Rating: NC-17
Archive: M&A, anyone else, ask.
Category: First-Time, angst, romance
Feedback: Of course. Whoever, whenever, however. Send it my way!
Summary: During a treaty negotiation, the Jedi attend the
Festival of Light.
Disclaimer: A Long Time Ago in a Galaxy Far Far Away, George
Lucas created Star Wars. And he looked at it and saw that it was
good. And all was right in the world. But then, we saw that
Obi-Wan doth look upon Qui-Gon with lust, and that Mr. Lucas was
not likely to include that in the next movie, so we said screw it
and wrote it ourselves, even though we do not make any money off
of this. And all was right with the world.
Warnings: Hmm. About the only warning this one need is rough,
hot, sweaty sex is in it. Will that be a problem? No? Good then.
:)
The moment the sun fell below the horizon over the encampment, it
began. The fires were lit and the low beat of the drums and music
threaded their way through the warming air. And so began the
Festival of Light for the people of Tal'Her and for the first
time in far longer than the oldest of the Elders could remember
they had off-planet guests. Two Jedi, sent to negotiate a treaty
with the Republic had been invited to participate in the Festival
and, to the delight of the people, they had agreed.
Qui-Gon was seated on a small pallet next to the main fire,
watching a group of dancers weave themselves around the camp.
They were all young, his Padawan's age and had just moments ago
dragged a protesting Obi-Wan into the fray. Qui-Gon smiled a
little as he watched his laughing apprentice struggle with the
various parts of the dance, others laughing as well and calling
out encouragement.
It was an interesting way to begin negotiations, he decided, with
a touch of private amusement. Tal'Her was not a part of the
Republic nor did they want to be but they were interested in
trading goods with the Republic and what they had to offer was
substantial enough that the Senate had agreed to bargain with
them.
They had sent the Jedi and his apprentice here to negotiate a
treaty of peace with the Tal'herians so that the bargaining could
begin. Jedi, because the Tal'herian people were somewhat empathic
and any negotiations could be difficult if they knew the exact
emotions of their mediators. Qui-Gon's amusement turned wry at
that thought. He wasn't sure if being known as an emotionless
negotiator was much of a complement.
"He learns quickly."
The words dragged Qui-Gon's mind back to the festivities and he
glanced up to see Nelar standing next to him, leaning awkwardly
on her walking stick as she was holding a small cup in each of
her hands. He hastily helped her to sit and old woman leaned on
him with a grateful sigh, sinking to the ground.
Nelar was one of the Priestesses of Tal'Herian people and a great
supporter of the treaty. She was a formidable woman and Qui-Gon
had great respect for her strength of will.
Settling herself near the fire, she handed Qui-Gon one of the
small cups and he accepted it, calmly waiting for her to bless it
with the light before sipping the sweet, cool liquid gratefully.
Even after having shed his long cloak he was still uncomfortably
warm; most of the Tal'herians were wearing just enough to
preserve their modesty and in some cases not even that.
"I am greatly honored to have you at my fire this night,
Master Jinn." Nelar said, speaking loudly to be heard over
the drums.
"As I am honored to be here," he replied and she nodded
and said nothing more, content it seemed to watch the cavorting
antics of the dancers.
Obi-Wan -had- learned quickly, Qui-Gon saw, he matched the fast
rhythm of the dance easily, twisting and moving with the same
sinuous grace that he did his training katas.
The sound of the drums seemed very loud in Qui-Gon's ears as he
watched the dancers gyrate wildly to the beat. Obi-Wan paused for
a moment and stripped out of his light tunic, his chest now bare
as the other dancers as he rejoined them, giving himself over to
the pulse of the dance.
Qui-Gon felt as if his eyes were being drawn to the young man, he
couldn't seem to look elsewhere, watching Obi-Wan twist and move
to the loud throbbing of the drums that seemed to be echoing in
Qui-Gon's ears.
All he could hear was the pulse of the beat, could see the thin
rivulets of sweat that were tracing their way down Obi-Wan's
skin, which was lightly gilded from the light of the fires. Over
everything he heard Obi-Wan laugh, watched as the boy tossed his
head back and the long braid swung over his shoulder and slapped
lightly against his back.
The drums, Qui-Gon could hear the drums and oh, that boy was
beautiful. He didn't even pause at the thought, just continued to
drink in the sight of him, slim and strong, eyes bright even in
the dim light, muscles twisting underneath pale skin, gleaming
with perspiration. Beautiful, simply beautiful.
He didn't notice when he dropped his cup, the small amount of
liquid spilling out and nor did he notice Nelar surreptitiously
retrieve it. All he could see was Obi-Wan, all he could hear was
the drums and he dimly realized that his inner control was little
more than a thread.
The dance escalated, the dancers thrashing wildly to the drums.
