Spoilers: Zip, zilch, nada, cero. Why? Set before TPM.
Rating: Believe it's what's known as NC-17. Gimme a break, I
ain't the Brightest Light on Broadway; I'll eventually get the
ratings figured out!
Archive: Take it if you want it. I won't molt m'self bald if you
feel like plastering it somewhere. Only request is that you leave
my name attached.
Summary: Obi-Wan gets his first look at Qui-Gon as seen through
the world of beer goggles. Or probably just beer. Qui-Gon gets
his first look at an amorous apprentice. No, it's not a bad
thing.
Warnings: First time, introspective thoughts, smart-assishness
and sarcasm, haven't a clue what else. Those of you who write
this on a regular basis can probably figure it out better'n me. grins
Disclaimer: The God-King of Star Wars, Yea Mighty Man Lucas, owns
Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan. But that's only 'cause he was lucky enough
to be born before I was. smart-ass grin
Disclaimer: To Disclaim or ... Not to Disclaim?
*sigh* That is the question.
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows
of passing
up an outrageous fortune which could be made off of these two sex
gods ...
or to take ARMS against a sea of Lawyers ... and by opposing,
incite a
lawsuit? To love, to sleep, to PWP! And by a sleep to
say they gather
strength for the THOUSAND natural shocks that flesh is heir to
... *sniff*
'Tis a consummation not-so-devoutly to be written! To
sleep, to LOVE! To
love, perchance to ... ay, THERE'S the rub! ;-) ... For in that
sleep of
sated unconsciousness, what dreams may come when Master and
Padawan have
finally reached their limit.
Author's note: This idea has come to me due to a recent
conversation with a cousin of mine who, since I'm turning 21
soon, has taken it upon himself to teach me how to drink. Having
the tolerance of wet Kleenex where anything chemical is
concerned, I suppose medals should be passed all around: Me for
keeping this substandard gray clay intact during a difficult
mission fraught with peril, and him for surviving the righteous
tail whipping I gave him when I could finally walk like a normal
hominid again. And if ya think I'm getting into what defines
"normal", then yer nutsen. But if you want to know just
how difficult it was, this says it all: 100-proof Peppermint
Schnapps.
"Hey, Kobi!"
Obi-Wan turned at the childhood nickname that was yelled by a
friend of his that he'd known since the creche. He grinned upon
seeing Hosko coming towards him. "Hey, 'Sko, how are
you?" he said, greeting his friend with a wide grin and a
bone-crushing hug that was gladly returned.
Hosko grinned at his best friend and said, "Great!
Especially since you're here, finally. Thought you'd never get
back to the Academy in time!"
The younger apprentice nodded, saying, "Yeah, our transport
got held up; the hyperdrive conked out. In fact, my Master,
Qui-Gon, made me do extra patience meditation because I offered
to jumpstart it using -" Then he stopped as his friend's
words registered. "In time for what?" he asked
carefully.
Hosko gave him an evil-looking grin that was playful at the same
time. "You're turning eighteen tomorrow, right?" he
stated, casually punching Obi-Wan on his shoulder as he turned
and started leading his friend toward a private room in the
Academy.
"Yes. Hosko, what are you up to?"
"Me? Why, Obi-Wan Kenobi, what makes you think that I
would be up to something?"
"Your BS is piling up butt-deep to a Bantha, Hosko,"
Obi-Wan laughed, digging his elbow into his friend's ribs, who
yelped and pulled away, rubbing at them in a mock-wounded manner.
"What have you got planned and am I going to like it?"
"Ahhhh, a two part question: my favorite kind," Hosko
said, grinning wickedly and rubbing his hands together.
"Well, to answer the first part, I've got a birthday party
planned for you with the rest of our little Padawan gang. The
second part is that we hope you'll have a good time,
seeing as how the last time you were here a few weeks ago, you
were moping like a kicked dog."
"I don't mope. I was just a little . . . tired, was
all," Obi-Wan said, feigning indignation and hedging his
answer at the same time.
Hosko snorted. "Yeah, and a Hutt's just a little bitty lizard,
too. C'mon, Kobi, work with us here. You're turning eighteen,
you've been 'tired' for a while now, and we think you could use
some fun. We're just tryin' to help you lighten up a little, is
all."
