Rating : NC-17 for m/m sex
Archiving : yes to M&A, others please ask
Categories First time
Warnings : None really
Spoilers : Equally none really, being AU
Summary : Qui-Gon is on randy - and Obi-Wan is handy.....
Disclaimer : I freely admit to George Lucas being copyright
holder and that this story is done for no profit beyond my own
pleasure and hopefully the pleasure of others.
Acknowledgments : My thanks to rhi-lin and mani jay for their
helpful advice and support.
They had been together for ten years and Obi-Wan thought he knew
everything there was to know about Qui-Gon Jinn. But this mood,
this strange disconnection, was new to him. It was as if his
Master had gone to another place and shut the door behind him.
And his Padawan was on the other side of the door.
The foyer outside the main Calleo High Chamber was filled with
sunshine, bright colours, the artwork of a vibrant and artistic
people. Great colourful tapestries hung from the high walls,
hand-blown glass vases filled with local flowers sat atop
hand-carved darkwood tables. The varnished wooden floors were
covered with rugs and everything shone. And the Calleo
themselves, tentative though they had been to end their age of
isolation from the Republic, seemed friendly enough. They
reminded Obi-Wan a little of Wookies, though they weren't quite
as tall, and their fur coats were short and very neat.
It should have been the simplest of missions; go to Calleo,
settle some minor matters of protocol and religion and offer the
Calleo people membership. The weather on the small lush world was
warm and pleasant, the air was clean, the people intelligent and
peaceful. It really should have been easy.
And it had been, except for this..shutting out. Always a reserved
and quiet man, Qui-Gon was still approachable, an easy companion
for the long journeys, a comforting presence, solid and reliable.
The best Master a Padawan could ask for. He's not exactly gabby
at the best of times, Obi-Wan thought, watching the restless
pacing figure, but lately he's been positively morose. And
without any obvious cause.
There was also the physical thing; always observant of body
language as it was shown to him through his eyes and through the
Force, it had become obvious over the previous days that Qui-Gon
was drawing away from him, avoiding any physical contact. When
they were in the same room together Qui-Gon kept himself to the
furthest point he could be from his apprentice without actually
leaving the room. And he'd even occasionally done that.
Then there'd been that odd instance the other evening when
Obi-Wan had come out of the washroom after his shower with just a
towel wrapped around his hips. Qui-Gon had practically bolted
from the room. Obi-Wan had felt as if he'd suddenly grown some
ugly blemish that necessitated flight.
What's wrong with the man! He sent out a faint tendril of the
Force toward the restless figure..and met a solid wall of power
that blocked him and flung the questing energy back into his face
with shocking force. But it wasn't that which pulled him upright
and sent him across the room towards his Master. For a very brief
moment, when he'd touched Qui-Gon's aura, he'd sensed.something
very strange. Pain. Qui-Gon was in pain.
The Jedi Master had come to a stop, back rigid, faced away from
Obi-Wan. As his apprentice moved towards him he spoke one word in
a clipped, controlled voice.
"Stop."
Obi-Wan ignored it, came up behind Qui-Gon, reached out to touch
the stiff shoulder. "Master, what's wrong. I sense you are
in pain."
As fast as thought, Qui-Gon swung around, dislodging the hand,
and Obi-Wan backed away instinctively. It wasn't anger, wasn't
annoyance, wasn't anything Dark. It was anguish, quickly hidden,
but leaving a whisper of its presence in Obi-Wan's mind.
"There is nothing wrong.."
"Master, you have never lied to me before."
Qui-Gon clenched his hands into fists. He started to back away,
then stopped and took a deep, steadying breath. "Your point
is taken. If I am.unwell.it is nothing that you can help me with.
As soon as this discussion is finished we will be leaving. When
we return to Coruscant all will be well. This is a temporary
affliction only." He turned in a swirl of brown fabric and
walked briskly out of the Foyer
Obi-Wan watched him to and shook his head. Stubborn didn't begin
to describe Qui-Gon Jinn - and whatever this problem was, he was
determined to handle it alone. / /Unless a particularly cunning
padawan of his acquaintance can find out the real truth//.