Their bodies were slick and gleaming with sweat, all of them
panting hard and then one of the other dancers wrapped an arm
around Obi-Wan's bare shoulders and kissed him fleetingly. The
slow burning within Qui-Gon flared as Obi-Wan easily returned the
kiss, leaning into the other boy as they separated, both laughing
and gasping for breath and the gossamer thread of Qui-Gon's
control snapped.
He was on his feet before he could even think, pushing his way
through the crowd of people and ignoring any and all protests to
his rudeness. Just before he reached the boy, Obi-Wan turned in
Qui-Gon's direction and saw him.
Qui-Gon's gaze caught Obi-Wan's, the boy's gray eyes were wide
and confused and with that one look the burning within Qui-Gon
ignited. He physically picked the boy up and flung him over his
shoulder, ignoring Obi-Wan's startled protests, ignoring the
cheers from the crowd and hearing only the drums and the pulse of
his own blood, throbbing hotly in his ears.
Carrying his squirming bundle, Qui-Gon walked quickly to the tent
that they had been assigned for the night, ducking under the flap
and pulling it closed behind him. He dumped Obi-Wan
unceremoniously on the large pallet inside, heard the young man
grunt in protest to his rough treatment.
"Master, what is going on, I was..." A hard mouth
covering his cut off Obi-Wan's words, swallowing half-hearted
protests. They weren't important, nothing was important but the
heat that was thrumming through Qui-Gon's body, heat that was
pooling between his thighs as he covered his padawan with his own
body, pressed him into the soft bedding.
He devoured the boy's mouth, tasted sweat and a sweetness that
was Obi- Wan's. And now his, yes, Obi-Wan was his and he kissed
the boy deeply, felt the shy flick of a tongue against his own
and whatever control he still possessed was lost.
Pulling back, he frantically stripped away his own constricting
clothing, fabric tearing as he wrenched it off and tossed it
aside until he was bare to the waist. Obi-Wan just watched him,
panting heavily and eyes wide. He wet his lips nervously and
Qui-Gon felt another pulse of heat at the sight of that small
pink tongue.
"Master? I...I don't understand, I thought..." More
words and Qui-Gon silenced him again impatiently with another
kiss, sucking the boy's lower lip into his mouth so that he could
nibble on it and he was rewarded with a smothered gasp.
Nuzzling lower, Qui-Gon bit the boy's shoulder then sucked on the
reddened skin to ease the sting. "You're mine," he
hissed, hardly recognizing his own voice. Obi-Wan was silent but
for soft whimpers, his hands clutching Qui-Gon's shoulders as he
slid lower, burying his face into the warm skin of Obi-Wan's
belly.
He bit again, harder, leaving a mark this time on the smooth skin
and Obi-Wan yelped. "You're mine! Say it!"
"I...I'm yours." Little more than a hushed whisper but
it was enough, Qui-Gon's felt as if his blood had ignited at
those soft words. Breaking the ties that fastened Obi-Wan's
trousers, Qui-Gon quickly slid the thin material down Obi-Wan's
legs, exposing more of that sweet, smooth skin to his eager eyes.
Beautiful, just as he had thought before. Completely naked before
his master, his hands fluttering nervously as if he wished to
cover himself but didn't quite dare, Obi-Wan lay beneath
Qui-Gon's heated gaze.
"Beautiful," he murmured aloud, sliding a hand down
Obi-Wan's body to the erect shaft that was lying against his
belly. He captured it, stroking urgently and Obi-Wan cried out,
arching into the touch.
"Oh! Oh, Master, I didn't...oh!" the boy whimpered and
again Qui-Gon leaned in to hush him, kissing him hard before
trailing his mouth downward, tasting Obi-Wan's skin.
"Mine," he rasped against heated skin and Obi-Wan
moaned in response, clutching desperately at Qui-Gon's shoulders
and pleading in broken whispers for more.
He pulled back enough to flip the boy onto his stomach, cupping
Obi- Wan's backside in his two large palms as Qui-Gon nuzzled the
small of his back, licking and sucking at the sweat-salty flesh.
The drums, he could hear the drums echoing through the tent,
through his head, beating in time to his heartbeat.
He shifted upward, covering Obi-Wan's body with his own, and
rubbed his swollen erection in the cleft of Obi-Wan's buttocks.
Qui-Gon was still wearing his trousers, the rough material
chafing but the sweet pressure was beyond pleasure. He was
throbbing with need, the burning of his own lust twisting within
the vibration of the drums, reverberated back into him,
surrounding him. Obi-Wan was writhing beneath him as much as he
could under his master's weight, pushing back and suddenly
Qui-Gon could wait no longer.
