gon let himself relax into the solidness of Obi-Wan
standing behind him. Slim, and smaller than Qui-Gon, his
padawan was nonetheless strong. A strength he had been
forgetting. Forgive me again. I-- This probably the best
reason I can give you for why I wished to meditate instead of
having you near me. I am not sure of my mind, and not
behaving as I should. I am not even certain what that means. I
feel I must meditate. He felt himself shaking, and turned
to hold Obi-Wan's face between his large palms. But that
does not mean that I do not love you.
Obi-Wan nodded, serious. I understand now, master. I should
not have pressed you.
I am glad you did. I only regret that I cannot respond as
we both would wish.
Obi-Wan stepped back and, carefully neutral said, I will
have breakfast ready for you when you are finished with your
meditation.
Thank you, love, Qui-Gon said, and meant it deeply.
Before his meditations, Qui-Gon had ascertained that Etil
would be ready to see them in the afternoon. Which
coincidentally fell not too long after the end of their meal.
It truly had been late morning when they arose.
But now that was over and done, and they were on their way to
see someone who would tell them what was true, and what was
not.
He believed in Etil for that. He did not approve of the other
master's methods, but she spoke her mind, and saw into people
with astonishing insight.
Qui-Gon clasped Obi-Wan's hand as they stood before Etil's
door.
"Yes, yes, come in. I know you're there. Why don't you just
walk up to the Council and tell everyone? It'd be more subtle."
Qui-Gon quirked an eyebrow, but stepped inside anyway, Obi-Wan
a half step behind. "What do you mean?"
She waved a hand in their direction. "You. You two. I'm not so
old that I can't see anymore. The light you're giving off could
blind somebody. Are you sure you're ready to go out in public
yet?"
"I felt that we needed to see you," Qui-Gon said, relying on
formality, as ever, when dealing with this master. "I am
uncertain as to whether the soul bond has been completed
properly. As you were able to sense the bond before either
myself or my padawan, I thought that you would be the most
appropriate resource at this time."
"What you need is time alone. Make a public announcement if
you want, but then stay out of the way. You can't go around
glowing like that."
"Why not?" Obi-Wan asked quietly. "Is there a danger?"
She shrugged. "Depends on what you mean. I'd think it'd be
embarrassing to walk around knowing that everyone is seeing
that. You don't belong out of your rooms until you can stuff
all that back inside where it belongs."
"That was why I sought your aid," Qui-Gon said. "I've
attempted to exert control on the soul bond, but my meditations
have not helped."
She threw up her hands, beginning to pace. "Idiots. I'm
surrounded by idiots. Of course meditation didn't work.
From what you're giving off, you finished the bonding, what?
This morning? Last night?" She didn't wait for confirmation,
apparently feeling confident in her assessment. "You should be
wrapped up in the bond. Getting used to it. Not trying to
control it, for Light's sake."
"I thought you said we needed to control it, that we shouldn't
be in public until we did," Obi-Wan said.
Qui-Gon nodded.
Etil stared them both down. "Did I say control? Why
does everyone always think of controlling things instead of
letting them happen naturally?" She stopped pacing, and stood
in front of them, as firmly rooted as a tree. "Let me put this
in little words. Go back to your rooms. Stay there. Have lots
of sex. Don't come out."
"We will have to leave eventually," Qui-Gon pointed out.
"You don't seem to understand me. Go to your quarters. Both of
you. Stay there. Forget about control, forget about meditation.
Forget about being Jedi. Whatever you two think it means, I'm
sure it'll only get in the way of what's supposed to happen."
"Which is?"
She rolled her eyes. "You don't need instructions or rules for
this. If you had them, you'd just mess it up. Do what comes
naturally. Get used to each other. You'll know when it's time
to come out."
Qui-Gon felt more than a little skeptical about that. "How
will we know--"
She cut him off. "Look, if you don't come out in a few weeks,
I'll send a search party. Now go. Get back to your rooms. I
don't want to see you again for at least a week."
They apparently did not move fast enough for her. "Go! Now!
Shoo!"
Qui-Gon acquiesced, drawing Obi-Wan along with him, until they
stood in the hallway.
"Master?" a quiet voice asked from his side.
"Yes, padawan?" Qui-Gon responded as they began walking.
"Do you see a glow?"
"No."
"Oh." A pause. "Do you think it's there then?"
"I see no reason for Master Etil to lie. And she is a healer
as well as a Jedi master. What she sees may reflect her
training as a healer."
"Are we going to take her advice?"
Qui-Gon thought about it, and took Obi-Wan's hand again,
tucking it within his own. "Do you see any other choice?"
He felt Obi-Wan considering the problem, and weighing Etil's
likely actions. "Not really."
"That's what I think also."
Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan returned to their room. During the short
journey, Obi-Wan was hyper-conscious of the people around them,
wondering who, if anyone, could see the glow that Master Etil
had mentioned.
Some people seemed to notice something different about them,
because they were attracting more than a usual amount of
attention. Normally the sight of a master and padawan walking
through the halls of the Temple was so ordinary as not to be
remarked upon. Normally.