Thoughtful, he followed Qui-Gon back to their quarters.
The final Council meeting was delayed a further day and Obi-Wan
found himself alone in their quarters for most of the afternoon
and evening. Qui-Gon had merely said he had business and left,
not meeting his padawan's searching look.
After a lonely dinner, Obi-Wan had laid down on the bed in their
quarters to rest and had fallen asleep out of sheer boredom. He
was woken during the night by the sound of Qui-Gon's voice from
the other room. Curious, he stood and slipped across the dark
room to stand near the partly open door.
"...and this delay has made things very difficult,
Mace."
"Just how bad is it?" Obi-Wan strained to hear Master
Windu's faint voice over the small communicator.
"Its final stage. And the biomeds have had no discernable
affect. But I've seen that coming for some time now."
There was silence for a few seconds before Mace answered.
"And there is absolutely no-one on that planet who can help
you?"
"None. The nearest help is six parsecs away. And you know
what that means for a Shagran in final stage. I have to get away
from here, Mace. Soon. Tomorrow."
"Very well. Stay until tomorrow if you can, I've despatched
a replacement team, they'll be there in two days. Try and stay
calm, Qui-Gon. You have been through this before."
"Not like this. For some reason it is worse than it has ever
been. Perhaps the hormone replacements have caused a reaction.
They are not meant to be taken for as long as I have used them,
after all."
The sigh was audible over the great distance between them.
"The Force be with you, Qui-Gon. I will be thinking of
you."
"Thank you. I hope to be back soon. One way or the
other."
Silence fell and Obi-Wan backed away quietly, climbing back into
bed. Very little of what he'd heard made sense - except that both
men had been very concerned, and something was obviously
seriously wrong with his Master.
Tomorrow he would be doing some serious investigating.
The next morning Qui-Gon left without eating and headed off alone
to visit the Council. As soon as he was gone Obi-Wan connected
his portable communicator into the courier ship's computer system
and started searching.
The first search he did was Shagran, tied to the words
"final stage". The computer took a few seconds to
search, then dumped a file on his screen titled PLANET:: Shagran:
Race : Human - subspecies: Shagran : "final stage" -
The Blood Fever - Stages, initial to Final."
He began to read about Qui-Gon's people, and as he did, he
realised how little he knew about the man he'd been with for half
his life. And he also understood the fear as words like
"potentially fatal" and "in extreme cases leading
to insanity and death" flittered across the small screen in
front of him.
"Temporary affliction! Force!" Obi-Wan swiveled the
chair around, stared up at the ceiling. It was clear enough:
Qui-Gon's people, the Shagran.he'd never mentioned where he came
from...were subject to a cyclic hormonal urge called the Blood
Fever. Between the heights of their cycle their sexual drives
were fairly low, but approximately every five years they were
required to mate. A gland in the brain stem secreted hormones
that built up in their bodies and could only be purged by a
fairly decent dose of sexual activity indulged in intensively
over a couple of days. If they didn't they could get very sick.
The computer spoke of hormonal treatments for Shagrans who
couldn't mate, which was obviously what Qui-Gon had been talking
about. But equally obviously the treatment had become ineffective
- and they were on a planet without a single other human being
with whom he could mate.
Except me.
That thought made him sit up straight in the chair. He picked up
a pen and rolled it through his fingers, eyes staring unfocused
out the wide windows, not seeing the clear sky at all. How do I
feel about that?
Like most adolescents, he'd tried sex in a variety of forms with
both human sexes and liked it well enough either way. He'd never
formed a permanent attachment beyond the first few amorous
romances - becoming a Jedi had been the central cause of his
life. And as for Qui-Gon...Qui-Gon was his Master, his teacher,
the most important person in his life.
