A Benediction and a Curse

by starkee

Series: yes, though as yet unnamed

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Qui-Gon/Bel-San

Summary: Bel-San goes to find Qui-Gon after Xanatos has turned. (It's really more interesting than that sounds.)

Archive: MA only please

Disclaimer: This story gives all copyright nods to George Lucas and Lucasfilm.

Notes:

From Padawan Providence:
Yes, right, well. So about six months ago there was a little tiny discussion about whether or not master maverick and padawan providence would ever get their shit together and post the slashy side of the elementary jedi universe. So, here's the thing. We actually have a good bit written, but well, the important one, the one that really solidifies the Bel-San/Qui-Gon plot line is still not done and some other, shorter, less important ones are. So here you go.

From Master Maverick:
This piece comes after the point where Xanatos has turned and Qui-Gon has been on a self-imposed exile for half a year. If you follow the EJ series, he doesn't return to the Temple for three years. It's helpful if you have read the Early Edition-a not-quite-slashy story we wrote set during Qui-Gon and Bel-San's youth-but it's not necessary. (Even though I didn't write this story, I still love to get my two cents in.)

Feedback is always appreciated. =)

"I know you know where he is and I want you to tell me." Bel-San slid into the booth across from Payter in the little dive the wolfman had insisted on.

Payter held up his empty glass as the passing server. "Two more." His large eyes followed the man until he was out of earshot before turning back to Bel-San. "Good to see you, too. How've you been?" His tone was placid but his eyes burned with dark fire.

"Like you don't know. You keep tabs on all of us and I know you know- " The server approached, setting mugs of a thick, dark liquid in front of them both. Bel-San lowered his voice and leaned over the table. "I know you can tell me where he is. I don't know how you know or what you had to do to find out, but you're going to share with me." He leaned back and took a slow sip, cringing as it burned his very breath.

"Careful, lightweight." Payter drained off half his mug and set it down carefully, studying his great furred hands. "I do know where he is, but I think it's better that we let him deal with this-"

Bel-San slammed a hand on the table, ignoring the looks thrown in their direction. "He's not dealing, that's the problem. Alla is the only one he talks to, and that's only in messages. No one's seen his face or heard his voice in months, Payter."

"I think it's important that he come back to us. Going after him isn't going to solve anything. If it would've, I would have been the first one out there. He's wounded and it's just going to take some time." Payter drained off the rest of his drink and sat back. "Look, I don't like this any more than the rest of you, but it doesn't mean we should go charging after him."

"Damn it, Payter, I expect this from Mace, but not you. He's out there, hurting...he won't talk and he's still on missions. They're still sending him to the ends of the galaxy to mete out peace treaties and save lives when I don't know that he can save himself." His hands were shaking as he set down his glass, knowing he shouldn't drink anymore if he wanted to be able to do this coherently. "I'm afraid. He's pushed us all away and I don't know what he's going to do."

Sighing, Payter rubbed the side of his jaw. "You know what happens when we send you out of the Temple."

"Fuck you, Payter. Fuck you." He stood quickly, leaning over the space between them. "This is not some joke, asshole. This is Qui- Gon's life and you might think it's not worth much-"

"Whoa, there, cowboy. Take it easy." Payter stood and took hold of his arm, leading him away from the booth. He tossed some credits on the table and steered them out onto the street. Out in the stiff breeze, a constant in the upper reaches of Coruscant, Bel-San let Payter direct their steps, trying to calm himself.

When they finally stopped walking, Bel-San was surprised to see Payter had taken them to one of the small parks scattered throughout the city. "What is this supposed to make me feel better? Help me release my anger?" He stalked away, arms crossed tightly over his chest.

"No, I just like it. Now listen, I know you're upset and that's understandable."

"Don't be too kind."

Payter came to stand next to him and they stared together at an empty playground. "Shut up. I just don't think it's a good idea for you to go after him. He's not himself right now and I don't want you hurt."

Bel-San laughed, bitter and exhausted. "I'm already hurt." He sighed and sat heavily on a bench. "I can't even tell you how many messages I've sent. He sent them all back, unread."