Reaching between them Qui-Gon unfastened his trousers, releasing
his aching cock before collapsing back down on the boy and
finally he could feel the heat of Obi-Wan's skin on his own as he
rubbed against the softness of the boy's backside. The head of
his shaft was burrowing between the soft cheeks, seeking
entrance, pushing hard but the tight flesh resisted and Obi-Wan
was squirming away from him now, crying out softly.
Pressing down with more of his weight, Qui-Gon stilled him,
sliding a hand around to stroke Obi-Wan's hardness, distracting
him. Tight, too tight and he struggled to the surface of his pool
of lust for a moment, enough to fumble in his satchel next to the
bed with his free hand, scattering things everywhere until
Qui-Gon found a small bottle of oil that he used for massage. He
pulled the small cork out with his teeth and spat it aside,
tipping oil into his hand even as he still teased Obi-Wan with
the other.
Shifting aside just a bit, he oiled his own erection, moaning at
the feel and rubbing his hips against Obi-Wan's. Soon, yes, he
needed this soon, and he quickly moved his hand to Obi-Wan,
slipping a finger, then two deeply inside the boy's body. Obi-Wan
cried out in surprise, struggling briefly and then he paused,
whimpering as he seemed to change his mind, his hips instead
moving timidly backwards onto those invading fingers.
Enough. Qui-Gon withdrew his fingers and shifted back over the
boy, pressing him into the bedding as he again positioned himself
over Obi- Wan, pushing urgently now, needing inside that tight
heat. It was easier now, the oil easing his entry and Qui-Gon
pressed deep, impaling Obi-Wan on his thickness and he was
helpless in the throes of need and the pulse of drums that seemed
to come from within him now.
Obi-Wan whimpered briefly, stiffening against him but he stroked
the boy's cock hard, squeezing and rubbing it in time to his own
deepening thrusts and again the tightness eased and Qui-Gon was
deep inside now, surrounded by sweet heat and lost to the drums.
He moved quickly, urgently, following that inner pulse as he
thrust hard and deeply, rocking against the boy and oh, it was
good, it was beyond good beyond anything. Qui-Gon strained to
press deeper, heard a muffled gasp beneath him and he buried his
face into the hollow of the boy's shoulder, lunging in harder
still, needing, needing.
"Mine," he gasped, heard an answering cry as his
movements quickened again, and Qui-Gon was pounding into the boy,
a tiny part of his mind terrified that he was hurting but he
couldn't stop, couldn't feel anything but heat and tightness and
oh, the drums, the drums!
A sharp gasp, a loud keening cry and Obi-Wan was arching into the
hand surrounding him, warm, liquid pulses flooding over it and
his muscles tightened around Qui-Gon's cock dragging a near
scream from him. White- hot pleasure lanced through him and
Qui-Gon screamed again in something akin to pain as he came, all
his muscles taut as he thrust deeply a last time, his body
jerking helplessly in the throes of impossible ecstasy.
He collapsed, all his weight sagging onto Obi-Wan as he rested
his forehead against the boy's sweaty hair. The drums seemed to
recede, leaving him alone with the throb of his own pulse, which
was echoing loudly in his ears.
His pulse calmed enough for him to hear Obi-Wan straining for
breath and Qui-Gon gathered himself enough to pull away, both of
them groaning as his fading erection slid from Obi-Wan's body.
Qui-Gon collapsed to his side, dragging Obi-Wan with him and
holding him close. The boy was saying something, whispering and
it sounded important but Qui-Gon was too tired to try and make
sense of it. Sleep was calling him, pulling him in and he
surrendered to it, tightening his arms around Obi-Wan.
"Mine," he murmured a last time against the smooth skin
of Obi-Wan's neck before he finally allowed sleep to claim him.
He woke feeling stiff and sore, groaning as he rolled over and
bumped into something warm. Something that made a sound of
protest and shoved at him weakly. Qui-Gon murmured a drowsy
apology and moved back over before he'd had a chance to think and
when it finally filtered through his sleep fogged mind he sat up
so quickly that he nearly fell off the pallet.
Obi-Wan was stirring next to him, blinking sleepily and Qui-Gon
felt the dread in him growing as the blankets slipped lower down
and revealed bare skin to his horrified gaze.
"Master?" Qui-Gon flinched at the sleep-husky word,
thoughts tumbling over themselves in his aching head as he fought
to understand this.
"It's early yet, Padawan, go back to sleep." He
injected Force into his voice and felt Obi-Wan succumb to the
suggestion, slipping easily back into slumber.
Pushing the blankets back, Qui-Gon stumbled to his feet, nearly
tripping as his unfastened pants slid down and tangled in his
legs. He dragged them back up and tied them, heedless of the
wrinkled fabric, his eyes never leaving the boy that was sound
asleep in his bed.
Force, what had he done? This was not right, his mind insisted,
this could not be happening, but the dull, throbbing pain behind
his eyes told him otherwise. Qui-Gon raised trembling hands to
his face and pressed his temples, reaching shakily for the Force.
