Master Apprentice
Archive
Chastity
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Summary: Obi-Wan learns that Qui-Gon has a dangerous secret, but Qui-Gon is not willing to let go of the darkness in his clutches.
Angst. (Qui-Gon/other, Qui-Gon/Obi-Wan).
Rated R for copious sex.
George Lucas owns the universe and gets all the money for it. I get no money, but have a hell of a lot more fun with it than he does.
The talk on M&A about the lack of homophobia in the TPM fic got me thinking about an idea I've been nursing for a while. To heck with gender - I'm surprised there are no stories where Jedi go without sex altogether. It would seem a logical conclusion for George's sexless universe.
Anyway, I got tired of waiting for someone to write a story where Jedi are celibate. Wrote it myself.
A dignitary I befriended long ago on Alderaan once called the Jedi ascetics. I must admit, I'd never thought of our order that way. We simply... have no need. The Temple and the worlds we serve provide everything necessary to live, and though I have never owned food or a bed, I have never lacked for either. When you have a deep connection to the living Force, and every object in the galaxy sings to its own purpose, possessing seems crude. Meaningless. It could be said, perhaps, that I own my lightsaber, but I belong to it as much as it to me. We are partners, as my right hand is partnered to my left, as I am partnered to my Master.
I see the rest of the galaxy possessing emotions as they possess things, and I feel no loss for those, either. People treasure their feelings of greed and joy and pain as much as they treasure their trinkets, but I will gladly give all those emotions to the Force. As non-Jedi are empowered by what they gain, I am empowered by what I let go. I do not need to taste their lives to know whose power is greater.
And yes, even sex, which I know they all wonder about, though none would ever ask a Jedi such an impertinent question. But as we do not share their lifestyle, we do not share their hangups, and I have no shame in my chastity.
Padawans are chosen before puberty sets in, so that they might be guided by their Master. When my body first tempted to strange passions, my Master showed me how to channel the urges into the Force, just as I'd been taught to channel anger and fear. Serenity is not a thing to wear, like a cloak. It must rest at the core of a Jedi, and then the rest may flow past, unheeded.
My Master has a secret. One that even I am not supposed to share.
I was not long turned twenty one when I found out; we had been on a hellish mission to a city-planet where the corruption in the government echoed right through the thieving, scheming, remorseless population. The endless lies and the taint of Dark had worn us thin. Our return to Coruscant, as always, was by whatever transports were available, and we found ourselves staying overnight on a backwater planet.
I should have found it strange that we were roomed so far apart, especially when there was sufficient space in my quarters to share, but I didn't think to question it. I didn't think to find it unusual at all, until I went in search of his company and heard strange sounds from his room.
I could feel nothing through his shields, so I slipped inside. My Master was kneeling behind a woman, his hips curled around hers, their bodies naked and sweaty and burning in the gloom. The strange sounds I'd heard were coming from my Master, animal grunts issued from his chest and choked out his open mouth with every jerk of his hips.
A Padawan's naivety, that so many minutes passed before I realised that he was not just behind but *inside* this woman, pouring his lust into her body and receiving her own. I watched in slack-jawed shock as he paused in his thrusting, pulling her into his arms so that she sat in his lap, moaning while he squeezed her breasts and nipples, slobbering over her neck. One of his hands slid up her neck into the short tangle of her hair, levering her around to plunge his tongue into her mouth and she returned the gift. Sloppy, open-mouthed exchanges that could barely be called kisses, desirous and lustful.
Her eyes were closed, but my Master never blinked, devouring her with his gaze as he did with his mouth, his hands, his penis. She gasped: his hand was cupped over her sex, rolling like his hips, fingers disappearing inside her. She was whimpering, and he devoured that, too, pressing his hand deeper and pinching at her other nipple until her soft cries grew to a wail that went on and on.
Echoes lingered long after she grew quiet, and then he pushed her forward on her hands again and shoved brutally deep. She tossed her head, egging him on and he did it again, and again with a gutteral moan that seemed to turn him inside out, as all the forbidden emotions morphed across his face.
To this day, I don't know who she was. A friend, perhaps, trusted with his secret, or a whore who would be given a mental push to forget his identity. In either instance, it was a dangerous risk to take. Even beyond the risk to his own soul.
