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Ben ran into the house and slammed the door behind him. Just a few moments after, he heard the door open and slam again. He could hear Quentin's harsh breathing echoing in the room and the clicking of the dogs' nails on the tiles as they paced nervously. He was loath to turn and actually face Quentin. He would be furious. Ben knew it.

After a few moments where neither of them made a move, Ben finally took a deep breath and turned to face Quentin and whatever he had coming to him. It was worse than he thought. Quentin was looming up behind him, his mouth hanging slightly open and his hands curled slightly, but hanging limply at his sides. He was drenched and the water ran in small rivulets from his lank hair and down his sleeves dripping slowly onto the floor. His chest expanded contracted with deep, noisy inhalations and he was visibly shaking.

Ben smiled at him slightly, in what he hoped was in a bright way, and said, "Tea?"

"What?" Quentin said to him in a low voice, his face now adding incredulity to the mix of emotions being displayed on it.

"Tea. I-I was asking if y-you'd like tea," Ben said, trying not to let fear leak through in his voice.

"I heard you. I just thought perhaps you had made some sort of horrendous misjudgment in what it was you wanted to say just now." Quentin kept his voice low and emotionless, but he seemed to be shaking a bit more now. "I mean considering what just happened."

"Oh th-that," Ben's voice fell and he shifted his gaze from the fiery blue one to the floor, "I really d-don't think w-we should discuss it. We can just p-put the whole m-messy business behind us. I-I can make tea and y-you can get changed out of th-those wet things before you c-catch your death. I-I have a robe you c-can borrow. I-it might be a b-bit short."

"What if I don't want to 'put the whole messy business behind us' and would like an explanation now?" Quentin took a step closer to Ben, who backed away.

"I-I don't w-want to discuss it," Ben said as he turned and started to walk toward the stove.

"You will discuss it, Ben. Now!" Quentin yelled as he grabbed Ben by the wrist and used it to force Ben back around to face him. The look in Ben's eyes made Quentin freeze to the spot. Ben was terrified.

Quentin felt the ire leave him as he looked into those changeable blue-green eyes and saw the fear almost literally projecting from them. "Ben?" he asked softly. "What is it? What's wrong?" On a sudden impulse, he raised his hand slowly to run his knuckles down Ben's smooth cheek in what he hoped was a calming manner. His heart fell when Ben flinched away.

"I am sorry, lad. I said I would never hurt you and I will hold myself to that promise."

Ben visibly relaxed slightly, but still looked at Quentin warily. "Please d-don't be angry or d-disgusted for what I d-did out there. For wh-what I am. I promise I'll try to m-maintain better c- control now," he pleaded.

"Ben, lad, forgive me. But you seem to be speaking in a foreign language. Angry? Disgusted? What you are? I am not quite following you here," Quentin looked at Ben with genuine confusion and concern.

"I am un-n-natural and a-abnormal. I find other m-men attractive and I know th-that's wrong. P-please, if m-maybe you could j-just forget what j-just happened now, w-we can still be f-friends?" Ben sounded very much like he was reciting an implanted automatic response to a situation, with all the emotion of a telephone voicemail service.

"Abnormal? Unnatural? Just what kind of medieval crap are you spouting here?" Quentin asked, taken aback.

Ben sounded as if he had not even registered that Quentin had interjected at all and continued along in his diatribe, "I know i- it's my own p-problem. They t-tried to help me."

"What are you on about?" Quentin asked, with increasing frustration.

"I t-took advantage of a c-close situation with you a-and I am sorry. Th-they have help f-for people like me." Ben continued, pleading once again.

With dawning horror Quentin understood what Ben was getting at. All the signs were there: the fear, doubt and emotionless replies. Ben was another "successful" graduate of a sexual orientation reprogramming therapy. Or as he preferred to call it, institutionalised mind rape and brainwashing. "Ben, first of all what kind of bullshit dogma do you think you're spouting? And to whom? Number two, what was it about what just happened out there that gave you the impression that I was any less than a willing participant?"

"Y-you got angry."

"I got angry because you left me in kind of a lurch out there." Quentin half chuckled, and then grew serious again. "Please, Ben, it's time to stop hiding now. I want to know you And would never judge you. That would be a bit of the pot and the kettle situation, wouldn't it? What is it? What did they do to you? I know you keep yourself, that someone else, hidden behind all those walls of yours. I have seen him in glimpses and catches. I'd like the chance to get to know Ben. I want to know you." Quentin finished, his hands resting lightly on Ben's shoulders and gazing intensely into the smaller man's eyes.

Ben was quiet for a long time. His eyes shifted from Quentin to the ceiling, to the floor and back to Quentin again. He finally sighed and said, "I can t-try, but first I n-need to show you s-something."

Ben walked down the hall to his bedroom and this time Quentin followed, determined not to let the younger man take this opportunity to try and make an escape again. Ben turned on the bedside lamp, situated just inside the door, and pulled open the heavy lid of the chest at the foot of his bed. He pulled out a photograph and handed it to Quentin then turned away.

Quentin stood looking at the photo of the two young men for a while and then sat on the edge of the bed, no longer noticing his wet clothing.

"That's m-me and my uncle An-Angus. That was the last photo w-we had taken t-together. That was b-before he... he..." Ben started in a low and halting voice.

Then he stopped and got a far away look in his eyes. Quentin then decided to prompt him further, " Did he do something to you Ben? I mean did he have a part in..."

"Oh, no! N-nothing like that! He w-was my hero. He's my father's y- youngest brother and p-probably one of my c-closest relatives in age. He w-was about 10 years o-older than me. I l-loved him more than p-probably any other living p-person. We w-would always b-back each other up and h-help each other out, wh-when my p-parents were being un-reasonable. When mum p-put me on a strict d-diet when I was just a child, he w-would sneak sweets into the house and th-then pass them to me in s-secret. Every time he w-would come to visit h-he'd take me out to d-do things like go to the zoo or t-to the observatory. He took me once t-to see a live performance of T-Tristan and Iseult and it's the o-only play I have ever seen. Y-you see, my parents barely r-registered me at all. For a while I th-thought I was a b-badly planned tax deduction that th- they didn't realise they would be s-spending so many years raising, " Ben said as he sat gingerly down on the bed next to Quentin.

"That sounds awful!" Quentin said, trying to keep his voice as even as possible.

"Oh, it w-wasn't so bad, D-Dad just worked a lot and Mum h-had her social engagements. I had my b-books and the frequent v-visits of Angus to look forward t-to. I w-worshipped him, and this was l-long before I realised I had developed a r-rather large crush on him. I g- guess in my own adolescent way I w-was always rather attracted t-to him, or the idea of him. Not that h-he ever noticed or even thought of m-me in the least that way. I was just his k-kid nephew and he was my w-world. S-sometimes I would fantasise that w-we weren't related at all and he w-would tell everyone so. And t-take me away to live with him. B-but reality is a jealous m-mistress.

One day I c-came home from school and I c-could hear yelling in the study. I g-guessed later on that Angus h-had just told my parents he w-was... th-that way, " Ben's voice faltered again.

"You mean he was gay?"

"Yes. They were m-making such a terrible f-fuss over it. They were saying such t-terrible things to h-him and trying to force him to leave. He w-was adamant. He said that he w-wouldn't leave until he had a chance to s-see me and explain. Wh-when they all t-turned and saw me standing there, I guess they were a b-bit surprised. I was elated! I-I had th-thought perhaps my dream had finally c-come true! I then d-did the last truly impulsive th-thing I have ever done. I walked across th-the room and k-kissed him. R-right on the m-mouth and in front of my parents. He pushed m-me away and looked v- very alarmed by my action. I r-realised it w-was not a dream c-come true but very m-much a nightmare. He d-did not and never could share m-my feelings. But it was t-too late and the damage w-was done. My p-parents then accused him of 'interfering' w-with me, which was of course j-just a euphemism for a m-molesting me. I t-tried to stand up f-for him. Tell th-them that wasn't the case, th-that he never. No one was l-listening. So Angus was t-told to leave the house and never t-try and s-see me again or else they would have him t-tried as a pedophile. I was s-sent away to a school th-that had therapies in p-place to help to cure a boy like me."

"Cure? It's not some illness you have, Ben. It's who you are!"

"Well, th-they guaranteed my parents that I w-would be a normal and healthy boy in n-no time. It was the m-most awful place I had e-ever been in my l-life and the next two years seemed l-like an eternity. I would m-mostly go to class like any b-boy, but for two hours a d- day I was to report t-to a therapy session wh-where they would try and n-negate my abnormality. They w-would make me look at pictures of m-men and then feed me drugs t-to cause n-nausea in hopes of it having s-some sort of Pavlovian c-conditioning effect on me. When that d-did not seem to be working f-fast enough, they would try alternate m-methods like making m-me divulge any sexual f-fantasies I had ever h-had involving men, and then b-beat me for having th-them. Eventually I l-learned the trick th-though. I kept all my th- thoughts to myself and no one c-could then ever hurt me for th-them. I graduated from th-the school and went on to university and a n-normal life. or so they say. But I s-still have all these w-wrong feelings inside. I even tried t-to date women at one t-time, but I always felt wh-what I really wanted was j-just out of my grasp somehow." Ben finished the tale and had not noticed that somewhere during it, Quentin had taken hold of his hand and was now squeezing it tightly.

"If you will excuse me for saying so, you are not the one who is abnormal or wrong, but your narrow minded and foolish parents who were. You cannot help who you are in any way on the inside. You just are, there is no right or wrong to it. It just is. They put you through that and turned you into someone who is frightened of his own shadow, let alone intimacy. That is abnormal and wrong. Does something feel wrong about this?" Quentin asked as he kissed Ben tenderly on the forehead.

