Korbett
by Telanu (telanu@email.com)
Rating: NC17
Summary: Inspired by FireCrackerīs story "Hammered," in which Qui-Gon
says to Obi-Wan, "If I were concerned about appearances I never would
have come to you six months ago on Korbett." Food for thought,
that!
Category: AU, Angst, First-Time, PWP
Notes: Thanks to FireCracker for letting me play. Hurry up
with "Temptations," woman. Also, Iīm trying to atone for the fact
that I included no smut in "Fortune Presents Gifts..:" I mean, what
the hell was up with that?!
Disclaimer: George Lucas, etc.
Feedback: Is greatly desired, but only if you donīt needle me about
finishing certain other projects about which I am most regrettably
lax. Iīll get to it. Just gotta take the plot bunnies when they
come, donīt you know...
Archive: Yes, please.
Get your hands off him.
Jedi Masters werenīt supposed to have thoughts like that.
But Qui-Gon did, and was. He was supposed to be enjoying the party,
a tasteful, well-done affair the Korbetti had thrown to celebrate a
particularly advantageous treaty signing with the neighboring world
of Gascoh. For once at a diplomatic reception the food was excellent
and to his taste, and even the music was pleasant. And quite
danceable, with a slow, almost sensual beat. A fact that Obi-Wan was
certainly making evident out on the floor.
With someone else.
Oh, Qui-Gon couldnīt fault his Padawanīs taste; Obi-Wanīs dance
partner was the most attractive young man in the entire hall, next to
Obi-Wan, of course. The two made a stunning picture together, raw
grace and beauty sliding together in a sinuous dance. Qui-Gon
attempted once again to remove his emotions from the picture, to try
and enjoy the sight of his Padawan dancing as a purely aesthetic
thing, and once again failed miserably, succeeding only in raising
his indignation and deeply-felt resentment of the other boy.
A boy indeed, he thought darkly. Has he ever had to shave? And
you--is that what you want, Padawan? Just another...boy?
Obi-Wan, nearly twenty-three now, had come into his maturity with a
sudden and shocking awareness. At seventeen, when the young manīs
beauty had only just begun to torment his Masterīs dreams, heīd begun
making the Temple rounds, discreetly but without shame - soon earning
himself a reputation as a skilled and tender lover. It hurt Qui-Gon
more than he cared to admit, especially as the years went on and Obi-
Wan seemed to show no inclination to stop bed-hopping.
Which was foolisness itself, of course. Love between Master and
Padawan was strictly forbidden by the Code; why shouldnīt young Obi-
Wan enjoy himself? He couldnīt ease himself with his Master, no
matter how much they both might wish it.
And they both did. Whatever jealousy might haunt him, at least Qui-
Gon knew that. He wasnīt a Jedi Master for nothing; Obi-Wan had been
looking at him hotly since heīd been about sixteen. A heat that,
surprisingly, had never faded, despite the years since then. And
what of it? he chided himself. Do you expect him, healthy young
man that he is, to remain celibate for you until heīs knighted?
Foolish, stupid man!
It was a litany heīd repeated to himself countless times over the
last six years or so, but tonight it had lost its strength, watching
Obi-Wan dance with this handsome stranger. Qui-Gon wondered,
miserably, why. They were leaving Korbett tomorrow; heīd never have
to see Obi-Wan with the other youth again. Why did this hurt him so?
Perhaps because it was not a bed Obi-Wan was sharing with the man -
at least, not yet - it was a simple social courtesy that Qui-Gon was
himself denied. For a Master to even dance with his Padawan in
public would be viewed with suspicion by the Council; especially this
Master and this Padawan, already so well known for defying
convention. Sleeping around he could tolerate to a degree, but how
could Obi-Wan flaunt this in his face?
"Look, Master. See what Iīm doing with someone I donīt love? See
what I canīt give to you? I bet it hurts."
Oh, it did. And it was beyond Qui-Gon how his Padawan could miss
it. Obi-Wan, while heīd certainly taken his share of people to bed,
had been remarkably reserved about other, more casual intimacies.
Like dancing. Until tonight.
The dim lights of the room played off Obi-Wanīs face, highlighting
the cheekbones, the cleft in the chin that made Qui-Gonīs mouth
water. His eyes slid lower to the slim, linen-clad hips that shifted
in the cadence of the dance and his own hips almost jerked in
response to a sudden surge of desire; he bit back a moan. This man,
this man, his Padawan...gods, there had never been anyone so beautiful....
