Rating: NC-17
Archive: M&A, anyone else, ask.
Category: PWP
Feedback: Please? Purty purty please? Comments inspire me to
write so if you want more...
Disclaimer: Would you believe me if I told you I found 'em in a
cereal box? No? Ok, then, they aren't mine and I'm not making any
money, so please don't sue.
This plot bunny has been bothering me for a few weeks now,
disturbing me when I am trying to work on the nice long story I'm
writing, that actually has a plot, so I just figured I'd write it
and get it out of the way. Enjoy!
Flopping down on the large bed in their provided room, Obi-Wan
flung an arm over his eyes and sighed hugely, relaxing into the
mattress. He knew that he should get up and unpack his master's
and his own belongings, but for the moment he just rested
contentedly on the bed. No diplomat's, no rescues, no debates, no
chases and no near death experiences! For once, he and his master
had nothing more important to do than to be polite and attend the
wedding of the Magistrate of Tar- heer's daughter, Leelandra.
Qui-Gon was with the Magistrate now, no doubt reminiscing about
old times.
Years ago, before Qui-Gon had taken Obi-Wan as his Padawan, he
had been here on a diplomatic mission. During his stay, Leelandra
had fallen sick with an illness that the Tar-heer healers could
not cure, but Qui- Gon could and did. The Magistrate had
apparently not forgotten that kindness.
A knock on the door pulled Obi-Wan from his thoughts and with a
roll and a twist he was on his feet. He grinned mentally as he
thought of the pointed look Qui-Gon would have given him at his
showing off. Schooling his face to Jedi serenity he answered the
door and was startled to see Sarail, the magistrate's personal
assistance.
"Jedi Kenobi, I have need of your assistance." With a
faint frown he moved aside for her to enter, but she shook her
head. "I believe it would be better if you came with
me," The protest died on his lips when she added, "It
concerns your master."
Instinctively he reached out his mind to Qui-Gon, felt him
nearby, there didn't -seem- to be a problem...He cocked is head
slightly to the side, studying the young woman before him. If he
didn't know better, he'd swear she seemed, well, embarrassed.
"Is there something wrong?" he asked. He cheeks paled
slightly from their natural deep green, the Tar-Heelian version
of a blush. Hmm, curiouser and curiouser. Before she could reply
he bowed slightly to her. "Of course I will come with
you," he said smoothly, "Perhaps you can explain on the
way?"
With a grateful look she nodded. As they fell into step together,
she began, "This is a bit difficult to explain, Jedi Kenobi,
you see, it's traditional among my people for long parted friends
to share a drink of Quallia Juice, in respect of the One Who
Is." She lightly touched her temples with the tips of her
fingers, a gesture of reverence that Obi- Wan copied immediately,
before continuing. "It is a gesture of gratitude, for
bringing them together once again and it renews the bonds of
friendship."
Obi-Wan quelled his impatience, he wanted her to simply get to
the point but obviously this was important if she was taking the
time to explain it to him. He waited while she continued, both of
them walking down corridor after corridor.
"The problem was with our new protocol droid. Quallia juice
is somewhat volatile and very strong. It is generally diluted
before it is consumed."
He was beginning to get the idea. "And your droid didn't
dilute it," he guessed. He gave a mental sigh at her
reluctant nod. "Are they both very sick then?"
She hesitated again, turning yet another shade paler,
"Not...exactly." They had stopped in front of an
exquisitely carved door, which she opened with a small key. The
moment the door swung open their ears were assaulted by a blast
of truly horrid noise.
Obi-Wan stood and stared, mouth gaping at the sight of his Master
and The Magistrate of Tar-Heel sprawled on floor, each with an
arm around the other as they warbled what he assumed was supposed
to be a song, abet -very- off-key.
He looked up at Sarail, who was staring at the two men with a
resigned look. "You see the problem." He did indeed. A
particularly ribald line of the song had Sarail wincing and
Obi-Wan had to bite his tongue to stifle the laughter that was
swelling with in him. This was not a laughing matter, this could
have consequences...