"N-no?" Ben said uncertainly.

"And this?" this time Quentin kissed him lingeringly on the cheek, letting the course hairs of his short beard tickle slightly.

Ben only gasped slightly. Quentin pulled back and looked at Ben and said, "You hide, but you are a wonderful and kind man and deserving of all of the affection someone would have to offer you. Never let anyone else tell you who you are or what is right. You already know."

He was about to leave when he felt Ben's grip tighten on his hand. Ben then leaned in and kissed Quentin's slightly opened mouth. At first it was light and tentative, like the fleeting brush of a butterfly's wing on his lips. Then it grew more bold and questing.

Ben slipped his tongue into Quentin's mouth and started to try and tease the older man's tongue into a response. For once, Quentin took the passive role and let Ben move at his own pace. He let Ben tickle and tease the inside of his mouth in a somewhat unpracticed kiss. Soon Quentin allowed his tongue to start to slide and dance along Ben's, drawing it further into his mouth where he could suck on it ever so slightly.

He felt the thrill run through Ben's body and this time he was not pulling away or bolting for the door. He was wrapping his free hand into the hair on the back of Quentin's neck and pulling him in closer.

For the first time in what seemed forever, Ben just simply felt free. There was no shame or fear of reprimand sitting with Quentin, now and just indulging himself in what was in effect his first real kiss. Part of him wondered how much time he had wasted already on pain and regret and how much time he may have in the future to continue exploring this new relationship. Mostly he was just enjoying the feeling of the warm, wet mouth causing sensations in him he had never allowed himself before and the solid body pressed so closely to his.

Finally Ben broke the kiss and when Quentin looked at him, tears had started to overflow his lower lashes. "Oh, God! I hate them. I hate my own parents. How could they do this to me? Their own son? Did they even know? Did they care?" Ben whispered as he started to tremble uncontrollably.

Quentin lay back on the bend and pulled Ben close into his chest as he trembled violently in the embrace. He placed kisses on Ben's soft hair and held him tightly. When the trembling finally stopped, he removed the jacket from himself and from Ben's sleeping body, trying hard not to wake him. He then pulled a blanket over the two of them and turned off the light. He pulled Ben in closer to his chest and vowed silently to himself that while he was here no one would ever hurt Ben again. He would teach him how to defend himself and how to fight for what he believed in again. Quentin kissed Ben one last time and started to fall asleep.

He did not hear Tavi come wandering into the room or feel her place her head on the side of the bed and look at them. She snorted at the interloper who had taken her spot in the bed and then wandered off.

The inside of the small bar was dark and cloistered feeling. Rough, grey brick walls gave one the eerie feeling of being inside a dungeon. Any light that entered the tinted front windows was being filtered through a dense cloud of smoke, which hung in the air like a fog. Flickering neon signs, advertising various brands of alcoholic beverages provided most of the illumination to the rows of dirty booths that lined the walls. This was most obviously a place people would come when they did not want to be found.

One such a person was sitting toward the back of the room. He was young and slender with thick closely cropped black hair and ice blue eyes. He may have been considered attractive or even beautiful at one time, but a hard life had left it's marks on the his fine face and left him looking harsh and older than he should. As a shadow obscured what light had actually managed to find its way to that back corner, the youth did not even look up before he said, "Spill it, old man. You were the one who wanted to meet, not me. You'll just be lucky if I don't kill you where you stand."

A cackling laugh sounded briefly before a voice said, "Patience one must have, if goals one is to reach." Yoda sat down across from the young man. "Drink, of what kind, having you?" he inquired in his most placating voice.

"Just a beer and quit stalling. You have five minutes to tell me why you wanted to meet. Last time we were rather interrupted, shall we say, before you got to make your point. This is your last chance…"

Yoda gazed evenly at the young man, then shook his head sadly and sighed, "Much patience you still need to learn."

"Patience! The Jedi killed my younger brother and you want to talk to me about patience?!" Keagan whispered harshly as he leaned across the table toward the misshapen old man.

"No!" Yoda said as he emphatically banged his hand against the table. "That is what I am here to tell you. Killed your brother the Jedi did not! Work of one man it was, Quentin Jinn!"

"Xan had nothing but good things to say about Jinn. He idolized him. From what he said, Jinn did not seem the type to…"

"Jealous Jinn was," Yoda cut him off, narrowing his eyes and Keagan had the unsettling feeling he was being scrutinized and that all his thoughts were being lain bare before his adversary. "Past his prime Jinn is. Outlived his usefulness, he knew. Xanatos groomed to take his place, he was. Jinn knew this. Jinn killed your brother before rest of Jedi could stop him!"

"Why are you telling me this?" Keagan asked, something about all of this was not sitting at all well with the young man. "What's in it for you, old man?"

"Proposal, I have. Join forces we should. Two gangs one will become and city we will rule. Leader of both gangs I will be!" Yoda said as he sat back and lowered his eyelids slightly waiting for the young man to respond.

Keagan sat silently for a while contemplating the proposal and finally said, "What's in it for me?"

"Hand you man who killed your brother I can. Tell you where Jedi are, not far away I think he is. Your word you will give, not to attack Jedi. Clues to finding Jinn I will give you."

Keagan looked at Yoda and tried to assess the situation, but his expression was as blank and unreadable as if he just proposed they swap motorcycle tips sometime. "Deal!" he said at length and shook Yoda's hand to seal it. "Who of your goons knows you're here?"

"None. Sent Mace on information gathering mission, I have. Let me off here, as I would not be in the way, I told him. Not stupid Mace is, he may already suspect merger I propose, but Jinn's part of it, he knows nothing of."

Keagan got the information on where the Jedi were located from Yoda and left. He still had a bad feeling about all of this, but he was now one step closer to finding the man who killed Xanatos and that was all that mattered.

The cheery morning sunlight flooded through the window in Ben's room creeping onto the bed where the two forms lay pressed against one another. Ben was still in that wonderful state between dreams and full wakefulness where problems can't find you. He absently noted that his back was pressed to something. That something was starting to go from wonderfully warm to uncomfortably hot as the blanket soaked in the sunlight. "I will have to teach Tavi not to sleep so close," he thought absently to himself as he felt the dream world beckon him again.

The next thought that crossed his mind jarred him awake. The form behind him was spooned up behind him and not sleeping back to back with him as his dog was wont to do. Then the memories started to flood back to him: the kiss, the panic, the confession, and then the next kiss. He did not remember much that happened after that. He supposed he exhausted himself and passed out. But how did he end up under the blanket? He reached tentatively back and his hand came in contact with what was definitely a human leg. "How did I end up in bed with Quentin?"

Ben then ran his hand down his own body and discovered that he was still fully clothed. He breathed a sigh of relief and started when he heard and felt a chuckle against his ear. "You give me so little credit as to think that the moment you were asleep I took the opportunity to ravage you," the voice was teasing and still heavy with sleep. "Or that if I did, you would sleep through it!"

"No," Ben admitted sheepishly but still made no attempt to move. Now that initial shock had worn off he had to admit he was not all that inclined to move out of the gentle embrace. Quentin's proximity and the general feeling of comfort were starting to affect Ben now. A warm flush was travelling through his body and he felt a twitch in his almost perpetually flaccid penis. The traitorous organ was beginning to fill out and lengthen within the confines of his trousers causing then to start to tent out in front in what would be a most embarrassing way. Ben was torn between being thrilled and mortified that the closeness of another person could have such a reaction in him. He snuggled closer to Quentin in hopes of both hiding his own arousal and soaking in some more of the warmth. He was solid and very real and Ben could feel his own heart pounding.

Quentin pulled Ben in closer to his body, as he felt him relax, and then started to place small kisses against the side of Ben's neck. He heard the younger man gasp and then moan, as he found a particularly sensitive spot right behind Ben's ear. He began to nibble and suck slightly on the spot, as he monitored Ben's reactions for any sign of discomfort.

Ben let his eyelids close lightly, as he felt the wonderfully wet and tingling sensation radiate from his neck and down his limbs. He couldn't move now if he wanted to. He heard himself making small whimpering, almost needy sounds and felt his cock lengthen even more. The suction then increased almost to the point of pain. Ben gasped and felt his head tip back of its own accord to rest on Quentin's chest. Then the wonderfully torturous mouth left his neck.

Ben was lost in sensation he had never felt before. The tingling had spread throughout his body now and he was almost desperate to get Quentin to continue what he had started. "Has anyone told you just how beautiful you are?" he felt the warm air tickle his ear as Quentin whispered to him.

"N-no?" Ben breathed, not daring to open his eyes for fear that the whole scene would be shattered.

"You are… You are so beautiful," Quentin continued, as he leaned further over Ben and punctuated his words with soft kisses to the side of his neck and face. "So generous… So kind… So intelligent…"

Ben let a small laugh escape, "Intelligent?"

"Don't laugh, being intelligent is a very good thing…" Quentin then cupped his hand under Ben's chin and guided him to turn so he could look at his face. When he looked down into Ben's angelic visage and his eyes met those startling grey-green ones, he felt a momentary surge of anger toward Ben's abusers but quickly quelled it. "Ben, you are a bright, witty and beautiful young man, and deserving of everything that life has to offer. Don't ever let anyone tell you otherwise." Quentin leaned down and captured Ben's mouth in a deep kiss.

Ben wanted nothing more than to lose himself inside that kiss, but a chance sidelong glance at the clock on his nightstand told him otherwise. He pulled away and said, "Oh, d-damn! I'm going to be late for work." Ben placed one more chaste kiss upon Quentin's mouth and gently extricated himself from his arms. He sat on the edge of the bed and flushed red as he looked down at himself.