For one brief, insane moment he thought that it wouldn't come to
him, that it would feel the taint of darkness on him and would
skitter away from his grasp. But it surged into him as it always
had and he concentrated it on his throbbing head, sighing as the
pain receded somewhat. Only then did he open his eyes to again
look at his sleeping padawan, the boy who had trusted him with
his life. The boy whose trust he had betrayed.
Hazy memories were slowly returning to him and each one made
Qui-Gon cringe deeper into his mind, to flee from this waking
nightmare. Memories of dragging the boy into his bed, of
stripping away his clothing, of pinning him down while he forced
his way into Obi-Wan's body.
Qui-Gon sank to his knees, hunching over as nausea rose up in
him. How could he have done this? How could he have raped his own
padawan, this wasn't possible, it... The suffocating murkiness
around his thoughts was easing as the pain did and Qui-Gon sat up
abruptly, pushing aside his own overwhelming guilt as he tried to
make his careening mind focus.
How indeed? How -could- he have done something so completely
uncharacteristic? Qui-Gon took a deep breath and centered himself
as he tried to remember now, sifting through the strange muddle
of his memories of the night before. Past the jumbled images of
Obi-Wan tangled with him on the bed, past the overwhelming
burning...burning, yes, he had been sitting near the fire, overly
warm, but content to watch the dancers as he sat with Nelar
and...
A tiny, niggling detail wormed into his mind and Qui-Gon was on
his feet before he had even recognized it, hastily yanking on a
tunic. Heedless of his bare feet, he whipped back the tent flap
and stepped out, closing the flap with more care as Obi-Wan
murmured sleepily on the bed before drifting back into a deeper
sleep.
Qui-Gon walked quickly through the mostly empty camp, wincing as
he stepped on a particularly sharp rock. Only a few elders were
wandering around, still putting out fires and they paid him no
mind. Which was well enough because in the turmoil of his anger
he was making no promises about the diplomacy of his actions. At
this moment all he wanted was answers and he knew exactly where
to get them.
Nelar was still at her own fire, sitting cross-legged and
stirring the glowing coals almost meditatively with the end of
her staff. She didn't look up as Qui-Gon approached but spoke
without looking at the greatly disturbed man who stood next to
her.
"You're earlier than I expected," she said calmly, her
eyes never leaving the dying embers of flame. "The quallia
root should have made you sleep for several hours yet."
"Is that what you drugged me with?" Qui-Gon asked
bitingly, unable to keep the sharpness from his voice. A fine
thread was all that was holding his temper and only the thought
of the kind of diplomatic incident that this would cause kept
that thread from snapping. In the span of his years he could not
remember his anger being this close to the surface, mingling with
aching guilt over what he had been forced to do to his very
trusting padawan.
Nelar didn't answer; she simply kept tracing symbols into the
ashes with her staff and finally Qui-Gon forced out an
exasperated sigh between his clenched teeth.
"Why?" he hissed out, struggling with his growing fury
as he stared at her stooped back. "Why did you do that to
me?"
She did look up at him them, rheumy yellowed eyes studying him a
long moment before she lowered her head again. A dry, rattling
sound emerged from her and it took Qui-Gon a moment to realize
that she was laughing.
"Do that to you?" she wheezed, leaning on her staff.
She wiped her eyes with her sleeve, still chuckling hoarsely.
"It was not you that was the problem, Master Jinn. It was
your apprentice."
Qui-Gon blinked, shock momentarily overshadowing anger before the
thought of what he had been forced into doing to the boy caused
anger to flare again.
Wanting to throttle the old woman, Qui-Gon instead sat down on
the ground next to her and watched the errant flames dance their
way across the coals in tiny bursts until he felt a measure of
control. The aching in his head seemed to be receding with his
temper and he managed to calm himself further. All he wanted now
was answers.
"Why was Obi-Wan a problem?" he asked quietly. "I
was under the impression that his behavior at the festival was
not only acceptable but encouraged."
Nelar nodded, still gazing at the flames. "Yes. The boy was
very mannerly and pleasant. I enjoyed any time that I spent in
his company." A sharp glance at Qui-Gon before she added,
very quietly, "But then, he isn't really a boy, is he?"
Impatience flared. "And what does his age have to do with
this?"
"He is of age, is he not?
"Yes, but that..."
"Because," she cut in, "It would be an extreme
offense to my people for a boy to be sent to our planet to do the
job of a man. Of course, if he is of age and has offered his
virtue to the spirits as an adult should, then this would not be
a problem."
Comprehension dawned and Qui-Gon stared at Nelar mutely.
"Of course, my people sensed his virginity when you first
arrived," she continued blithely, ignoring the growing
dismay coming from the Jedi. "They were most pleased and
honored when I explained that he had decided to offer it to the
spirits at the Festival. Most honorable of him and surely a good
omen for the coming times."