But the sight of his stoic, always so proper Master sitting on
the floor singing dirty limericks while completely plastered was
simply too good. Another line of the song, something about the
garters that wookies wear, pushed him over the edge and the
laugher forced its way out. Obi-Wan managed to disguise it as a
cough, but the amusement that glittered in Sarail's eyes clearly
said that she wasn't fooled.
"I'll take care of mine if you take care of yours," she
offered, allowing a broad grin to escape. Obi-Wan grinned back at
her and nodded.
Just then Qui-Gon seemed to notice the extra occupants of the
room and smiled brilliantly at them both. "Obi-Wan!" he
exclaimed, apparently delighted to see the younger man. He
staggered to his feet and the Magistrate, his support gone,
sagged downward to the floor, still singing softly.
Obi-Wan suppressed a sigh, looking at his master, who was
standing somewhat unsteadily and smiling sweetly. So much for a
peaceful mission.
Moments later he was half-carrying, half-dragging his protesting
master down the corridors while silently praying that they didn't
meet anyone along the way. It would be difficult to carry on the
carefully cultivated Jedi appearance of control and tranquility
if half the castle had seen the Jedi Master drunk and
caterwauling in the hallways.
"We go left here," Qui-Gon announced, struggling to
make Obi-Wan turn, but his apprentice resisted.
"No, Master, our quarters are to the right." Qui-Gon
halted, then swung in front of the younger man, looping both arms
around Obi-Wan's neck and hanging from him like an Alderaanian
brush monkey. He peered owlishly up at his Padawan.
"Are you sure?" his tone so doubtful that Obi-wan, who
was already staggering under the abrupt addition of weight, had
to fight back the urge to smile. Qui-Gon apparently thought it
was Obi-Wan who had taken leave of his senses. There was
something rather endearing about seeing this usually
self-possessed man so utterly guileless.
He relaxed his features into an expression of complete
seriousness. "I'm very sure, Master."
Obi-Wan watched as Qui-Gon's head lolled to the left then the
right, his lips pursed in contemplation, before looking back up.
The older man heaved a great sigh then and straightened.
"Well, if you're sure," he said, clearly feeling as if
he was humoring his wayward apprentice. Again, Obi-Wan was forced
to tamp down his amusement and they continued on to their
quarters.
The older man seemed determined to keep up a constant stream of
chatter, about everything and nothing. And while it was unusually
loquacious for Qui-Gon, it wouldn't have bothered Obi-Wan, if
only Qui- Gon had realized that his Padawan's ear was only six
centimeters from his mouth and that the younger man was -not-
deaf. At least not yet, Obi-Wan thought somewhat wryly, wincing
as Qui-Gon's volume soared yet again. Repeated attempts at
quieting him had proved fruitless and Obi- Wan resigned himself
to getting his master to their quarters as quickly as possible.
At the door to their room, Obi-Wan carefully disentangled
Qui-Gon's limbs from around his neck and leaned him against the
doorjamb as he keyed it open. Gathering his wayward master up
Obi-Wan led him inside.
A part of him was touched by the trust Qui-Gon put in him, that
he'd question the path to their room but never Obi-Wan's right to
take him there. And Qui-Gon seemed vulnerable in a way that he
never had before, making an unfamiliar feeling of protectiveness
swell in his apprentice. -Seemed vulnerable- were the operative
words he rather unexpectedly discovered, and he was completely
unprepared to be abruptly thrust against the wall beside the
door, the bulk of a much larger body holding him there.
Qui-Gon buried his face against Obi-Wan's neck, inhaling deeply.
"Do you have any idea how good you smell?" he murmured
against the heated skin, making the young Jedi shiver at the gust
of moist breath against his neck.
Obi-Wan jumped when he felt Qui-Gon tongue lightly run upward
until it reached his ear, where it paused before lapping at the
curves, teeth nibbling gently on the tender lobe. Oh, this was
bad, this was really bad and he found that he was hoping rather
fervently that it was Qui- Gon's lightsaber that was jabbing into
his stomach. Even as he thought it Qui-Gon shifted against him
slightly, pressing him harder against the wall and denied his
wish. Worse yet, it was not his own lightsaber that was pushing
against Qui-Gon's thigh and his wish changed to a prayer that
Qui-Gon wouldn't notice.