His shirt was un-tucked, rumpled and the fabric seemed to be abrading his nipples. His erection was almost flush against his stomach, was aching and had caused a rather nasty wet spot on the front of his trousers. "Quentin, c-could you please let the dogs out? I need t- to take a shower," he said over his shoulder, as he got up and gingerly started to make his way to the bathroom.

Just after Ben left the room Quentin pulled the pillow out from underneath his head and placed it directly over his own face before he let out a long, now muffled, scream. "He's going to be the death of me!" he thought.

As Ben stepped into the bathroom, he closed the door and locked it. He turned the taps up as far as they'd go and then twisted the knob that brought the shower to life. As the steam filled the small area, Ben took off his shirt, trousers and underwear and breathed a small sigh of relief that he no longer felt so confined. He stepped into the tub and stood directly under the shower's stinging spray. He tried his best to will away the turgid column of flesh rising out of the nest of curls at the base of his torso. When that didn't seem to work; he thought perhaps if he just ignored it, it would just go away.

He grabbed for the bar of soap and lathered up his hands and started to run them over his sparsely haired chest. He hissed when they made contact with his sensitive nipples and he found his hips jerked forward slightly of their own volition under the stimulation. He tentatively swirled the tip of his index finger around his right nipple and the smallish bud peaked further and sent a jolt of sensation right to his groin. As he repeated the action on his left nipple, he let his right hand snake down his torso and wrap around his stiff member, slowly beginning to glide up and down.

He felt his mouth go slack and his eyes start to roll back ever so slightly as the sensation his hands were creating started to build. He tipped his head back and arched his back ever so slightly to maintain his balance as the feeling of it buffeted him. He started to think about Quentin and how much he wanted it to be those large and callused hands that were right now playing with his nipples and cock. Slowly his hips started to move and the hand encircling the overheated column sped up. Ben thought about how he would like to feel what it would be like to have that large solid frame over him, on top of him, holding him down and safe. Those hands and how they would caress him as if he were a treasured prize. He could hear the grunts and moans Quentin would make as he ground against Ben and whispered to him in that low husky voice. Ben could feel his hand and hips speed up one more notch. Before he knew what hit him, he felt like his entire being was suddenly thrust forward and his knees buckled slightly. He used the back of his hand to stifle a scream as he came.

He leaned against the wall panting and slowly as he came back to himself, he waited for it. For the sudden waive of nausea or the stinging blow. Nothing happened. He could almost have laughed, were it not for the still lingering dread that he had done something wrong. He focussed instead on what Quentin had said to him about being normal and deserving of all the wonderful things life had to offer him. He was still not sure if he believed those words, but with Quentin with him he was starting to believe anything was possible.

He quickly wiped down the shower wall of any sign of his previous activities and shut the water off. He wrapped a towel around his waist and headed back to his bedroom to get dressed for work. He was all at once relieved and a bit saddened that Quentin had already vacated the room. He quickly got ready, checked the time once more, swore under his breath and headed up the hall to the kitchen.

Quentin stood in, or rather dominated, the small space as he looked into the refrigerator. "Hullo, Ben, what would you like to eat?" he said as he smiled and closed the door.

"Um, nothing… I-I am late and have to go. B-be here when I get b- back?" Ben said as he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around the taller man and craned his neck to reach for a kiss.

Quentin leaned down slightly and kissed him. "Count on it," he murmured.

As Ben turned to go, Quentin caught him by the arm and said, "Ben, wait!"

"Really, I-I can't stop right now," he said as he pulled his arm away and continued toward the door.

"Ben you might want to…" Quentin's voice was beginning to develop a pleading edge.

"I can't, but I p-promise later," Ben said as he walked out the door.

"I just thought he'd like to know that he had a rather obvious love bite on the side of his neck… But, oh well," Quentin said as he turned and looked at the dogs. "His choice…" The dogs wagged their tails and waited for him to re-open the refrigerator door.

Mace looked over the assembled crowd with suspicious disbelief. There were two distinct groups formed out of the assembly. The smaller group was his comrades in arms, his fellow Jedi. The other was the vastly larger rival gang, the Sith. He had a very bad feeling about this.

When Yoda had told him about the pending amalgamation of the two gangs, he had advised that they wait for Jinn to return to make their final decision. "Final, the decision is, Mace," the old man said. "My own council I will keep on what is best for the Jedi." Mace had no choice but to accept what he now saw. Still, he could not help thinking what he was witnessing was the beginning of the destruction of the Jedi.

Even a quick head count let him know they were out-numbered by at least three to one. The Sith seemed to be everywhere in the back of the warehouse they had chosen for the meeting. They lined up along the large shipping crates and leaned disinterestedly against grey metal walls. The Jedi, for their part, showed no fear, but all of them could feel the eyes of those still hidden between the tall wooden crates, peering at them and sizing them up. "Like lambs to a slaughter…" Mace thought.

Not only were they more numerous but they were also, on the whole, younger and had the reputation of being more brutal than any other gang. The Jedi had been responsible for their fair share of bodies turning up, but some of the things the Sith did made Mace's blood run cold. They weren't into order at all, or that killing only happens to maintain gang law. They mutilated, rendered, tortured and destroyed. And they loved doing it. They were anarchy, the new breed of terror roaming the street. These were lean, remorseless psychopaths, as far as Mace was concerned.

One in particular caught his attention when they first arrived and his steely gaze would settle on him from time to time. There was something not quite "all there" looking about that boy. He was small, sharp featured with his head shaved bald. A fine lattice spider web tattoo covered most of his face, successfully obscuring what he really looked like. It was his eyes that bothered Mace the most. They seemed to be almost amber with an unnatural fire behind them. Those eyes seemed to bore right into him and Mace got the uneasy feeling he was being watched by something not entirely human.

The room was humming with private, murmured conversations between the members of the two gangs, but a hush fell over the room when Yoda and Keagan took their places in front of the assembled crowd and Yoda held his hands up to gain everyone attention. "Glorious day this is for Jedi and Sith. Long we have fought, our powers divided. Waste of time and skill this was, now together, stronger we will be." The members of both gangs just stared back at him.

Keagan broke in at this point, "This is no time to be cryptic, there, Yoda. What the old man means is that with our strength and speed and their cunning and knowledge, we're going to totally RULE this place! With their brains and our power no cop, prosecutor or fucking judge will ever be able to touch us again!" As his small speech progressed, Keagan became more animated and when he ended on the final triumphant, the Sith erupted in a raucous explosion of hooting and banging on the sides of the crates. The Jedi still remained motionless and passive looking. But Mace noted something he had not seen before in all their eyes. Fear.

After the impromptu gathering had mostly broken up and the Sith once again slunk back into the shadows from which they seemed to manifest, Mace too the opportunity to speak to Yoda somewhat out of the earshot of the others. "Yoda, if I may speak freely? I don't like this situation you have us in at all! The Sith have no more respect for you, the Jedi or an alliance than they ever have. You are leading us into the dragon's lair and I don't like it."

"All you have to say to me it is, Mace? Forget yourself, you do. Control the Jedi I do, what I say goes. If not like it, you do, option to leave is yours. Wished to leave, also did Xanatos!" Yoda huffed at him while hobbling down from the platform.

"Of course I don't wish to leave, Yoda. I just wish you would listen to my council or wait for Jinn to return. He has dealt with the Sith before, he know their motives," Mace tried to reason.

"Proved where his loyalty lies, Quentin Jinn has," Yoda said, banging his cane against the floor. "Gone, he is. No more loyalty we need show him!"

"Jinn is their primary target and he came with us last time we went to face them! At great risk to himself! What he did was for the best for all of us, he wanted to divert their attention away…"

"A coward and traitor now he is. No more will the Jedi protect him!"

"What have you done, old man? How does Jinn figure into this?"

"Concern of yours, Quentin Jinn is no longer. Best it is if you forget you knew the name, Mace. Closed, now all discussion is on this matter. Final is my decision!" Yoda turned his back on Mace and continued on his way.

Mace spared a glance back at the Jedi still assembled, everything in his mind was telling him to run and let chips fall where they may. But looking into the faces of his colleagues, no, his friends of the past 20 years made his heart tell him otherwise. It may be a fool's errand and a suicide mission, but he knew he had to protect them, even if it meant giving up his own life to do it.

He saw Yoda just up ahead talking to Keagan and that startling young man he had taken note of earlier. He jogged over to catch up with what was happening. "Ah, Mace, good it is you joined us. Telling our young friends I was about your misgivings of our new union!" Yoda said as he pulled himself to a stop, "Question your loyalty we all do."

"You have nothing to question; my loyalty is still with the Jedi. It always will be," he said with some indignation.

"Good to hear, that is! Met Keagan before you have, meet now his chief enforcer Maul," Yoda said in a conversational tone.

Mace grunted slightly and put his hand out to shake. Keagan just looked at the proffered limb as if something horribly distasteful had been laid before him, but Maul seized his hand and squeezed it until Mace heard several knuckles pop slightly under the strain. He looked into Maul's face and saw the inhuman amber gaze he noted before. Maul smiled slightly, if that was what it could be called. It had much the same unsettling effect as a corpse's grimace or the snarl of a feral beast. It was anything but the usual sign of amity and greeting it was supposed to be.

"Coming back with us they are, Mace" Yoda said, leaving no room for argument. Mace knew what he had to do. When they got back he would have to find a way to sneak out from under watchful eyes and find Jinn.

Ben sighed inwardly and shifted his weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other watching what was left of the library patrons browse in and out of the stacks. He wished they would all just go home so he could leave too. He scratched at an odd irritation on the side of his neck and wondered what was causing it. Maybe a slight rash from the new detergent he bought, he decided. Well back to the old brand next time. He would just have to leave the "new and improved" tabs alone.