"Bel-San,"

He held up a hand. "I know, I know. I should let this go and wait for him to come back, in his own time and way, but I don't know how. I can't sleep for nightmares of his death."

"I told him. I warned him that it wasn't a good idea for the two of you to get involved. Even now, years later, it colors everything."

Definitely not a conversation he was ready to have, Bel-San wondered how it was they'd been talking for so long and yet he still knew nothing. "It's not about that."

"You're such a liar. Don't even try to tell me you don't love him, and I'm not sending you out after him because you miss him."

Tired of the pointless conversation and so many other things, he stood. "Fine. Keep it to yourself, that's fine. I can find my own way back." He half hoped, half expected Payter to get up and follow him, at least make some effort, but effort wasn't something any of them had been extending towards each other since Qui-Gon had disappeared.

"Ar-Ion." Bel-San sat up, scooping the impatient cat onto the floor. "It's hard enough to sleep without you standing on my throat." Unfortunately Ar-Ion seemed blissfully unaware of his master's predicament and rubbed against Bel-San's leg as he tried to walk out of the room, the cat purring loud enough to echo off the walls. "I'm not feeding you. It's two in the morning."

All he really wanted was some tea; maybe it would soothe him back into sleep. On his way to the kitchen, though, the flashing light at his comm station gave him pause. At one time in his life he'd been able to ignore messages left for him for days at a time, proudly claiming that he was not a slave to the tech side of their lives. He swore, looking at the time the message was sent, thinking that he could have read it hours ago.

He opened the file, feeling the familiar sting of disappointment when he saw it wasn't from Qui-Gon. Hope still simmered in his heart that one day Qui-Gon would return his messages, but it had faded as the months passed.

Seeing the message was from Payter, Bel-San opened it reluctantly, not knowing what to expect from his friend. He promised himself that if it turned out to be a pep talk he would delete the damned thing before he got past the first line.

I shouldn't be doing this. I should be maintaining my strict silence on the matter no matter what, but I know you're right. Someone should see him and if any of us can get him to listen it's always been you. Be careful and remember: he's not the Qui-Gon we know, he's dangerous.

He's on Geslistar for the next ten days. If you don't catch him before then, I won't tell you where his next move will be.

Payter

Hands shaking, Bel-San reached for his comlink to make travel arraignments.

Of course.

Of course Qui-Gon wouldn't be able to have a total collapse someplace nice. Somewhere warm with pleasant natives and calming breezes. It had to be this miserable little hole. It was dark, grimy-the very air was thick with pollution and soot from the mining production.

Damn him.

Bel-San had known the moment the ship breached the planet's atmosphere that Qui-Gon was there. Unfortunately that was all he knew. He'd grown used to the silence in their bond, but this absence, as though it had never existed, was painfully new. He could still feel Qui-Gon in his breath and bones, and knew that he hadn't yet left, but nothing more.

So, he'd searched, certain Qui-Gon either didn't know he was there, or that he wanted to be found. Bel-San hoped for the latter, but either would do until he could find Qui-Gon. All he wanted was to be in the same room with the other man, see him and know that he was well, or as well as he could be. All it would take would be one look, a single touch, for Bel-San to know whether Qui-Gon would make it out on the other end of this, or if he should start mourning already.

The search hadn't been easy; Qui-Gon was difficult to track down on a good day, but when he didn't want to be found it was near impossible. It led Bel-San to finally give up the physical search and instead concentrate on the thread of Qui-Gonness he'd been feeling since he'd arrived. It had taken the last of his ten days before he finally found a trace of Qui-Gon, which lead him to a place that could not be properly called a hotel.

For a moment, Bel-San considered walking away. Perhaps it was better to leave Qui-Gon in his peace. It should be enough to know that he lived. Perhaps the answer Bel-San would see in Qui-Gon's eyes was not the one he wanted or one heneeded to see. It might be better not to know. But as Bel-San looked around at the state of perpetual misery and grayness that Qui-Gon had chosen to spend his time, he found he couldn't turn away. No matter his reception, he had to cross the barrier between them, if just this once.

