A Lifetime

by Dr Squidlove ( drsquidlove@virginqueen.com )

Rating: R

Category: Q/O, Mild wistfulness more than angst, Romance.

Summary: Obi-Wan comes to the end of his Jedi career.

Notes: George Lucas created Star Wars and all its characters. May he forgive me for putting them to good use.
Thanks go to Gloriana for the Great Writing Workshop for early comments, and Fox who zapped all that I should have seen myself.

Feedback is always treasured, of any type.

The ministers huddled close, but beyond that, there was no way to test their mood. Elkarians, like most crustaceans, were notoriously difficult to read. Luckily, so were Jedi. Obi-Wan folded his hands over his wrists, maintaining his best patient mask. Who would have known that his routine tri-annual duty on Elkar could ever feel like one of his most difficult missions? It took the concentration of a master not to rock on his toes as he had in his long-ago padawan days. He'd trained his fidgeting to tapping his fingers under the voluminous sleeves of his tunic long ago, but his beard was itching, and truth be known, he was feeling his age in his back and knees.

This last series of missions had weighed hard on him, as though the galaxy needed to prove Obi-Wan's usefulness was truly at an end. The collapse of the Tutian economy and resulting chaos had already shown it; in his younger years, requesting a replacement team would have been a humiliation, but now it was simply an admission. He was old. Ceremonies and straightforward negotiations ever since, but even those required a strength of bones and bladder Obi-Wan no longer enjoyed.

The terms were fair, as always. Accept them. A figure pulled back from the crowd - Kels, the visitors' minister - and gave Obi-Wan a stern look before returning his attention to the group. Obi-Wan's belly somersaulted. They were going to accept. Air flowed from him, and the fidgeting stopped. He was done.

Scarcely a half hour later, the huddle opened, and the ministers beckoned him forward. The senior minister lifted a claw to his ear. "The terms of the statement are good. Elkar accepts on the stated terms."

Obi-Wan bowed. "I'm sure Elkar will benefit."

As the senior minister led the way to the signing platform, he added, "The festival will begin when dawn reaches Elkar city, as always. You are, of course, welcome."

"Thank you, Minister. I look forward to it."

They stepped to lay their palmprints on the document: the senior minister, Obi-Wan, the junior ministers. As they withdrew, Kels caught his elbow. "You don't need to come. We will understand if you would prefer to leave immediately."

Obi-Wan smiled. "It is fit that I share the celebration. I will leave tomorrow evening."

Kels dipped an antenna in amusement.

And so Obi-Wan lingered, made himself enjoy First Day celebrations. Ordinarily, he tried to stay for the full four days of the Elkarian Cultural Festival, enjoying rare time with friends, abandoning himself to the music and feasting, waiting eagerly for the light display that closed the ceremonies; but not this, his last.

The last. Obi-Wan struggled for his next breath as youths raced around him. Qui-Gon had told him this would be a lonely life, and he had believed it but never imagined. Every mission brought new worlds of strangers; every stop on Coruscant reminded him of the passing years. Two apprentices: two decades of companionship among many more that were hollow.

After a lifetime in service to the Republic, he was going home.

Obi-Wan flew low over the trees to land his ship at Arbuth Temple. No one was awake to guide him in, no lights lit to welcome him, so he settled his ship into a vacant bay and left a message in the temple system to note his arrival.

He went straight to the main exercise annex to wash and throw on clean leggings, to comb out his hair. It was touching his shoulders again, longer than he liked. The white that streaked it was beginning to grow into his beard, and lines were carving deep into his face. Where did a lifetime go? So short. Some days he still felt like he'd barely passed his trials, and yet there were two Jedi who called him master. One very close to being a master herself. He pulled on an undertunic, threw everything back into his rucksack, and padded barefoot into the corridor. The first time he'd come here he'd found the solitude of Arbuth at night almost haunting, but it had grown familiar over the years, had become as comforting as the activity of Coruscant. He would sleep deeply tonight.

He placed his palm on the door, didn't resist a smile as it opened on the glow of dying firelight.

"Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan dropped his rucksack in the entrance and walked through to the slight figure in the armchair. "I thought you'd be asleep. I was going to surprise you."