And something else, something that he hadn't realised or had
never need to consider, till then. That he loved Qui-Gon, always
had, in one way or another. When had childish admiration turned
to something more? With the honest self-evaluation that was an
essential part of his nature, Obi-Wan judged himself and his
feelings towards his Master.
/ /I love every thing about him, even the parts that annoy me.
His strength, his courage, his dignity in adversity, his quiet
stillness, the fire I sometimes see lying under that control. The
rebel, the follower of dreams. I couldn't have picked a better
role model if I'd searched the galaxy all my life. And if this
had never happened I might have gone on loving him as all those
things and nothing more.//
But the possibilities of More were expanding amazingly. He closed
his eyes, leant back in the chair and brought the image of
Qui-Gon to his mind. The eyes, the wonderful crooked nose, the
mouth.. He tipped his head to one side and thought about the
mouth. Thought about how it would feel to kiss it, to be kissed
by it.
As the first familiar tingles stirred in his groin, he laughed.
Survey made, results coming in to the affirmative. His body
obviously had no objections. But as for the rest..even more
important than the love was the friendship. Built over a decade
of following him into harm's way, being at his back, being
protected by him on a score of missions, it was the most valuable
thing Obi-Wan had.
Before, their separation could only have been achieved in a small
number of ways. When he became a Knight, which was hopefully some
years off yet. If either of them had turned.how unlikely was
that! Or death. And that was the choice they faced now, in all
probability.
You would die for me, this I know. I cannot stand by and let you
die because of me.
Decision made, he began to plan.
Qui-Gon was tired, tired to the bone and he'd almost forgotten
what it was like to sleep undisturbed. The though of food made
him nauseous, there was a constant headache droning behinds his
eyes and he was alternately hit by hot and cold flushes so that
he shivered till it seemed something would break.
But even greater than that was the need. It burned in him so that
every cell seemed to ache from it and his skin was one great
nerve end longing to be touched. He had tried to give himself
ease but it was transitory at best. He required the complete
release that could only be had with intercourse.
Somehow he'd gotten through the day, said all the right things,
smiled, conversed intelligently. Only his command of the Force
had allowed him to carry on but the constant need to augment his
failing systems was draining him of energy. Any normal man from
his world would be hopelessly insane by now.or dead from systemic
collapse. And even for him that fate was drawing dangerously
close.
He'd found a quiet spot in a little garden not far from the
Council chambers and sat in the sun to try and soak up some heat
and find some peace. But peace was eluding him as he raged
silently at his own stupidity.
You knew it was due but chose to ignore it. Overconfidence will
be your downfall, Qui-Gon Jinn. You've become stupid in your
later years. Stupid, stupid.
He sighed and climbed to his feet, feeling his years as he never
had before. In the flush of health with the Force at his call he
had always felt young. But with death so alarmingly close he felt
very old.
Walking slowly, head down, he found himself outside the rooms he
shared with his apprentice. He hesitated for a moment and as he
did a new wave of cold struck and he groaned, leaning against the
door, willing his body to stop..stop..hurting..
The door opened suddenly and he almost fell..a pair of strong
hands caught him and he felt himself wrapped in a warm swell of
concern and affection..he looked up into the concerned
face..beautiful face..and shook his head, pulling himself away
and upright.
Or at least tried to. He couldn't seem to move, his body was
locked into place, his senses swimming in Obi-Wan's aura.
Suddenly he was aware of the younger man on a level never before
experienced; he could smell the clean male odour of his skin,
hear the warm thud of his heart, see every pore of that pale
golden skin.
And he realised, with shock, that his body had honed in on
Obi-Wan like a magnet to metal. It had set itself for his
Padawan, marking him as the chosen one. The Blood Fever focused
with hungry intensity, scenting release.
No no no
It was the hardest thing he ever did to take one step backwards.
Obi-Wan let his hands drop and Qui-Gon sensed his withdrawal.