Raising his head and walking like he knew what he was doing and anyone who interrupted him would be summarily dismissed, Bel-San headed through the main entrance of the hotel and was greeted by a bored-looking attendant. The young man glanced up at him, utterly disinterested, and turned back to whatever it was he was reading on a beat datapad. Bel-San strolled to the lift and waited for the ancient machine to wind its way down to the bottom floor, bouncing slightly on his heels with nervous energy. He'd long ago given up trying to release all of his anger and frustration to the Force; there was simply too much of it to be dealt with at once.

Once inside, Bel-San closed his eyes and drew a slow breath concentrating, willing himself to feel Qui-Gon, to where he might be. The building wasn't that big and he could knock on every door in the place if he had to, but Bel-San wanted to finish this as quickly as he could. He didn't want to give Qui-Gon time to run away again.

Now that he was so close, it didn't take much to find Qui-Gon, as much as the other man didn't want to be discovered. Bel-San was able to track him to a room at the end of a narrow corridor. The noise of the other guests echoed through the thin doors and from some of the sounds, Bel-San was relieved that he didn't have to make each occupant answer his question.

The door to Qui-Gon's room looked much like all the others he'd passed, though the number was different and it seemed a little less likely to collapse under a light touch. He stood before the door, breathing shallowly and building up his courage as he tried to decide whether he wanted to knock or just walk in.

In the end, the choice was taken from him as the door opened inward with more force than Bel-San thought it could withstand and a strong arm jerked him inside. The next breath he was pressed up against the wall, a hand tight against his throat and Qui-Gon's furious face inches from his own.

"What the hell do you think you're doing here?" Qui-Gon's voice was so raw it hardly sounded like his own. His body, always strong, now looked thin and haggard, but the strength that had always been there was still apparent as he held Bel-San securely against the wall.

"I'd think it should be obvious." It surprised him sometimes that even after all these years he could let his mouth run ahead of his thoughts and say the most brainless things. Qui-Gon didn't need confrontation; he needed sympathy and understanding and so many things Bel-San wanted to provide, but instead he let Qui-Gon goad him as he always did and now the initial meeting couldn't be redone.

Eyes dark with pain and anger held Bel-San to the wall more efficiently than an arm. "You've seen what you came to see. Now you can go back and report it all to the Council. I know they'll be happy that you were clever enough to track me down."

"The Council didn't send me, you ass." He shoved Qui-Gon away, trying to ignore what the close proximity and intensity of Qui-Gon's gaze did to him and his focus.

Qui-Gon stepped back and crossed the room to look out the small window, thick enough to obscure all but the darkest and largest shapes. "Don't think I don't know they're concerned about me." Bel- San didn't need to see his face to know a sneer twisted Qui-Gon's lips.

Dropping his voice, Bel-San took a step forward. "Of course they're worried. We all are. I wouldn't be here if everything were fine."

"Why are you here?" There was contention in Qui-Gon's voice, but when he turned there was nothing but weariness in his face. "What do you think you can do, when there was nothing I could do?"

Bel-San did close the distance between them this time, reaching out to touch Qui-Gon's cheek, now rough with weeks of a beard that had been left on its own. He smoothed his hand across Qui-Gon's face and watched the other man close his eyes for a moment. "I just needed to see-"

A hand, strong and swift caught his and held it fast enough to bruise as Qui-Gon jerked him forward again, this time pressing their bodies together. "To see what? Is it an experiment to see what happens to a Jedi when his apprentice turns?" Qui-Gon's voice was a near whisper, his eyes gleaming in the harsh light of the room. "Or did you want to see if you could offer some comfort, something you could not have while Xan...while he was with me?" He stroked a forceful hand down to Bel-San's waist in a rough parody of a caress.