One that had prevented a diplomatic incident as well and Qui-Gon
was silently cursing the meager files that they had been given
before coming here. Another Jedi team could have been sent and no
matter how unorthodox Nelar had been she had prevented the
Republic from inadvertently giving grave insult to her people.
Still... "Why didn't you simply inform me of this
earlier?" Qui-Gon asked, matching her quiet tone. "I'm
sure we could have come to a solution without you drugging
me." Temper flared again sullenly and he tamped it down
again. "Obi-Wan didn't deserve to be treated that way. No
one does."
Another rasping chuckle and Nelar glanced at him again, one
eyebrow raised. "Treated that way? And just what did you do
to him, Master Jinn? Most people I know actually find it quite
pleasant."
Her expression hardened as she turned back to the fire. "And
I didn't speak of it to you because I did not want or need you
assistance in this. You demonstrated your inability to handle the
situation simply by bringing the boy with you." At the
Jedi's slight flinch, she pursed her lips, adding softly, "I
do hope you are more capable of handling the treaty than you are
at handling our customs."
It was a dismissal and Qui-Gon stood stiffly. Not trusting his
voice, he bowed to the old woman and turned away but her voice
pulled him back.
"Master Jinn, you should know that quallia root is not a
true aphrodisiac but more something of a push in the right
direction." Faint humor touched her voice. "The young
people use it on occasion to see if their intended has an
attraction to them. You see, once it is consumed, there must be
some desire already within and the person reacts to the strongest
desire. The stronger the attraction, the stronger the
reaction."
She turned just enough that the stunned Jedi could see her face
and the amused gleam in her eyes. "Your reaction was
quite...interesting, Master Jinn."
And then she turned back to the coals, humming an old tune under
her breath, leaving the man behind her to gather the rags of his
composure before he walked away. Words came to her song then, of
lovers denied and who had found each other again. None of her
people spoke to her or disturbed her but any who heard the soft
lilt of her song paused briefly as their hearts ached for old
loves and warmed again for those with them now.
Sitting in the furthest corner of the tent, Qui-Gon watched his
apprentice sleep. Obi-Wan's chest rose and fell with each slow
breath and Qui-Gon focused on that tiny movement, trying to
settle his inner turmoil to allow himself to think.
It wasn't helping. No amount of centering was going to ease his
mind. His thoughts were in a tumultuous whirl of relief,
confusion and guilt. Grudging relief that an unforgivable insult
to these people had been averted even as he ached at the cost
mixed with confusion and guilt over his own part in this debacle.
Eyes drifting from their focus, they slid up to Obi-Wan's face,
relaxed in sleep. So young, so -damned- young and never mind that
he was considered of age. Qui-Gon was old enough to be the boy's
father and even if he hadn't been, he was Obi-Wan's master, meant
to be a teacher not a lover.
Drifting again, to tangled limbs in the sheets, to the dark stain
of a bruise on the boy's hip. Costs. The cost of peace between
the Republic and the Tal-Herian people had been so high and the
price still wasn't set. He wondered, as the tightness within his
chest increased to a choking ache, just how much more was going
to be lost to the no longer innocent young man still sleeping
before him. If Obi-Wan would be able to understand. And forgive.
Enough. He shook aside his melancholy and instead focused on
Obi-Wan again, frowning at the bruise. Moving closer, he reached
out and very lightly rested his thumb and forefinger on Obi-Wan's
temples, probing. There were a few tiny aches that were easily
healed and Qui-Gon mentally sighed in relief. At least he hadn't
brutalized the boy in his passion.
His mind skittered around that thought. He didn't want to
consider his passion, the fact that he had been hiding his desire
for Obi-Wan from even himself. Even just resting his hand on the
boy's forehead was making him recall the heat of the night before
and he snatched it away, clasping it against his chest with his
other hand.
Obi-Wan stirred at the abrupt withdrawal, finally surfacing from
his Force-induced sleep. He blinked sleepily, rubbing the back of
his hand over his eyes before he twisted onto his side,
stretching lazily. Obi- Wan gave a loud, contented groan, joints
popping as he stretched and then he finally rolled over onto his
stomach, propping his head up on one hand.
"Good morning, Master." Obi-Wan's voice was rusty from
sleep, his eyes still heavy and half-lidded as he gazed at his
master and for a moment he was so unwittingly seductive that
Qui-Gon couldn't speak. He stared at the boy dumbly, eyes
drifting from sleep-darkened eyes to the slim fingers that cupped
the smoothness of the boy's cheek, to the faint smirk that was
curving his lips.
"Master?"
The soft concern in Obi-Wan's voice snapped Qui-Gon back to
himself. Lips parting but no words emerged as a rush of guilt
closed his throat. This was not a reaction he had expected.