Qui-Gon's eyes crinkled. "You haven't surprised me in a long time. I could feel you coming."

Obi-Wan sat on the armrest and leaned in to kiss Qui-Gon's cheek. "You never let an old man have his fun."

"Would you expect me to sleep when my Obi-Wan is coming home?"

"For good."

Qui-Gon smiled. "For good."

They kissed slowly. So familiar. Obi-Wan brushed his thumb over dry skin, touched fine white hair. "How have you been this week?"

"Tess has put me on a new exercise routine that is helping. I will be better still after your backrub."

Obi-Wan snorted.

"Ani commed yesterday."

"How is he?"

"Tired." Qui-Gon's fingers traced the neckline of Obi-Wan's tunic, his voice soft. "He took no time to recover from Chyry; he's already tracking pirates on the Rim. He thinks he is invincible."

"I wonder where he learned that." Obi-Wan rode out the glare. "With your example as guide, you should be glad he calls for counsel at all."

"About that backrub."

"About that backrub," Obi-Wan agreed. He stood and reached an arm around Qui-Gon's waist to help him stand, holding him through the tremors. It was still a shock to find him Obi-Wan's own height, robbed by the years and his curving spine.

They began the slow walk to the bedroom, Qui-Gon's fingers gripping Obi-Wan's hand, his waist a whisper in his arm.

"Don't fret, Obi-Wan. All the important things are still in working order and I have many years left in me. And I will feel better with you home."

Obi-Wan paused to drink in Qui-Gon's face, leaned in to brush their cheeks, bristles against bristles. Yes, for all the sprouting white, he'd been right to grow the beard. Somewhere, their lips found each other, rested together, barely moving. Qui-Gon's breath was smoky, tasted of chokery nuts warmed on the fire. "I don't suppose there were any nuts left."

Qui-Gon's lips curled under Obi-Wan's mouth. "You took a long time getting home."

Obi-Wan pressed inside to taste him better, eyes closing as Qui-Gon's broad hands rubbed up and down his back. "Ung." He forced himself to move towards the bed, pulling at Qui-Gon's robe as he went. "I'm giving you that backrub."

"Very well." Qui-Gon stretched out on the bed, eyeing Obi-Wan with a leer as Obi-Wan stripped off his own tunic before climbing to sit over Qui-Gon's buttocks, a long back stretched out before him.

He took the oil jug Qui-Gon dangled in the air before him and began long, sweeping strokes to soothe, to find the tension, more along the length this week than up his shoulders. "I've missed you."

A hum. "It did seem like the longest mission set ever."

Obi-Wan pressed at the taut muscles around his spine. "I mean, I've missed you for years. Forever. Since I was knighted."

"That was one of the saddest days of my life."

Obi-Wan stopped, and it was a long minute before he began again. "I didn't know."

"Your greatest dream, and I could only think I would barely see you. Today seemed very far away."

"Presumptuous. You assumed we'd cross paths, one day, and I would fall wildly in love with my old master?"

"I hoped it would be sooner than it was."

Obi-Wan smiled to himself, moved up to work at Qui-Gon's shoulder blades. The skin wrinkled when he pinched it, a far lighter touch than he had given in Qui-Gon's prime, to ellicit the same grunts. But his lips touched the same as they had the first time. So very long ago, now. He couldn't recall every move, every nuance of their first time - could barely remember who did what first - but he knew he'd lingered over Qui-Gon's broad, muscled back. And Qui-Gon had sighed pleasure like this. Some time later, he'd pushed Obi-Wan on his stomach and fucked him hard. Not tonight.

Tonight, Obi-Wan rubbed and kissed, and Qui-Gon sighed.

"I heard some interesting news this week, Obi-Wan."

"Oh?"

A grunt, as Obi-Wan's fingers caught a knot. "Knight Siffid is returning to Coruscant. The local council needs a new member."

Obi-Wan smiled. He'd imagined Qui-Gon would wait at least until after they'd had sex to start this. "I thought I'd retired."

"You'll go crazy in a week. You need something to occupy yourself during my afternoon naps."