He looked again at the patrons and tried to will them all to leave then he sunk into just occupying his mind with what he had been thinking about all day. Quentin. Those azure eyes… That lean form… Ben shifted again uncomfortably and flushed slightly. Oh, this would just not do. Okay, no more thinking of Quentin in public. Back to contemplating the annoying itch for a while.

The day had never gone by slower for Ben while he was in his beloved library. Usually he found solace and escape in her many volumes and the work he loved so much, but today he kept looking back in at the wall-mounted clock in his office. The minutes seemed to drag by as he anticipated, for what seemed the first time, going home at the end of the day. There was no question of if or when this time, Quentin was waiting for him there. This thought caused Ben to bounce slightly on the balls of his feet.

He tried to hide the enthusiasm he felt, but guessed he was failing miserably. Several people had gazed steadily at him today, where usually they were now given to trying to not make direct eye contact with the young man, as it made him nervous. Many more seemed to want to say or ask him something, but then thought the better of it. When he had arrived for his shift, Mrs. Flynn had stared openly at him and asked, "Ben, luv, is there anything you wish to tell me. You have… Well… You look… You seem different."

He wanted to shout it at the top of his lungs. I am different. For the first time in my life I am not ashamed in who I am and I have someone who understands me. He felt giddy and light-headed and like he had not felt in a long time. He almost felt like engaging some of the regulars in conversation. Almost. He still could not bring himself to make the next leap and do it.

One by one the late crowd filed out until only one lone straggler was left. Finally, he spied Kyle, a top student from the area secondary school, approaching the counter with his usual armload of books.

The teenager walked up to the counter balancing the stack of books precariously and trying to keep his eyes discretely from Ben's direct gaze. As Ben one by one signed out the books, the boy tried to look around until his eyes fell on the reddish patch on Ben's neck. "Whoa, dude, I didn't know you had a girlfriend!" he said before he thought the better of it.

Ben flushed crimson to the roots of his hair and stammered out "I- I…. wh-what would m-make you s-say that?" He knew it; his body language had given him away.

"I am sorry, Ben. I didn't mean to say anything. I guess I was just surprised when I saw your neck!" Kyle said somewhat apologetically. It was obvious he had startled and flustered Ben, who dropped the book he was holding and held his hand up to the mark on his neck.

"R-really… I th-think it's j-just a rash…" Ben tried to explain as he felt the heat still rising in his face and his pulse was causing the slight swelling on his neck to sting a bit.

Kyle looked at him doubtfully and said, "Well, you have every right to keep what you do in your off hours to yourself, but I would get that rash looked at if I were you. For a moment there I swore it looked like one monster of a hickey!"

After the teen had left, Ben went into the men's washroom to take a look in the mirror. He approached the pristine white sink basin with caution and peered at his reflection in the industrial grade mirror behind it. He tilted his head to the side and looked at the angry purple mark on his neck. He hoped that it was only the horrible greenish hue from the fluorescent lighting that made it seem to stand out so prominently from the ivory column of his throat. Somehow, he also doubted it.

It was too high on his neck for him to raise his shirt collar to cover it, so he guessed he would have to pass it off as a bruise if anyone else asked. He also now knew just what everyone had been staring at all day. He left the washroom and headed back to the desk painfully aware, embarrassed and just a little angry.

He was thankfully still alone as he took his seat behind the desk. He ran his finger again over the slight swelling, he was definitely going to have to have words with Quentin when he got home and they just might have to be about leaving marks on him where people could see. His finger slowed unconsciously to a lazy circle around the area as he thought, "A mark. His mark. Quentin's mark right there for everyone to see." A tiny thrill ran through his body as the realisation hit. Quentin had marked him. The thought was simultaneously alarming and incredibly arousing. He had been wandering around all day with the brand of his first lover. But Quentin was not his lover. Well, yet, or would he be? This was a possibility that was just starting to sink in for Ben. Could he take Quentin as a lover?

The question seemed ludicrously simple and profoundly complex all at once to him. Physically, he knew he could, in theory, take Quentin as his lover. It could really be that simple. Stop by the pharmacy on the way home, get lubricant and condoms and then throw caution to the wind. It would at least give everyone something to talk about for the next while, and judging by the twitch in his nether regions, some part of him obviously liked that thought quite a bit. He had to admit that he had been thinking about just such a thing in some way since that first night that he happened upon Quentin in the park. There was something mysterious and exciting about him. He seemed somehow dangerous and yet had proven himself to be anything but. Ben felt safe around him, and therein was Ben's problem.

Why did he feel so comfortable around him? Ben had had problems trusting people most of his life, and yet almost immediately he felt at home with this man. It didn't make sense. And what about that dream he had? Was he really so afraid already of losing Quentin, that he had to dream up some sort of violent end to him? He knew nothing about Quentin beyond what the other man had told him. To all intents and purposes, Ben should not even be considering now taking him as his lover. His first and only lover. But still, there was something about Quentin that was comforting. There was a something about his eyes, which made Ben feel like perhaps he was a part of some sort of long forgotten memory.

Ben smiled; that was just silly. "There you go again," he thought. "Over thinking and analysing everything. Just this once relax and enjoy yourself."

He tried to clear his mind of all the noise and just focus on what was important, the very next step he should take. Unbidden, the picture of Quentin sprang back into his mind. His warm eyes and smile seemed just as inviting. Ben wanted to lose himself there.

The end of his shift finally came and Ben locked up the building and practically sprinted the distance between the library and his small house. He had just put the key in the door when he heard a loud crash, cursing and a dog yelp. When he opened the door, he was greeted with the sight of Quentin standing in the kitchen wearing only Ben's bit-too-small bathrobe, alternating between waving his one hand around furiously and sucking on his index finger. Tavi and Nanuk were sitting a safe distance away in the living room with their tails between their legs.

When they saw the door open fully, they bounded toward the door and knocked Ben backward into the snow bank just behind the step, licking his face and wagging furiously. Ben finally managed to extricate himself from the dogs and walked into the house, laughing and brushing the snow from his jacket. Quentin met him just inside the front room and folded Ben into a tight hug, which seemed to Ben to have the ulterior motive of keeping him from looking in the kitchen. "Welcome home, Ben. Please don't mind the mess," Quentin chuckled. His mouth then sought Ben's and captured it in a searching kiss. The world seemed to melt away. Ben had wanted to say something to Quentin, he was sure of it. He just could not bring himself to remember or care what that was.

Quentin finally broke the kiss and released Ben's mouth with a slight groan. Partially because it always left him feeling a little bereft when he had to let Ben go, but also because the kiss bought him a few more precious seconds before Ben saw the kitchen. If there was one thing Quentin had discovered while in the house all day, it was that his young companion tended to like order and was fastidiously tidy. If Quentin didn't know better, he would swear that no one lived there at all beyond the two dogs; who, like all of their species, seemed to revel in throwing the occasional stone into the otherwise placid pond, by leaving a chew toy here or hopping up onto the freshly plumped cushions of the chesterfield to nap.

Books were neatly displayed on bookcases, all spines facing outward and he was now almost positive they were ordered in some form of the Dewey Decimal System. He could not help but smile. Patterns were used sparingly as were any bric-a-brac. This was not to say that the house was cold or stringent in any way. The colours chosen were warm and the comfortable furniture was inviting. It was just that the air of the place felt more like a showcase to interior design or the home of someone used to keeping up a front.

It was nothing at all like the places he was used to living in for the past several decades. Those places were usually dank, cold and filthy, and Quentin was trying very hard not to get used to this. As much as he hated it, he knew he would most likely have to leave. The Jedi would most certainly never let him out alive.

Leaving this place would also mean leaving Ben, and Quentin felt his heart constrict at the thought. As much as he would most likely not be able to stay, he could even less imagine Ben reconciling himself to life with the Jedi and the Jedi, with the exception of Mace, would never get past the concept that Jinn's old lady was another man. It should not be so hard to leave Ben; he hadn't known the young man for that long. Yet, there was something about him that stirred in Quentin what seemed to be the misty memory of a thousand pleasant afternoons.

Perhaps it was the colour of his hair, like the warm light the day takes on, after the harshness of the midday sun has passed and the whole world has seemed to fall into the mellowness of the frantic morning being over, when they could return to their homes and loved ones. Or perhaps it was those eyes, which seemed to shift and change with each new light or emotion. One minute looking green as the sun dappled leaves and grass, the next grey as a stormy day and the next blue and clear as the sky. He could not recall ever having seen eyes like these anywhere else, but when he looked into them, he could not shake the feeling that he had gazed into them untold times before. With his charming smile, volatile moods and dry sense of humour. Ben had become the first person he felt completely at home with. For the first time since he left Ireland, he had finally found home.

"Quentin, what is it? You look about a m-million miles away," Ben said, cocking one eyebrow and looking up at the taller man, but not breaking the embrace.

"It's nothing." He said as he smiled and kissed Ben again.

This time Ben broke the kiss. "I get the distinct f-feeling you are stalling," he laughed and stepped out of the embrace to continue on his way to the kitchen. Quentin winced slightly as he saw Ben round the corner and stop dead in his tracks. He watched as Ben's arms went lax against his sides and his mouth opened and closed a couple of times but no sound at all come out of it.

He walked slowly toward Ben, biding his time, waiting for the initial shock of seeing the kitchen to wear off. He came up behind the younger man and wrapped his arms around the slender, if somewhat rigid form. In his opinion, it was really not as bad as it looked. None of it was permanent and it really only *looked* like he had managed to use every dish in the place.