Anger, certainly, hurt, even fear, but not...not this.
Obi-Wan pushed himself into a sitting position, the blankets
sliding off to puddle around his hips as he looked at Qui-Gon
with obvious worry. "Master?" he said again,
hesitantly.
"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said finally, his voice catching as
he struggled for words. Obi-Wan was looking at him with wide,
confused eyes and how was he to mend this?
"Obi-Wan, what happened last night was a mistake." He
winced at the sudden spark of unshielded hurt that flared through
their link and he hurried to add. "It...this isn't what you
think, Padawan. Last night they drugged me and I...didn't...I
would never...." Qui-Gon ground to a frustrated halt,
cursing his usual articulateness for deserting him in such a
time. Obi-Wan looked suddenly far younger than his true age,
looking at him with large, wounded eyes and Qui-Gon could only
look back, helplessly silent.
"So you didn't really want me?"
"I..." He meant to say no, to blame his actions on the
drug but the words died on his lips, unspoken. Qui-Gon was a
Jedi, had served the Force in one form or another for the
entirety of his life and he could shade truth, practiced
deception, the art of seeing the world from a certain point of
view. That he could accept and would continue to do so. But to
lie to this boy, who was looking at him with such trust and whom
he knew with no doubt at all would take his words deeply to
heart. To lie to Obi-Wan over this seemed to be the greatest of
obscenities, would be like smashing a sacred treasure.
"I didn't want it like this," he said finally,
honestly. "Your first time should have been with more care
and tenderness, not..." Not near mindless rutting, he nearly
said, but the words halted in surprise when Obi-Wan reached up to
touch his face.
"I didn't have any complaints, Master." One slim hand
lightly cupped Qui-Gon's cheek, fingered the coarse hair of his
beard and the Jedi master could only stare at the boy mutely,
shock stealing away his voice.
"If that wasn't how you wanted it to be, then show me how
you did want it," Obi-Wan said, his pale eyes shining with
calm determination.
"Obi-Wan, I didn't mean...." And was silenced by the
press of lips against his own, unskilled but earnest and a shaft
of desire went through Qui-Gon. He struggled to repress it, to
force himself away from those kisses but he couldn't move,
instead he knelt frozen in Obi-Wan's embrace.
"Show me," whispered urgently against his lips as
slender fingers fumbled with the ties of his tunic, slipping
inside to touch warm skin. "Show me, Master, please.
Please."
Those inexpert touches, the palms pressed against Qui-Gon's chest
as Obi-Wan tried to coax a response from him were finally too
much. He moaned, low in his throat and pulled Obi-Wan against
him, crushing the slim body against his own and capturing his
lips is a hard kiss. He let his tongue stroke between those
parted lips, tasting the warm sweetness that was Obi-Wan and he
moaned again. Oh, this was wrong, this shouldn't be happening,
couldn't happen but Obi-Wan was responding eagerly, exploring the
depths of Qui-Gon's mouth and all thoughts of wrongness fled.
Obi-Wan wrapped his legs around Qui-Gon's hips and leaned
backwards, tugging his master back down onto the bed with his
weight. Qui-Gon pulled away from the kiss with a loud gasp as
their hips rubbed together, hardness against hardness and desire
flared as hot as the night before as Obi-Wan writhed beneath him,
arching his hips upward in a silent plea for more.
Qui-Gon started to pull back a bit, just to try and calm down a
little and Obi-Wan protested immediately, locking his ankles over
the backs of Qui-Gon's thighs and refusing to let go.
Brushing gentle kisses over Obi-Wan's face and lips, he hushed
the boy's panic. "Easy, easy. I'm not leaving," he
murmured, feeling a little tension seeping away, Obi-Wan's
stranglehold on Qui-Gon's body relaxing a bit. Qui-Gon kissed his
way down to Obi-Wan's ear, flicking his tongue over the curved
shell and Obi-Wan shivered minutely against him.
"You asked me to show you what I had wanted, so let me show
you," he said softly, biting the tender lobe lightly before
trailing his mouth down Obi-Wan's neck to his shoulder. Obi-Wan
was trembling against him and Qui-Gon could feel his wanting and
his wariness to let Qui-Gon go for fear the older man would leave
him like this. Qui-Gon soothed that fear away, pushing the
blankets aside as he kissed his way down the boy's body, tasting
warm skin and salt.
He buried his face in the smooth skin of Obi-Wan's belly and
inhaled deeply, simply enjoying the scent of warm flesh before
shifting a bit lower, trailing kisses down to Obi-Wan navel. The
boy gave a soft cry, his hands digging into the bed linens as
Qui-Gon's chin bumped the head of his shaft. Qui-Gon reached up
and captured the eager flesh in one large hand, stroking
Obi-Wan's cock gently and was rewarded with another whimper and a
whispered, "Please..."