Obi-Wan sighed. His friend was right, he did need to
lighten up for a little bit. Things had been tense for the past
few months - oh, fine, alright, years - and it was
starting to have an adverse effect on him. He was constantly
tired, seemingly uninterested in the joys that had once seemed so
open and accessible to him, and he noticed he'd become more than
a little uptight, reserved, only cracking the occasional joke.
Considering that he had once been so full of sass and sarcasm
that his master had commented about his hair having more gray
hairs than necessary at his age . . .
His master. Qui-Gon Jinn. The man behind the turmoil and the
Master who trained him in the arts of the Jedi. While Qui-Gon the
Master was helping him immensely with the latter, Qui-Gon the
man, was royally messing up Obi-Wan's inner balance with
conflicting emotions. He didn't know when his outright hero
worship of Qui-Gon had turned into something a little less
childish and a lot more adult. After all, as a child, he'd never
fantasized about kissing every inch of Qui-Gon's body before. He
couldn't pinpoint the exact moment when he started noticing that
Qui-Gon had a really nice body to go with his handsome
face and his wonderful personality, his keen intelligence, and
his calm, serene manner. Obi-Wan had realized a while back that
the infatuation he'd been harboring for his master had only
strengthened, that he not only loved his master but also had
fallen in love with him. And while the young apprentice didn't
regret loving the older Jedi, he did regret the fact that Qui-Gon
seemed out of his reach.
Obi-Wan wanted to tell his master how he felt. He wanted to touch
Qui-Gon, to kiss him, to love him in every way possible. If only
his master would love him back, it would be all of the Force to
him. But he feared that he would drive his master away from the
easy camaraderie that they shared now, drive him into a more
formal partnership, and Obi-Wan ruthlessly quelled any urges to
tell Qui-Gon any of what he was feeling, because losing Qui-Gon's
friendship and his affection would be tantamount to suicide for
him, leaving him only half himself and in an existence that had
no life in it. So he kept quiet. And he felt like hell.
Sighing yet again, he grinned at Hosko and said, "You're
right, my friend. When's the party?"
Hosko gave him a wide, delighted grin and thumped him on the back
as he said, "Right now! Just as soon as I hustle you into
the private meeting room we reserved! That is, if you don't have
anything to do?"
Obi-Wan snorted, aiming a playful slap at Hosko's head. "You
know full well that I've got the evening free!"
Hosko easily ducked the jab and then locked his arm around
Obi-Wan's neck and held the younger apprentice against him long
enough to burn his knuckles against Obi-Wan's scalp as he said,
"Yeah, but you know, it's still polite to ask first . .
."
"Since when have you bothered with politeness?!"
Obi-Wan yelped as he squirmed his way free, laughing.
Hosko feigned an indignant and hurt look as he said, "I
can't believe you just insulted me like that, Kobi! I have always
been a decent and morally upstanding Padawan and person! And for
the chance to kick your ass up between your shoulder blades
during training practice, I'll forget you said that."
Obi-Wan's laughter echoed down the hallway as he walked with his
friend towards that evening's destiny.
Qui-Gon opened his eyes as he emerged from his meditation
routine. He knew where Obi-Wan was, since the younger man had
thoughtfully called via comlink to let him know his plans for the
evening. But he could sense Obi-Wan was being less cautious than
normal, quite lax in keeping his shields up. As he probed a
little into his student's conscious thoughts, he realized that
was because Obi-Wan had indulged more than enough in some potent
alcohol.
He sighed. He wished that Obi-Wan had come to him to talk about
whatever had been bothering him of late, rather than seeking
refuge in a bottle. No matter what Obi-Wan might have told him,
at least he would have been in the beautiful young man's presence
for a little while, keeping him all to himself for just a few
precious moments, looking into those brilliant eyes. But it was
probably better that Obi-Wan was out of arm's reach for a little
while. Tonight, for some reason, he had been feeling more in need
of his young apprentice than ever before, and Qui-Gon would do
nothing to jeopardize his time with his beloved student, not even
giving in to his own desires when he so longed to do just that.
