//Master. . . //

A fine sheen of perspiration clinging to his body, Obi-Wan continued to lie fetal on his bed, stunned, still mildly convulsing, and unable to think of anything other than his adored Master.

He rolled onto his back, arms outstretched, legs still tangled in his sheets. His ribs ached from what had felt like a massive blow during the moment of transformation, and Obi Wan inhaled as deeply as he could without feeling pain. He could feel his mouth open still and felt no need to close it.

He inhaled sharply, as if breathing his first breath.

His entire body pulsed and radiated with the intensity of a quasar.

Reborn. Utterly remade.

He was his Master. His Master was he. Somehow each was the other, both alive in him.

The love he felt for his Master overflowed into every nook and cranny of his soul. This man, his Master - Qui-Gon - had given him the gift of himself. He had sacrificed a part of his soul to his undeserving Padawan so that they might be in communion.

Obi-Wan managed a wan smile. He too had eagerly sacrificed a part of his soul to his rebellious Master. Wherever his Master went, for all eternity Obi-Wan would be with him.

The Council would be furious. Obi-Wan's smile broadened as he felt Qui-Gon's influence already imbuing him with his Master's defiance.

//The Council wouldn't have to know//

He knew he had to rise and meditate. He knew that the dictates demanded it, and though he did feel his Mater's defiant influence, Obi-Wan still felt a strong desire to follow their every word. They were a tie to the ancient past, uniting him with legions of his fellow Jedi who went before him.

//Master. . .//

His Master was the only one he ached to unite with.

Obi-Wan drew himself from the bed and laboriously walked to the center of the room where a thin pillow waited for him to kneel. Falling to it with a thud, Obi-Wan closed his eyes. He felt the Force swirling through him, his strength gradually returning. Shoring his back up to a rigidly straight position, Obi-Wan closed his eyes and began the hours-long meditation.

As he slipped deeper and deeper into meditative trance, Obi-Wan felt less and less in control of himself. He seemed to be simply pure essence, as one with the Force.

An hour passed and Obi-Wan found his meditations taking him places he'd never been. He sensed anxiety and fear here.

He sensed death.

Battling the anxiousness and fear with the Force, Obi-Wan could not help but feel out of control of the situation. The anxiousness would not dissipate. The fear would not dispel.

Death hung in the air around him like the stench of burnt flesh.

Obi-Wan fought his own fear. Had he slipped to the Dark Side? Had it consumed him? He searched his soul, finding the pure Force there.

The light remained.

As did death.

Seared flesh.

The boundaries that held Obi-Wan became as liquid, flowing and cascading, ever changing. Watery images flowed around him, images somehow familiar and definitely not at the same time. The Jedi Temple, but not as he'd known it. One Padawan. Familiar and not. Each image melted away swiftly as if pulled down a waterfall. Another Padawan, more familiar and his face changing, twisting, and Obi-Wan felt pain.

Then Obi-Wan confronted the blurred, misty image of himself, pulled down with the cascade of images.

He was at last alone within the boundaries, Death hanging heavy over everything.

Burnt flesh.

Seared flesh.

//MASTER!//

Obi-Wan made out the blurred form of his Master lying on the ground, gasping and retching for air, struggling to stand, and collapsing back down.

//Get to him! Run! Now! MASTER!//

Obi-Wan couldn't move. Indeed he couldn't even sense his body with him. Desperation flowed through him - aching desperation to sacrifice himself so that his Master might. . .

Then a child. With his Master. A boy, young about eight years old. His Master clung to him.

The boy reached around into his satchel while smiling sweetly at his Master.

Obi-Wan sensed. . . breathing? Hard. Odd and somehow artificial. Mechanical?

The boy was pulling something from his satchel, looking at him now while cradling the head of his Master.

The red blade of a lightsaber shot out toward Obi-Wan, never ceasing its expansion. It extended further and further and when Obi-Wan turned to escape its pursuit. . .

It all disappeared.

Except his Master, quivering and shaking and physically unreachable. Obi-Wan sensed - could it be - fear in his Master?

This had to be a dream.

Of course.

A dream. He had entered his Master's dream. The transformation, the oneness, the deep meditation. It all made perfect, beautiful sense and Obi-Wan was moved beyond measure.

He must calm his Master and called to him in his thoughts.

//Master, I am here with you. I shall always be with you. Do not be afraid//

Anxiety. Pain. His Master was barely recognizable through his fear. Obi-Wan would not stand for it.

