Summary: In which our heros discover why 'heal' is an action
verb, Qui-Gon gets vexed and Obi-Wan makes a small
appropriation.
Disclaimers: Not mine, no money. Please don't hurt me.
Notes: Thanks to Rauhnee for the betas. Even more thanks to
Beldthora Serpentsdottir for pointing out that there were 2
stories missing from the series. Here's the second one. And
never mind that when y'all asked for h/c 'this isn't what you
meant.'
// Qui-Gon's telepathy //
** Obi-Wan's telepathy **
* thoughts *
The infirmary was a cool cocoon of silence. Obi-Wan embraced
that silence during the long process of having his chest and
ribs wrapped. Corubia was careful, but made sure the bandages
were tight enough to do some good. She stepped back to admire
her handiwork before spraying the whole thing with plaswebbing.
The web was warm and soothing to the abused flesh beneath.
Qui-Gon fussed over Anikin for a few minutes before coming to
check on Obi-Wan. "Do you understand what happened in there?"
"No, Master."
"I had to let go of the emotion. I had to separate us, so that
we would not be destroyed. It was the only way to bring us
back."
"You forgot to bring me back, you know." Obi-Wan hid behind a
quirk of a smile.
"It has been so long ... it was a reflex for me, Padawan. You
must understand, I did not intentionally leave you behind."
Qui-Gon looked into Obi-Wan's eyes, searching for
understanding.
"Yes, Master."
"You did very well. Exactly as if you had been trained for it,
in fact. You were in a situation that should not have been and
brought yourself out in one piece. This is an extraordinary
accomplishment. You were more than equal to the danger you
found yourself in." Qui-Gon's voice was soft, slow, as if he
were weighing each word.
"I will try to be more careful next time." Obi-Wan felt certain
that he could handle the situation much better, now that he'd
tried it once.
"What you did, Padawan, was very well planned and executed. You
have learned your lessons well." Qui-Gon said these words with
all the conviction he could muster. He held Obi-Wan's gaze, a
shadow of dark emotion in his eyes.
Obi-Wan glanced at J'kata for confirmation that he had carried
out the operation according to plan. A nod from the
green-striped medic let him believe the words he was hearing.
"Yes, Master."
Qui-Gon's voice took on a sharp edge. "You do believe me, don't
you?"
"Yes, Master." That question certainly caught Obi-Wan by
surprise.
The walk back to Obi-Wan's quarters was long and painful. Every
step, every breath reminded Obi-Wan that he had not done as
well as everyone was trying to convince him he had. If
everything had gone well, no one would have gotten hurt. He
wasn't upset that he had been hurt, as much as he knew that it
was just luck that he had only hurt himself. Any more careless
and it would be Qui-Gon shuffling along like this. The thought
of Qui-Gon being injured by his negligence sent a shiver down
Obi-Wan's spine. Corubia insisted on helping him. Obi-Wan would
have preferred to struggle on his own. Anything would have been
better than Qui-Gon's dark gaze.
They settled Obi-Wan onto his bed and Corubia lost no time in
escaping the tension between Master and Padawan. Qui-Gon looked
the room over. Everything was neatly in place, but somehow
Obi-Wan wished he'd had time to clean things up a bit. Qui-Gon
rarely came to his quarters and he was ashamed that he didn't
have a better space to show him.
"Did you want something?" Qui-Gon asked.
Obi-Wan tried to think of anything. No, he wasn't hungry,
although lunch time was long past. What could his master be
expecting from him? He heard himself saying "Yes, Master. As
soon as I've healed I'd like to begin working on the R'Antha.
If it pleases you, Master."
Qui-Gon was clearly surprised. Obi-Wan was fairly surprised
himself.
"Well, of course. As soon as you feel well enough. May I ask
why you wish to learn it?" Qui-Gon's voice was even, calm.
"No knowledge is useless unless you do not possess it." That
was a fact Qui-Gon had spent a great deal of time teaching his
Padawan. The morning's activities had brought the point home.
Qui-Gon smiled at that. "As soon as you're healed up, then. Get
some rest. It's the best thing for you right now."
"Yes, Master."
Qui-Gon was trimming his beard when the first tendrils of
warning came to him. He dropped his scissors and took a
defensive posture before he even registered it consciously. A
moment passed, then echoes of pain hit him in the abdomen, like
coals inside his belly. //Obi-Wan!//
**Master!**
And the call cut off. In that same instant the pain ceased.