As he strengthened his own shields against his longing and
Obi-Wan's laxity to prevent any embarrassment to his apprentice,
Qui-Gon sighed. If only he could reach out to his Padawan and
teach him the way he'd dreamed of for so long . . .
Funny how destiny is spelled i-n-t-o-x-i-c-a-t-e-d,
Obi-Wan thought to himself as he felt his way along the wall with
his free hand as he left his impromptu birthday party. His other
hand was currently gripping Hosko's arm, trying to keep his
friend upright and moving steadily along the hallway. Hey,
waitaminute . . . did I just spell? Like this? Huh. Maybe I'm not
as drunk as I - whoops!
He and Hosko stumbled to their knees in the hallway as Hosko
overbalanced and the two of them wound up giggling like ninnies
on the tiled floor.
Hosko grinned up at him. "Y'know, Kobi, I think we prob'ly
had too much t' drink."
"Urrmph . . . really?" Obi-Wan panted as he helped haul
his friend to his feet. "What was your first clue,
'Sko?"
"'Cause there wasn't a drop left when we left, too! Not a
bleedin' drop. We drank it all. Drunk it all. Great mother o'
stars. I can't feel my tongue, either. I've lost it," Hosko
said, rubbing at his mouth.
"Let's see." Willing to help, Obi-Wan laid his hands
heavily on Hosko's shoulders. "Stick it out." Eyes
narrowed, he nodded. "S'okay, pal. It's there. Fact is,
you've got two of 'em. That's the problem."
Hosko grinned and ran one of his two tongues around his teeth.
"Nah, m' friend, problem is that you got yourself a ragin'
hard-on for -"
"Ah, shut up, 'Sko!" Obi-Wan laughed as they stumbled
up to the door that led to Hosko's quarters.
"S'not my fault you let your shields down, Kobi!" Hosko
said, laughing along with him. He palmed open the door and hung
there on the frame as Obi-Wan sagged against the wall. "Hey,
you gonna get back alright? Or d' you need to just stay over for
a spell?"
"Stay in the same room with you? After what you ate
tonight?" Obi-Wan scoffed, slurring slightly. He shook his
head and braced himself against the dizziness. "I'd rather
kiss a Hutt on the lips."
Hosko growled mock-threateningly. "I could arrange that,
y'know!"
"You do an' you're a dead Jedi!"
"Not on your best day, Kobi, betcha that!"
The two of them spent the next few minutes trying to muffle their
inebriated giggles. Finally, Obi-Wan sighed and pushed himself
upright. "Well, gotta be gettin' back. It's been fun, but
y'know how it is when you're a Padawan . . ."
"Oh, yeah," Hosko groaned. "I bet anything that
Master S'lennal is gonna make me do handstands t'morrow."
"I ain't takin' that bet, nope, no way," Obi-Wan
grunted as he began to shuffle down the hallway. "'Sides,
you could use somethin' up there in that head o' yours anyway for
a change!"
He only laughed as Hosko's voice floated after him, some filthy
names in five different languages rolled out in a drunken slur.
Obi-Wan then settled down to the task of putting one foot in
front of the other as he made his way to his quarters, which were
next to the one's his master had. As he came across a small
arboretum built into the hallway, he paused and collapsed onto
the bench. He needed a few moments to get his strength built up
again. But the longer he sat there, the better it felt until
finally he lay slumped across its surface, face up, just gazing
up at the ceiling that glowed with soft lights through
heavy-lidded eyes and thick eyelashes.
It wasn't long before a tall, broad-shouldered figure stood over
him, blocking the lights. His vision was too blurred for him to
make out the details, but he didn't need his eyesight to know who
it was. "Heyyyy, Master!" he squawked, grinning.
"I gotta tell ya, these trees're nice, but ya just gotta get
a bit of a softer . . . bed." Then he laughed.
Qui-Gon sighed as he looked down at his intoxicated Padawan.
"You, my young friend, are three sheets to the wind, did you
know this?"
That struck Obi-Wan as hilariously funny and he howled with
laughter, clutching his cramping stomach. When he finally got his
breath back, he gasped, "No, no, I'm fine, really! I'm fine,
I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fiiiiiiiiine. Just ask me!"