Nanuk slunk around the corner and back into the kitchen. He slowly approached the overturned casserole dish in the middle of the neatly tiled floor. Tavi then deemed it safe to return to the kitchen as well, her heavily plodding gait rhythmically tapped out by her toenails against the tile. She gave the overturned dish wide berth, sniffed the air and plunked down on the floor, her wide back against the furthest cabinets from the mess. Nanuk then took a cautious lick at the spilled contents of the dish, yelped and backed up making small snorting sounds, his tongue licking wildly on either side of his nose. "I guess I made it a bit spicy," Quentin said under his breath.

He felt the smaller man relax against him and begin to shake. He heard the soft chuckling start in Ben and slowly it got louder. "Well, I never claimed to be a good cook." Quentin murmured, dipping his head down slightly to place a kiss in Ben's spiky hair.

"It's a g-good thing. Your food has just been rejected by a critic who has b-been known to eat garbage, insects and random bits of fluff off the floor." Ben choked out, the tears of merriment starting to well up in his eyes.

"I think I have just been very insulted, "Quentin laughed. "Well I did TRY and it is the thought that counts!"

"Hmmmm Then perhaps I should start to rethink m-my affection for you, seeing as you obviously d-dislike me. Hey!" Ben yelped as Quentin gave him a sharp but not overly painful swat on the backside and then turned the younger man around to face him, placing his hands heavily on Ben's shoulders.

"You, my young friend, are a brat." he laughed, pulled Ben in by the shoulders and kissed him again. This time Quentin let himself glide into Ben's mouth and tease the other man's lax tongue into the light dance at which he was becoming very good. He closed his eyes and slid his hands down from Ben's shoulders; down his sides and round to cup the very same rear he had only moments before offended. He felt and heard Ben gasp slightly though his nose as Quentin, with a sudden hunger to continue what had been started that morning, used his purchase on the young man's ass to pull his hips in close. He felt Ben's whole body stiffen and then relax as he got used to the feeling of the body pressed so intimately against his own.

"He's not running, nor pushing me away. This has got to be a good sign," Quentin thought as he felt Ben's hips start to slowly start to grind against him and eventually pick up a rhythm of their own accord. He drank from Ben like a parched man. He laughed inwardly at himself, feeling very much the virgin in this situation as he felt his body start to hum with an anticipatory vibration. Truth was, no matter how he felt, he was not the virgin in this situation and he had just started to get concerned about how Ben was handling this new situation, when his fears were waylaid.

He felt Ben's body start to respond against him. The younger man's body temperature was increasing dramatically and the unmistakable heat of the other man's hardness was currently pressing into his upper thigh. He could hear muted whimpers and moans escaping from one of them, though he did not know for the life of him which one. Quentin let his eyes slide completely shut as he felt his partner's one arm snake up to rest on top of his shoulder while his other hand crawled down in a familiar path.

Quentin's eyes shot open and reality came crashing back in when he felt Ben's warm dry fingers made tentative contact with the heated column of flesh rising out of the nest of curls at his groin. He was currently standing in the middle of a kitchen-cum-disaster zone wearing the other man's bathrobe while his own clothes were in the wash. Something about all of this was so very wrong, this was going to be the first time Ben was intimate with anyone period and he deserved better than a quick grope in the kitchen like a couple of horny teenagers.

Quentin moved Ben back a bit, who whimpered at the loss of contact. He broke the kiss to whisper, "Not yet, not here." Ben nodded, and shrugged slightly.

"I suppose you're right," he said matter of factly, turning away from Quentin to survey the room once more.

"What I was figuring," Quentin started as he wrapped his arms around Ben's waist again and started to run his beard very lightly up the side of the smaller man's neck, "was that if both of us clean up in here, the sooner that it would get done, the sooner we could get some food into you and the sooner we could retire. somewhere. more. comfortable ." he punctuated his last couple of words with lingering kisses on the side of Ben's neck, reawakening that morning's love bite.

"Hmmmmmm. What makes you think I should help in here? I didn't create this mess."

"Because the longer it takes me to clean up, the longer it will take for us to go find that comfortable place."

Ben sighed. "I will get the mop."

As they worked and then later ate, Ben put together a new and simple meal, Quentin regaled his young companion with some of the more humorous anecdotes from his childhood. Ben listened attentively, his eyes sparkling.

"And so- BAM! The trap sprung," he dramatised his words by bringing his hands crashing together, fingers intertwined, mimicking a great set of jaws snapping shut, "and while the fox would be safe for another night, I on the other hand nearly found myself permanently made a member of the boys' choir."

Ben choked slightly, then hastily swallowed, at the image that conjured up. "Well, I, for one, am glad the t-trap missed!"

"That makes two of us," chuckled Quentin. "But I tell you what, Farmer O'Connor didn't see it that way. He frog marched me straight back to the church and told Father Hanlon that I aught to be punished for trespassing and perhaps costing him a lamb to the fox.

The good father, of course, told the farmer that I would be punished as he saw fit. I ended out only having to clean some in the parochial house, which was part of my chores anyway, for trespassing. As far as the sabotaging of the fox traps, that went unpunished. He most likely would have done the same thing at my age."

"He would?" asked Ben, leaning forward slightly in his chair.

"Oh, aye, he taught me the most important lessons I ever learned. He would say things like `Quentin, lad, never act out of fear or anger because decisions made in fired up haste always turn out badly' or `You can't change the past, nor predict the future. The only actions that are worth anything are those of the present'. He also believed that nothing and no one deserves to suffer and so the thought of that fox, trapped by it's leg and waiting, mad with pain, possibly hours to die was something that neither of us could tolerate," Quentin said as he sat back a bit from the table staring down at his plate but not really seeing it.

There was a long silence which Ben finally broke, "He sound l-like a good man."

"One of the best."

"Do you miss him?"

"Every day," as Quentin said this his voice dropped again and another silence began. He could feel the younger man's steady gaze on him even though he was not saying a word. This was not the direction Quentin had wanted the evening to go in and soon shook out of his reverie and smiled at Ben. "All we have is now."

He watched as Ben swallowed convulsively and began to blush. He could see the war which still raged behind the younger man's eyes; the guilt mixed with lust and uncertainty. Then, his eyes were resolute and calm; a decision had been reached.

Ben stood slowly and crossed the short distance and straddled his lap so they were face to face. "I want you," came the simple statement punctuated with a soft kiss to his lips.

Quentin was taken a bit back by the sudden and brash move and winced a bit as Ben put pressure on the not yet healed wound on his leg, but he was not going to complain, "Are you sure? I mean just yesterday you."

"I thought you said that the only actions are those here and now. Yesterday seems very far away to me now. I am so tired of fighting all my yesterdays. I don't know how long our time together will be and just once I want to know what it feels like to have a lover." Ben kissed the older man's forehead and the bump on his nose, where it had been broken and badly healed.

"What about the dishes?" Quentin whispered and tried to capture Ben's mouth, but the smaller man evaded him and buried his face against his neck and began to tenderly nuzzle it.

"They can wait." He wondered how Ben could seem so calm at this moment when his own heart felt like it was going hammer straight through his chest.

"I am sorry to ask this again, but are you absolutely positive?"

Ben laughed against Quentin's neck, the small, warn puffs of air causing a wonderful frisson to travel down his long body, "I have never been more sure of anything in all my life."

Quentin wrapped his arms around the trim waist and pulled Ben fully to him. As soon as they made contact, even through the layers of fabric, he could feel that same warm current which seemed to travel between them. Ben tilted his head back up and their mouths met in a deep and hungry kiss, both of them pouring years of longing into every movement. He slid his arms more fully around the young man's waist and clung to him as if his life depended on it and Ben, in turn, brought his arms up and wrapped them around broad shoulders, the evidence of his arousal prodding into the older man's taught abdomen. "What about the dogs?" Quentin asked, breaking the kiss.

Ben laughed again, "You would have to reserve enough of your rational mind right now! I can't think at all. Let them back in from the yard and I will wait for you in my room." He got up from Quentin's lap and walked toward his room. Quentin hastened to let in the dogs and join him.

When he walked into Ben's room, he breath caught for a moment. The warm glow from the bedside lamp played against Ben. He had removed his glasses and necktie and the look he gave him had none of the frightened youth of not long ago. Before him now was an indescribably beautiful young man who looked so certain and self- assured. It was like Ben had left and was replaced by someone else, a confidant echo of a former self. Perhaps this is what he had looked like when he was still very young, before it all happened. Even as the thought came to him, Quentin pushed it back down. He would not lose his confidence now.

He shut the door and crossed the room to where Ben stood. He pulled the young man into a fierce embrace and started to almost devour the delectable mouth before him.

Ben's certain, but still very untutored, touches served to enflame him even more. He knew that, like kissing, he would become more practiced and confident at it all too soon. For now, it let Quentin know that he was the first that the young man had ever allowed himself to touch like this. He was still discovering new places and sensations. Quentin couldn't help but feel like he was being catalogued like a new book. For now the most important parts summarized and filed away for future reference. HE was quite sure though that no book felt the pleasure of being delicately manipulated by those slender and warm hands.

Quentin backed Ben toward the bed, stopping only when the backs of his companion's legs came into contact with it. He broke the kiss to make sure one last time. "Are you absolutely positive?"

"Yes! I am! Ask again and." came the panted, mock irate reply. Ben's eyes looked impossibly large with his pupils fully dilated. His mouth was red and starting to bruise and a flush had crept into his cheeks. He looked fully debauched already. Quentin decided he liked that look most of all. He lowered Ben onto the bed, face up, and started to undo the topmost buttons of his shirt.

"I want you to promise me that if anything I do makes you uncomfortable or at any time you feel less certain you want this, you will tell me to stop. There is no point of no return in this." As he'd been talking, he'd finished unbuttoning the shirt and slid his hand under it and started to caress the young man's taut nipple with the pad of his thumb.