Qui-Gon was on his feet and out the door, yanking his robe on
over his pajamas. He ran, barefoot, hair loose, beard unevenly
trimmed down several flights of stairs, into the north wing, to
the miserable little room Obi-Wan called home. Even in his best
days, he couldn't have covered the complex in less than ten
minutes. At this stage, it felt as though took considerably
longer. He thumbed the lock on the door and stopped cold as it
slid back.
Obi-Wan was as still as a statue, fists gripping the sheets,
mouth a thin, hard line of pain. His eyes were shut tight, but
he might as well have been writhing and howling his pain. The
shields he had erected around his mind stood not chance one
against his master at this point. Then a long jag of wet coughs
racked his body.
//Obi-Wan, what's wrong?//
**I'm sorry, Master. Oh, skies above, I'm sorry. It hurts so
bad, please make it stop!** Obi-Wan turned towards his master
and coughed a mouthful of blood on the floor.
//Shh, shh. Just hang on.// Qui-Gon scooped the boy up in his
arms and was out the door, headed back to the infirmary. *Why
didn't I make him stay there in the first place?* Qui-Gon
mentally berated himself as he pounded back down the hallway.
**Master? What's happening?**
Qui-Gon made sure none of his anxiety leaked through the
connection with his Padawan. //I'm taking you to the medics.//
**Oh.**
This seemed to alarm Obi-Wan for some reason, but he did not
question his master's decision. He remained silent, retreating
from the pain of being carried, jostled, hauled down stairs and
through corridors.
//Red sky at night.//
**What?**
//You know what. You need to stay with me, Obi-Wan. I don't
know what's happening to you and I don't want you to lose
consciousness. Red sky at night.//
**Sailor's delight.**
//Red sky in the morning.//
**Sailor take warning.**
For the long, long minutes it took to get Obi-Wan to the
infirmary, they traded their code phrases back and forth.
Obi-Wan did not stop coughing. Qui-Gon had fallen into their
rhythm, letting the impromptu litany hold Obi-Wan's attention.
To himself he wondered if it was too late to take up prayer as
it settled on his consciousness that the right side of his
tunic was covered in Obi-Wan's blood.
Qui-Gon knew he was very lucky, as Masters went. Obi-Wan was
rarely ill, not prone to accidents, was usually in the best of
health. He also had a very high pain threshold and an amazing
amount of discipline when it came to simply ignoring pain.
Qui-Gon wondered how long his Padawan had lain there in that
little bed, feeling the agony build to the point that he could
no longer stand against it. How much pain had he been in when
Qui-Gon left him there alone?
The infirmary doors slid open, and J'kata was standing there
waiting. "First door on your left," came the curt order.
Qui-Gon obeyed, laying his precious cargo on the bed. "How did
you know?"
"Master Jinn, it is a difficult thing for you to carry a
bleeding Padawan through the halls of the Temple without
someone taking notice, even at this hour. We got a call on the
comm link that you were on your way. Now, please, let me do my
work." J'kata pushed Qui-Gon aside.
"What can I do to help?"
"Talk to him, keep him focused while we find out what the hell
happened."
//Obi-Wan, what happened? Is it like before, when you fell from
the Spire?//
"No, Master. It hurts in my chest and shoulders." Obi-Wan
started coughing again. **I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to
disturb you. I tried to keep quiet, to hold on. That damn
bond!**
//Obi-Wan!//
**I mean it! If it wasn't for this damn bond, you wouldn't have
to be here right now!**
Qui-Gon resisted the urge to slap some sense into his
apprentice. //It is my duty to take care of you, Obi-Wan.
What's more, I would much rather be here than lose you for want
of a little care. Why didn't you call me?//
Obi-Wan just turned his face away. The healers had cut the
wrapping away and were going over his body quite carefully.
Someone stuck a painkiller patch behind Obi-Wan's ear. After a
moment, the strain of agony faded.
"Internal bleeding. Lots of it. It's already in his lungs.
We're gonna have to chest tube him." J'kata sounded normal,
orderly, prepared. "Qui-Gon, this is going to get ugly pretty
fast. You might want to step outside."
"What's going on? What are you going to do to him?"
"He's bleeding internally, too much and too fast. It's in his
lungs and he's drowning in it. We have to drain it off now. Is
that line of whole blood in?" Someone confirmed that it was.
"To put it bluntly, we're gonna stick tubes in there to drain
the blood. This is not an elegant procedure, so if you don't
want to see it, get out now. Gloves!"