//Master, as long as I can draw a breath, you shall be safe. I shall lay down my life. . .Master, feel the Force in you. Let it give you strength//

Obi-Wan fell deeper into meditation, and with a colossal effort, he began drawing his Master's fear into himself, turning it over to the Force.

//I will not allow fear to consume you//

Finally, his Master's thoughts with him.

//Obi-Wan//

Obi-Wan fought to draw the last remaining drops of fear from his Master, taking it into himself and letting the Force draw it out and set the last of it to the wind.

Then there was cold. A hard, unfeeling cold that penetrated his skin from the right side of his face and chilled his entire body.

Hard, cold, and smooth.

Floor.

The floor.

Obi-Wan's eyes fluttered open and he felt utterly disconcerted. Groggy and bewildered, he glanced around and tried to place where he was.

//A room. Small room at the. . .Jedi Temple. Yes, at the Temple//

//Lying down on. . .the floor. The floor?//

//On my face//

Indeed, the right half of Obi-Wan's face pressed hard against the cold marble tile of the floor. Slowly he pulled himself into a sitting position, feeling incredibly light-headed and not at all sure of what had happened. He thought back, remembering with incredulity the transformation, the afterglow, and his meditation.

The dream. The boy. Death. Qui-Gon lying unconscious. So much fear. . .

His thoughts raced to his Master, screaming for response.

//Master!//

Nothing. Silence, terrifying and still. Obi-Wan felt the blood drain from his face, his stomach drawing tight, muscles coiling and ready to spring. There was no connection there. He could not sense his Master.

"Master!"

Obi-Wan flew from his room without hesitation, leaving the dictates swirling in his wake.

*********************

His robe whipping ferociously behind him, Obi-Wan bolted down the curving halls that led to his Master's suite. Sweat raised on his forehead as he continually called out to his Master in frenzied thought, begging for acknowledgement and receiving none.

As he rounded the corner that led to his Master's door, Obi-Wan stopped short as he saw the door to his Master's suite opening. He ran to it and nearly collapsed to his knees in thankful relief as he looked inside.

His Master sat on a chair at the far end of the suite near the window, one leg crossed casually over the other. His hands rested in his lap; long fingers intertwined. The light source in his suite was set so low as to seemingly exist only to cast deep shadows throughout the room. Obi-Wan strained to see his Master in the dimness.

He looked pensive, calm.

"Master!" Obi-Wan slumped against the doorframe, relief flooding his soul. He squinted into the low light. "Are you all right? I could not sense you. . ." Obi-Wan's voice overflowed with worry.

"I am all right Obi-Wan. Quickly, come in." Qui-Gon's voice possessed a staid calmness, but Obi-Wan heard a slight tremble there. More importantly, he could sense his Master's thoughts again, more vividly than ever. It was almost as if they were his own. The transformation had, of course, nearly made them his own.

Obi-Wan walked in and heard the whoosh of the door closing behind him. He focused on his Master, sensing his thoughts, and was aghast at what he found. "You closed yourself off to me. . ."

Qui-Gon stood and walked swiftly toward his Padawan. "So the Council couldn't sense our thoughts. As I woke from my dream I sensed you withdrawing from meditation and recalling the dream. I sensed your panic Padawan, and I knew all too well what your reaction would be."

"You knew I'd come for you. . ."

". . .whether or not you could sense my thoughts." Qui-Gon stood directly in front of Obi-Wan now. The briefest flash of a smile flickered across his face. "Just as I would come for you Obi-Wan."

//Just as he would come for me//

"Master, the dream. . ."

"It was just that Obi-Wan. A dream. Take them seriously, but not so seriously that they cloud your view of what is real."

It had seemed real to Obi-Wan. The fear in his Master was all too real. Perhaps Qui-Gon did not remember.

"Master, I sensed deep fear in you. Do you not remember? I drew it from you - turned it over to the Force."

Qui-Gon took a step closer to his Padawan, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. Obi-Wan felt waves of heat radiating from each of his Master's fingertips, igniting an instant, scorching fever throughout his body.

"Yes Obi-Wan, I remember." He paused, searching his Padawan's eyes. "It is a rare thing to enter another's dream, even after transformation. Rarer still is the ability to alleviate the dreamer's fear. To do so is to put yourself at great risk." His Master's eyes seared into him, gravely serious. "The Dark Side has never been closer Padawan. Could you feel it there with you?"