"Yes! I promise" came the hissed reply. Quentin took this as a very good sign and pulled his hand back out from under the fabric and started to push the garment off its owner's shoulders. Ben raised himself slightly and allowed the shirt to be pushed down over his arms, exposing his chest to the older man's hungry gaze. Quentin looked at the well-defined but not overly muscled torso before him. Creamy and sparsely covered with hair, a taut abdomen and well- proportioned chest. He leaned down and licked in a deliciously slow circle around one of the peaked, rosy nipples, eliciting a gasp from the young man.

"You are so beautiful," he murmured against the young man's sternum as he used his tongue to paint a wet trail from the first nipple to its twin, which he bit lightly and then fastened his lips over and sucked. Hard. Ben howled and tried to grasp the older man's shoulders only to find the shirt still trapped beneath him had effectively bound his arms. Quentin finally released his prize and laved it lightly to soothe it. He undid the cuffs of the shirt and allowed the younger man to rise slightly while he finished removing it.

The two of them then moved so Ben's head rested on his pillows and Quentin could continue his exploration without the fear of one or both of them toppling off the bed entirely. He ran his fingers down the young man's flat abdomen lightly enough to causing him to gasp and start to squirm from the ticklish sensation. He watched Ben's expressive face try and convey many emotions at once. His eyes did not seem to be focussing in any one place anymore and his brow was creased in mock concentration. Ben still did not seem to be too certain what to do with his hands and had settled on running random patterns over Quentin's back and shoulders.

The older man caught one of the smaller more delicate hands in one of his own larger, calloused one and slowly manoeuvred it around to where his robe was still mostly folded closed. The lithe appendage slipped from his grasp and insinuated its way beneath the soft flannel. His mouth met Ben's in another soul-searing kiss just before the young man's fingertips found their goal and a moan escaped from deep within his chest.

He felt his nipple harden and peak under Ben's light caress. Encouraged by the older man's sounds of pleasure at the touch, Ben became more firm in the exploration, fondling and manipulating the hard numb with deft fingers and listening to the wonderful sounds this was eliciting.

Quentin used this opportunity to let his hand wander back down his companion's torso and, with practiced ease, undid the belt and button of the young man's trousers. Ben bucked suddenly and his eyes went impossibly wide as Quentin reached into the loosened waistband and wrapped his hand around his already rock-hard erection.

Ben flattened himself to the bed and squeezed his eyes tight shut, seemingly unable to move as Quentin pumped the turgid flesh in a lazy rhythm. "What do you want me to do now?" Quentin asked, looking into Ben's face and watching it contort into a mask of fierce pleasure and lust. Ben could so no more than articulate a small grunt in response. If he was not careful, it would all be over too soon.

"Well then, I could do this," the older man continued in a light and teasing tone, but in a swift movement he was kneeling by Ben's feet and had somehow managed to yank the young man's trouser and underwear down on his journey, pulled them off fully and dropped them onto the floor. He removed Ben's socks one by one and then lifted one foot so he could place a whiskery kiss against a ticklish instep, causing Ben to squirm again and to giggle a little. Quentin raked his eyes up the prepossessing form lying in the bed before him. Ben was even more captivating than could be imagined.

His limbs were long and slender, creamy skin was dusted lightly with freckles and out of the rust-coloured hair at his groin, his large sex curved up toward his belly. Quentin swallowed against his suddenly dry throat and felt the throb of his own erection become a little sharper. He took off the bathrobe he had borrowed.

As the material slipped from him, he felt slightly ashamed to be bared next to this living marble sculpture. What did Ben see when he looked at him? The hardness of his life was permanently painted into the very pores of his skin, but one look into Ben's eyes told him he was very wrong. With his glasses off, Ben was seeing mostly the memory of Quentin asleep on the couch. His wild Celt warrior. His Irish King.

Ben sat up and pushed himself forward, his legs splayed on either side of Quentin's knees. Both of them hissed when for the first time skin met skin and the electrical current sprang to new and demanding life. Ben ran a hand down Quentin's hard chest and flat abdomen. Quentin felt tiny explosions go off in his mind as Ben leaned in and ran his tongue over the knot work tattoo adorning his chest and bringing his hard member in contact with the younger man. The knowledge that this was the painfully shy librarian who was right now tracing light patterns over the flesh and ink with his tongue and having his belly painted with a sticky trail of the older man's precum, caused him to throw his head back and gasp.

Ben's hand continued its journey down, missing the weeping erection pressed up against him and sliding sinuously down Quentin's thigh instead. He pulled back and frowned slightly when his fingers touched the bandage still wrapped there. "Does it hurt?"

"A little, but I have had worse," Quentin gasped.

He pushed the young man back down flat to the bed and moved so his head was only inches away from Ben's phallus. Slowly he took the swollen head into his mouth and ran his tongue up to press hard at the extremely sensitive spot just below it. He watched as Ben gasped and moaned and tried very hard to keep still and not buck up into the hot, wet sensation. He tasted the salt and musk of the other man's arousal, but there was something else there, something uniquely Ben.

Quentin worked more of Ben's heated length into his mouth and slowly started to bob his head working the swollen shaft in and out. If he thought the connection had been electric before, it was now practically overpowering. He could almost feel Ben's thoughts and sensations. He knew just when and how to press and caress the other man with his tongue to provoke the best reactions.

Ben's head thrashed wildly from side to side against the mattress and his moans became more impassioned and desperate. Too soon he was scrabbling for purchase on the older man's shoulders and pushed him off slightly. "It's too soon."

"What do you want, Ben? Tell me," Quentin murmured against his lover's hip.

"I want you to make love to me." It was a simple enough phrase, but if Quentin thought he was hard before, he was now almost in pain with the force of his own arousal.

"Are you really sure about that?" he asked, searching Ben's face for hesitancy.

"Yes, I am. But I don't h-have. anything so I guess we really can't." Ben's voice trailed off.

"Let me show you something," Quentin, offered as he climbed up behind the smaller man. He positioned Ben's body so he was almost rolled onto his stomach, his thighs were pressed close together and his buttocks were slightly raised. Quentin ran a hand down the young man's back and over the swell of his rear, causing him to moan slightly and stiffen at the sensation. Quentin then positioned himself and slid his length between the slender thighs. He felt the hairs at the tops of Ben's legs chaffing slightly but the perspiration slicked his way slightly. He pulled back and using his own hand and saliva, he coated his throbbing member for more lubrication. He slid back into place with more ease.

He started out with slow, long strokes between those thighs and when he heard Ben moan he quickened the pace a little. His erection rubbed wonderfully along the younger man's perineum and up to the underside of his scrotum. Quentin leaned forward and moulded himself to Ben's back. He saw the spot that he had marked earlier that morning and fastened his mouth over it, starting to suck on the already sensitive skin.

Ben was gasping and panting beneath him, but still had not told him to stop nor made any attempt to pull away. Quentin wrapped his hand around Ben's erection and started to pump it in time to his strokes. He knew this could not last too long, they were both so close. He wanted to draw it out as much as possible, but the wonderful friction of Ben's leg hair, bordering on pain, would soon rub him raw. Just being near the young man, even in this capacity, was intoxicating.

All too soon he felt the familiar tightening in his begin in his balls. His hips lost rhythm as blind animal need took over and he humped against Ben with frightening ferocity. Ben was gasping and moaning under him and moving his own hips in time to the wild bucking of Quentin's hips and the furious pumping of his fist. Quentin froze, as the entire world seemed to contract and then explode into a million different colours as he came between Ben's thighs. Just after, he felt Ben shudder and heard him let out a stifled wail as the burst of hot liquid erupted over Quentin's fist.

He pulled way from the young man just enough to help him turn around and get settled into his chest. They lay panting and entwined just sharing in that warmth when Ben said, "Please tell me that was real."

"It was. Very"

"Please tell me you'll still be here tomorrow and not vanish like some phantom lover."

"I'll be here. don't worry about that."

"Tell me everything is going to be okay."

"Everything will be fine. I." He almost said, "I love you" but stopped himself. No, he could not say that to the boy and then tie him forever emotionally like that. "I will never hurt you intentionally."

"Oh," came the soft reply and Quentin could swear that Ben sounded hurt. Soon his breathing evened out and Ben was asleep.

"It would not be fair to say things like that to him, give him false hope of a happily ever after," he thought to himself furiously. "How could you tell him something like that when you can't even tell him about the explosion in the mall your lover at the time had you framed for? The look of disappointment on Father Hanlon's face, the absolute shame when you decided to follow Mace here instead of turning yourself in and trusting that the truth would prevail? You can't even tell him about how you managed to get here and how you failed to save the only boy you ever loved as a son. Oh, Xan, I miss you. You are hurt by or hurt everyone you love and you can't tie Ben to you like that. He will find someone else in time. This is best." Quentin fell into a fitful sleep.

Later that night, Ben began to dream. Again, he and Quentin were in it, only they were in a place he could not even begin to recognize. They were dressed strangely. They were both tired. Quentin was fighting and again Ben could not move. He saw a streak of black and suddenly it felt like a white-hot poker had been shoved through his chest. He tried to call out to Quentin, but he saw the tall man slump to the ground. Suddenly he could move. Time must have passed. He was cradling Quentin in his lap and crying. Quentin touched his cheek and the light faded from his eyes. A small, cold voice said, "Is your ineptitude going to kill him again?"

"I have a bad feeling about this," Mace thought darkly, as he drew back the nicotine-and-age stained drapes in his room slightly to observe the two young men smoking out in the parking lot. From where he was he couldn't tell what was being said. That it was outside in the middle of a frigid and windy night told him whatever it was, they were afraid of being overheard.