"No, you ass, I came to see if you were alive." Bel-San pushed him away again, taking a step back and running a hand through his hair. Qui-Gon wasn't thinking. This wasn't him. He had to keep reminding himself that, though it was hard to see such malice in Qui-Gon's eyes and hear it in his tone. "You don't talk to anyone, you barely send messages, even to Alla, and you expect us to leave you alone? To not come and hope that maybe you won't get your stupid self killed and maybe someday come home? You think this is about sex, or pity or curiosity? Fuck you, I love you, even though I don't know why."

Qui-Gon crossed his arms over his chest, but not before Bel-San could see that his fists were clenched tightly. "That's very noble of you. You've done your duty, said your peace, you saw the door." He looked and sounded calm enough, but Bel-San knew better.

"Oh, you won't get rid of me so easily. I don't like the look I see in your eye and if you think I spent all these years investing myself in our friendship to walk out that door now, when I know without a doubt that you aren't even trying to keep yourself alive, you're sadly mistaken." He crossed his own arms and leaned back against the door.

"You think I can't make you move?" Qui-Gon smirked at him. "I thought we proved that when we were padawans, pretty definitively."

Bel-San watched as Qui-Gon approached, wary, but not afraid. "If you want to leave or you want me out, that's what you'll have to do. I'm not leaving on my own, and I don't think you have it in you to hurt me."

Prowled was the only word Bel-San could think of for how Qui-Gon moved across the room toward him. "I won't have to hurt you, there's more than one way to move you." He pressed himself fully against Bel- San, his hands on either side of Bel-San's face and moved in until their breaths brushed each others' lips. "You've always been easy." Bel-San could feel Qui-Gon's lips move against his own brushing them in a light tease before Qui-Gon brought their mouths together.

Even though years had separated their last kiss, years of work and pain and arguments, it still felt like coming home. Like he was meant for Qui-Gon and no one else. Qui-Gon knew him, knew what he liked, that his lower lip was more sensitive and just a little pressure at the base of his skull made everything so much more intense. A breathy moan escaped him to be caught in Qui-Gon's mouth as the other man's tongue passed quickly against his own.

He could feel the tight grin of triumph cross Qui-Gon's face as he pulled back slightly, but they had not been lovers for years and friends longer for Bel-San not to have learned some things on his own. He reached up, twining his fingers in Qui-Gon's hair and pulling him closer to bite gently at Qui-Gon's lips before teasing the roof of his mouth with his tongue. All of his frustration and longing, despair and fear, love and lust was thrust into that brief contact in a last desperate attempt to make Qui-Gon feel. To feel anything other than the torrid whirlpool of self-recrimination and depression that fairly etched the walls of the tiny room.

Qui-Gon staggered a step when Bel-San pulled back, a long, unsteady breath escaping him as he dropped his head to Bel-San's shoulder. "That wasn't fair."

It sounded so much like the Qui-Gon that had been missing from their lives for months, Bel-San laughed quietly. "Nothing you didn't deserve, and you were always easier than I was."

They stood that way for several long moments, the silence stretching between them. Bel-San was afraid to move or speak lest he break the spell that kept Qui-Gon with him for one more precious moment. They had both been still for so long he was surprised when Qui-Gon's hands came up from where they had dropped at his sides to circle Bel-San's waist, pulling him tightly, his hands fisting in the heavy cloak hanging from Bel-San's shoulders.

His hold continued to tighten until Bel-San felt his ribs creak and he laid a steadying hand on Qui-Gon's back. "Easy, I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."

Qui-Gon eased his hold, but didn't let go. "I'm not going back." His voice was muffled against Bel-San's shoulder.

"I'm not asking you to." A part of him did want to ask, hell, not even ask, just shoot Qui-Gon full of some sedative effective enough to drag him off this planet and back to Coruscant. "I just want you to work at keeping yourself alive until you're ready to come back." Qui-Gon would work through this on his own, just like he did everything. It made him angry that Qui-Gon would force his presence on anyone who was hurting and make them face themselves, but would run for high ground halfway across the galaxy before accepting the same treatment. "Force forbid I ask anything of you."

Qui-Gon stiffened against him and pulled away. "Well, don't let me keep you. Message delivered and noted. Thank you, Knight Jacoba."