Whatever gods existed did not seem to be on his side today. A
large hand slid in between their bodies to gently cup the
hardness that was straining in Obi-Wan's trousers. Obi-Wan made a
sound that was more like a squeak than a protest, so shocked that
he lost the capacity for speech.
Ok, this is -really- bad. Ignoring the protesting clamor of his
body, which insisted that it wouldn't hurt to wait just a
-little- longer, Obi-Wan tested his strength against Qui-Gon's,
pushing the other man away from him. He didn't budge. In fact, he
only pressed Obi-Wan harder against the wall and, oh, gods,
actually started rubbing against him, and Obi-Wan wanted nothing
more than to respond. Filled with a rising sense of panic in the
face of losing his control, Obi-Wan abandoned pride and began to
struggle in earnest, trying to get enough leverage to break free.
"You are so beautiful," was gasped against his ear, the
ear that Qui- Gon had been tasting so fervently, and Qui-Gon
pulled back a bit. Obi- Wan paused, looking up at his master.
Qui-Gon's eyes were pools of inky darkness, just a rim of deep
blue around the pupils but it was the look of undisguised lust in
them, directed at him, that made something in Obi-Wan melt.
Qui-Gon's head descended and he ran his tongue gently over
Obi-Wan's lips, seeking entrance. Obi-Wan didn't fight, couldn't
fight, but neither did he respond. He stood stiffly in Qui-Gon's
embrace, waging a mental war even as he fought another battle
outside his body, against Qui-Gon's seduction.
This was wrong, he could -not- take advantage of his Master this
way, not when Qui-Gon was so obviously not himself. The other man
probably wasn't even sure whom it was he was kissing and touching
and stroking...his mind skittered away from those thoughts. His
brain tried a different approach; if he were to do this, to take
advantage of someone who was not in control of his senses then he
would never be worthy of being a Jedi Knight, he told himself
rationally. He would just pull away and convince Qui-Gon that
this was wrong, and...
"Obi-Wan, by the Force you are so beautiful. Gods, I love
you, I love you so much," the rest of the words were cut off
as Qui-Gon urgently pressed his lips against Obi-Wan's, trying to
coax a response.
Obi-Wan surrendered without even a whimper of protest, his mind
running up a white flag as he opened up to the soft, seeking
tongue pressing against his lips, responding to Qui-Gon's
skillful, if a tad bit clumsy, touches. They haphazardly made
their way to the bed, clothing stripped off and flung about the
room so that when they finally collapsed on the mattress they
were naked, a hiss of pleasure escaping them both as skin pressed
against warm bared skin. Qui-Gon pressed Obi- Wan down into the
mattress much as he'd held him against the wall, ravishing the
younger man's already bruised lips with yearning kisses.
So intent was Obi-Wan on the bright flare of lust within and
around him, at first he didn't notice those heated kisses
becoming more and more passive, less and less responsive, until
Qui-Gon was almost completely lax against him.
Through a muffling curtain of blackness Qui-Gon thought he could
hear someone talking to him, but the words seemed garbled
somehow. Just before he sank into oblivion he was sure he heard
someone cursing, but he had no time to consider it before the
darkness overcame him and he knew no more.
Obi-Wan stared at his master in disbelief. The bastard was
asleep! Snuggled very cozy and warm against Obi-Wan's still
-very- aroused body, completely and totally dead to the galaxy.
Muttering a few chose curses he shifted uncomfortably under his
master's weight, the man was as heavy as a frozen Hutt, he
thought peevishly, before he began to chuckle ruefully. The more
he thought about it, the funnier it seemed until he was laughing
as hard as the shallow breaths he could take allowed. Qui-Gon
didn't even stir from his slumber and Obi-Wan pressed a gentle
kiss to his forehead before settling back, still underneath his
master, to try and calm his body enough to allow sleep.
He was dying. That was obviously the only explanation. The
Neboidian Death flu, maybe, or a case of The Ravage, a viral
infection that consumed the infected from the inside out. Or
perhaps he'd been injured in some battle, defending...well,
somebody surely. Those were the only reasons he could think of
for feeling as if a draigon had chewed him up and spat him out
onto a bed of jagged rocks. Except he was on a bed and it felt
more as if it was bit too soft, not made of rocks.