"I don't need to; I can see for myself the state you're
in," Qui-Gon said as he bent down and hefted his student's
long body into his arms and turned, making his way out of the
arboretum and down the hall toward Obi-Wan's quarters.
"What state? Denial? No denyin' that!" Obi-Wan laughed
against his neck. And then Qui-Gon faltered for just a moment
when he felt his apprentice nuzzle against his neck as the
younger man purred, "Mmmmm. You have fabulous skin,
Master mine . . ."
"Obi-Wan, stop that," he said quietly as he neared the
door to his Padawan's quarters, trying desperately to ignore the
need building in his own body.
Obi-Wan just grinned and said, "But you do! So soft an'
strong, especially right here . . ."
Qui-Gon stiffened, gasping, as he felt Obi-Wan begin to teethe
his neck, nipping and biting on his skin with his teeth. As if
seeking to soothe whatever "damage" he had caused,
Obi-Wan then kissed the nipped spot and, much to Qui-Gon's
delight and dismay, licked him with the tip of his warm, wet
tongue. "Padawan, don't . . ."
"Why, Master? You taste so good," Obi-Wan whispered.
Just before he trailed a long, wet slide of his mouth up
Qui-Gon's neck to his ear to worry at the lobe, he added, "I
want to taste all of you." Then he was making a light meal
out of the tender flesh of Qui-Gon's ear.
The Jedi Master stumbled, turning and slamming his shoulder
against the access panel to the doorway. When it opened, he took
a deep breath and forced himself to march inside, taking Obi-Wan
directly to the bed in the small bedroom and lay his apprentice
down on it. "Obi-Wan! Stop!"
Obi-Wan might have been drunk, knew he was, but nothing could get
to him faster than hearing his master's displeasure. Hearing it
now, he pulled back his head to look up at Qui-Gon. Upon seeing
his master's stern expression, a sense of despair washed over him
and he let go of the older Jedi, turning his face away into his
pillow as he mumbled, "I'm sorry, Master. I'm so sorry, I
shouldn't have . . . but I wanted to, for so long . . ."
Qui-Gon shuddered as he looked down at Obi-Wan. Was he hearing
right? Or was it just the alcohol speaking? Did he dare to
believe, to hope, that his beloved Padawan felt the same for him
that he felt for Obi-Wan? Looking down at his now miserable
student, he chided himself. Whether he does or not, right now
he needs to know that you have not forsaken him entirely,
Qui-Gon, he told himself. At least do part of your duty
right and comfort your Padawan.
Leaning down, he pulled Obi-Wan back over so that the young man
was lying on his back. Lightly stroking the younger man's
forehead, he leaned down close so that Obi-Wan could look into
his eyes. "Just rest now, my Padawan. You need to rest.
Everything is fine, you'll see in the morning."
And then all of his synapses fired in a short-term neuron failure
as Obi-Wan leaned up and breathlessly, hungrily, pressed his open
mouth to Qui-Gon's. The older Jedi gave one convulsive shudder
before his arms wrapped tightly around his apprentice and he
slanted his mouth, kissing the younger man back.
For long moments the two Jedi feasted on each other's tongue and
teeth and lips, panting and gasping for air as they strained to
mesh their mouths together, dying for the taste of the other's
essences. It wasn't until Qui-Gon drove his tongue into Obi-Wan's
mouth to taste, stroke, and drive him wild, hearing the young man
moan like a dying creature, that he was brought halfway back to
his senses.
"Obi-Wan," he gasped, pulling his mouth free of his
apprentice's voracious kiss. "We . . . we shouldn't do this.
You won't thank me . . . for taking advantage of you . . . I
can't take advantage of you, not like this. I care too much . .
."
"Master . . . Qui-Gon . . . please," Obi-Wan
moaned, opening his eyes as he reached up, gripping his teacher's
shoulders tightly. "Please, just . . . just take me. And let
tomorrow take care of itself." That said, he arched up,
grinding what he could of his body against his master's, letting
Qui-Gon feel the throbbing hardness between his legs.