Qui-Gon glanced over at a tray where two thick, pointed tubes
lay ready to be used. His gorge rose and he fought a brief
battle to keep his dinner down. Once his insides settled, he
turned back to Obi-Wan. His Padawan's face was streaked with
blood, but he remained focused. "Look at me. Just watch my eyes
and don't look at anything else." Qui-Gon put every bit of his
skill with the Force behind the words. "J'kata, should I put
him to sleep?"
"Hell no! Ready?" The team of healers and medical techs called
ready.
Qui-Gon kissed Obi-Wan on the cheek and took his hands. "Just
stay here. Nothing but me, okay? I'm sorry I didn't think to
bring Dauhge."
"Remember next time, okay?" Obi-Wan tried to smile, to soothe
the dark look from his master's eyes. His mouth was a vivid
scarlet, his teeth were pink.
Qui-Gon felt the tears start the second Obi-Wan's eyes rolled
back into his head. Something warm hit his arm, but he didn't
dare turn to look. His heart tore as he forced Obi-Wan back to
consciousness. "Stay with me, Padawan. Come on, look at me." He
held Obi-Wan's arms down to keep him from trying to defend
himself.
"Fuck, that hurts way too much," Obi-Wan sounded weary. Qui-Gon
held him tight.
"One more, Koateleu. Just one more. I'm so sorry, Obi-Wan."
"I'm okay, Master."
Qui-Gon thought his heart would break. Obi-Wan was so brave,
trying so hard to keep the shields up around his end of the
link to protect Qui-Gon from the pain. "Just let it go. Let me
help you, please."
"I'm fine, I swear, I'm just fine."
Qui-Gon was very slightly alarmed at how well his Padawan lied.
"Okay, one more!"
Obi-Wan gripped Qui-Gon's forearms, tried to relax his body to
take the pain. It was futile. The push wasn't so bad, but the
tube bumped up against his lung before it found the proper path
into his body. A hissing scream escaped him, but he kept his
eyes on Qui-Gon as he'd been ordered to. Surely there was a
reason, surely pain like this couldn't be totally meaningless.
"Okay, they're done. It's okay, now. Tell me what you want."
"Benburi."
"What?" Qui-Gon couldn't believe it.
**I know you can't make it stop hurting, but this morning I
promised myself a big bowl of benburi if I got myself back
alive. I want it.** Obi-Wan was perfectly serious. Through the
haze of pain he had focused on this one thing.
Qui-Gon smiled, "As soon as J'kata says it's okay. I swear.
I'll feed it to you myself. Just hang on, Obi-Wan."
Qui-Gon held his Padawan's attention while the healers did
arcane and despicable things to his young body. After a time,
when they had a handle on what was happening, he was able to
lend some assistance to them. Obi-Wan was bleeding from his
liver, which had been punctured by a rib. Once the cause was
discovered, the healers went to the root of the problem. When
they were sure the danger was passed, they gave Qui-Gon leave
to send Obi-Wan to sleep. He did so, feeling that all his years
of training and hard work were worth it, to be able to send his
Padawan safely away from the pain.
Once Obi-Wan was asleep, Qui-Gon took a long moment to wash the
blood off his pale face. With no small amount of wonder, he
realized there were no tears there except his own.
J'kata tugged Qui-Gon away from the bed. "He'll be asleep for a
little while, right?"
Qui-Gon nodded dumbly.
"Good. Go get a bath, get dressed. We're going to move him out
of here so he doesn't see all this when he wakes up. He'll like
the look of you better if you don't have his blood all over
you."
Qui-Gon looked around the small room. Red was everywhere, the
walls, the floor, soaking the sheets of the bed, on every
healer. Obi-Wan probably had more blood on him than in him at
this point, although the medics were replacing it as swiftly as
they could.
Qui-Gon looked down at himself. He'd been in the direct line of
fire, as it were, and he did indeed have a large amount of
blood on him. Especially his bare feet. He struggled to get
himself together, centered, calm, serene. He needed a shower,
and a huge bowl of benburi. He needed to change clothes. There
was no reason to be so frightened, so he just let it all go.
"He'll be all right, won't he?"
"Do what you need to. He'll be fine. You need to get some rest,
too." J'kata turned away from Qui-Gon, going back to tending
Obi-Wan.
Qui-Gon left the infirmary in a state of numbness.
*Clothes. Shower. Benburi. Don't forget that last one.*
Upon entering his chambers, Qui-Gon suddenly realized how tired
he was. The crono told him the hour and it was an unspeakable
one. Obi-Wan would be asleep for long hours yet while the
healing process took over his available resources. Showered and
in clean pajamas, Qui-Gon lay himself down for a couple hours
of much needed rest.