Qui-Gon risked opening one eye, if it exploded he would still
have the other, he reasoned. He -was- on a bed, but not in a
familiar room. He sat up and immediately regretted it as his
brain threatened to throb its way out of his skull, right onto
the wonderfully cool sheets.
He swallowed convulsively as his stomach announced that it was
contemplating joining in on his brain's plan. He tried to swallow
again but his mouth was painfully dry and tasted as if he'd eaten
the woolen blanket rather than slept under it.
Closing his eyes again, he concentrated on the pain and the
nausea, accepting them as part of his body's healing process.
Feeling somewhat better, he opened his eyes, intent on uncovering
the mystery of his surroundings.
At the sight next to him on the bed, however, his mind went
completely blank, overcome by a blinding wave of what could only
be called shock. Obi-Wan. His apprentice, His -Padawan-. Sound
asleep on the bed next to him. In a state of undress that
generally did -not- occur whenever they slept in the same bed.
The events of the previous day came back to him in a rush of
images and the nausea returned full force within him. By the
First Circle, what had he done?
The young man next to him stirred in his sleep and for the first
time in their acquaintance Qui-Gon found himself shrinking from
his apprentice, utterly cowed at the prospect of facing him. His
memories were something of a blur, he -did- remember having a
drink with the Magistrate, some laughter and general silliness, a
bit dim as to how he'd gotten back to their quarters. But what
he'd done to Obi-Wan, -that- he remembered, with a sense of
dread. Dragging the young man to bed, stripping him of his
clothes...Qui-Gon closed his eyes at the shame of it. How could
he have let himself do that, no matter the circumstances?
Qui-Gon thoughts scattered as Obi-Wan stirred again, this time
shifting onto his back, blinking in the dim light. He looked
around in sleepy confusion before looking up at his master. Their
eyes caught and they looked at each other somberly.
"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon started, then fell silent. What
could he say? How could he excuse his actions? "I didn't
mean...I wasn't...I...I'm sorry," he finished, somewhat
lamely, and master Jedi cursed his usual articulateness for
deserting him. Obi-Wan was still looking at him, his face
inscrutable, mind shields woven tightly against any intrusion.
"So you didn't mean it."
Qui-Gon blinked. "I didn't mean what?" he asked
somewhat uncertainly, confused.
"What you said to me last night, you didn't mean it."
Flat words, Obi- Wan's face looked as if were chiseled from
stone.
That did not sound good. Qui-Goon shifted uncomfortably, running
a hand through his tangled hair. He noticed absently that he'd
lost his hair tie sometime during the night's events. Best to
face this directly then. "I don't remember quite...what did
I say?"
Obi-Wan's expression never changed. "You said that I smelled
good. That I was beautiful," a brief hesitation, then,
softly, "That you loved me."
Qui-Gon winced visibly. Ouch. So much for directness. This was
much, much worse than he'd thought, -exceedingly- worse, there
was not a planet in the galaxy remote enough for him to hide
under a rock on from this. He mentally cursed that blasted juice,
the Magistrate that gave it to him, the Council for insisting
they came to this wedding and, for good measure, the very ship
that had brought them to this misbegotten planet. Obi-Wan was
quiet but for breathing and even that sounded abnormally loud in
the silence that stretched between them as the young Jedi waited
for some sort of answer.
Words came to Qui-Gon's lips, words that resisted being said. No,
I didn't mean it, no I don't think your beautiful, no I don't
love you. No, no, to everything, no. Somehow, they refused to go
past his lips, because he knew them for the lie they were. And he
had never lied to his apprentice, never purposefully.
And how could he say such things when the emotions that surged
through him just looking at the young man, bared in all his glory
to his master's not quite reluctant eyes, gave lie to what he was
trying to say?
The Jedi Knight within him ignored that. The teacher/apprentice
relationship was far too important, it insisted, better to soothe
a few hurt feelings than to destroy their entire relationship on
a whim. His buried emotions scoffed at the word 'whim' but he
pushed them aside. The Knight was correct, better to just brush
away this entire incident and try to go back as they were.