Qui-Gon closed his eyes and bit off a muffle curse. Then he threw
all sense of caution to the four winds and took his Padawan's
mouth in a hungry, needy kiss, letting his shields down, letting
Obi-Wan sense all that he had held back for so long . . .
rejoicing when he felt Obi-Wan let down his own shields, allowing
Qui-Gon into his mind to know that his feelings were returned
whole-heartedly . . .
There was no slow tenderness then, but an aching, desperate drive
to join together. No slow, postponed lovemaking as Qui-Gon would
have liked for their first time, but an urgent need that had to
be slaked, and quickly, before he lost all control and ravaged
his helpless Padawan with no mercy.
Clothing was discarded with kisses and caresses, Obi-Wan's hands
stroking over his master's shoulders and back, pushing his tunic
down, then stroking across the muscular chest. Qui-Gon helped
Obi-Wan remove his tunic, caressing him and leaning down to
briefly suckle on the pebbled nipples before he quickly pulled
off the apprentice's boots and then tugged off his trousers. The
impressive erection that sprang forth made his mouth water and he
leaned down, taking it in his hand as he pressed singeing kisses
to Obi-Wan's thighs first. When Obi-Wan rolled his hips, rolling
himself into Qui-Gon's firm grip, the older Jedi opened his mouth
and licked the clear fluid weeping from the tip of his beloved's
erection, then took his tongue on a volatile dance over the head
and shaft before finally acknowledging Obi-Wan's wordless pleas.
He took Obi-Wan's erection deep into his mouth, suckling on him
fiercely before he moved back, then down again, taking him deep
into his throat and tightening his muscles.
Obi-Wan shuddered as Qui-Gon did this again and again, and he
could not control his hips from grinding up and down, moving in
and out of his master's mouth. The shuddering became an
uncontrollable trembling as he felt his orgasm begin, gliding up
through his balls, traveling to his erection as though it were
liquid flame. And then he came, hard, working his hardened
manhood in and out of that hot, wet, willing mouth, hearing
himself screaming in utter ecstasy and not caring a damn.
He lost consciousness for only a few moments and then he became
aware of his master moving as Qui-Gon shucked out of his pants
and boots. Opening his eyes to slits, Obi-Wan gasped his master's
name.
Qui-Gon glanced down at the young man beside him as he sat on the
bed, removing his clothing. "What, my beloved?" he
murmured, his cock throbbing as if fit to burst the skin
surrounding it. Qui-Gon wasn't at all certain that if it wasn't
relieved soon, it might just do that or not.
And then the lust hazed his mind when Obi-Wan whimpered,
"Inside me . . . I want to feel you deep inside me . . .
give me all you can, I'll take what I can from you, even if it's
just lust . . .!"
"No, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon growled as he moved to join his
Padawan, "it's not just lust. Believe me, what I feel for
you is not so trifling as that." Then he bent and once again
took Obi-Wan's cock into his mouth. Again he teased him to
hardness, that second hardness that always lasts so much longer
than the first, and then he moved lower, sliding his tongue over
and around Obi-Wan's balls and then lower still, to the tightly
puckered entrance to the younger man's body. He teased and
stroked until the ring of muscle had relaxed and was
well-lubricated, then he pushed a finger into his writhing
apprentice to prepare him still further.
"Master . . ." Obi-Wan moaned, his hips jerking
and writhing as he clawed at Qui-Gon's head, trying to pull him
up and over him.
Qui-Gon was in no mood to deny his Padawan, only to take and take
until there was nothing left to take, or to give. Moving up, he
positioned his throbbing cock as he bent to capture Obi-Wan's
mouth with his own. Then he entered him, thrusting hard and deep.
Obi-Wan arched up with a small cry of pleasure and pain, gripping
Qui-Gon's biceps tightly. Qui-Gon bit off a muffled curse and
slowly withdrew a little, then more slowly worked himself back in
to the hilt, his second thrust wringing a cry of intense pleasure
from the young man beneath him.
"Stars," he said, his voice stifled, his body held
still and tight, as if one more thrust would shatter his control
and he wouldn't stop until he had climaxed. Then he felt
Obi-Wan's legs snaking around his hips, felt the younger man's
inner muscles tighten around him, trying to pull him deeper, and
he let out a guttural, shuddering moan as he surged deeper, then
held himself motionless once more as he bent down to kiss Obi-Wan
hungrily.