Part of him was relieved. And part of him wanted to press himself
forward, grab hold of the young strong body and take it, own
it..... He twitched with the intensity of his need and
straightened, dredging up the tattered remains of his control.
"I must....go...have an appointment."
"Actually, you don't. Have an appointment that is. What you
have is the Blood Fever."
Surprise made Qui-Gon start, focusing on the bright eyes watching
him. "What?" It was a stupid response, but his mind
wasn't functioning at its normal peak.
Obi-Wan smiled, stepped aside and motioned his Master inside,
away from the open door and possible observation. "Perhaps
you should come in and sit down before you fall down. I'm sorry,
Master, but I heard you and Master Windu talking last night. I
did a little investigating while you were out."
Qui-Gon allowed himself to be guided to an armchair and sank down
in it, looking up at Obi-Wan, focusing on his voice, trying to
concentrate. "Indeed. And you found, what?"
"That I don't know my Master as well as I thought I
did." Qui-Gon watched Obi-Wan intently as he pulled up a
footstool and sat in front of him. He cleared his throat,
suddenly thirsty.
"Does anyone know another completely? We all have our
secrets, usually kept that way for a reason."
He watched his padawan as he rested his hands across his lap and
looked back at Qui-Gon with the quiet intensity that he knew so
well. For a young man he was surprisingly contained, and as
graceful as a dancer, even at rest. Each movement fascinated
Qui-Gon, he couldn't seem to stop watching. He dragged his eyes
up to his Padawan's face, studied the familiar features,
wondering how he'd never noticed how perfectly balanced those
features were. The cleft in the chin especially attracted him.
Without realising he'd been considering it, he reached out and
touched that chin with one finger.
Whatever words Obi-Wan had been about to say never came. His
lips, opening to speak, stopped in mid-movement. There was no
change of expression beyond a certain air of consideration. Then
slowly, with deliberate care, he lowered his chin and took the
finger into his mouth.
Qui-Gon couldn't have moved if a Sith had appeared at the door
and issued challenge. All he could feel was the moist confinement
of his finger as it was held and tasted by teeth and tongue. Then
Obi-Wan took his hand, let the finger slip from his mouth and
pressed his face into Qui-Gon's palm, rubbing against the
callused skin slowly, thoroughly, like some great cat.
Seconds passed and he realised he'd stopped breathing. He took in
a gasping breath, curled his hand around the soft skin of
Obi-Wan's cheek, sliding his fingers behind one ear, stroking the
chin with his thumb.
"This," he said, slowly, "is insane." That
didn't stop him from lifting his other hand to his Padawan's
face, letting his fingers explore the contours of cheekbone and
forehead, aware only of how satisfied the Need was at this
touching.
Very gently, Obi-Wan took his hands away, held them in his and
said: "Do you think we should go to bed now?"
Qui-Gon wondered, in a quiet part of his brain, at the simplicty
with which Obi-Wan had turned both their lives upside down. And
his voice.....pitched just right, quiet, soft, not demanding,
suggestive. A seduction spoken in the elegant, cultured tones he
had come to love.
"No. I don't think we should. But we will."
The satisfied smile that slid across Obi-Wan's face was a
release, as if link had parted in some chain holding his reason
and body together. He stood in one fluid movement and pulled
Obi-Wan up, lifting him off his feet, sliding his arms around the
trim waist. Obi-Wan reached over and wrapped his own arms around
Qui-Gon's neck, pressing himself further into the Jedi's sudden
strength, guiding their lips together. He wrapped his legs around
his master's thighs until there was no space between them, just
hard bodies pressed together, locked into the first steps of an
ancient dance.