It had been bad enough to form an alliance with the once rival gang, but bringing those two out to the motel with them had set off every warning signal in Mace's body. The changes in the hierarchy of the new gang were also none too subtle. While Yoda had never really listened to most of the counsel that Mace had given him over the years, preferring to stick to his own ideas unless he specifically asked for the opinions of others, he was now totally left out. As Keagan and that Maul creature spent hours holed up in Yoda's room discussing heaven knows what. The longer they were there, the more Mace knew he would have to find Jinn. He was pretty sure that if it had been just Keagan with them, he could have arranged for the kid to meet with a "freak accident" of some sort and then try and talk sense into Yoda. But with Maul there he knew he needed help. There really was something not quite right about that kid.

Mace could not decide what unnerved him most about the punk gang member. He had an obsession with weaponry, as anyone who was unfortunate enough to try and start a conversation found out as they were quickly, and in his deceptively soft and gravely voice, introduced to his own private arsenal of hand guns, knives, razors and such. Some of it, he would proudly tell them, he had remodelled himself for optimum efficiency.

He would manage to appear out of the shadows just in time to question anything outside of their routine, answer a question before it was asked or report to Yoda anything that seemed like dissention in the ranks; like he had been able to divine just what they had been thinking long before they could say anything about it or act on it. But the last thing to consider was the look in that kid's eyes; it was just plain murderous.

Killing, when necessary to protect the gang or enforce law, was one thing. He could not shake the feeling that this Maul would murder them all, Keagan included, if he was given half the chance. Those pale brown eyes, more amber coloured than anything, always gave Mace the unsettled feeling that he was staring directly into the pits of hell. The unnatural light behind them burned all the way to the back of your skull and left anyone who had every been fixed in one of his penetrating stares, feeling disoriented and not just a little violated.

Mace watched as Maul lifted the lit cigarette up to his mouth and inhaled. The young man stamped his feet a bit to stave off the cold of the December night air. He had been watching them every night to discern their habits. About an hour after everyone else had retired, they would go out for about half an hour to talk and then return to their room. Just once, and then they would not been seen until the next morning. Mace would watch for a while still and make positive they were well and truly inside for the night and then go off in his nightly search for Jinn.

He had been back and forth to the town he told Jinn about several times and still found no sign of him. It should have been difficult for anyone that large and conspicuous to just simply vanish, but he was very good at it when the need arose. Mace eavesdropped on conversations in bars, diners and doughnut shops hoping to glean even a little information that might lead him to his errant friend, but to no avail. He was almost desperate enough to start carrying a picture around and asking people, "Have you seen this man?" But he knew the likelihood was low. When Jinn did not want to be seen, he seemed to blend himself seamlessly into the crowd and vanish. Great if you are trying to outrun the authorities. Damn annoying if you're the one trying to find him.

Tonight he would try looking in some of the smaller towns that surrounded the main one, but he knew his only hope lay in Jinn making one critical error and giving himself away, and the chances of that happening were about as likely as a snowstorm in July, but he had to hold out hope. "Please, old friend, we need you."

When he was sure the coast was clear, he put on his helmet, he opened the door to his room and stepped out into the chill night air. He fought to not suck in his breath harshly as the icy wind stung his eyes through his open visor and his fingers stuck slightly to the outer doorknob of his room. He twisted the knob slightly so he could shut the door again as silently as possible. Once the door was shut he released the knob and furiously squeezed his one hand in the other trying to take the sting out as quickly as possible, while unleashing a list of expletives internally.

He crept passed the dark windows of the rooms where the Jedi lay in drunken slumber, blissfully unaware of the nocturnal activity. Mace's breath misted out the from of his helmet, causing small rivulets of condensation to catch on the front of the chin guard and run back down toward his chin. He pulled his jacket collar up to stave off the cold as best he could, but it was not made for being outdoors on such a night and so the wind still seemed to rip through him and flay the skin from his bones. One up side to this kind of weather, it was too cold to snow and so there would not be any unexplainable tire marks.

When he reached his bike, he bit down on his lip, grabbed it by its icy handlebars and slowly and carefully extracted it from the row of parked vehicles. He tired his best to keep one eye on the room that contained the two Sith for any signs of movement. When he was sure there was none, he wheeled the heavy machine out onto the road. He was extra careful to not make any noise going across the gravel parking lot but since December brought with it the fell temperatures, this was also made easier as the ground had turned into a frozen, unyielding plane.

He still wheeled the bike a distance away. While the wind was howling like a wounded beast through the treetops he was pretty sure that no one would have heard it start closer to the motel, but it was better safe than sorry. He kicked the engine to life and as he rode off into the darkness he said a silent prayer that tonight would be the night he found some hint of where Jinn might be. He was also completely unaware that he was being watched.

Maul and Keagan were barely breathing as they stood stock still watching the figure creep toward the bikes and then leave. Keagan said a silent prayer that tonight would be the night that Mace would either hear a clue to the whereabouts of Jinn or maybe even the man himself. Maul assured him when Mace knew he would be able to "feel it" and he had seen him do it too often to doubt it.

Keagan was a thinker, a planner, and a natural born leader. Maul was all kinetic energy and tended to act before he thought. His methods, for most instances, were simple and effective. See problem, destroy problem, problem solved. But this time, that sort of direct route would collapse everything.

He knew the fox was in hiding and it was best to let the hound flush it out before they sprang the trap. So, the less energy they expended now, the better. He had only agreed to this alliance with the dinosaur of a biker gang to seek his revenge on the man who killed his brother, and he would not allow any amount of over-arching enthusiasm for the hunt to derail him now.

After his goal was realised, he would most likely let the old troll and his pathetic band of followers go to hell, for all he cared. He might let Maul take out one or two, to slake his appetite for blood, but on the whole the Sith did not need this alliance and the Jedi posed no threat.

He watched Maul start to chafe at all this inaction; he knew that his companion was like a cork ready to burst. Still, he could not afford to lose Yoda's confidence quite yet and he still needed Mace to believe they knew nothing of his search for Jinn. But more and more Maul was starting to pace the room, muttering to himself. He was leashed for now, but the bonds might not hold much longer.

The shrill beeping of Maul's pager cut through the tense silence. His gaze slipped from Keagan to the small electronic device as he pulled it hastily from his belt and glanced at the message. He kept one eye on the other man and never fully broke eye contact. The black block text against the phospherescent screen said "No mistakes. No Jedi must survive."

"What is it?" hissed Keagan, taking a step forward, his eyes burning with challenge.

"It's nothing, the gang wants to know if everything is set yet," dismissed Maul with a shrug.

Keagan turned and faced the window again. Maul's face split into a wide grin and his eyes flashed in the semi darkness.

Ben hovered just below consciousness for an indeterminate length of time. He liked to remain in that twilight state for as long as possible, when he had the chance. Hi mind still processing the semi- dreamscape of his subconscious while being somewhat aware of the reality that lay beckoning.

He shifted further under the heavy blanket and sighed as he felt Quentin's even breathing tickling the short hairs on the back of his neck as he snored softly, spooned up, behind him. His mind sifted, leisurely, through the various moments of the night before, allowing him to relive them. He smiled to himself as the wonderful, tingly warmth began to infuse his body again. Slowly, the image started to change and he saw himself giving over fully to Quentin. He had no frame of reference to even begin to guess how that might feel, but he knew he wanted to know what it would be like to be taken and possessed by this man and in so doing, make Quentin belong to him.

"Heaven help me. I think I am in love with him," the lucid part of his mind thought. Then, unbidden, the image changed again and he was cradling Quentin as the life drained from him.

Ben's eyes snapped open and his face creased into a frown. That dream really shook him and it had felt so real. He felt his stomach turn into a roiling mass and an involuntary shudder run through his body.

"Your simply afraid you're going to lose him and that's the image your mind has chosen to manifest those fears," he told himself, but it didn't help to alleviate the horrible fluttery feeling in his chest. He shifted slightly under the weight of Quentin's loose, one- arm embrace and tried to regain some of the happy feeling he had been experiencing only moments before.

It was to no avail. Truth was that as wonderful as the previous night had been, he had no idea what the depth of emotion was on the older man's side. He knew Quentin liked him well enough, trusted him, and obviously desired him, but he didn't know if it was love. The pessimist in him told him caution was still a must in this relationship and chided him for giving away his heart to freely to a man who still kept many secrets from him; including the real circumstances surrounding their meeting.

The optimist then chimed in that Quentin had every right not to tell him everything and had proven himself time and time again to be trustworthy. When Ben had allowed him in his home he could have robbed him blind, raped or even killed him; and Ben would have been powerless against him. But he hadn't, and last night he had made love to him with a patience and passion that bordered on worship. Quentin knew everything about him and Ben's instinct was telling him that the other man would not be so cruel as to just use him, knowing how much it took out of Ben to just get this far. So there had to be affection there, but how deep did it run?

Ben sighed, shifted restlessly and decided it was time to get up. Lying here and running over every little thing with a fine-tooth comb was doing nothing more than giving him a headache and he was sure he was just over-analysing again. He gingerly extricated himself from under Quentin's arm, trying not to wake the sleeping man. He was not sure how much sleep the older man ever managed to get in his usual life, and he wanted to let him sleep on. Well that, and he also had to admit, he was not ready to face Quentin yet. Ben grabbed some clean clothes and quietly opened the door to his room, went out into the hall and closed it slowly and carefully behind him with a click.