And his control shattered when the younger man growled in sheer
carnality and kissed him just as hungrily, then leaned further up
and sank his teeth into Qui-Gon's shoulder, his hard fingers
digging into the tense muscles of Qui-Gon's back.
He took Obi-Wan then with powerful thrusts that made the younger
man's body shudder under the impact. He drove hard and deep
inside the young, thrashing body beneath him, the one that arched
up into him, lifted for him. With each inward thrust the heat and
the friction intensified for both of them until Obi-Wan, his hips
rocking back and forth, sobbed and cried out as he climaxed hard
and fast, his seed spilling warm and wet between their lunging,
grinding, loving bodies. Without mercy, Qui-Gon rode him through
it until finally, with a choked, gasping cry, his mind hazed, his
thoughts scattered, and he emptied himself into Obi-Wan, bucking
and lunging against the younger man as he spurted inside him.
In the silence that followed, the two men could hear each other's
gasping breath, rough and jerky. Obi-Wan wanted to tell his
master that he loved him, that he loved what his master had just
done to him, that he had never before felt so perfect, but before
he could do more than sigh his master's name, he was asleep,
nestled into the strong, protective embrace of the man he loved.
Qui-Gon held his young lover close, pressing a cherishing kiss to
the younger man's temple, and then used the last of his strength
to pull the cover up over them before sleep stole him away from
conscious thought.
Suffering was to be expected.
Overindulgence had to be paid for, and Obi-Wan, as a good Jedi,
was always willing to pay his way. But it seemed a little extreme
to have to take a short, vicious trip to hell because of one
foolish evening.
His head was cracked in two. It didn't show, a fact that relieved
him considerably when he managed to crawl into the bathroom the
following morning. He looked haggard, but whole. Obviously the
jagged break in his skull was on the inside.
He'd probably be dead by nightfall.
His eyes were small, hard balls of fire. The inside of his mouth
had been swabbed with something too foul to imagine. His stomach
clutched and seized like a nervous fist.
He began to hope he'd be dead by nightfall.
And when he remembered the events of the previous evening in full
detail a few moments later, he began to pray that it would be
much, much sooner.
Since there was no one around, he indulged himself in a few
whimpers as he stepped into the shower. He'd have sworn the smell
of whiskey was seeping out of his pores, and every other
available orifice. One of which throbbed tenderly as a nagging
reminder of his base actions last night.
Moving with the care of the aged or the infirm, he climbed out of
the tub, wrapped a towel around his waist. He did what he could
to wash the hideous taste out of his mouth.
When he stepped into the bedroom, he yelped, slapped a hand over
his eyes in time - he hoped - to keep them from bursting out of
his head. Some sadist had come in and turned on the lights.
"I'm sorry, Obi-Wan," his master's voice purred softly.
"I had forgotten that you would be suffering the agonies of
the damned this morning."
Obi-Wan cringed at the sound of Qui-Gon's voice, and couldn't
really understand why Qui-Gon was speaking softly, nor why he
sensed the lights had been turned down to accommodate him. After
the way he had behaved last night, surely Qui-Gon would be upset,
wouldn't . . . he . . .?
He plain and simply gaped as he lowered his hand and looked.
Qui-Gon stood in his bedroom as naked as the day he'd been born,
only in much better condition. His body was . . . the word exquisite
flashed into his mind. Lean, muscled, and gleaming. He found
himself averting his eyes, swallowing hard.
"I brought you a breakfast tray," Qui-Gon said easily,
hiding a grin at his Padawan's discomfiture. "I thought you
might be hungry."
Unable to resist, seeing as how it was second nature to him,
Obi-Wan gave a tiny smile as he muttered, "Then it wasn't
the wrath of a vengeful god." His voice was rough, but he
feared the act of clearing it might do more damage. "For a
moment I thought I was being struck down for my sins."
"It's only porridge, toast, and some Corellian coffee."
"Coffee." He said the word like a prayer.
"Would you like me to pour you some, Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon
asked solicitously.
Obi-Wan glanced at him warily, ignoring the dull throbbing in his
temples. Why was Qui-Gon being so careful and considerate after
the way he had thrown himself at his master so desperately last
night? "Master?"