Obi-Wanīs eyes slid over to lock with his own.
Qui-Gon felt his mouth go a bit slack with shock as Obi-Wan winked
wickedly at him then, never breaking the eye contact, gripped his
dance partnerīs hips firmly and ground them into his own. The
suggestive motion naturally brought attention and, with that, a few
quiet murmurs of disapproval.
The Jedi Master barely noticed. Obi-Wanīs nameless partnerīs head
had fallen back on a soft gasp, his eyes closed, and Obi-Wan was
still looking at Qui-Gon, his eyes hot. Force.
His Padawan was taunting him.
Qui-Gonīs quiet anguish disappeared in a flash, to be replaced by
rage. Obi-Wan was doing this on purpose! Trying to provoke his
Master, trying to goad him into...what? What reaction could he
possibly be hoping for, other than upsetting a diplomatic gathering?
That little brat...I should...
I should march over there and...
No. By the Force and the Council, what was he thinking? (Stupid
question. He was thinking of pulling Obi-Wan away from that whelp,
of wheeling him into a corner, of...) Again, no. He couldnīt
possibly. He couldnīt...
Obi-Wanīs partner, becoming just as heedless of decorum, grabbed the
young Padawanīs ass.
The disapproving murmurs grew and several angry glances were shot Qui-
Gonīs way, as if urging him to control his apprentice. It ran off
him like water over a stone; nothing could touch him now except this
insane rage that had him in its grip, rage coupled with the most
excruciating arousal he could remember suffering in years. As if in
a dream, and vaguely grateful for his enveloping Jedi robes, Qui-Gon
felt his feet take him forward onto the dance floor towards the randy
young couple.
Obi-Wan never stopped looking at him, though his cheeks grew redder
as his Master approached, his eyes more fevered. Qui-Gon reached out
one huge hand and laid it firmly on the other young manīs shoulder,
pulling him almost roughly away from his Padawan, ignoring the
smattering of applause that broke out from the ever-growing audience.
The young man protested, spluttering, "Excuse me, but-- "
"You have behaved badly, Padawan," Qui-Gon said, his voice soft and
dangerous, still gazing deeply into Obi-wanīs eyes.
"I have done as I saw fit, Master," Obi-Wan replied breathily, and to
his astonishment, Qui-Gon felt his insolent apprentice touch his mind.
/Didnīt like it? Wish it was you?/
//Donīt play games with me, Obi-Wan.// "You are disgracing the Jedi
in front of this assembly with your display."
"Look," the other young man protested, trying to get into the
conversation again, but Qui-Gon silenced him with a glare that could
have melted lead.
"Go. Away," he snarled, and the boy did just that, could really not
be blamed for it.
"That was excessive," Obi-Wan commented mildly. /And a bit
possessive. I liked it./
//Stop it. Stop it!// Force save him, was that the most coherent
thought he could muster?
/All right. I will. If youīll fuck me./
All the breath suddenly left his lungs. Good thing they werenīt
speaking aloud. //If...what...?//
Green eyes bored into his. /You heard me. Iīm sick of this. For
years weīve been doing this. I love you. You know that./
//I...//
/Love me too. Yes. I know./ Obi-Wan took his Masterīs hand,
keeping the motion hidden within the sweep of their long robes and
sleeves. All rage had fled, leaving Qui-Gon shaking with hunger at
the touch of that hand.
"Meant to be," Obi-Wan whispered, his eyes still glittering
feverishly, and this close Qui-Gon could feel the heat coming from
the young body he craved so badly, could almost feel the other manīs
erection... "We were meant to be together, like this, bodies, souls,
hearts, Master. You know it, donīt you?"
Qui-Gon licked his dry lips, almost moaned when he saw Obi-Wanīs
pupils dilate at the gesture. "I..." his voice was a hoarse rasp. And
the people around were beginning to stare, to wonder why Master Jinn
and his Padawan were still standing on the dance floor. Surely a few
castigating words didnīt take this long? They should go somewhere
more private, but that would be his doom, that would be -
Sensing his Master wavering, Obi-Wan pounced. "Oh, gods, please," he
whispered, not bothering to keep the needy whimper out of his
voice. "Please, Master. I want it...I want you so badly! Please.
