Rating: NC-17
Archive: M&A, anyone else, ask.
Category: Angst, First-Time, Drama
Feedback: Yes, yes please! I will beg, plead, and write more for
feedback!
Summary: Qui-Gon is dealing with emotions that he doesn't know
how to handle.
Disclaimer: They aren't mine. Nope, not one bit. But I'm abusing
them anyway! Bwaa ha ha! No one can stop me now! It's too late!
I..uh, ahem. I mean, they belong to Lucas, I'm only borrowing.
Note: Destina asked for a PWP from me for x-mas. It's a little
late Des, m'dear and it isn't a PWP but I'm assuming that the
NC-17 rating is going to be close enough. :)
The sun was just rising again over the Jedi temple, drawing
living beings from their sleep and falling in broken shafts of
light over one who had not slept. Deep in the Jedi gardens of
Coruscant, knees aching and skin chilled from hours of
meditation, Qui-Gon Jinn nonetheless remained motionless, focused
deeply inward as he struggled with an emotion that was deeply
unworthy of the Jedi master that he was.
Possessiveness.
It was not an emotion that he was intimately familiar with. His
earliest memories were of being raised in the temples and
ownership was taught to be a trivial matter. All things belonged
to the Force and as such the only thing a Jedi truly owned was
his own spirit. Even a lightsaber could and often was lost and
Qui-Gon knew this, he knew it well. But emotion refused to leave
him. It lingered over him like a dark mist, every time he
breathed he felt as if he took more of it inside him even as his
sense of wrongness grew.
I have no right, he chanted silently, letting the words echo
through him. I have no right, no right, I do not possess, I do
not own. The words felt like the worst of lies, even after
kneeling here for hours, his clothing damp with morning dew, he
had not been able to convince himself of the truth of those
words.
Nor had he been able to chase away the other dark emotions that
were tormenting him, things that he had never before felt, even
as a child. Petty emotions like envy and jealousy were very
quickly discovered in the initiates and rooted out. They were
taught that all beings had their strengths and weakness and
coveting skills that other possessed was of little use. Instead,
they were encouraged to develop the skills that they did have.
Qui-Gon had been taught that as well. And yet here he knelt,
awash with darkness.
But he had also been taught that he must deal with this emotion
now, at its conception. To ignore it, to allow it to remain would
take him down a far darker path. And so kneeling alone, as he had
for hours, swamped with jealousy and envy, Qui-Gon ignored the
minor protests of his body and instead sought a way to deal with
these unaccustomed emotions. After nearly twenty hours of
meditation an answer had yet to appear.
Still, Qui-Gon had not gotten his reputation among the Jedi as a
top negotiator without possessing a great deal of persistence and
a large amount of sheer stubbornness. He would deal with this,
there was no other option. Any other path lead in directions that
he didn't even want to contemplate.
A faint pulse of despair fluttered through him, like draught of
bitter cold. If only he knew how to handle this. He couldn't even
speak of it to anyone, whom was he to ask? Who could advise him
on what he should do upon waking one day and finding that he
wanted to possess his own Padawan?
He forced that coldness aside, immersed himself once again in the
embrace of the living Force that flowed through the garden around
him, again seeking an answer to a question he could hardly allow
himself to think about.
It had begun the day before, during the second level initiate's
lightsaber practice. Standing on the sidelines, Qui-Gon had
watched with distinct amusement and not a small amount of pride
while Obi-Wan had instructed the excited children. Several
padawans had been roped into assisting; helping to train the
initiates was an expected part of their duties. And while Obi-Wan
had rather grudgingly accepted the duty, he now appeared to be
truly enjoying himself.
With boundless patience, Obi-Wan helped a young boy again,
adjusting the boy's grip on his practice saber and carefully
walking him through a simple maneuver. Qui-Gon remained on the
sidelines, ostensibly supervising the children but in reality his
eyes hardly left the figure of his Padawan.
Perhaps they should try to spend a little more time on Coruscant
between missions, Qui-Gon thought, a bit indulgently. Obi-Wan was
obviously a natural teacher and spending a bit more time with the
young ones would help promote that talent. All Jedi were expected
to pass along their knowledge to the next generation but that
certainly didn't mean that they were all good at it. Certainly
Qui-Gon had had serious questions about his own ability to
teach...