But if he couldn't see a glow, and Qui-Gon couldn't see a
glow, did that mean then it was only visible to people other
than them? Because the staring was fairly obvious.
If the glow could indeed be seen, they didn't really
need to have a formal public recognition of their bond.
Not that he'd had been looking forward to that, of course...
Then Obi-Wan realized what everyone was staring at. Not some
mystical glow, after all. Just a simple physical thing. He was
still holding his master's hand, like a three-year-old child
or, well, a new lover.
He blushed, and Qui-Gon looked over at him, aware immediately
of the cause through their bond. "There is nothing to be
ashamed of, Obi-Wan."
But Qui-Gon dropped his grip anyway.
To keep from embarrassing me, Obi-Wan thought. He is
protecting me again.
Always, my Obi-Wan.
Determinedly, Obi-Wan took Qui-Gon's hand. Master.
Qui-Gon favored him with an amused look. "Yes?"
You have to stop protecting me.
Why? Qui-Gon asked, still with the hint of a smile.
Or if that bothers you, perhaps instead, you could protect
me as well. Would that suit your sense of fairness?
The door to their quarters cut off any reply he might have
made to his master's comment. Instead of talking, Obi-Wan
stared at the entrance. Once they went in, they would not be
coming out again. Not for several days.
He would have Qui-Gon's attention all to himself. And a
formidable force indeed was a Jedi master's full attention.
There would be little for them to do -- their quarters were not
large enough for more than the most restrained of exercises.
And meditation had been ruled out.
As lovemaking had most decidedly been ruled in. He wondered if
everyone could hear the blood throbbing in his veins or it was
just him.
Qui-Gon stepped inside their rooms, and gave Obi-Wan a
quizzical look.
Maybe he was hearing things. Maybe that was why Qui-Gon was
staring at him, like he'd forgotten something.
Would you like to come in, Obi-Wan?
"Oh!" With a start, he woke from his reverie, and entered.
Yes, very much. Very very much. He resisted the urge to
watch the door closing behind them, sealing out everything and
everyone else.
Instead, he watched Qui-Gon pull off his cloak and put it
away.
"I don't believe that I have any further need of that for the
time being."
Obi-Wan followed suit, folding his cloak neatly. "Nor I,
master."
When they had finished, Qui-Gon held an arm out for Obi-Wan,
who took it gladly, stepping into the half-embrace. "It seems,"
Qui-Gon began, after a long moment spent simply holding him and
being held, "that I have been wrong about many things."
"Wrong?" Obi-Wan asked. "Surely we have both been mistaken,
but..."
"No, Obi-Wan. Listen to me. I have been wrong. Wrong about the
fact of our life-bonding, wrong about you."
Obi-Wan felt strongly protective at the moment. Qui-Gon was
not wrong. He was very, very right. The epitome of rightness.
Yes, he could make mistakes, but he put things back in order
and made amends as soon as he uncovered his errors. His master
was a man of honor and integrity. All of these things Obi-Wan
wanted to say. But Qui-Gon had told him to listen, a wish that
carried the weight of an order, and so he remained silent.
But he had to do something. Unable to speak, he instead
burrowed into Qui-Gon's warm bulk, and hoped that his
acceptance of his master, his love, would be enough to
counteract the guilt Qui-Gon seemed to feel.
Qui-Gon's head dipped, chin resting against Obi-Wan's head.
"I've thought too much on these matters, upon our bonding, and
failed to listen to my feelings. Failed even to recognize that
I had feelings. So much could have been lost in my refusal to
consider ever loving again. I will do better in the future. We
have time now, time where it seems I will have nothing to do
but expose the feelings I believed I did not have, and learn to
listen to them."
Obi-Wan twisted his head and kissed Qui-Gon's throat, the only
exposed flesh that he could reach. Lips hung tantalizingly just
out of range. "You are forgiven, master."
"And you are loved."
Obi-Wan pulled back, considering Qui-Gon carefully. "But love
is not that important. I remember that."
"I told you that, didn't I?"
"Yes, master."
Qui-Gon sighed, and held him more closely. "That is still
true. As you have seen today, in my actions. I love you dearly,
my Obi-Wan, and yet, I have hurt you. I do not doubt that
things will continue to be this way, as we learn the boundaries
of our bonding and continue your training. I can only ask now
for your patience and understanding as we face these challenges
together."
"That we face them together is all that I would wish for,
master."
"That you may have."
Obi-Wan smiled. He was satisfied with that. He did not like
the thought that there would be further pain to come, but did
not flinch from it either. He was Jedi, he would deal with it
when it came. What mattered, what had always mattered most, was
now taken care of. Qui-Gon. His center had been restored and
would never be torn from him again. His soul was joined with
his master's from now into eternity. That would have to be
enough, was more than enough. With that assured, he would
gladly face all the trials of the future. But first... "Didn't
Master Etil say something about sex?"
Qui-Gon's mouth quirked into a smile. "Yes, padawan. I believe
she did."
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