"Yes Master." Obi-Wan couldn't tell if his Master was pleased or displeased with his decision to draw out his fear. He met Qui-Gon's gaze earnestly, hoping for the best, hoping to learn.

Qui-Gon's voice was quietly stern. "You should not have drawn my fear."

Obi-Wan remained respectful of his Master, though he wanted to scream his opposition. "Yes Master. Respectfully Master, I must tell you that I would sacrifice myself without hesitation to keep you from the Dark Side."

Qui-Gon's hand shot to the back of Obi-Wan's neck, holding him there as firmly as his gaze held his Padawan's eyes. His voice commanded compliance. "You will not. Ever. If I am weakened and at risk of turning, you will leave me. Immediately. Do you understand Obi-Wan? You will not turn for me."

"I understand Master." Obi-Wan was shocked at the severity of his Master's words and the force with which he held him. He knew he shouldn't be, considering the destiny of his Master's last Padawan.

Obi Wan knew that Xanatos's seduction by the Dark Side while a Padawan remained the single most painful chapter in his Master's life, one that scarred him on every level. It left him vowing never to take another Padawan. The feelings of loss had become Obi-Wan's through transformation, and they ran shockingly deep.

Qui-Gon let his hand slip back to his Padawan's shoulder, bringing his other hand to rest on Obi-Wan's opposite shoulder. His mouth turned upward in a quick, hesitant grin, his gaze softening. "Never sacrifice the future for the past Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon closed his eyes, pausing for a long moment. "Remember this. To sacrifice yourself for the future is to be as one with the Force for eternity."

"Yes Master. I understand and I agree Master." Obi-Wan took a deep breath, not believing that he was about to oppose his Master. "But Master I would rather die a thousand deaths than to see you die in body or spirit." He struggled with the words. "Master, I. . ."

Obi-Wan impulsively brought his hands to his Master's face, cradling it and hoping they would express what his words could not.

His Master's grip on his shoulders tightened and Obi-Wan could sense his thoughts.

//I know Obi-Wan//

Of course he knows. He is me. I am him. Obi-Wan searched his Master's face and now he knew. Undeniably now, his Master felt the same.

Obi-Wan had truly known all along.

After their kiss in the Labarik Sea, they had returned to their lives as if it had never happened. Obi-Wan had always sensed that he was special to his Master, but could never discern in what way, other than as a Padawan.

Now he knew. Irrefutably.

Obi-Wan stood nearly panting in front of his Master, feeling years' worth of passion and want, craving and hunger surging relentlessly inside him. Building fast. Rising, an unstoppable torrent of need crashed through him and he felt his fingers gripping his Master's face, pulling him closer.

Dictates be damned.

His Master bent willingly toward him but stopped just as Obi-Wan could feel the heat of his lips on his own. He wanted to scream out in utter frustration.

He felt his Master's breath soft and hot against his mouth. "This can go no further than a kiss Obi-Wan."

Blinded by unchecked lust Obi-Wan heard words fall from his lips that he could not believe were his own.

"The hell it can't."

Before his Master could protest, Obi-Wan pulled him hard into a kiss of so much power that it threatened to consume them both. This kiss was a battle as fierce as their first one and Obi-Wan feverishly clutched at Qui-Gon, pulling his robe from his shoulders.

Their lips ground against each other's, their tongues parried wildly, their mouths devoured the other's.

His Master's passion was more controlled and, unbelievably, was even more powerful than his own. Qui-Gon's hands had slipped from his shoulders, one going to the back of his head where it crushed his ponytail flat, the other fell to his waist where Obi-Wan felt his fingers digging hard into him.

Then he was spinning. Literally. Qui-Gon, mouth still hard on his Padawan's, had spun him around and was pushing him backward hard and fast. With a dull thud, Obi-Wan felt himself pressed firmly against a wall, held there by the pressing weight of his Master's body. The force with which he was shoved there caused a groan to slip from his lips.

His Master's body, hard against him.

//So beautiful. So perfect. Master, I am yours//

Obi-Wan's arms grasped at his Master, holding him close, feeling muscles wound tight, the arousal that was so apparent in his Master's body betraying his words of caution and denial.

Qui-Gon pulled away, ending the kiss suddenly, his lips trailing immediately to Obi-Wan's jaw and neck. His beard scratched lightly at the sensitive flesh there. The soft burn of his mouth marked his flesh as surely as any brand.