He pushed aside those thoughts, dismissing them as useless.
Dwelling on the past would only cause him pain in the future. He
had learned in the past few years to focus on the now and to
release the past. The future would care for itself.
Forcing his wandering attention back to Obi-Wan, he couldn't stop
the faint frown that curved his lips as he saw that his Padawan
was speaking to one of the other helpers as they both assisted
their young charges. The other was another human, the young man
probably Obi-Wan's age or close to it and they were both smiling
and talking.
Their words were carried away by the din of the room but it
hardly mattered what they were saying. It was Obi-Wan's hand that
had caught Qui-Gon's attention, resting casually on the other
boy's shoulder as they chatted.
Such a simple touch and yet it conveyed a kind of intimacy to
Qui-Gon and it took a moment for the older man to realize why.
One casual touch, a sideways glance between the two young men and
even without the words of their conversation it became obvious
that Obi-Wan was flirting with the other boy. And Qui-Gon saw
with a distant sense of rage that other padawan was flirting
back.
Blinking, Qui-Gon tore his eyes from the sight. And so what if
they were? Obi-Wan was of age and if he wished to have a sexual
encounter with someone it was hardly Qui-Gon's business. And yet,
a faint bitter taste filled Qui-Gon's mouth as his eyes were
drawn unwilling back to the sight of his padawan quite obviously
offering himself to another.
Obi-Wan had always given of himself to his master, with
astonishing and humbling loyalty. Even believing that Qui-Gon
would never accept him as his Padawan Obi-Wan had regardless
nearly sacrificed his own life for Qui-Gon's. After that, even
after a somewhat rocky beginning, Obi-Wan had always freely given
of himself to his master. To Qui-Gon and only to Qui-Gon to the
point where obviously he had come to take Obi-Wan's giving of
himself to his master alone for granted. It hadn't really
occurred to him that Obi-Wan might offer himself to someone else
in the same manner.
And now, watching him flirt with the other Padawan, watching him
offer the brilliance of his spirit to someone else, unpleasant
emotions took root in the Jedi master, ones that he hardly
recognized. Jealousy, that Obi-Wan would dare touch someone else
in such a manner, envy of the young man who was oblivious to
Qui-Gon's anger. And then, horror, as realization came of what he
was feeling and for whom and Qui-Gon had turned and abruptly left
the practice hall, feeling the weight of Obi- Wan's puzzled look
on his back as he swiftly walked away, directly to the gardens
where he had knelt and immersed himself in meditation.
And now, hours later he had nothing to show for his efforts but
sore knees and stiffening muscles. With a last sigh, Qui-Gon
struggled to his feet, ignoring the protests of his joints.
"Well, that was useless," he murmured irritably and
then sighed at his own temper. Hours of meditation and he didn't
even have a sense of calm from it. The Force had provided no
answers to his questions and had offered no solace. All he knew
was what the totally unexpected flash of insight had shown him
the day before. That he wanted his padawan, and that he wanted
the young man to belong only to him.
Even acknowledging this to himself made him wince. He had no
rights to Obi-Wan; he was the young man's teacher, surrogate
parent. Master was only an honorary title and it did not give him
rights over the boy. These thoughts, these feelings were -wrong-.
Enough. Perhaps rest would give him further insight into
this...situation. He had spent most of the previous day and all
of the night meditating; the sun was only just rising over the
temple now.
Staggering a bit with stiffness and exhaustion, Qui-Gon made his
way through the temple to his rooms. He had no responsibilities
today, thank the Force, and a lazy day spent in bed sounded at
this moment like divine paradise.
Upon arriving at his quarters Qui-Gon had barely shut the door
behind him when it reopened, Obi-Wan creeping quietly into the
common room of their shared quarters.
They stared at each other mutely, Obi-Wan starting violently when
he saw his master. A thousand things assaulted Qui-Gon's tired
mind at once; Obi-Wan's so abruptly flushed skin, the bundle held
tightly in the younger man's arms that seemed to be his cloak and
boots, his tousled appearance, his bare feet. And his scent.