"Yes, I meant it." He very nearly clapped a hand over
his mouth as those words escaped and only years of Jedi training
kept him from doing so. What are you doing?!? his inner voice
shrieked. The wash of emotion that fell over him like a breaking
wave pushed aside that voice; hope, desire, fear, love. All of it
coming at him, weaving themselves around him, in him. All from
Obi-Wan.
Before Qui-Gon could do anything but sit there in stunned
acceptance Obi-Wan had captured him in an embrace, pushing him
back onto the bed. He responded to the fevered kisses without
thinking, giving himself over to urgency of the moment.
Obi-Wan straddled the Jedi Master, almost holding him down as
last night's unfulfilled arousal sang through him. Qui-Gon was
beneath him, responding to his frantic kisses, with lips and
tongue and a firm erection that was rubbing against Obi-Wan's
stomach. It wasn't enough.
"Tell me that you want this," Obi-Wan pulled back to
whisper, licking Qui-Gon's lower lip before sucking it into his
mouth, nibbling it gently, "Tell me. Make me believe
it."
Panting breaths and widely dilated eyes were his only response as
Qui- Gon stared up at him.
"Tell me," he persisted, scattering kisses over the
Jedi Master's face, "Tell me or I'll stop."
The mild threat seemed to snap Qui-Gon back to reality and strong
hands came around him, trying to pull him down. Obi-Wan resisted
their silent plea, he -needed- to be sure.
"-Tell me!-" Obi-Wan demanded, drawing away. He wanted
this almost more than he wanted to continue breathing, but this
time he would not give in. He would not take advantage...
I want this. A soft, almost timid whisper into his mind,
the voice of a man far out of his element, and so unlike his
confident, self-assured Master that Obi-Wan was overcome by a
feeling of tenderness for the man who lay trembling with desire
in his arms. He smiled warmly, relaxing back into his Master's
embrace.
Qui-Gon closed his eyes briefly before reopening them with a
smile of his own. He pulled Obi-Wan closer, insistently, until
their lips were nearly touching and he paused.
"I want this," he whispered before capturing Obi-Wan's
lips in a kiss of his own, "I want this," he repeated,
again and yet again, between nips and licks, "I want this,
my Padawan, my beloved, I want this, I want you."
Quick, frantic kisses now, the still burning embers of last
night's thwarted desire flared to life, threatening to engulf
them. Their erections bumped, dragging a startled gasp from both
men. Obi-Wan thrust experimentally and was rewarded with a ragged
moan from Qui-Gon as their cocks rubbed together, trapped between
their bodies.
A moment of initial awkwardness and then they both found a
rhythm, moving against each other, each riding the slickness of
sweat and pre- cum between them.
Qui-Gon threw his head back, gasping for breath and Obi-Wan took
advantage of the position, burying his face into the
hair-roughened curve, biting and nibbling as he thrust harder,
seeking release. He felt Qui-Gon's hands slide down to his ass as
he sought to pull them closer still, the muscles there tensing
and releasing as they moved together. No gentleness now as their
frenzied movements peaked and with a strangled cry Qui-Gon
tumbled over the edge and came, slick wetness lubricating their
bodies further. That new slippery warmth combined with Qui-Gon's
shudders of pleasure was too much for Obi-Wan, who came in a
burst of liquid heat and blinding ecstasy.
Panting, they lay together, Obi-Wan collapsing on the older man,
all his strength draining away with the force of his orgasm.
Qui-Gon shifted, resting his chin on Obi-Wan's head, nuzzling the
soft hair contentedly.
"I was right," Qui-Gon murmured.
Frowning, Obi-Wan tried to pull back, to look at his master but
Qui-Gon refused to release him. He relented, settling back down.
"Right about what?" he finally asked. Qui-Gon pressed a
kiss to Obi-Wan's forehead.
"You -do- smell good."
A sputter of indignant laughter escaped from the young Jedi and
he did pull away this time. "You don't even remember saying
that, do you?" He sat back, arms crossed as he waited
expectantly.
"Well, not exactly," Qui-Gon replied reluctantly, not
meeting Obi-Wan's eyes as he struggled not to smile, "But
you said I said it."
"You saying that I said you said it does not..."