He awoke, much rested but not refreshed. There were things to
do. He decided Obi-Wan might find it amusing if he showed up
with Dauhge, so he went to Obi-Wan's room to fetch the turtle.
He had transferred the pet to his smaller bowl when he noticed
the state of Obi-Wan's bed. The pillow and sheets were smeared
with blood and there was a small puddle of it on the floor. *Oh
skies above.*
It only took a few moments to strip the bed and put down new
linen. Qui-Gon discovered that Obi-Wan owned only two sets of
sheets. Qui-Gon looked around the miserable little room,
thinking for the thousandth time that he should do something
about Obi-Wan's living conditions. He pushed the thought to the
back of his mind, collected Dauhge and locked the door behind
him.
One pit stop at a public catering unit later and he was ready
to see Obi-Wan.
Obi-Wan was awake, if groggy, when Qui-Gon entered his room. He
smiled when Qui-Gon sat Dauhge down on his bedside table. "You
remembered."
Qui-Gon belatedly remembered his promise from the night before
and smiled sadly that his Padawan should remember his
experience so clearly. "I remembered this, too," he said,
gesturing with the bowl of benburi. "J'kata said it was okay to
try to eat something."
Obi-Wan reached for the treat, frowning when Qui-Gon held it
out of his reach. "As you may recall, I made a promise about
this, too."
"Oh, come on, Master. You can't be serious."
But Qui-Gon was. He settled in, feeding his exasperated
Padawan. After a few spoonfuls, Obi-Wan was too overcome by
benburi bliss to protest too much. For Qui-Gon's part, he was
just glad to have a Padawan to pamper. The tubes had been
removed and J'kata said Obi-Wan would be allowed to leave.
Recovery included bed rest and Qui-Gon intended to bring
Obi-Wan back to his more comfortable quarters where he could
take care of the injured young man.
They talked of this and that, but Obi-Wan soon drifted off.
Once he was deeply sleeping, Qui-Gon re-enforced the state and
called J'kata. The healer came in carrying a lightslate.
"There's something I want to show you." He was looking at
Obi-Wan's medical records.
"Did you find out what happened?"
"Absolutely. The exact same thing that happened the first time
he took that fall. Look, when he came in we treated him for a
broken rib and a punctured liver. That time we got it taken
care of fast enough to keep the complications of internal
bleeding from doing much damage. So, yes, the only thing he
healed on his own was a few bruises. This time, though ..."
J'kata gestured towards the sleeping Padawan.
He didn't have to explain. No one had checked Obi-Wan for
internal injuries yesterday, so things had gotten bad rather
quickly. "How long before he's in the clear?" Qui-Gon asked.
"Oh, he'll be fine now. Everything's under control and I trust
you aren't going to let him out of your sight for some time
now. You know how to get him back up to speed."
Qui-Gon nodded. He planned to spend the next couple of days
doing just that. One last check and the Padawan was released to
his master's care. Qui-Gon chose to carry him back, not wanting
to be further from Obi-Wan than necessary.
When Obi-Wan awoke it took him a long moment to recognize
Qui-Gon's rooms. It wasn't the spare room, where he sometimes
slept when training and lessons ran far into the night.
Qui-Gon's bed, then. "Master?"
"Oh, good. You're awake. Hungry?" Qui-Gon came in with a meat
pie and a tall glass of juice.
"You don't have to take care of me, Master. I'm fine," Obi-Wan
was quite embarrassed to have been so much trouble of late.
"I have direct orders from J'kata not to let you out of my
sight for at least two days. You've had a very bad injury, you
need looking after. You will lay there and take it. I will not
require that you like it, but you will rest, you will
recuperate. When you are well, we will begin the R'Antha, per
your request. Until then, I will look after you to my heart's
content and demonstrate the R'Antha until you can quote it from
memory. Understood?" Qui-Gon's tone brooked no argument.
"Yes, Master." What else could Obi-Wan say? Inwardly he made an
oath to perfect the R'Antha faster than any Padawan had before,
to make up for the problems he had caused his master.
Qui-Gon was true to his word. All day long, Obi-Wan's sum
activities included eating, sleeping and watching his master go
through the complicated first section of the R'Antha. It was
not a combat discipline, but a modified dance that had been
taught at the Temple for centuries. Many of its parts had been
further modified into true combat disciplines and it's
influence showed in every move of all those who had made a
serious study of it. Qui-Gon was one of those students.