It was the last that invaded Qui-Gon's tenuous control, the scent
rising from Obi-Wan's skin to wind its way around Qui-Gon's
fragile grip on his restraint, tangling itself within. His
Padawan reeked of sex, sharp and musky with the mingling of sweat
and semen, his and someone else's. Someone who had touched and
tasted and done things to the young man that Qui-Gon did not even
let himself dream about, not even in the privacy of his own mind.
Qui-Gon watched with distant bemusement as his own hand rose and
lightly touched Obi-Wan's crimson cheek, feeling the fevered heat
of his padawan's embarrassment. The stubble on Obi-Wan's cheeks
abraded the sensitive skin of Qui-Gon's fingertips and silently,
looking into Obi-Wan's pale, confused eyes, Qui-Gon surrendered
to the battle within without a word of protest.
Grabbing Obi-Wan's shoulders, Qui-Gon shoved the smaller man
against the wall, scattering the things that Obi-Wan was holding
and pinning his stunned padawan there with his own weight as he
devoured the young man's mouth. Obi-Wan gasped and Qui-Gon took
advantaged of his parted lips to thrust his tongue inside,
tasting Obi-Wan's sweetness and the Other, that other who had
touched what did not belong to him.
Thrusting his tongue deeply into the wet velvet of Obi-Wan's
mouth, Qui-Gon sought the younger man's sweetness, furiously
trying to burn away the wrongness of the Other's flavor. Obi-Wan
whimpered softly, and dimly Qui-Gon could feel that he wasn't
fighting, was in fact arching his hips forward, into the hard
length of Qui-Gon's heavy erection that was pressing into the
padawan's belly.
"How dare you go to someone else?" Qui-Gon pulled back
enough to whisper harshly against Obi-Wan's swollen lips. Obi-Wan
said nothing, only panted and stared at his master, the tip of
his tongue flicking out as he nervously wet his lips. Qui-Gon
watched it through a strange haze of lust and possessiveness,
wanting this beautiful young man more than he had thought
possible.
Almost roughly, Qui-Gon managed to work his hand between them,
sliding it down to cup the younger man's erection and squeezing
almost uncomfortably hard. He watched as Obi-Wan gasped, his eyes
dilating until only a thin rim of gray was visible around the
darkness of his pupils.
"Mine, you are mine, my Padawan. Aren't you?" he leaned
in to croon softly against Obi-Wan's ear, tracing the soft shell
with the tip of his tongue. He waited for the denial, for the
struggle as Obi-Wan registered his words. He would stop then,
Qui-Gon told himself. He would, he could never force this, never
take it like that no matter how much he wanted it. He -would-
stop, he would. As soon as Obi-Wan told him to.
One word, a husky, barely there sound, a cry, an affirmation.
Obi-Wan's hands tightened on Qui-Gon's shoulders as he threw his
head back and gasped out a single word. "Yes!"
This can't be happening, it can't, it simply can't. Obi-Wan's
mind gibbered frantically even as the young man struggled to get
closer to his master. Years of fantasizing, of hoping and of
offering to his master all that he was, only to be ignored time
and again, had led Obi- Wan to believe that this would never
happen.
And now, still sticky with sweat from an extremely brief
interlude the night before, Obi-Wan found himself caught up in
his wildest dreams, in his master's arms with Qui-Gon all but
-growling- that he owned the young man.
"Yes!" Obi-Wan managed gasp out, fear of this ending
dragging affirmation from him. His head dropping back, hitting
the wall hard and he saw stars briefly, blinked them away as
Qui-Gon rocked against him again, pressing him harder against the
wall.
Pained gasps for breath as Qui-Gon hands slid to Obi-Wan's
backside, physically lifting him from the floor so that their
groins were pressed together, hardness against hardness. Obi-Wan
wrapped his legs tightly around his master's hips to keep himself
from sliding downward, dimly cursing the clothing that separated
them.
The coarse fabric of his pants abraded the sensitive skin of his
erection, even as he thrust up against Qui-Gon again. Yes,
Obi-Wan cried silently, his voice stolen from him by need. Yes,
oh yes, Force yes, I needed this. I need this! Words mouthed
against Qui-Gon's lips as they rocked urgently against each
other.