The emptiness was back in his tone and eyes and Bel-San could have kicked himself. He couldn't understand why he couldn't keep his mouth shut. Things had almost been all right. "Qui-Gon-"

"Just go."

The defeat in the other man's tone spurred something in Bel-San he didn't know he had left. "No. Damn it, Qui-Gon. Why do you have to make this so difficult? Why can't you just accept the help that I'm offering, talk to me, scream at me, rant, rail, anything, but not this," he waved his hand. "Not this empty shell of you."

"My apologies," Qui-Gon bowed. "I shall endeavor to be more like you and lock myself away in my room at the Temple for several months before seeing the light of day from beyond my window. I must remember to keep your fine example in mind."

The words stung more than Bel-San wanted to admit, even to himself. Sy-Mon's death had been the most difficult thing in his life, though he was certain losing Qui-Gon would be much worse. To take that time when Qui-Gon had been at his side every day helping him to see past the pain, a time he treasured for the tenderness of Qui-Gon's hands and words, and twist it made him ill. "Don't you dare take that and make a mockery of it because you're feeling sorry for yourself."

"Right, because your pain is so much more noble and long suffering. I, apparently, brought this on myself and should deal with it accordingly." His eyes taunted Bel-San as he spoke with the knowledge that his words were meant to hurt.

Bel-San drew a breath, thinking of all the terrible things he'd said during that time that he didn't mean and let it out slowly. "You can say whatever you'd like, Qui-Gon. You won't push me away with words."

Stalking towards him, Qui-Gon's eyes were lit with anger. "Then I suppose I'll have to push you out another way." He grabbed Bel-San's arm with speed and strength that Bel-San had let himself forget that he had and pulled him away from the door before wrenching it open and shoving Bel-San through.

He was nearly in the hallway when Bel-San finally was able to react. He latched onto Qui-Gon's grip and spun himself under Qui-Gon's arm and back into the room. Stumbling a few steps in the room he fell into a defensive crouch, knowing the look of Qui-Gon in attack mode after years of sparing. A moment later Qui-Gon was on him again, strong hands gripping with force enough to bruise trying to drag him to the door.

Bel-San wrapped his arms around Qui-Gon's legs and pulled, making the large man crash to the ground with a thud that probably echoed through the whole building. He rolled away, trying to get out of Qui- Gon's reach but he wasn't fast enough for the long arms and Qui-Gon caught him around the middle, hauling Bel-San off his feet where he hit the floor, his head snapping back to hit the tile floor with a crack.

At the sound, Qui-Gon's hands left him while Bel-San took a moment to let the ringing in his head recede. He heard Qui-Gon's steps move away and knew it would be a few moments still before he could work up the energy to follow. He hoped that Qui-Gon wouldn't be able to get far.

To his surprise, the footsteps returned. He turned his head slowly to see Qui-Gon kneel at his side, a damp cloth in his hand. His large hands cradled Bel-San's head as they would an newborn or injured animal as he dabbed the cloth at the back of Bel-San's head, the cloth coming away with a bright spot of red. Still holding him tenderly, Qui-Gon sent healing Force through him until even the tiniest of aches was gone before he moved away from him to sit with is back against the wall, his long legs tucked up against his chest.

"It would be better for you if you left. I can't be trusted not to hurt you."

Bel-San sighed and crawled the two steps across the room to Qui-Gon's side. "Don't be stupid. I know it's hard, but could you try for just, you know, a minute?"

"I'm serious."

"So I see."

"Bel-San." The word was a sigh, a benediction and a curse.

"Why do you have to fight me on this? Is it part of your self- imposed punishment that you're not allowed to have help? Because I know you want it, I can see it in your eyes and they way you move." He settled against the wall, his shoulder touching Qui-Gon's and reached out to twine their fingers together.

Qui-Gon was silent for a long time, his only movement the hypnotic rub of his finger over Bel-San's thumb. For a time Bel-San thought he would never get an answer and they would sit this way forever.

Instead a whispered word floated between them. "Please."