The flow of cloth and body was mesmerizing. Obi-Wan recognized
the undulations, isolations and walks from balance and movement
exercises he already knew. But for the most part, he was amazed
by the way his master could move. He already knew the merits of
being able to move his chest three inches backwards, but what
in the hell was the point of ... well, he could think of uses
for that, too.
"Master, how long would it take to perform the whole R'Antha?"
Obi-Wan asked.
Qui-Gon paced back and forth across the room to cool down. "I
think the last time I did, it took about six hours. Maybe
longer. When done correctly, time becomes ... less meaningful."
Obi-Wan nodded. "Who was your partner?'
"Well, Master Windu was my partner, although if you ask him
he'd say he shouldn't have. I'm going to get a shower. Do you
need anything?"
Obi-Wan shook his head no and lay back to digest this
information. "Master, if the R'Antha influences so much of the
Jedi training, why doesn't anyone else know it?"
Qui-Gon laughed. "It's influence is not THAT great, Obi-Wan.
Besides, there aren't that many who have the time or interest
to learn something as impractical as a dance. I learned it
after ... I'm going to get that shower, Koatel. Are you sure
you don't need anything?"
"No, Master, I'm fine. Go bathe." Obi-Wan knew what his master
had started to say. He had learned the R'Antha after a certain
unspoken-about apprentice had done, well, the unspeakable.
Perhaps if Obi-Wan did really, really well, he could do
something to erase the memories associated with the dance.
By the time Qui-Gon was out of the shower, Obi-Wan had decided
he needed a wash, himself. They had given him a bath, sort of,
at the infirmary, but his skin still felt tacky from the blood
and sweat. He put his feet out of the bed and was leaning
forward when Qui-Gon shouted. "Back in bed, Padawan! I'll come
help you to the bath in a moment."
"How do you DO that?" Obi-Wan called, laying back down.
"The ways of the Force are many and wondrous, Padawan. Plus, I
saw you in the mirror." Qui-Gon came and helped Obi-Wan up.
With the stress of standing and breathing at the same time,
Obi-Wan was glad to have his master's strong arms around him.
His cheeks flushed with more than just exertion, but he could
tell his physical condition was far from ready to engage in any
of the interesting ideas that came to mind. Walking drove those
thoughts to the bottom of his priority list. "I forgot how
crappy it feels to be bruised from shoulder to hip," he said.
"It'll be gone by tomorrow night, I promise." Qui-Gon reassured
him.
"Goody. Then I can get sore practicing some ancient dance that
nobody knows anymore. How long does it usually take for a
Padawan to learn the R'Antha?" Obi-Wan felt grumpy and didn't
care who knew it.
Qui-Gon just looked at him.
"What?'
"Padawans are not taught the R'Antha. Not all of it anyway."
Qui-Gon explained.
"Why not?"
"Because, my dear Padawan, by the time you have lived long
enough to put enough free time into it, you will be at least a
Knight. I was a Master before I learned the final section."
Qui-Gon helped Obi-Wan under the spray. "Just stand there, I'll
do the rest."
"I think we've done this before," Obi-Wan chuckled, thinking of
the last time he was in Qui-Gon's shower. Was that really just
two days ago?
"I think this will be very slightly different. You won't end up
on your butt, for one thing." Qui-Gon was soaping Obi-Wan's
back. "Try to think ... boring thoughts."
Obi-Wan was having no trouble with that. Every muscle seemed to
be clamoring for attention and there were far too many of them.
"Please, Master, not so hard."
Qui-Gon eased up. "Keep your eyes closed, Koateleu. Just
relax." His touch was only as firm as it needed to be to get
the job done. "Turn."
Obi-Wan leaned back against the tile while Qui-Gon worked on
his chest and stomach. "Okay, gonna need some suggestions on
those boring thoughts, Master."
Low chuckle. "Don't worry. I'll take care of you, Obi-Wan. But
not yet."
Obi-Wan opened his eyes in time to watch his master deliver a
bop to the tip of his suddenly-interested cock. By natural
reaction, the erection receded. "Thanks. I think."
"Trust me, you'll mean that later. You'll be able to resist a
lot longer if the temptation isn't so ... obvious." Qui-Gon
chose this moment to look deep into Obi-Wan's eyes. Their
mouths met in a sweet, soft embrace that sparked the combined
emotion of the past two days. "I was so afraid I'd lose you.
Don't ever scare me like that again."