I hurried back to my own room, haunted by the image of my Master tangled up with that woman, a post-coital serenity spoiled by their heaving chests. It disturbed me.
It disturbed me, because as I left I discovered a problem I thought I'd long left behind, aching between my legs.
I fell through my door, straight to my knees in meditation, following through every exercise I'd been taught in my burgeoning adolescence, but for the first time in years I couldn't calm the urging of my body.
I let out a sigh and let my head slump, exhausted by the exercises and the railing of images in my mind. I would sweep away the memory of their feasting mouths, only for it to be replaced by his hand burrowing between her legs, and that replaced by the first sight of his body bent over hers, an expanse of glowing skin.
I could feel my heart beating in my penis, seeming to make the whole length tremble. I pressed my hand to my trousers to still the pulse and near-choked at the surge of sweeping heat through my groin and a weight in my throat that I couldn't swallow away.
Tentatively, I pulled my hand away and slipped it inside the waist of my pants, and then traced my finger lightly from the testicles to the head and I hardened, setting like permacrete. Blood vessels choked, muscles seizing, flesh swelling, the sweetest pleasure I'd ever felt in my life.
I drew my hand away, pulling long breaths. Lust has no place in the soul of a Jedi.
Lust has no place in the soul of my Master. What in Darkness was he doing?
I sparred with him the next day. His senses were off. Nowhere near enough to bring him to my level, and nothing that anyone else might have noticed. Perhaps even another Jedi might have missed the slight dissonance, but I knew. There was a disturbance in his Force.
I said nothing, and it was not the last incident. Many months later, when I found myself roomed an inordinate distance from my Master, I was quicker to suspicion. It was another world, and he'd found another partner, a man this time, who threw back his head and howled as my Master worked with his mouth between the stranger's legs.
I disappeared back to my room, and said nothing.
And it happened again, tonight. He is with someone now. I don't know who and will not spy, but as sure as the Force, his rhythm will be off tomorrow, disturbed by the lingering touch of Dark.
It is strange, how Darkness taints with a shadow so easily dismissed. I returned to my exercises that first night, and within a week had remastered my body, believed myself cleansed. But now I own a secret. The first thing I've ever owned in my life, clutched as greedily as the possessions of the people I have always pitied. My Master has a weakness, and I have treasured it.
It was a two day trip back to Coruscant, unremarkable as always but for the lingering disturbance in my Master's wake. We reported to the Council and then returned to our quarters for a meal.
When no other work pressed, the day we returned from a mission was traditionally my own to do with as I pleased, so Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow when, after cleaning the dishes away, I slipped to my knees in a meditation position to mirror his own. "May I speak with you, Master?"
"Of course."
"It's of a rather personal nature."
"You know you may share anything with me, Obi-Wan."
"Not personal to me. Personal to you."
That caught his attention, but he waited for me to continue.
"I wanted..." What? To counsel my Master, as though he was a straying Padawan? Perhaps teach him the exercises he'd taught me? I hadn't thought at all about what I would say, and his patient gaze only threw me into further disarray.
"Obi-Wan?"
"I saw you."
His brows drew close in confusion.
"Last year. I saw you having sex."
Fear widened his eyes; he seemed to reel and then he was on his feet but I beat him to the door and caught his shoulders.
"Master, I can help you."
"It is not your concern."
I let the anger flow past me. "You are always my concern. I know it happened again on Saban, and again this week just passed. I am worried for you."
Fear leads to anger, anger leads to fear until they become one and the same and my Master's lip curled in a snarl. "I have been surviving on my own for years, Padawan," the title spoken like an insult. He shoved past, out the door.
I didn't know what to do, so I let him go and waited, pottering about the quarters and meditating. Evening came; I prepared a meal and watched his plate grow cold, cleaned up and meditated some more.
It was late, long past the sleeping hour, when I finally heard the swish of the door, but he didn't seem surprised when I stepped into the main room, well-awake, to regard him. His gaze darted to the floor. "I offer an apology for losing my temper, Obi-Wan."
I nodded my acceptance, but no more. That was not important.
"I understand your concern, and I am grateful for your care. But I found my balance years before I met you, and am in no danger of falling to the Dark Side."
"You taught me that such urges should be given into the Force. Lust leads to-"
"I know the code, Obi-Wan." Voice tight, but not snapping.