He rubbed his thumb over the head, smearing the soft fluid that
was beading there and then carefully pushed back the smooth skin
of the boy's foreskin, before lowering his head further and
lapping at the tip. Salt, faint bitterness, proof of Obi-Wan's
need and Qui-Gon tasted it eagerly, swirling his tongue over it,
probed the tiny slit there searching for more.
A loud despairing cry and Obi-Wan's hands clutched frantically at
Qui- Gon's shoulders, fingernails digging in and Qui-Gon finally
relented and took the boy's shaft deeply into his mouth.
Sucking hard, he took the entire length into his mouth a careful
inch at a time. Obi-Wan was squirming beneath him, whimpering
loudly as Qui- Gon captured his hips in both hands, holding him
still. He pulled back equally slowly, running his tongue along
the sensitive underside before sliding back down and taking it in
again deeply, swallowing around that hardness and drawing a
choked gasp from the boy.
Only a moment later he felt the soft pulses against the back of
his throat, tasted faintly bitter liquid warmth as his Padawan
came, knotting his fingers into Qui-Gon's hair and arching
upwards, his entire body trembling as he gave in to the sweet,
heated rush of ecstasy.
Pulling back, Qui-Gon gently licked at Obi-Wan softening organ,
pulling a soft, contented murmur from him before Qui-Gon looked
up. The boy was sprawled against the bedding, eyes closed as he
gasped shallowly. Even more beautiful now, flushed with pleasure
and Qui-Gon's own need throbbed within him again.
Sliding upward, he covered the smaller body with his own and
pressed a soft kiss to Obi-Wan's parted lips. The boy barely
responded at first, one hand rising limply to rest on Qui-Gon's
hip. But it was Obi-Wan who deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue
past lips and the hard edge of teeth to probe the velvet darkness
of Qui-Gon's mouth.
Soft kisses increased in urgency until they were near frantic,
Obi-Wan nipping at Qui-Gon's invading tongue as he arched upward,
rubbing his reawakening erection against his master's stomach.
"Please," Obi-Wan gasped between kisses, "Do it
again, like last night. I want you inside me again."
The very thought of again being inside this beautiful young man
sent a throb of pure need through Qui-Gon but he pushed it away,
tried to pull back a little, shaking his head.
"No, you're too sore from last night, I'll hurt you,"
he whispered, even as he rocked against the boy, dragging another
loud moan from him.
"No, I'm not. Please, please!" A near despairing cry
and he clung to Qui-Gon desperately.
What little will he had against this drained away and even as he
silently cursed himself Qui-Gon was fumbling to the side of the
bed, searching for and finding the discarded bottle of oil from
last night. Most of its contents had spilled out on the floor but
there was still a small amount left.
With some effort, he managed to disentangled himself from
Obi-Wan's clinging limbs enough to pull the boy's knees up and
the moment Obi-Wan seemed to realize what his master was doing he
fell still, utterly pliable in Qui-Gon's hands. The sight of that
lithe body completely opened to him was unbelievably arousing and
Qui-Gon quickly stripped off his own clothing. This would not be
the like the night before, he swore silently.
Perhaps it was wrong either way, but this time he was going to
make love to Obi-Wan, not simply use him as if the boy were a
whore. Force help him, he did love his Padawan, no matter how
wrong it may be. Kneeling between Obi-Wan's spread legs he
exposed himself as fully as Obi-Wan already had and was met with
wide eyes.
One timid hand reached out to him, hovering over the erect length
of his shaft and Qui-Gon caught it before Obi-Wan could touch
him. Obi-Wan started, looking briefly wounded but it faded when
all Qui-Gon did was turn his hand over and tip a small amount of
the oil into the palm before releasing him.
Qui-Gon closed his eyes against the pulse of pleasure that surged
through him as that slick hand curved around him, stroking almost
too lightly. Without looking, he lifted his own hands to
Obi-Wan's knees, gently stroking downward to the silken skin of
his inner thighs. The hand on his cock tightened and Qui-Gon drew
in a sharp breath, biting his lip. His own hand slid lower,
gently stroking the cleft of Obi- Wan's buttocks, testing the
tiny opening. Obi-Wan was still slick from the night before and
Qui-Gon carefully eased the tip of a finger inside.
A soft gasp and Obi-Wan shifted to press against Qui-Gon's hand,
forcing the finger deeper inside him. Adding more oil, Qui-Gon
probed deeper, searching Obi-Wan's face for any sign of pain.
"Enough, Master, please!" It was a near sob and Qui-Gon
responded to it, withdrawing his fingers. Lifting Obi-Wan's hips
onto his knees, he shifted so that the head of his shaft was
pressed against the tight entrance, groaning aloud at the
blissful pressure. And there he stopped.