He turned to Qui-Gon. "Tell me what I can do. Anything."

"Just make me feel not so empty." The words tore at Bel-San, ripping him open to feel the pain, guilt and anguish that Qui-Gon had been carrying with him, on his own for months, since Xanatos had taken everything that Qui-Gon had painstakingly given him over ten long years of apprenticeship and thrown it in Qui-Gon's face.

"Oh, Qui-Gon." He reached out and drew Qui-Gon to him, wrapped his arms around the large frame the best he could and held him tightly while Qui-Gon shook with silent, dry tears. He could only bear the other man's pain for so long before it drove him to action. He cupped Qui-Gon's chin, feeling the bristly-soft hairs of his beard against his palm and lifted Qui-Gon's face to his own, claiming his lips in a gentle kiss. It had nothing of the power play or manipulation of their last one, only an offer of comfort.

Qui-Gon was hesitant for a moment only, then his hands fell on Bel- San with a passion. He pulled and tugged at Bel-San's clothes, dragging them off with a desperate fervor that Bel-San could not deny him.

Fumbling around Qui-Gon's hands he did his best to relieve Qui-Gon of his clothes in like time, feeling the smooth skin slide beneath his fingers, sending chills and shivers along his spine. Part of him wished he were strong enough to stop this, it could hurt them both more than it helped, but he couldn't. It was a moment, only one, of succor against so many millions of others that were steeped in pain, and he couldn't deny either Qui-Gon or himself.

How he'd missed the feel of Qui-Gon's hands on him, the knowing way he touched and held him. How was it he'd forgotten the slip of the silken hair trailing across his chest to tease at his nipples and navel? The touch of Qui-Gon's moist breath against his flesh was almost more than he could stand as he stopped all his movement to appreciate to long-denied touch.

His body rippled in a full-length shudder when Qui-Gon relieved him of his leggings and he found himself under the blue-eyed regard again. He'd forgotten that Qui-Gon's eyes were like fingers when he was like this, filled with passion and focused on him alone. They stayed separate for a second only before Qui-Gon dove back at him, his hands skimming and his mouth claiming.

Quivering under the touch, Bel-San tried to pull the last shreds of his awareness together before Qui-Gon stripped it away from him entirely. He could let go and give himself over to Qui-Gon let him give this to him, but it wasn't really about Bel-San, not this time. Qui-Gon needed something from him that wouldn't be accomplished from his passiveness, no matter how intoxicating it was to be under Qui- Gon's hands again.

He grabbed Qui-Gon's hands and pulled him into another kiss while doing his best to remove the last of Qui-Gon's clothes. New scars ran the length of Qui-Gon's body, marking his lifelong service to peacekeeping for those who did not always want his help. Many of them were ones that Bel-San had not ever seen, though he could tell the stories behind a good deal of them.

It was the newest set, long since past the stage where they were tender, that drew him. The long, slashing marks that ran the length of his sides and disappeared around Qui-Gon's back. He'd heard the stories of the fight between Qui-Gon and Xanatos, but had never really been able to bring himself to believe that Xanatos had attacked his master. He'd seen the two of them together, knew that Qui-Gon gave more to that boy than he'd given to most.

Regarding them for a moment only, he moved on, slipping his hands beneath Qui-Gon's leggings and pulling them off. "Tell me what you want." He whispered into the skin behind Qui-Gon's ear, watching the swath of gooseflesh his words and breath raised.

Qui-Gon shuddered under his hands. "Take me. I want to feel you."

Suppressing his own shiver at the strong words, Bel-San rose to his feet and pulled Qui-Gon up after him. The room was warm enough, but the tile was frigid beneath them and the bed was only a step away. He pressed Qui-Gon into the sagging mattress, laying full length against him, reveling in the feel of how their bodies fit against one another. Qui-Gon was so warm beneath him, he'd nearly forgotten what it was to share a bed with someone, to know the weight and shape of another being against him.