Give me anything. Just a little." Impossible though it seemed,
those eyes got hotter. "Just let me suck you. Please. Iīve dreamed
of it for so long..."
Oh gods!
Through the training bond, Qui-Gon could feel how sincere Obi-Wan
was, how much he wanted -- anything, and everything, Qui-Gon would
give him. And that image, that image of those soft, pink lips
suckling at his cock--
Not surprisingly, Qui-Gon snapped.
Faster than thought, his hand closed on his apprenticeīs elbow, hard
enough to bruise, and he dragged him out of the ballroom, retaining
enough of his wits to make an apologetic bow at the Prelate, who
winced sympathetically. As they fled the room Qui-Gon thought he
heard someone say "Young people can be so difficult," but he was
beyond caring.
They fairly raced out of the ballroom and the crowded corridors
surrounding it, down further into the bowels of the palace toward
their own rooms, which seemed miles away. Qui-Gon glanced down at
Obi-Wanīs face for a brief instant, and that was his undoing. The
green eyes were almost glowing with heat, and the lips were parted,
panting softly, a pink tongue running over them. He couldnīt wait
another second to taste them. Glancing around wildly he saw, down
the corridor and in a nice shadowy corner, a large potted plant.
"Yes," Obi-Wan moaned, as he caught the tenor of his Masterīs
thoughts. "Anywhere. Anywhere, please!"
A few more tortured steps saw the young apprentice slammed back into
the corner, and then, mind blank to anything but the insatiable need,
Qui-Gon kissed him.
It was...he couldnīt manage to describe it, even in the turbulent
confines of his own head. Obi-Wanīs mouth was impossibly soft and
hot, and at the thought of burying his cock inside it Qui-Gon nearly
came in his pants. Not here, his mind spoke up insistently, and
then stopped speaking as he felt two slim, strong hands grip his ass
and squeeze. Under his kisses Obi-Wan was moaning like a wild thing,
wriggling in his arms, trying to grind their hips together...
Qui-Gon had had fine, lofty thoughts about their first time, about
soft beds and candles and music and wine, but most important of all,
of having Obi-Wan Knighted. Of it being permitted, sanctified by
their Order. Theyīd gone too far for that now--if he stopped making
love to Obi-Wan Qui-Gon was fairly certain he would die--but damned
if he wouldnīt get the bed part right. Using the most willpower heīd
ever called on in his life, he wrenched his lips from Obi-Wanīs, cock
throbbing at his Padawanīs anguished groan.
"Master, donīt stop! I canīt--I need-- "
"Not here," Qui-Gon rasped, burying his face in the curve of his
Padawanīs neck and snuffling hungrily, pausing to bite and suck,
wanting to leave a mark. "Come...to our rooms." Force, his Padawan
smelled so good. Clean and Obi-Wan and the faintest hint of musk
drifting up from their groins. If they didnīt leave now, theyīd
never make it.
The sound of voices down the hall decided things, and fast. Seizing
his dazed apprentice by the hand, they fairly sprinted down the hall,
an action made decidedly uncomfortable by their aching erections. Qui-
Gon thought they managed to turn the corner before whoever was coming
saw them, but he wasnīt sure, and he couldnīt really care. Finally
they reached the door, a quick fumbling with the key, falling inside
and...last shred of rational thought!...locked the door back behind
them.
Qui-Gon then turned and looked at his apprentice, who was slowly
backing away from him towards one of the twin beds, shrugging his
robe off his slim shoulders, unbuckling his belt.
"Qui-Gon," he said softly, throatily.
"Obi-Wan," he moaned, covering the distance between them in two large
strides, reaching trembling hands out to touch his Padawan only to
be denied. "...Obi-Wan...?"
"Watch me, Master," his apprentice whispered, now shucking off his
upper tunics, bending to remove his boots with the ease of long
practice.
Qui-Gon felt he either had to defuse the moment somehow or explode on
the spot. "Mind if I join you?" he rasped, deciding humor was as
good an approach as any, though he rather spoiled the effect by
tearing off his own clothing in an obscene hurry. But it was worth
it, because Obi-Wan shot him a beautiful grin.
The grin disappeared when they were both, finally, naked. "So
beautiful, Qui-Gon," Obi-Wan choked. "I need..."
"I know what you need." Huge hands covered the smaller shoulders
and pushed Obi-Wan back down on the bed. "You need me." The truth
struck him suddenly. "You need Us."