"Yes, my Padawan?" Qui-Gon said as he calmly filled a
cup of coffee for his apprentice and held it out to the young
man.
"Why . . . are you doing this?"
"Doing what? Don't you like breakfast?" Qui-Gon fought
to keep his grin in check.
"You know what I mean," Obi-Wan said quietly, after
taking a sip of the life-rejuvenating beverage.
"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean, Obi-Wan. You're
going to have spell it out for me, as I find I'm still too
rattled this morning to exercise proper nuance control if I
probed your mind. Besides which, that would most likely hurt you
worse than you are suffering now, and I have no wish to inflict
pain on you of that magnitude."
Obi-Wan sighed. "Fine, then!" he snapped, stiffening
his shoulders for what he feared would come. "I mean, why
are you being so considerate and gentle with me after the way I
practically dragged you into bed with me and forced you to make
love with me? Why haven't you - you . . ."
"Why haven't I punished you? Why am I still tending to you
as a Master does to a Padawan, as a friend does to a
friend?" Qui-Gon said quietly as he moved closer, lifting a
hand to gently stroke Obi-Wan's cheek. "Why am I not
angry?"
Obi-Wan nodded stiffly, not daring to hope at what his master's
actions might mean.
"Because, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said, looking into his
eyes, "I love you. And I want to thank you for the most
incredible night of my life."
Qui-Gon used the Force and caught the cup as it slipped out of
Obi-Wan's nerveless fingers. He placed the cup - coffee and all -
back on the tray before facing his Padawan again, waiting for a
different reaction, a more favorable one.
"You . . . what?" Obi-Wan whispered. If this was a
hangover inspired dream, it was the best he'd ever had, but he
didn't know if he could handle the despair that would follow if
he woke up to realize it was just a dream.
"I said, I love you. How could I not? You're beautiful,
passionate, and a pleasure to be with every day. I do enjoy
teaching you, learning with you, showing you things. And, as I
hope you recall last night, I do so enjoy getting my hands on
you," Qui-Gon said, smiling now.
"I'm dreaming. I can't be dreaming, I don't want this to be
a dream," Obi-Wan muttered, closing his eyes.
He opened them moments later when he felt Qui-Gon's mouth against
his own. "Did that feel like a dream?" his master asked
with a teasing grin as he pulled back.
Then Obi-Wan was in his arms, his mouth crushed to Qui-Gon's as
he whispered, "Love you . . . for so . . . long. I was dying
. . ."
Qui-Gon held him close as he kissed Obi-Wan back just as
passionately. "I know that now, my beloved. I know that now.
And believe me, I'm very glad of it. I've loved you for a long,
long time as well. Now, maybe, we can start making up for lost
time."
Obi-Wan moaned and tried to press closer, desiring nothing more
than to dissolve himself inside his master's skin and become one
with him.
Qui-Gon pulled back and then held Obi-Wan still and probed at the
younger man's mind with his own through their Master-Padawan
link. When Obi-Wan gasped and swayed, his skin going pale gray,
Qui-Gon said, "I believe it's a little too soon for us to
try anything like last night's marathon session again, but
perhaps after you've rested for a bit . . ."
He lifted the younger man into his arms and placed Obi-Wan in his
bed, covering the Jedi with the blanket. Then he helped Obi-Wan
to sit up, a pillow at his back as the apprentice stated his
hunger for food.
He chuckled as he watched Obi-Wan eat the porridge rapidly. He
got to his feet and stretched languorously, enjoying the way
Obi-Wan's eyes went hot as they riveted on his body. Then he
turned and headed for the shower as he said, "Patience, my
beloved, patience. Last night was wonderful enough, but we do
have enough time to wait until you're at full capacity
again."
"Master."
Qui-Gon stopped and turned back to face his apprentice just
before he reached the bathroom.
Obi-Wan grinned as he gave his lover one long, scorching look as
he said, "Next time, I won't be plastered."
Feedback: Don't care for any flames, but if'n you have any
helpful hints and suggestions or, even better, want to tell me
that you liked this, then send any and all C.A.R.E mails to:
SilvarBelle@msn.com