Tavi and Nanuk met him in the hallway on his way to the bathroom. As soon as they had heard the bedroom door open and close they wandered out of the living room to greet him with playful whining and licking his hands. He stopped to scratch behind their ears momentarily, before slipping into the bathroom. Soon he found himself sitting in his kitchen, freshly showered and wearing loose black trousers and a grey t-shirt, feeling slightly at a loss as to what to do with himself besides brood. He stood up and put on his jacket and called softly to the dogs, who came bounding to the front door, wagging their tails and wiggling with barely restrained enthusiasm, as Ben attached the leashes to their collars. "Perhaps a walk would help," he thought.

He wasn't sure how or why, but he found himself walking toward downtown. The day was brisk and bright, but not cold, and it felt nice not to be chilled in just his jacket. Tavi and Nanuk always enjoyed the route into town. It gave them ample opportunity to check out the "interesting" scents left by the other neighbourhood dogs on electrical poles and such. They could patrol and see if any new squirrels or cats had moved in while they weren't being vigilant and give them a reason to bark as if to say "Watch out, there are dogs on patrol now!"

They could also greet all passers-by with yips and tail wagging. The people would, in turn, almost all say things like, "Hello, Tavi. Hi Nanuk. Taking your master out for a walk I see!" They would then get their answer in wide, tongue lolling puppy grins.

Also, heading into town meant that they might get to go to the park and, unlike their master; they had many dog friends there. They would most likely be wondering where they got to recently, and there was much important "dog business" to attend to such as remarking their territory.

All of this usually put Ben at ease, but today he trudged along behind his two best friends, lost in thought. He had figured the fresh air and exercise would help him to put away his anxiety but he found his thoughts were still conflicted and were not at all being cleared from his mind.

The town was now draped in red and green, glitter and gold; ready for the Christmas season. Ben took little notice of the whole scenario of the small shop displays featuring brightly wrapped boxes and gift ideas for those loved ones you were supposed surround yourself with at the holidays. Perhaps this year, he would not just be celebrating with just the dogs, the hopeful part of his mind tried again to cheer him.

He absent-mindedly pushed the door to the small men's store and hitched the dogs' leashes to the coat rack just inside the store. He started to browse through the shop looking at the comfortable, if somewhat conservative, clothing.

"I always say, it's a good thing you live in a small town and your pups are so well behaved, Benjamin," the bright, but quavering, voice of the old shopkeeper startled Ben slightly. He turned and looked at the old man, who always gave him the odd feeling he was looking at a cartoon character of an owl, with his glasses magnifying his eyes to twice their normal size, long pointed nose and bushy grey eyebrows.

"Yes, Mr Smits, I-I hope you d-don't mind," Ben smiled.

"No, no, not at all," Mr Smits said, shaking his head and waving his hands to dismiss the comment. "So then, young man, what can I get for you today?"

"Oh, I-I was thinking s-some new trousers," Ben said, holding up a pair he must have absently picked up.

"Well not those ones for sure!" the old man laughed. "They would be much too long for you."

Ben took a good look at the trousers he was holding. Lovely, casual, black and about the right size for Quentin. He groaned inwardly, he definitely had his tall companion on the brain. "Th-they're not for me. Th-they're for my house g-guest, who is staying for longer th- than was expected and c-came ill-prepared."

The excuse sounded lame even to him. Mr Smits only gave him a curious look and then set about helping Ben organise some clothing for his "ill-prepared house guest". Ben tried his best not to blush as he decided the best type of underwear would be the form-fitting shorts and imagined what those would look like on Quentin's well- sculpted thighs and rear. Not to mention other areas they would also manage to conceal and yet display nicely.

Leaving the store, he felt a bit better. Not from the shopping, but because he could hardly wait to see the look on Quentin's face when he found out he no longer had to wear the torn jeans and faded t- shirt. Also, Ben had bought himself one item that he thought Quentin might find intriguing.

He started back for home (the dogs giving him and plaintive look as they seemed to be forgoing the park) feeling much lighter than he had that morning. As he passed the pharmacy he thought, "Why not?" and went in, mission in mind.

He had tied the dogs outside the store before he went in, no way would he take the chance in there. The burly dark-haired pharmacist watched Ben enter and said nothing, just looked at him in that semi- hostile way that always gave the young man the impression he didn't like him much. Ben picked up one of the wire shopping baskets and started to wander the aisles.

He picked out some odds and ends, including a toothbrush for Quentin, feeling very much like a teenage boy trying to mask his ill-gotten purchase among the more innocent items. Finally he came across what he was in there for, but did not realize he was totally unprepared for what he saw.

The lubricant was easy enough, it being a pharmacy some of the more exotic brands were just simply not stocked. Ben picked one out, glanced around and surreptitiously dropped it into the wire basket. He then looked back at the dizzying array of condom types proudly displayed on the peg-board.

There were just the regular type, extra thin ones, large, extra- large, pre-lubricated (with or without spermicide), organic, bumped, spiked, ridged, ribbed and all in different colours (Although, he was not quite sure why anyone would want it to look green . or blue for that matter). There were condoms that glowed in the dark and still others with or without reservoir tip. The only ones he could completely rule out straight away were the femdoms, because those would just be rather redundant.

Ben stood, flabbergasted and blushing furiously, in front of the dizzying array of brightly coloured boxes that boasted new and improved, extra durability and extra sensitivity. Finally, he just grabbed a box and threw it into the basket (and hoped they weren't green) and went to the front of the store.

As the pharmacist punched his purchases into the cash register the cash register, Ben kept his gaze down as he could not keep from flushing bright red. He saw the man hesitate as he reached in and pulled the condoms and lubricant, but he said nothing. Ben paid for his purchases, grabbed the bag and practically fled the store.

Much to the dogs' relief, they did stop at the park long enough for them to reacquaint themselves with their friends and for Ben to throw a few snowballs for them to chase, before heading home. He entered, puffing, through the front door. He dropped his purchases on the floor and went to find Quentin.

He walked into the kitchen, the bedroom, knocked on and opened the bathroom door and even looked in the utility room. Quentin was not there. His heart started to hammer in his chest and he felt an icy prickle creep up his spine as he called, "Quentin, come see what I bought!" and there was no answer.

He took a look through the rooms again, hoping in vain that he had perhaps just somehow managed to miss him, but there was no sign. His heart was now managing to work its way into his throat, along with his stomach when he heard the back door open and close and the dogs start yipping.

Relief flooded him as he saw Quentin enter from the back yard, motor oil on his hands. He rushed over to the older man and pulled him into a rough embrace, his one arm pulling down on Quentin's neck so he could deliver a kiss.

"Well, hello to you too!" Quentin chuckled, breaking the kiss and trying his best to return the embrace without getting the oil on Ben.

"I thought you'd gone." the younger man breathed against the solid chest.

"Ah! I am not the one who stole out of here like a cheating lover first thing in the morning," came the teasing response.

"I went to town so I wouldn't wake you. Did some shopping while I was there. Come see!" Ben started to pull his companion toward the front room.

"Just a moment. Give a body half a minute to get cleaned up a bit."

Ben went into the front room and retrieved the clothing he bought Quentin out of the bag. When he turned to show him, he had expected many expressions, anger was not one of them.

"Bit big for you, aren't they?" Quentin asked coldly folding his arms imposingly across his chest.

"They're for you." Ben's face fell as he tried to explain.

"Did you not think, Ben? I am here because I don't want to be found! Going out and doing hare-brained things like that is most likely going to get us both killed! Did you even stop to give a second thought to what you breaking out of your normal routine would do? What kind of gossip it would create?" Quentin hollered, his fear making him angry.

"I-I just wanted t-to do something nice for you. I-I'm sorry." Ben said, feeling completely foolish and chastised. "I-I just thought after l-last night you might b-be staying because of me."

The ire left Quentin as quickly as it entered as the words sunk in, "Oh lad, I wish that these were different circumstances and I could stay for you. I am in trouble, a marked man you might say. I am in a position where I have to keeping running or die, do you understand?"

"No. No, I don't! I don't because you never told me anything! You must think I am some kind of fool. Thinking that perhaps you might just be falling in love with me. How naïve and stupid could I possibly be?" Ben said bitterly, trying to blink back the tears.

Quentin looked at the trembling figure before him and mentally berated himself for his overly hasty, harsh words and for being so heartless. "Ben, I think it's time that you knew everything," he said and told him about the circumstances around him leading Ireland, the Jedi, Yoda, Mace and finally about Xanatos and the fallout after that.

Ben listened with a neutral expression on his face as the story came to a close. "So you see, lad, my feelings for you aside, I can never be who you want me to be. I will understand if you want me to go."

"Say it," Ben whispered with a venom neither of them knew he could posses.

"Say what?"

"Tell me."

"Tell you what?"

"Tell me you don't love me."

"I can't do that, because I do. I love you more than anyone I have ever known."

Ben crossed the distance to Quentin and pulled him into a fierce kiss. "That was for finally telling me the truth." Then he pulled back and slapped him as hard as he could. "And that was for it taking you so long to do it."

Quentin nearly laughed, "So you want me to stay then?"

"Forever, if possible," Ben said as he relaxed back into the embrace and rested his head against Quentin's chest.

"The Jedi may have other ideas," the ex-biker said in reasonable tones.

"They'll have to come through me!" Ben said firmly.

"You would not be any match."

"Then you will have to teach me!"

"Ben, do you really understand yourself involved in?" Quentin asked with hesitancy

"Probably not, but I love you."

"You, one way or another, are going to be the death of me!" Quentin laughed and kissed his young lover's forehead.

"Don't even joke about that! But if you got that upset about some trousers and shirts, then you will really hate what I bought at the pharmacy," Ben said as he looked up and received and gentle kiss on his nose.

Quentin heaved a long sigh. "If it is what I think it is, at least I will go happy."