"You're not helping in the boring thoughts department, Master."
"You know what? Forget that. I'm a Jedi Master, damnit! If I
want to make love to you, there is a way!" Qui-Gon was
vigorously toweling Obi-Wan as he declared these words.
"Ooh, ow, ow! I'm not sure there is, Master."
"Obey and trust my judgment, Obi-Wan. And stop calling me
Master."
"Sorry, you can't have it both ways," Obi-Wan laughed. The walk
back to the bed was slow and achy. The laughing didn't help.
"You're probably right. But I want you! This is so
frustrating!" Qui-Gon thumped his pillow for good measure.
"We could, oh I don't know ..."
"If you suggest meditation, I'm going to bop you again."
"Actually, I was thinking we could kiss until we sucked each
other's lungs out."
"You are wise beyond your years, Padawan."
As it happened, Obi-Wan was in no condition to stay awake for
long. The make-out session, though short-lived, was as
passionate and intimate as such things can be. When Qui-Gon
realized he had a less than conscious partner, he pulled the
blankets over them both and snuggled in for sleep. *You'll be
well tomorrow night, Padawan. And when you are, look out.*
The next morning was spent in healing the last bruises and
aches from Obi-Wan's body. The process left both Master and
Apprentice tired but pleased with the results. They refreshed
themselves with a light lunch and made their way to the busy
workout rooms. Qui-Gon guided Obi-Wan through a warm up so slow
he nearly lost patience with his teacher.
"I'm not made of glass, Master. I was back doing full combat
training the day after I fell from the Spire, you know."
"Yes, Padawan, but last time you didn't spend the night with
tubes in your chest. Nor did you cough up blood all over
yourself, myself and half the healers in the Temple. A little
care is in order. Now, let us begin the R'Antha. Slowly."
Qui-Gon grinned slightly and took his place next to Obi-Wan.
They stood perfectly still, arms out, palms down. Qui-Gon
called the positions and steps, walking slowly through the
first section of the dance. When they reached the first rest,
Obi-Wan was shaking at the knee.
Qui-Gon took a deep breath, then said "Again."
And again. And again. Obi-Wan was beginning to see why it took
so long to learn the damned thing. They were only practicing
the first eighth of the first section. There were dozens of
sections. And again. Finally, a stop was called.
Qui-Gon turned to him, looked him up and down, then said "I
don't think we should try this today. Perhaps we should refine
your skills in one of the variations before we return to the
R'Antha."
"Nonsense."
They turned to find Master Mace Windu had been watching them.
"You saw it, Mace. I think I've found my student's hidden flaw.
The boy has no rhythm." Qui-Gon was blunt in his assessment.
"Again, nonsense. Obi-Wan, did you or did you not complete the
Stone Spiral in backrise step just three days ago?"
"Yes, Master Windu."
"I can train my own apprentice, Mace." Qui-Gon groused.
"Just, try it again, both of you. But listen to me, this time."
Mace sat on the floor and began a complicated series of claps
and pats on his legs.
"Oh, for ... Well, come on, Obi-Wan. The Council will not be
swayed." Qui-Gon took his place again. They were not yet using
the usual music, would not until Obi-Wan could walk through it
well enough to suit his master. The walk-through was plenty
challenging enough.
The first pattern was a series of crossing steps, right over
left, then slide the left out away from the body. Left over
right and slide. Then the more complicated downward movement,
shoulders, chest, belly, pelvis, then back to standing, curving
his body to an 'S'. This was further complicated by the fact
that his feet were not beneath him, but off-center. Each
movement must occur exactly at the same moment as his master's,
to exactly the same line and tension. His arms remained in
long, hopefully graceful arches, palms down, during the whole
movement. Another set of cross-steps, and a quick pop-pop of
shoulders, another cross step, both arms over the head. Then a
long, slow extension backwards, hands planted on the floor, one
foot rising, then the other, use the Force to arch up into a
full handstand, hold, then continue the line until his feet
touched the floor, rise slowly, arms making a crossover sweep,
then two cross steps back, stopping in the exact place he had
begun.
He looked to his left to see Qui-Gon smiling at him. "Point
conceded, Master Windu. He may learn to do it properly, yet."
"But much work will be needed. Much. Perhaps you were right to
think of starting him on a variation. For now. He was recently
injured, no?" Mace stood and dusted himself off.
"Yes, but he's healed now." Qui-Gon ran his hands down
Obi-Wan's ribcage, double-checking.