It ended far too quickly, heat and desire pulsing between them as
Qui- Gon's hands gripped Obi-Wan's hips brutally hard, holding
the younger man still as he arched against him and came. He
muffled his moans against Obi-Wan's shoulder, shuddering almost
painfully.
Obi-Wan closed his eyes and felt everything, the ridge of teeth
pressed against his shoulder as Qui-Gon struggled not to cry out,
the wetness that was seeping through the thin fabric of their
trousers. He fought against his own orgasm, warm tendrils of
Qui-Gon's pleasure binding him through their bond and he trembled
to feel it, struggling to hold back.
Friction burned briefly against his back as they sank down to the
floor and Obi-Wan ignored it. Instead, he pressed gentle kisses
to his master's face, murmuring meaningless words of comfort as
the man's breaths came in near sobs as he fought for control.
"Obi-Wan...Padawan...I'm sorry...so sorry...I didn't mean
to..."
He silenced the older man with a kiss, stealing away his distress
and replacing it with warmth and caring. Qui-Gon tried to pull
away, to speak and Obi-Wan refused to let him, twining around his
master like a vine.
"Shh, it's all right. It's all right," he murmured
softly, pressing gentling kisses against Qui-Gon's temples and
cheeks, tasting the salt of perspiration. The older man quieted,
rubbing his cheek against Obi- Wan's and the younger man shivered
to feel the coarse hair against the smooth skin of his cheek.
Qui-Gon raised his head at that, his eyes questioning and in
answer Obi-Wan shifted his hips upward, letting Qui-Gon feel his
arousal. The question in Qui-Gon's eyes gave way to wonder and
then delight. He lowered his head, hesitating with his lips a
breath away from Obi- Wan's.
Carefully, Obi-Wan traced those parted lips with the tip of his
tongue, lingering on the lower lip. The tentative brush of
Qui-Gon's tongue, a marked contrast to his earlier fierceness,
dragged a soft sigh from him and Obi-Wan deepened the kiss,
exploring the warm darkness of Qui-Gon's mouth.
Again, a hand slipped between them to cup Obi-Wan's firming shaft
but this time the fingers were gentle, stroking carefully,
seeming to take his measure as they deftly touched him.
Obi-Wan barely had time to choke out a moan before they vanished.
He whimpered in protest against Qui-Gon's lips but was shocked
into silence as he felt warm fingers again on the bare skin of
his stomach, parting his tunics as they nimbly worked the
fastenings of his trousers.
Strong fingers wrapped around his shaft and Obi-Wan cried out,
his eyes glazing as he stared up into Qui-Gon's. His master had
pulled away, studying his Padawan's face with a strange
intensity, similar to his expression as he did battle. A heady
surge of desire pulsed through Obi-Wan, at being the focus of
that intensity.
Qui-Gon dipped his head again, nipping at Obi-Wan's lips and
pulling back before the younger man could retaliate. He pulled
his knees up under him, moving so that he was crouched over the
younger man. Obi-Wan tried to protest, tightening his legs around
Qui-Gon's hips and abruptly found himself pinned to the ground by
invisible bonds, spread out and helpless underneath his master's
hungry gaze.
Too startled to even struggle, he watched as Qui-Gon slid
downward, neatly unfastening Obi-Wan's belt and sash with his
free hand and shoving them aside so that he could bury his face
in the soft skin of Obi-Wan's belly.
Inhaling deeply, Qui-Gon let his breath out in a rush and Obi-Wan
squirmed against his bonds, helpless whimpers escaping him. The
hand that was holding his shaft hadn't moved and the gentle grasp
was almost too much to bear.
"I hate the way you smell, my Padawan," Qui-Gon
murmured against Obi- Wan's belly and the younger man shivered at
the words. "You smell like yourself," Qui-Gon
continued, inhaling again and then exhaling, letting the warm
tendrils of his breath caress the younger man who was twisting
helplessly, fighting his invisible tethers. "And you smell
like -him-. I hate that smell." He looked up, his darkened
eyes catching Obi-Wan's and holding them while the younger man
trembled against him. "You will never smell like this again,
do you understand me, my Padawan? Never."