Murmurs, whispered low against his neck, only heightened Obi-Wan's desire despite their message.

"Obi-Wan, this cannot happen." Qui-Gon paused, letting his tongue snake out and moisten the skin on his Padawan's neck. His voice came out in whispered bursts, seemingly timed with his own quick, sharp breaths. "It would only be. . .to your detriment. . .your training. . .would suffer." Qui-Gon groaned quietly, slipping the robe from his Padawan's shoulders.

He sensed that his Master's resolve was slipping. He sensed his Master's will being torn in two.

Obi-Wan let his arms fall from around his Master, allowing the robe to slip from his body. He knew his Master had to say these words. They made complete, logical sense. But as sure as he knew of his love for his Master, he knew that they would unite now in the only remaining way that they had not yet.

"My training. . ." Obi-Wan growled as he felt hands on his belt, loosening it. "My training would only strengthen. Our bond. . ." Obi-Wan's belt fell away, his Master's lips brushing against his before caressing his closed eyelids. "Master, our bond would only intensify. . ."

He sensed - no, he knew - that his Master desired it as deeply as he did. He would give himself wholly to his Master, as he knew Qui-Gon so desired, so needed him to.

Obi-Wan struggled to speak, needing to tell his Master he knew. Finding it impossible to form coherent words through his passion, he sent his thoughts to his Master. As he did, he pulled the holder from his Master's hair, letting it spill forward, lacing his fingers through it.

//Master your hair. . .so fine. . .Master I sensed your unease, your restlessness, and I know its cause. And I know its solution//

Qui-Gon took him in a deep kiss as his hands began stripping off his Padawan's sash and tunic. Obi-Wan broke the kiss breathlessly, aching for a shred of control over his Master. Just once.

"Master, I know its solution." He tried to sound firm, but when his Master dipped once again to his neck, Obi-Wan felt any control slip away.

"Do you Padawan?" Qui-Gon's voice was low and trembled with untamed want as he kissed his neck.

"At the ceremony, you. . ." Blast, did his Master know what he was doing to him? "Mmm. . .you began something that I did not allow you to finish. . ."

"So you did." He felt his Master smile briefly against the curve that joined his shoulder and neck.

Obi-Wan drew away from his Master's mouth and leaned down, capturing his eyes.

"Now you shall."

*********************

It was wrong to do this, but Qui-Gon could fight it no longer. The scent of his Padawan's flesh filled him with a longing of such magnitude that he felt weak and incapable of resisting its draw.

As he held him there against the wall, pinned under the weight of his body, Qui-Gon admitted it to himself. He loved the man. As son, as friend, as compatriot, as lover.

Loved, desired, wanted, craved.

Obi-Wan was staring into his eyes now, telling him things he already knew. Boldly telling him with words that he as Master would kneel before the Padawan until completion, thus easing his restlessness. Telling him with thought of his eternal loyalty.

Qui-Gon heard it all and cherished his Padawan's concern, holding his loyalty close to his heart. As he slipped the layers of clothing from Obi-Wan's body, thought and word ceased and he felt nothing except the pounding of blood through his body. Or was it Obi-Wan's blood he felt?

Was there a difference anymore?

His Padawan's hands ripped at his clothing, pulling them off with unrestrained fervor. Tunic flew this way, belt, and then sash that way. As Obi-Wan tugged his leggings down, he allowed them to simply pool at his Master's feet.

He knelt there a long moment before parting his lips and allowing Qui-Gon's cock passage through his lips to the soft warmth of his mouth.

Qui-Gon moaned too loudly as his Padawan took him deeply into his throat on the first thrust. He fully sensed Obi-Wan's forever-entwined love/lust spiraling around him. Oddly, or perhaps not so oddly, he could sense minor physical sensations of the mouth and throat that Obi-Wan must have been experiencing.

His Padawan showered his cock with lavish attention; wet kisses from wet lips, and painless nips from hesitant teeth.

"Obi-Wan, I thought I was to. . . finish this."

His cock slipped from between the lips of his Padawan and Obi-Wan's eyes lifted to his.

"Master, I could not resist."

"Patience, my Padawan. All good things in time." Qui-Gon smiled, understanding and relating to Obi-Wan's eagerness. He grasped Obi-Wan by the shoulders, pulling him upward, wanting to let his Padawan nourish himself for as long as he desired but knowing that he could wait no longer for the taste of Obi-Wan.