It felt so good, much better than he'd dreamed. He wondered if he
only imagined the heat pulsing out through Qui-Gon's clothing, or
if it was his own fevered reaction reflected back to him. He was
quite surprised to note that his hands were shaking. Nervous,
suddenly excited, tinged with some fear of the unknown, he
shivered against the mouth that covered his, senses overloading
in a rush of tactile input....the feel of beard stroking his
cheeks.....his fingers cradling Qui-Gon's head through the fall
of long, warm hair....the tongue tasting his mouth even as his
tongue rubbed against it....the strong arms holding him, hands
stroking his back, pulling him up against a wide chest.... He
felt overloaded, charged up to explode from sheer excitement.
Qui-Gon stepped backwards, carrying Obi-Wan with him. He spun
around and they fell together onto the bed. Obi-Wan came out of
the kiss gasping, face flushed and Qui-Gon used the moment to
begin stripping the clothes away from him, pulling away tunics
and tossing them aside, stripping out pants and boots. Obi-Wan
had time for a few moments of amused surprise at how quickly his
Master could divest himself of his multiple layers of clothing
when he really needed to...then large hands grabbed him with
bruising strength and he looked up into eyes blinded by
desperation.
There wasn't even time to feel any last sense of oddness at the
feel of their naked bodies together. He sensed Qui-Gon's need and
willed himself to relax, to let his Master do what he needed to
do to survive. Qui-Gon pushed his legs apart and settled himself
between them, running hands and mouth over inch of his Padawan's
body that he could reach. Those hands moved over his stomach and
around his hips, fingers spread wide.
Then he was being lifted as Qui-Gon ran his hands up both legs;
Obi-Wan slid his legs up Qui-Gon's chest and linked his ankles
around his Master chest, beneath his arms.. Instinctively calling
on the Force for balance, he followed Qui-Gon's urgent hands,
letting himself be angled back against his shoulders, held almost
vertical as Qui-Gon rose above him.
Obi-Wan felt the first touch of the swollen rod between Qui-Gon's
legs. It nudged against him urgently and he felt a sudden flash
of fear. He'd never done this before, but knew enough to know
that unlubricated as he was, any entry would be very painful. He
tried to move aside to find the small vial of massage oil he'd
put in the bedside table....
Qui-gon snarled and he looked up, shocked by the sound. There was
very little intelligence in the damp face that glared down at him
and he sensed the hot animalistic lust, fueled by the fear of
denial. Big hands grabbed him and pulled him back.
"Master...let me....get some oil....it will make it
easier..."
It was useless, there was no response beyond a narrowing of the
eyes, a tightening grip on his legs. The breath was knocked out
of his chest as Qui-Gon pushed him further over...a hand grasped
his arse, fingers pulling apart the tight ring of muscle...and
Qui-Gon thrust into him in one savage movement.
It did hurt, very much. Instinctively he tried to push himself
away from the source of the pain but Qui-Gon had him in a vice
grip, holding him down with hands and legs and an explosive
strength. Qui-Gon pushed in deep, withdrew, and pushed again,
seeking the perfect entry angle. Each stroke stretched Obi-Wan's
body and he felt skin tear, felt the string of blood and he
sobbed, both hands fisted into the bedding, trying very hard not
to scream.
//I have to remember...remember....why.....not his fault...//
Qui-Gon settled into a rhythm at last; rising and thrusting,
dropping and withdrawing, grunting with each thrust. And finally,
when he thought he could bear no more, he felt Qui-Gon push in
very deeply, angling upwards and something sparked .....a flash
of pleasure pushed away the pain., showering him with the first
swell of a growing orgasm. Again....Qui-Gon touched that strange,
sensitive spot deep in him and he groaned.
//Yes....more.... good..... //
Qui-Gon's hands came down and began to stroke him between the
legs and he looked up and saw....something in those eyes.
Something asking for forgiveness, asking not to be made rapist by
this act.
//Its alright....I understand....I am here for you...//.
He sensed a quiver of reaction along their link and the hands
crept up to his face, cupping his head, thumbs stroking his
cheeks in rhythm to the firm pounding against his arse. The world
melted into shared pleasure, he could sense Qui-Gon's swelling
orgasm, sense the shame, the need, the pain that had driven him
to such a desperate taking. And something else. An affection to
mirror his own, the place he filled in the heart of a lonely man.