"Yes," Obi-Wan groaned. If Qui-Gon had ordered him to
walk naked through the temple he would have done it, without
question or protest. "I'm yours," he whispered, heard
an answering shudder from his master.
The wet flicker of a tongue against his skin made Obi-Wan gasp
and he closed his eyes tightly as Qui-Gon trailed it downward,
leaving a damp path to cool in the air. A second hand joined the
first, gently lifting Obi-Wan's penis from his trousers and
Obi-Wan barely had time to feel the coolness of the air before a
hot mouth closed over the head.
Biting his lip, Obi-Wan stifled the scream that tried to escape,
fighting against his Force-bonds to arch up into the liquid
warmth. His own control of the Force had skittered away from him
at Qui-Gon's first kiss. Finally he surrendered, lying back on
the cool floor while his shaft was taken deeper and Qui-Gon laved
the sensitive tip with his tongue before sucking gently, ignoring
Obi-Wan's broken protests for more.
Qui-Gon's hands shifted to Obi-Wan's hips, pressing down and a
moment later Obi-Wan discovered why, as the bonds holding him
dissolved away. His body jerked up reflexively, curling around
his master and Qui-Gon held him firmly, preventing him from
hurting either of them.
A moment later Obi-Wan settled back to the floor, gasping
raggedly. His skin felt clammy where his clothing was dampening
with his perspiration. Obi-Wan ignored it, focusing his attention
on the sweet warmth of the mouth surrounding him, watching with
narrowed eyes as his master took his shaft deeply inside, sucking
strongly.
Even as he trembled, hot tendrils of ecstasy pulsing through him,
Obi- Wan couldn't help but see how beautiful his master was. On
his knees before his Padawan, pleasuring him, the cool silk of
his silvered hair draped over Obi-Wan's hips. Pleasuring him.
Possessing him.
Teeth scraped lightly against the underside of his shaft and
Obi-Wan cried out loudly, his hands flying up to knot into
Qui-Gon's hair. Hands captured his wrists, gentling his grip and
remained, thumbs stroking the soft skin inside his wrists.
Again, he was taken deeply, felt Qui-Gon swallow against the head
of his erection and with a last, pained cry he came, pleasure
sparking through him like an electric jolt. His vision dimmed as
he shuddered, waves of almost painful ecstasy washing over him
before he collapsed weakly back to the floor.
Dimly, he realized his teeth were chattering slightly, tiny
aftershocks running through him as Qui-Gon pulled away, his hands
still holding Obi-Wan's as he tenderly caressing his lover's
softening cock with the tip of his tongue.
The gentle touch was soothing and Obi-Wan relaxed into it,
letting tension drain away as he moved his hands enough to
lightly stroke Qui- Gon's hair.
Qui-Gon shifted, sliding up and draping his body over Obi-Wan's
to press tiny, soft kisses to the young man's lips, letting him
taste a faint bitterness of his own seed on his master's lips.
And then he sighed, burying his face into the warm skin of
Obi-Wan's neck.
"Mine."
Hardly more than a breath, a soft gust of air against Obi-Wan's
neck and he smiled a little senselessly to hear his master say
it.
"Yes, I am yours, Master," he murmured and was rewarded
with a tender kiss on the sensitive skin of his neck. Believe
what you will, my Master, he thought, letting a smile curve his
lips. Believe what you will. His eyes slit open a tiny bit and
Obi-Wan looked down at the tousled head resting against his
chest. There was no need to argue over who owned who. Carefully,
he shifted, urging the older man to stand and coaxing him to walk
into the bedroom where Obi-Wan stripped them both efficiently and
settling them comfortably beneath the thick blankets.
Lying there, his master asleep in his arms, Obi-Wan let the smile
come again, amused at how this had turned out. Believe what you
will, my Master, he thought again, laughing silently in the
darkened room, but even you must know that it is the one who
gives the most that is the true owner, because the giver is also
the one who can take it away. Still, at this moment Obi-Wan was
where he most wanted to be in the entire galaxy. He saw no reason
to negotiate terms of ownership.
Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, inhaling his master's
scent before he relaxed into his own sleep, allowing himself to
think one word before he drifted off, one that he would never say
aloud.
Mine.
-finis-