"Gods, yes!" Obi-Wan groaned, wrapping his legs around his lover and
Master, grinding his burning erection against a flat stomach.
"Wait," Qui-Gon gasped, and without further preamble, swooped down
that beautiful body to take the stiff erection into his mouth.
Obi-Wanīs howl made him hope faintly that the rooms were
soundproofed. But that was a secondary concern; right now all he
could care about was that, finally, he had Obi-Wanīs cock in his
mouth, Obi-Wanīs precum on his tongue. Obi-Wanīs perfect hips
jerking in his hands-- Obi-Wanīs wails echoing in his ears-- and,
yes! at last! --Obi-Wanīs penis twitching in his mouth, ejaculate
coursing down his throat so thickly it nearly choked him. Those slim
hips continued to pump weakly until the orgasm had run its course,
and Qui-Gon continued to lave softly at the limp organ, achingly hard
himself but loath to let go of his treasure.
"Master," Obi-Wan moaned at last, apparently capable again of
speech. "Oh...Master...I love you..."
"Qui-Gon," he murmured, placing a final tender kiss on the head of
Obi-Wanīs penis. "Here I am Qui-Gon, love. No more, but certainly
no less --oh!" For that boy, that wicked, wicked boy, had bent his
leg and was now teasing Qui-Gonīs rock-hard cock with the tip of his
big toe. Qui-Gon buried his face in the soft creamy thigh and moaned
as the caress was repeated. And again, and again...
"So hard, my Qui-Gon," he heard Obi-Wan murmur in a dreamy voice.
"Yes," he choked, and it was the truth. Heīd never been this hard in
his life. "Obi-- Obi-Wan--please, Padawan, I-- "
"Shush." Qui-Gon felt strong, gentle hands lifting and turning him
until he lay on his back, and he was looking up into his apprenticeīs
flushed, sated face, green eyes langorous with pleasure. Slender
fingers took over the toeīs work, stroking along his heated length
ever so lightly, then dipping down to caress his balls. It was
torture, oh gods, the orgasm was right there and he couldnīt...he
needed...
A puff of breath on his cock. Qui-Gon had to close his eyes then, as
colors began to dance before them. He could already tell that when
he finally climaxed it was going to be impossibly intense. Obi-Wan
was going to take him in that beautiful mouth, he was sure of it,
wasnīt he...? He opened his eyes again, to see that Obi-Wan was
gazing admiringly at his engorged member, and was indeed licking his
lips, but wasnīt doing anything else about it. "Damn it," Qui-Gon
choked, "Iīm dying, Padawan-- "
"Shush," Obi-Wan said again, took Qui-Gonīs erection in a firm grip
and, before his Masterīs disbelieving eyes, began to rub it against
himself. Slid the silky tip along the firm length of a bicep,
leaving a milk-white trail of precum behind. Qui-Gon moaned half-
wildly, hips twitching, as Obi-Wan bent his torso lower and rubbed
the tip of his Masterīs penis over the tender hollow of his own
throat. Qui-Gon could hear himself making soft, thready whimpering
noises. And then Obi-Wan licked his own index finger and rubbed it
over his left nipple, delicately bringing it to hardness-- and he
took Qui-Gonīs cock and rubbed the plush head over that hard, nubbled
tip--
Distantly, Qui-Gon heard himself scream as his hips jerked up and
then back down, bucking helplessly, white cream spurting out of his
erection all the way up to Obi-Wanīs chin in an impossible spasm of
pleasure. It seemed to go on and on, but he couldnīt really tell,
because by the end of it he was half-conscious at best.
"Obi-Wan," he moaned, the most important name in the universe, his
whole body still trembling, before he passed out completely.
They talked a little when he woke, as they lay cuddled together in
the ruin of the bedsheets.
Obi-Wanīs lips, still dotted a bit with his Masterīs come, were
pinched in a frown. "I donīt like the idea of keeping secrets,
Master. And I donīt see how we can, not from the Council."
"Perhaps you should have thought of that before, hmm?" Qui-Gon asked,
lazily tracing circles on his Padawanīs belly. "Just what were you
thinking of, when you set out to seduce me?"