He opened himself as he never had before. His body unclenched,
the pain disappeared. He was a party to their shared pleasure and
he thrust into Qui-Gon's mind as Qui-Gon pushed into his
body...deeply, very deeply.....reached out and joined....took
hold of the spirit of the one he loved....yes, loved, he could
admit it, loved in every way there was to love, because of who he
was. There was a deep thrumming vibration, a sense of
joining.....and what had been two --
became one.
He awoke to the feel of hands on his hips pulling him back
against a hard body, with Qui-Gon already inside him, moving so
easily past the relaxed muscle that it all seemed part of the
erotic dream he'd been having. Eyes closed, he let himself be
taken, rocked by the slow rhythm, swimming in the shared pleasure
that had come so easily to him since that first time. He did have
to wonder, though, how Qui-Gon managed to keep going. And it was
the fourth time - when would he run out of steam...?
Qui-Gon leant forward to rub his face over Obi-Wan's shoulder,
the beard stroking his skin as one of those large hands slid down
from hips to stomach, setting off little twitching ripples of
goosebumps as it trailed down to his groin. His Master hadn't
spoken a word all night...made plenty of noise, but nothing
intelligent. But each time they'd had sex it was a little easier,
a little less frantic, as if the pressure was seeping out of his
body along with the seed he'd emptied into his padawan.
Obi-Wan straightened a little, allowing the wandering hand room
to move, parting his legs so that the hand could take hold of his
hardening penis. Fingers wrapped around him in a firm but gentle
hold. Throwing his head back, Obi-Wan gripped any part of Qui-Gon
he could reach and pushed back, meeting each thrust, feeling...
everything... reflected pleasure, a shared and explosive release.
He twisted around but could see little of anything -- morning was
still an hour away and night frost sparkled on the windows. It
had been cold outside but inside it was very warm. There was a
sense of satisfied release but also a readiness to rest and with
a satisfied sigh, he curled up against Qui-Gon and went back to
sleep.
Waking was like coming up from a deep dive, pushing to the
surface, grabbing for the light. He opened his eyes at last, took
one or two deep breaths and looked about.
The last thing he'd remembered was.....Obi-Wan....touching him.
/ /Oh Force.....what have I done.....//
He turned his head to confirm what his senses were already
telling him --his padawan lay next to him, naked, arms sprawled
over him, deeply asleep. And his other senses confirmed the
worst. The heat in his groin, the incomplete memories of grinding
himself into another body and the smell of sex that hung around
them both.
/ /I have sexually abused my own padawan.// Disgust swarmed up
from his stomach in a rush of nausea. / /I have betrayed his
trust and my own honour. Why couldn't I simply have died...//
Next to him, Obi-Wan twitched and came awake, rolling over
wide-eyed and alarmed. "What! ...danger..."
The horror of what he'd done was amplified when he reached out
through the link to soothe --and found that what had been had
been turned into something much more.
He groaned, falling back on the bed and Obi-Wan looked down at
him with alarm pushing away the last traces of sleep.
"Qui-Gon, are you sick? Can I help?
"Help?" His throat was dry, the normally controlled
tones made harsh by exhaustion and self-loathing. "I am
beyond help."
Obi-Wan reached out touch him and Qui-Gon squirmed aside.
"Don't touch me!"
"Don't --touch me?" Obi-Wan gave a tired smile. "
Master, I hate to bring up the obvious, but we've been doing a
great deal of touching over the last eight hours."
Qui-Gon pulled himself upright and swung his legs onto the floor,
wrapping a bed covering around himself. "I am aware of that.
As bad as that is...." He turned towards Obi-Wan and
flinched at the pain he thought he saw in that open face,
"...even more than raping you..."
"You did not rape me!"