Obi-Wan shook his head, "I don't even know what I'm talking
about anymore!" Qui-Gon opened his mouth to respond and
Obi-Wan kissed him quickly, just to hush him. Pressed full length
against the warm naked length of the man he loved was wreaking
havoc on his already rattled senses and Obi-Wan felt his cock
begin to stiffen again. Sprawled across Qui-Gon as he was, there
was little chance that the other man wouldn't notice. In fact,
Obi-Wan was rather counting on it.
As if on cue Qui-Gon pulled back slightly "So soon?" he
sighed against Obi-Wan's seeking lips, "Ah, to be twenty
again. Perhaps you should just bury me now, I don't think I can
compete with you." The devilish grin that flashed across
Obi-Wan's face did nothing to soothe the older Jedi.
"You aren't -that- old, Master. Aside from that, the Council
does not approve of burying living Jedi Knights." Qui-Gon
snorted laughter at those primly spoken words but it quickly
shifted to a groan as Obi-Wan slid down his body, tugging on
Qui-Gon's chest hair with busy lips.
"Ouch! You little brat! I...oh," his scolding was
halted by soft lips moving lower, following the narrow line of
hair down his body to his groin. "And you
think...ah...that...oooh...the Council will approve...oh, gods
yes! Of...of this," Qui-Gon managed.
Obi-Wan would have answered but it was rude to speak with ones
mouth full. He carefully sucked on Qui-Gon's still flaccid cock,
just barely holding it in his mouth, tasting the residue of their
earlier orgasms. The soft flesh stirred, a quick pulse throbbed
through it as it came alive in Obi-Wan's gentle mouth, hardening
under Obi-Wan's stroking tongue until it was again erect and
eager.
He pulled back then, slithered his way back up Qui-Gon's body and
blithely ignored the other man's hiss of dismay. Propping his
elbows on Qui-Gon's chest Obi-Wan grinned triumphantly down at
him with an arched eyebrow.
"Still feeling old, Master?" he asked innocently.
Annoyance flashed over Qui-Gon's face.
"Shall I show you how I feel, Padawan?" Qui-Gon asked
silkily. Before Obi-Wan could respond he found himself abruptly
on his back, Qui-Gon looming over him. Strong hands caught his
legs, lifting them so that he could feel the smooth skin of
Qui-Gon's back underneath his calves. Without warning his
erection was pulled into the hot, greedy cavern of Qui-Gon's
mouth
He cried out, struggling against the urge to thrust upward as he
was engulfed in wet, tight heat. A fire was growing far too
quickly low in his abdomen and he fought it back, wanting this
moment to last an eternity.
A dim flicker of determination rose up within him underneath the
heady swell of pleasure, a resolve not to experience this alone
and with a great effort he tipped Qui-Gon off of him, rolling
onto his side and turning so that he could reach his Master's
neglected erection.
Obviously agreeing with the presented agenda Qui-Gon's
appreciative murmur communicated itself in a vibrating touch on
his cock and Obi-Wan nearly came then. Struggling to hold back
the ever-growing flame within him, Obi-Wan concentrated on
stroking his Master's cock with lips and tongue, taking it deep
within his mouth until his nose pressed lightly against the soft
sac underneath.
It was fast becoming a kind of battle, each struggling to push
the other over the edge first, moving faster, sucking harder,
tongues stroking a frantic duel with a hard, thrusting cock. They
each hovered on the edge, as they sought the one touch, the right
caress to push the other over.
If Qui-Gon could have grinned, he would have, and if Obi-Wan
could have seen the wickedness in that mental smile he might have
surrendered right then. Youth may have its advantages but so did
age and Qui-Gon was about to use one last trick that he'd held
back. Sucking hard, he pulled Obi-Wan's cock deeply into his
mouth and, without warning, dropped his mental shields.
Buffeted by unexpected emotions, Obi-Wan had no chance to block
out the sensation as pleasure ignited every nerve ending in his
body, doubling and redoubling as the flames within him were
echoed through Qui-Gon and back to him. In an explosive rush he
came, the world swirling in a dizzy mist of blackness even as he
felt the Qui-Gon struggling to swallow the warm spurt of his seed
around the cock in his mouth, even as he felt the sweet rapture
of Qui-Gon's orgasm rush through him, surely only seconds after
his own but time was at a standstill and his entire being seemed
give one last convulsive throb before surrendering to the
darkness.