Obi-Wan blushed. "Only that I love you," he murmured. "Nothing else
matters next to that. Not even my Knighthood," he added
fiercely. "I say we tell them. If they make me choose between you
and being a Jedi, then Iīll just tell them they can--"
Qui-Gon quelled that line of thought with a glare. "I donīt think
so, my dear Padawan. Not when Iīve spent the last ten years of my
life whipping you into shape to be exactly that. You shall be a
Knight; I will accept nothing else."
"And your lover?" Obi-Wan asked challengingly. "Do I have to give
that up? I wonīt!"
"Gods no," Qui-Gon replied, making his caresses more active, sweeping
up and down the muscled thigh. "Just as I said, Obi-Wan; discretion
will see us through. We are neither of us accustomed to deception,
but from now on, itīs our only recourse. If you wish to continue
this, of course," with a sweeping gesture at the bed and their two
entwined bodies.
Obi-Wan sighed and rested his head on his Masterīs broad chest. "Of
course I do. And Iīll do as you say," the for now going
unspoken, "but I donīt have to like it."
Qui-Gon nuzzled his belovedīs hair. "Neither do I, love. But itīll
be another two years at most. We can do it. And on your Knighting
day..."
Obi-Wan turned up to look at him, his luminous smile stealing Qui-
Gonīs breath away. "On that day, Qui-Gon, I plan on a public display
of affection that will make Jedi history."
Qui-Gon had to laugh at that. "You do that! It will be most
welcome, I assure you! But until then..." he flipped them both
over, until that luscious young body was underneath him again, "I
plan to use my time wisely."
"Use me, Master," Obi-Wan invited wickedly.
And Qui-Gon did.
Mace Windu frowned thunderously. Heīd had a lot of practice and by
now was rather good at it.
"I have here," he said icily, waving a letter in front of Qui-Gon,
Obi-Wan, and the rest of the assembled Council in the chamber, "a
letter from the Prelate of Korbett who wishes to express his
appreciation to us for sending the team of Jinn/Kenobi."
"Heīs quite welcome," Qui-Gon replied calmly. "Do convey that for
me, Master Windu."
Maceīs dark eyes narrowed and Yoda harrumphed. "The letter goes on
to say," Mace continued, "that the Prelate was most impressed with
the way Master Jinn handled his chargeīs īlittle breach of behaviorī -
I hope youīre prepared to explain that one, Padawan Kenobi-- and
was, even more so, most touched by īthe tender care displayed between
Master and Padawan at all times during what must have been a
difficult mission for the both of them.ī"
Obi-Wan tried not to wince, and Mace pretended not to notice.
Instead, he raised his voice and added, "One does wonder about such
tender displays in the midst of difficulty, doesnīt one, my fellow
Council members?" Heīd also gotten halfway decent at sarcasm.
"I object," Qui-Gon interrupted, "to your tone of voice. Kindly
explain what you are insinuating about my care for my Padawan, would
you, Mace?"
"Perhaps this is all a bit much," cut in the gentle voice of Depa
Billaba. Mace turned to glare at his former Padawan, but she
continued serenely, "Master Jinn and Padawan Kenobi completed the
mission successfully, and on top of that, we have the personal
gratitude of the Prelate of Korbett, not to mention that of his
people. I am sure the Council does not need reminding that the
Korbetti have been oppressed by the Gascohians for hundreds of
years." She paused delicately. "Perhaps all that need be said is
that Master Qui-Gon from now on could be more...discreet...in such
displays for his Padawan?"
This time Obi-Wan nearly choked.
"Master Billaba," Mace began warningly, but to everyoneīs surprise,
Yoda cut in.
"Correct, she is," the old gnome said with a sigh. "Our thanks, Qui-
Gon. Has no more to say, does the Council. Go in peace."
"May the Force be with you," Qui-Gon said, relieved, and bowed. But
before he left with Obi-Wan, he heard Maceīs voice-- in his head.
//Donīt think youīve fooled me, old love. Iīll be watching you.//
Qui-Gon did not deign to answer as he swept out of the Council
chamber, Padawan in tow.
In the hallway outside, Obi-Wan stumbled a bit. "Two more years of
this? Master, Iīll never make it!"
Qui-Gon squeezed his shoulder reasuringly. "You will, beloved," he
whispered. "Weīll make it. I promise you."
//I promise.//
/Yes, Master. Yes, my love./
Fin.
What are you waiting for? Gimme feedback! And after you do, go
read "Hammered" again!