"Obi-Wan, look at me," he said huskily. The boy's eyes
fluttered open to reveal languid warmth in their depths, desire,
and passion and, yes, love. It flowed between them, around them
and Qui-Gon inhaled deeply as if he could pull that sweet warmth
into his lungs and inside him.
"I love you, my Obi-Wan," he whispered on his exhale as
he pressed forward. Panting breaths escaped him as he was
surrounded by tight slickness, wondrously hot as he slid deeply
inside, firmly clasped by Obi-Wan's body.
Long moments of carefully easing deeper until the silken
smoothness of Obi-Wan's buttocks were resting on his thighs and
then Qui-Gon paused, struggling for control. Obi-Wan was
squirming against him, crying out softly as he struggled against
his lover's stillness, pleading and begging in soft, broken words
until Qui-Gon felt he would lose his sanity.
"All right, then, Padawan," he growled, sliding his
arms under Obi- Wan's knees and then his hips, lifting him from
the bed to sit astride him. Still holding the boy locked in his
arms, Qui-Gon raised him carefully and then dropped him back
down, hard.
A startled yelp and he paused, concerned, but Obi-Wan wriggled
against him, trying to move on his own. Qui-Gon tightened his
grip, stilling him. The boy looked up at him a little wildly, and
their eyes caught. For one frozen moment, the only movement was
the rapid rise and fall of their chests from their ragged
breathing and the trembling of straining muscles as they gazed at
each other.
And then Obi-Wan shifted the tiniest bit, his inner muscles
tightening around the shaft buried deep inside him, dragging a
groan from Qui-Gon and the moment fractured, control washed away
by need.
Qui-Gon rocked Obi-Wan against him, arms taut with effort of
lifting his Padawan's not inconsiderable weight, moving inside
Obi-Wan in short, stilted thrusts and the boy himself was little
help, squirming against him, their awkward position offering no
leverage.
Heat was arcing between them regardless and Obi-Wan threw his
head back, keening loudly as Qui-Gon managed one deep thrust.
Another thrust and Obi-Wan screamed, wet, warm pulses flooding
between their already sweat-slicked bodies as he came.
The backlash of his orgasm sang through the Force, pushing
Qui-Gon over the edge and he tipped Obi-Wan back onto the
mattress, thrusting hard a last time as he came. Sweet ecstasy
sparked through him and he was dimly aware of crying out, of
Obi-Wan still writhing beneath him even as he collapsed,
trembling with aftershocks as he gasped for breath.
He came back to awareness with the feeling of slim fingers feebly
stroking his hair, plucking at the tie still holding it back.
Qui-Gon sighed, lifting his head just enough to rest his forehead
on Obi-Wan's as he waited for his heart to stop trying to pound
its way from his chest.
A contented sigh from beneath him, and then, very softly,
"Was that how you wanted it, Master?"
A weak chuckle escaped him. "Not exactly," he said,
pressed a kiss to Obi-Wan's lips. "But it certainly wasn't
an experience I would turn down. And I think," he added,
lowering his head to gaze into his padawan's eyes, "That it
would be permissible for you to use my name."
That earned him a smile. "Qui-Gon," he sighed,
returning the gentle kiss with one of his own before allowing his
head to fall back on the bedding as he closed his eyes. Obi-Wan
shifted uncomfortably and with a groan Qui-Gon pulled back and
out, noticing with distinct relief that there was no trace of
blood.
He really hadn't meant to be that rough, he thought distantly,
rubbing his cheek against Obi-Wan's neck and enjoying the feel of
the boy in his arms as he laughed and tried to squirm away from
the ticklish sensation. But this boy, oh, there was simply
something about him that made Qui-Gon surge with heat, with or
without a drug. They would have to be careful, such emotion could
easily become overwhelming and tainted with darkness.
"Love you, I love you," Obi-Wan was chanting softly and
Qui-Gon vaguely remembered Obi-Wan saying the same thing the
night before, just as he had fallen asleep.
"I love you as well, my Obi-Wan," he murmured against
warm skin and received a soft sigh in return.
Careful, yes, they would need to be careful. But right now he was
content to simply lie here and hold this slim young man close to
him, feeling the beat of Obi-Wan's heart against his cheek as
Obi-Wan finally managed to free his hair from its binding and was
finger- combing the length of it in long, soothing strokes.
Sighing, he relaxed into the gentle touch. They could deal with
this later, he decided sleepily, it may be difficult to work
through it but this nonetheless felt -right-, to hold and be held
in this way. Sleep beckoned closer and Qui-Gon drifted into it,
the heartbeat beneath his ear lulling him under, like the low
pounding of a single drum.
(finis)
Questions, comments, naked Jedi wrapped in cellophane to
keelywolfe@aol.com