"Naps? You can't take naps. I've waited for this day all my life." He leaned in close, drawled in Qui-Gon's ear. "Do you realise how much sex we have to catch up on?"

Qui-Gon's back shook with laughter. "My end will come soon enough, without your helping it along."

"Did I never tell you of the Pylannes, my master? Pylani believe that fucking gives life. We may reverse the years."

Qui-Gon hummed as Obi-Wan's thumbs circled his vertebrae, one at a time. "Didn't I cure you of such language, my padawan?"

A snort. "You taught me all the worst curses I know, just as you taught them to my innocent padawans."

"I taught you many things I did not teach them."

Obi-Wan felt legs shift and spread beneath him. He stilled. "Are you certain?"

A sigh, more wistful than sure. "I've missed you."

Obi-Wan leaned forward to lie along his back, just to be close, to feel the swell of lungs beneath him. Just breathing together, Obi-Wan's sex half hard between them, more than enough.

But he roused himself, stood to kick off his pants and take in Qui-Gon's lounging form. More beautiful with every passing year, body long and silver and absolutely relaxed in wait. Force, he hoped to find this peace.

Obi-Wan crawled back up his lover to reach for the waiting jug of oil and let it run down Qui-Gon's back, over the swell of flesh, and flood between his legs.

"The sheets, Obi-Wan."

"Can be changed."

Qui-Gon huffed. "You will change them."

Obi-Wan smiled. "I will change them." He slid up to lie against Qui-Gon's back once more, his shaft finding its way to the oiled channel between Qui-Gon's thighs, his own legs holding Qui-Gon's tight. No gymnastics tonight. He pressed forward, until the tip of his cock found furred balls and Qui-Gon's body rolled in pleasure.

And now their minds came together, thoughts pressed close, and Obi-Wan wondered why they hadn't done this the moment he'd stepped through the door. This was home, pressed to Qui-Gon's peace and heat. He'd found it eight long years after his knighting, a broken leg colliding neatly with Qui-Gon's leave, bringing them together just long enough for Obi-Wan to realise he never should have left.

He curled around Qui-Gon's body, let his hands slide up the gentle muscles of arms until their fingers laced, hands as strong and sure as when they taught Obi-Wan to heal. So long ago.

With a mental hand he enfolded Qui-Gon's shaft, squeezed and pulled in the rhythm Qui-Gon used when he was alone. He felt the smile, was gifted with an image of Qui-Gon in his chair by the fire, legs spread with a hand in his trousers.

"Is that how you end all our communications?"

"No. Sometimes I am naked by the time we end our communications."

Obi-Wan slid his senses into Qui-Gon's body, felt his aches and the warm itch left from the backrub, the weight in his balls. He drew tingling currents up from each toe through the tensing muscles of his calves and thighs, into his belly. Qui-Gon moaned, arching, legs pressing tight around Obi-Wan's cock, and then there was a pull of arousal threaded by mental fingers around Obi-Wan's spine.

Their hips rocked but it was barely necessary, as they teased with minds. Qui-Gon gave Obi-Wan the feel of penetration and Obi-Wan gave back the memory of Elston, where they'd found a muddy hollow and each scrambled to take the other first. They still argued over who'd won. Obi-Wan drew a mental string around his lover's shaft, drew it tight. "Let me."

Qui-Gon's mental touch gave way as he relaxed into Obi-Wan's care, and Obi-Wan invaded Qui-Gon with sights and smells and touches, pressure on his nipples, waves of rolling heat along his skin, the salt taste of sweat on his tongue, letting the whimpers drive him, the pumping hips. Teasing and distracting until Qui-Gon was cursing him, and then he whispered his own lewd curse in Qui-Gon's ear, and nothing could carry Obi-Wan over so surely as the noises Qui-Gon made when he came, soft mewling that had once been a shock in a man so large. Obi-Wan was shooting between his lover's cramped legs, feeling the body shake beneath him, shaking long after their cries eased. Obi-Wan stayed, pressed along Qui-Gon's back, lying a little heavier than he should have. There was nowhere else to be. No one required his help, no transport waited, no documents needed to be read. No more missions.

Kisses on the bones of Qui-Gon's shoulder. "Ssh. I'm home."

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