The sensation of something wet and cold pierced through the warm
blanket of contentment surrounding him, as well as the sound of
someone calling his name. Obi-Wan flung a hand out, trying to
push the coldness away and was rewarded with the feel of his hand
slapping something and a startled yelp.
Forcing his eyes open, he squinted at the figure next to him.
Qui-Gon glared down at him, rubbing his abused nose. Mortified,
he scrambled into a sitting position.
"Sorry?" he tried, earning another glare, this one a
bit amused as Qui- Gon held the wet cloth he'd been washing
Obi-Wan's face with up to his aching nose.
"I'll accept your apology if you accept mine, Padawan,"
Qui-Gon replied, ruefully, "It wasn't my intention to
overwhelm you -that- much." Memory returned to Obi-Wan and a
flush that wasn't just from embarrassment heated the young man's
face.
He captured Qui-Gon's hand and pulled it away from his nose so
that Obi-Wan could press a solicitous kiss to the bruise that was
already forming. He tilted his head so that he was looking into
the deep blue of his master's eyes, a hint of a smile tugging on
his lips. "If only I could always be overwhelmed
so...pleasantly." A butterfly touch of his finger on
Qui-Gon's thigh at the words and the blue in those eyes deepened.
Qui-Gon leaned forward, their lips nearly touching and then...a
knock at the door.
A voice called through the door, "Jedi, sirs? We were just
coming to take you to the ceremony."
The wedding. Qui-Gon frowned, "I thought the ceremony wasn't
until three." Two pairs of eyes flew to the chronometer. Two
forty-five. Casting each other looks of combined dismay and
horror they both flew to their feet.
"Uhhhh, just a minute!"
The ceremony was lovely. The bride, Leelandra, a far cry from the
child that Qui-Gon remembered, was resplendent in her shimmering
gown and flowers woven through the length of her hair. And if her
father was a bit bleary eyed and the honored Jedi guests were
nearly late she gave it no notice, totally absorbed in the joy of
her day.
Obi-Wan stood quietly by the wall, watching the other guests
dance. And his Master, who was chatting not too far away with the
exceedingly embarrassed and apologetic Magistrate. His Master was
smoothing over the incident, assuring the Magistrate that there
was no cause for concern. This Obi-Wan could feel, without really
pushing, their mental link as strong and as open as it had ever
been, and he smiled inwardly. He should be -thanking- the
Magistrate, for indeed the Quailla juice had been more of a boon
than a curse. He idly wondered if he could pick some up before
they left.
"Enjoying the celebration, Jedi Kenobi?" Startled, he
turned to see Sarail at his elbow, smiling at him. He bowed
deeply before her and smiled warmly in return. He felt her
pleased surprise at his gesture, he rather owed her his gratitude
as well, although she wouldn't know it, and he intended to show
it.
"Indeed I am, it was a beautiful ceremony." An image
rose briefly in his mind, of him with his Master, declaring their
bond before those people who were most important to them. He
dismissed the thought immediately. It was a bit early in their
relationship for that. Still...he started slightly as he realized
Sarail was speaking to him.
"I trust you had no...difficulty with our...situation last
night," she asked archly, brows raised.
He graced her with an enigmatic smile. "Nothing that I
couldn't handle, Madam."
She nodded her head then, with a mysterious smile of her own.
"I'm so glad to hear it." She started to turn away, but
then paused, moving to whisper in his ear. "Do invite us all
to your Bonding ceremony. I would so like to be there."
Before he could respond she had moved away and he could only
stare after her, bemused. How had she...?
It was obvious to him when he turned back to his Master and their
eyes caught. Visible within those depths was a love that made
Obi-Wan ache to his toes and he might have melted to the floor in
a puddle had that not been a most un-jedi-like action. He almost
did it anyway when Qui- Gon committed a most un-jedi-like action
of his own by capturing his Padawan's hand and kissed the palm
gently, flicking his tongue moistly against it. Obi-Wan wondered,
briefly, what he had done to deserve such love.
Perhaps all those gods weren't against him after all.
-finis-
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