"Hmm. I leave you to it, then." And with that, he was gone.
Obi-Wan took his master's hands in his own. "Master, I think I
am a little more tired than I thought I would be."
"Let us cool down and get some dinner, then," Qui-Gon decided.
The meal was a quiet one, shared in Qui-Gon's quarters.
Afterwards, Qui-Gon wanted to double check Obi-Wan's healing.
Obi-Wan obediently pulled his shirts off and waited while his
master went over him and inch at a time. No soreness, no wounds
to evidence the near-death experience, just two short pink
lines of scar on his ribcage to remind him of the occurrence.
When Qui-Gon was satisfied that the healing had gone according
to plan, he planted a kiss on each scar.
Obi-Wan shivered, feeling his nipples pucker to hard pink
stones. A soft moan escaped his lips.
"Feeling better tonight?"
"Yes, Master."
"Good. I want you, Koateleu, but I won't do anything to hurt
you." Qui-Gon took Obi-Wan's hand and tugged him towards the
bed they had so chastely shared the night before.
"You could not hurt me, Master." Obi-Wan followed willingly and
allowed Qui-Gon to tumble him onto the pillows.
"Let me see it in your mind. Let me see the thought ..."
Qui-Gon reached for his Padawan's mind.
"Ah, no, Master. That I cannot do. The thought is too fair and
brittle to stand the light of your gaze," Obi-Wan strengthened
his shields.
Qui-Gon retreated, "is your head so full of fair thoughts?"
"Yes, Master. All of them on you."
"And if I were to look on them, would it be possible to destroy
them?" Qui-Gon leaned forward, tracing a long line of kisses
across his brow.
"It is a sin to slay a fair thought," Obi-Wan hedged.
"I did not ask if it was a sin. I asked if it was possible, "
Qui-Gon tugged gently on Obi-Wan's braid.
"No more questions." They joined their mouths in a passionate
embrace, channeling all the emotion they felt in the exchange
of touch and taste.
Qui-Gon rolled back, pulling Obi-Wan on top of him. "Too many
clothes," he rasped.
Obi-Wan began pulling their tunics off, throwing them over the
side of the bed when they finally came free. He made short work
of his own pants, then knelt to the side to remove Qui-Gon's.
His master was more than ready, wanting him. Obi-Wan leaned
over, kissing hot sucking tastes of Qui-Gon's chest, tormenting
the hard nipples with teeth and tongue. Qui-Gon stroked and
petted the short, soft hair, encouraging the strong attention.
Obi-Wan continued his exploration down Qui-Gon's abdomen,
tasting the musky planes of hard muscle and soft, soft skin. He
paused to dip his tongue into his navel, surprised at how
sensitive it was. Qui-Gon gasped and arched into that kiss,
lifting himself almost completely off the bed. Obi-Wan plied
his partner with a long teasing taste before turning to the
straining cock before him. He ran his fingers up and down the
shaft, smoothing it's moisture from tip to base. Obi-Wan cupped
the soft flesh of Qui-Gon's scrotum, tracing them with his
thumbnail, memorizing their weight and texture.
Obi-Wan stretched out on the bed, resting his cheek against
Qui-Gon's belly. He kissed the tip of the cock and felt
Qui-Gon's breath catch. Drawing the tip into his mouth, Obi-Wan
listened to the hitch and resume of Qui-Gon's respiration. With
careful breathing of his own, Obi-Wan licked the next inch of
cock, then swallowed it carefully. And again, slowly
progressing until his nose rested against Qui-Gon's balls and
his cock was firmly seated in Obi-Wan's throat. He closed his
eyes, concentrated on his breathing and scooped the balls up in
his right hand. Gently he caressed them, preparing the body for
a jolt of sensation. Then with all the control he possessed, he
rippled the muscles in his throat.
Qui-Gon arched up hard this time, jerking under the unexpected
squeeze and stroke. Now Obi-Wan began sucking in earnest,
smoothly gliding over the length of cock. The taste and smell
merged on his senses, collided with the feel of the hard flesh
within him, imprinting a memory that was totally Qui-Gon. He
held his breath for an impossibly long time, using every scrap
of Jedi training to pleasure his master. Tears streamed down
his cheeks in reaction to the stimulation to the throat and
sinuses. Obi-Wan sincerely hoped Qui-Gon would not think them
tears of pain. He managed to draw a breath before plunging back
down, sucking, licking, pulling and squeezing, trying to pour
every pleasure his mouth could provide into the long, deep
embrace.