A sigh escaped Qui-Gon as they touched and Bel-San made it his personal mission to pull as many of those sounds from him as he could. He ran his hands along Qui-Gon's body, relearning the way muscle lay beneath flesh. It had not been so long, though, that he didn't remember that a touch at the inner elbow or last rib could leave Qui-Gon squirming and breathless or a kiss at the side of his hip could have the other man arching from the bed.

He worked his way down Qui-Gon's body slowly, reverently touching. When he finally placed a soft kiss at the tip of Qui-Gon's cock, already tight and a deep purple with need, a choked sound escaped the man beneath him. Running a soothing hand along Qui-Gon's hip and down his thigh, he was surprised by a strong hand on his wrist.

"Please, now." Qui-Gon had leaned up enough to lock eyes with him as he spread his legs, opening himself to Bel-San in a silent invitation of need.

"Shhh." Bel-San stroked the heated flesh of his inner thighs and looked around the room for something to use. He'd wanted to make this last longer, but knew it would be needlessly cruel to prolong it.

Hand tightening, Qui-Gon shook his head. "I don't care. Just do it."

Bel-San paused, studying him closely. "I do care. I won't hurt you. That's not what this is about, it isn't punishment."

"Whatever, just hurry." Qui-Gon fell back, his grip loosening enough to reach out to touch whatever part of Bel-San he could.

Bel-San gave up looking for something that likely wouldn't be in this room and instead concentrated, using the Force to slick a finger, pressing it to Qui-Gon's opening and marveling at the way the tight ring of muscle spasmed at his lightest touch. Qui-Gon's head rolled on the pillow and Bel-San drew a breath, wondering if he himself would last long enough to see this out.

Fingers still working in a familiar pattern, Bel-San leaned up over Qui-Gon to take his mouth once again, loving the way Qui-Gon abandoned himself to the kiss, his body an open map to his pleasure. Bel-San could feel it in Qui-Gon's body and in the now reawakened bond between when he hit Qui-Gon's prostate, stroking it firmly several times before continuing to stretch him.

"It's enough, please, you won't hurt me, please, Bel-San, please-"

"Shhh," he stopped the pleas with a kiss, removing his fingers and steadying his own aching hardness at Qui-Gon's entrance. He paused at the entrace, until he held Qui-Gon's eyes before slowly pushing his way inside. Tight, brilliant fire surrounded him, swept him away in those first moments. Bel-San always lost himself in Qui-Gon, no matter how they did this. He always lost himself in the other man and there had been times when he wasn't sure he would get himself back.

How long they stayed that way, still and joined, Bel-San couldn't tell, but finally the pressure was too much and he had to move, Qui- Gon rocking beneath him. The slick slide of skin and the desperation coloring the air between them combined with the time that had passed since the last time this had happened meant it was over far too quickly. A few more thrusts, the powerful feel of Qui-Gon beneath him, surrounding him and Bel-San was lost. He came, calling Qui- Gon's name as Qui-Gon arched in a wordless moan that spoke of both pleasure and enormous emotional pain.

As much as he wanted to stay awake, talk to Qui-Gon and be with him as he came back from the place they had been taken, the pull of sleep that had been long denied was too strong, as were the soft hands that stroked him closer to sleep. He fell, half willingly, into sleep, the contented thudding of Qui-Gon's heart a steady rhythm beneath his ear.

Bel-San

I'm sorry I'm not strong enough to do this in person, that I helped push you into sleep and didn't stay until you woke. It was cowardly of me, but then I'm not at my best these days. You've seen that.

I've been sitting here, watching you sleep and trying to think what I should say, what could make this understandable, and I can think of nothing. I can thank you for coming after me. I didn't know how much I needed to see you until came and for that I will always be grateful.

I don't know when I'll be able to come back to the Temple, but I will be coming back.

Qui-Gon

"What's your name?"

Everything of the single meeting they had flashed through his thoughts as Bel-San sat in the small desk and watched Qui-Gon walk through the door of the room. So many things he could say, but none of them seemed appropriate.

Instead he said the first non-threatening and neutral thing he could think of. "I'm sure you've never heard of me; my name is Bals-A- Plenti."