"..even more than that, I have also condemned you to an
early death!"
"What? What are you talking about?"
Qui-Gon rubbed his thumping head and tried to find the best way
to speak the unspeakable. "Shagrans can initiate a lifebond,
especially in the later stages of the Fever. Not many do so
nowadays, it is generally thought to be too dangerous and most
who choose to form one are radicals or unemotionally unbalanced.
It seems that I am both, since we are now in a Lifebond."
There was silence for some seconds and through he tried to block
Obi-Wan from his thoughts, that was entirely impossible in his
current conditions. He felt the growing curiosity, the total lack
of fear that could only come from innocence.
"Really? I thought I sensed something odd. But what does it
mean?"
"Exactly what it says. Your life is tied to mine, mine to
yours, on a very deep physical level --our life energies are
interlinked through our brains, down to the midichlorian level.
When I die --so do you --and I am twice your age." He swung
around and grabbed Obi-Wan's shoulders in a hard grip. "I
have effectively halved your life expectancy. Not exactly the
gift a Master would normally wish to give to his padawan!"
Sitting still within the hard grip, not seeming to notice the
bruising pressure, Obi-Wan nodded and considered the idea,
working it round his mind like a child sucking on a new sweet.
"Yes, I think I understand. But are there no positive
aspects of this bonding?"
Qui-Gon sought to honour his padawan's life with the truth.
"Until we learn to shield we will experience everything the
other feels --all the pleasures, the discomforts, the stresses,
the fears, even the dreams. We can, at times, share energy to
strengthen the other if one is hurt or sick. There are other
things..." he let Obi-wan go and slumped, running hands
through his tangled hair, "...but I never really studied the
subject. I no intention of creating a lifebond."
He felt Obi-Wan move behind him, tried to stand but was held in
place by a will suddenly greater than his own. "Why
not?"
"Because. ..because I just never.... I don't know."
"Because you never loved anyone enough. Enough to tie
yourself to them in that sort of total commitment. But I am a
Jedi too, and I can share this life with you. Wait!" Obi-Wan
stopped Qui-Gon's automatic response. "You cannot say how
long I will live --not even Master Yoda makes those kind of
prophecies. I could die on a mission tomorrow. You could live
fifty years. We all know that our life is risky, with early death
more the rule than the exception. And..." Smaller, stronger
hands than his own pulled him around with undeniable power.
"...you assume I object to this commitment. I don't."
"I denied you the choice. It is another kind of rape."
"May we ignore this understandable self-immolation of yours
and study the question --could you have forced me to form such a
bond?"
Qui-Gon stopped, thought, and some terrible knot inside him eased
a little. "N...no.."
"No. I remember it, remember the joining. And it was a
joining, not a forcing. You reached out to me only as far as I
reached out to you." Qui-Gon didn't resist the arms that
slid around him nor the body that pressed against his back, legs
reaching on either side to wrap him in a tight cocoon. He leant
his head fall back against Obi-Wan's shoulder, feeling the trust
and affection, the undeserved love, enfold him. "I still
forced you to begin with," he murmured, closing his eyes as
the need climbed in him again.
"A little perhaps. The important things are usually not
easy. But how can I regret sharing myself with a man such as
you?"
He closed his eyes and floated in the pride and affection of his
lover. "You humble me, Sh'met." The translation
traveled the bond and he sensed Obi-Wan's pleasure in the small
endearment. How the rest of creation would see this Qui-Gon
couldn't know. And at that moment he didn't care. As he let those
strong young hands work the need out of him, he had a flash of
Force-sight, of a day when Obi-Wan would die in his arms and he
would follow him willingly into death. But there were many bright
days to come between, days of honour, pleasure, good humour and
the touch of a free and splendid spirit linked to his own.
All he needed do was care for that spirit, for the body that bore
it, till the end of their days. / /My oath and my honour on it//
The words traveled the bond and the other half of his soul
answered him in kind.