Qui-Gon gazed at Obi-Wan as he now stood before him, his lips red, chapped, and appearing bee-stung from the harshness of their kisses and the attention expended on his cock. Overcome with tenderness and emotion, Qui-Gon ran his thumb gently along Obi-Wan's lower lip, following it with a serene kiss.

A hand cradled his beloved Padawan's face as he slipped his mouth to his ear to whisper the words he'd longed to say, the words his Padawan had ached to hear.

"I do love you Obi-Wan."

Obi Wan fell softly into Qui-Gon, his body slumping lightly against his Master's. Quietly he spoke, his voice even and peaceful.

"Thank you Master." He paused as he leaned against his Master's shoulder, grasping his hand and entwining his fingers with Qui-Gon's. "I have, and always shall, love you."

He sensed his Padawan's disbelief that these words had finally passed between them, sensing his relief, his joy, and his yes, his fear. Qui-Gon felt them as his own emotions. Truly, it was impossible to distinguish between his Padawan's feelings and his own at times.

//Waylay your fear Obi-Wan. Change is inevitable, but we shall remain as ever//

With that, Qui-Gon eased his Padawan from him, searched his face, and brought his mouth softly to Obi-Wan's. His student's lips moved in slow, deliberate machinations over his, increasing in fervor until they again found themselves in a passionate clutch, grinding hard against each other.

Qui-Gon loosened the drawstring of Obi-Wan's leggings, letting them fall in a heap around his ankles. He sensed the anticipation rising in them both as he dropped to his knees, taking time to savor the taste of his Padawan's chest, stomach, and hips on his descent.

As he took Obi-Wan's cock between his lips he heard his Padawan moan loudly and indeed, he felt the urge to as well. A trickle of pre-ejaculate already coated his tongue - the familiar salt/sweet taste intoxicating him as it had during the ceremony.

Qui-Gon's fingers stroked his Padawan's powerful legs, feeling the muscles drawn tight under the skin. He heard Obi-Wan's breathing coming in heavy gasps, moans escaping his lips with each thrust of his mouth along his Padawan's rigid cock.

He felt Obi-Wan's fingers weaving through his hair, his hands guiding him.

//Master, do not think me arrogant in guiding you when you so obviously know. . .//

Slipping his lips from Obi-Wan's cock, Qui-Gon whispered low and knew his words would stir a firestorm in his Padawan.

"Guide me as you will for at this moment I am your student."

Obi-Wan groaned and threw his head back, cracking it with a thud against the wall.

"Are you all right?"

Obi-Wan's answer was nothing more than an affirmative groan as he tightened his grip on his Master's head.

He reacted just as his Master knew he would. Qui-Gon took his Padawan's cock deep into his mouth, pumping it with added vigor as he followed the desires of his student's guiding hands.

Qui-Gon let himself go for a moment, reveling in the feel of his Padawan; rigid and firm, yet as soft as the finest Cylevenian silk. He lost himself in the scent of him; carnal and earthy, his musk nearly as intoxicating as his taste.

His taste. It remained as tears - sweet and salty and completely addicting.

Obi-Wan increased the tempo and Qui-Gon sensed release was close. He was not in the least bit shocked to feel a fire starting in him, knowing he was feeling his Padawan's own imminent release.

He drew himself up in preparation, stroking the back of his Padawan's thighs with a touch as light as a feather, feeling goose bumps rise over Obi-Wan's legs.

//Master - so close. Please. . .//

//Give yourself to me Padawan//

With a surrendering groan, Obi Wan's life force shot from him to his beloved Master, thus instantly easing his restlessness, giving him peace.

Qui-Gon leaned into his Padawan, taking all he had to give, knowing that Obi-Wan was as ambrosia to him.

Completely spent, Obi-Wan fell back against the wall and slipped down against it, landing with a thud on the floor. His eyes, glazed over and exhausted, stared unbelievingly at his Master.

He stared for a long time and his Master stared back; eyes locked as if in trance, seemingly feeding each other exactly what the other needed - be it unconditional love, acceptance, reassurance, or veneration.

Unwilling to destroy such a moment with the harshness of speech, Obi-Wan came to his Master in thought.

//Symbionce Master?//

Qui-Gon smiled at his Padawan.

//Love Padawan.//

*****

End

*****

Feedback to missmr94@aol.com