Then Qui-Gon's hands were pulling Obi-Wan up, back atop the
lean frame, pulling him tight, taking a sweet, soft kiss from
the swollen lips. "Take me, Obi-Wan. I want you to."
"Yes, Qui-Gon, I will," Obi-Wan whispered, grazing his teeth
along Qui-Gon's ear. Obi-Wan reached around to undo the tie
that held the hair back, was surprised to find a thin brown
ribbon instead of the leather thong. "What's this?"
"I don't know why I did that. Today just seemed to want it."
Qui-Gon took the ribbon from him, placed it on the bedside
table and brought back a jar of cream. "Take me, Obi-Wan. Let
us share this perfect moment."
Obi-Wan nodded, taking the jar. He rolled onto his back and
prepared his own cock, knew Qui-Gon was watching as Obi-Wan's
fingers smoothed the cream into his own skin. "How do you want
to do this?"
The elder Jedi turned over onto his belly. "Like this. I want
to feel all of you inside me, Koatel."
"Everything I can give you," Obi-Wan promised. He parted the
muscular buttocks and placed a long, openmouthed kiss on the
puckered opening, laving it delicately, introducing his touch
in this most gentle of ways. He replaced his tongue with one
slick finger, crooning, "Relax, I won't hurt you. Just relax,
let me love you."
Qui-Gon did relax, opening himself fully to the sensation. It
had been so long since he had wanted this with anyone. He
intended to enjoy every moment of it. Obi-Wan soon added
another finger, not so much to stretch the passage, as to
enhance the sensation he gave. "Ready?"
"Yes, Obi-Wan. Please. I'll beg if you want me to, but please
don't make me." Qui-Gon's voice was thick, rasping in his
throat.
"No, no begging. Not to me. Never to me." Obi-Wan lay himself
down on top of his ready partner. "I can't reach you from
here."
"Don't worry. This is what I want, you on me and in me."
"Yes, Qui-Gon. " Obi-Wan pressed the tip of his cock gently,
steadily into the willing body beneath him. Qui-Gon opened to
him with calm readiness, moaning his pleasure into the pillows.
Obi-Wan slid his hands down Qui-Gon's arms, twining their
fingers together as he slid deep, completely into his partner.
Obi-Wan held still, waiting for their bodies to grow accustomed
to the sensation of being fused together in this temporary way.
He let thought go, let the moment enfold him and he began
thrusting, gasping his pleasure into Qui-Gon's hair. Qui-Gon
did not remain still under him, but pushed back wantonly,
hungrily, demanding. Their fingers dug into each other, until
white, bloodless imprints stood out against the skin. Obi-Wan
slid his knees down onto the bed, anchoring himself for
stronger thrusts. His skin was slick now with the sweat of
desire and exertion. His belly slapped loudly against the
hungry body as it arched up, pushed closer, wanting more
contact, more touch. Obi-Wan provided easily, kissing and
sucking along the muscular shoulders and back, moaning at the
flavor of lust he found there. The taste and feel, scent and
sight were almost overwhelming.
Then Qui-Gon lifted his face from the pillows, moaning,
"Obi-Wan, love me, please. I love you, Obi-Wan." That sound
pushed him over the edge, into the bliss, the deep and
unstoppable mind-blasting experience of orgasmic delight. He
felt the muscles convulse around him and knew Qui-Gon was
falling too, meteoric, into that hot, white light.
He lay still, gasping, feeling himself soften and slip free of
Qui-Gon's body. When he gained control of his breathing, he
spat the now-traditional lock of hair from his lips. Slowly, he
rolled away, maintaining contact with the skin as he did so.
"Enough?" he whispered.
"More than enough, Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon bestowed another
heartstopping kiss. He sighed once and closed his eyes,
slipping into the steady rhythm of sleep. Obi-Wan reached out
through the Force, making sure his master stayed that way. He
slipped off the bed, fetched a spare sheet and covered
Qui-Gon's sleeping body. Quickly, he slipped into his pants,
picked up the jar of cream from where it had fallen beside the
bed and put it back on the bedside table. His eyes fell on the
ribbon. He paused, considering.
*It's not stealing. It's not. He wouldn't mind, won't mind.
I'll ask him when he wakes up. I'll give it back if he says
to.*
Promise made, he picked the ribbon up, knelt down and knotted
it around his left ankle. No one would see it, so no one would
ask. Standing, he brushed one last kiss against Qui-Gon's
beard. He collected the rest of his clothes before setting out
for his own bed and sleep.
Archive 