"Please, Master. You are stronger than this." I crossed to him, and put a hand on his shoulder, imitating the touch he used when reassuring me. "You have been so strong for me, all these years. I can help you."
"I will try."
"We will succeed."
He met my gaze, accepting the peace I sent through our bond, and excused himself for bed.
He did not raise the matter again, and I accepted his silence. He knew I was available if he needed me, so there was no need to further tear at his dignity. As the months passed and he found no need to seek me out, I grew confident that the taint was behind us. My Master was serene, a picture of Jedi tranquillity, and our partnership was stronger than ever.
Almost a year passed, and then I heard him accepting two sets of quarters set well apart on a transport ship. Monitoring his reservations had become such a habit that I almost missed it, but I was beside him in an instant. "Steward, do either of those rooms have a second bed?"
"Both of them, sir."
"Then one room will be sufficient." I did not spare a glance for my Master until we were enclosed in our room.
He said nothing. If I wanted to chastise him, he would not assist by granting an opening, so he waited, face blank.
I bit my curt words back - I'd offered to help, not badger, so I gestured to the beds. "Would you care to meditate with me?"
He relaxed slightly, more resigned than calmed. "I cannot."
"It's worth a try, surely."
For a moment he looked ready to argue, but he stilled himself and sat cross-legged on the larger bed, waiting with a pointed look for me to join him. I sat on my bed and we closed our eyes, and I meditated. He did not.
So it went for three days. Mornings and evenings spent in meditation sessions, trying to channel my own serenity through the bond, sensing it slide past him. And then our ship made a stopover on Tulreen.
On that night he gave me a nudge into deeper sleep, which might have worked, had I not been awake and expecting such a trick. Even so, the deception hurt.
It spoke of his own distraction that I was able to fool him, and follow him out of the ship.
I tracked him to a tiny brothel, upstairs in a private room, pressing a man not much older than myself to the wall with devouring kisses. I watched from the doorway, unnoticed, his cloak in a pile at my feet, as the prostitute pulled my Master's tunic open and pressed a hand to his chest. Qui-Gon caught his hips and lifted him, guiding his legs around his waist and then burying a hand deep in the man's white hair to tilt back his head for a deeper kiss, his own untied mass of hair sweeping forward in a mock of privacy, as the man's hands groped at his back.
I stepped over the cloak, pushing my presence into the room, and my Master's head swung around, licking his swollen lips, and surprise pulsed in his bright eyes. A darker tint. "Do you want some, Obi-Wan?"
The prostitute looked between us, fearing some lover's spat, no doubt.
"No, I don't, and neither do you." I crossed to pull him away.
"Don't!" He shook his head at the hand I'd reached, fear vibrating around him. "Don't..."
"All right." I moved back to give him space, and he lowered the man gently to his feet. He produced a fistful of notes, enough to chase away the man's fear, and waved his other hand. "Forget."
The young man left, dazed, and we turned our attention to each other, politely ignoring the tenting of his trousers.
"I offered my help."
"You cannot help." He sounded weary, suddenly. "I don't need help. This is my way."
"Since when?" There was a tightening in his jaw, all the answer I needed, so I said it for him. "Xanatos."
"Must we have this discussion here?"
"It was private enough to risk a scandalous liaison with a whore."
He flinched. "I haven't been caught in sixteen years."
"That's hardly the issue. Master, this isn't a weak lightsaber swing. You are playing with the Dark Side." I picked up his cloak and held it open, staring stubbornly until he turned to let me dress him. "We will take this back to the ship. But you will talk to me."
Together we cleared the minds of all the witnesses, and I fell in behind him as we made our way back to the ship. The pace was sedate, even by my Master's standards, but I let him have the time to regain his centre.
Not another word was spoken until we were back on board, seated in our tunics on our beds, and then I prompted him, "It began with Xanatos."
"After Xanatos," he clarified. "I couldn't return to Coruscant, couldn't meditate, couldn't think, couldn't let go. I wandered in a haze for three months, the first travel I'd made alone in fourteen years." He sighed, a tiny smile playing at his lips. "I lost count of the worlds I passed through, keeping to myself until I found a tiny planet on the outer rim. It was quiet, so I lingered, and for the first time since Telos I came to befriend a local. It was far from the heart of the Republic; I doubt he'd ever seen a Jedi, and he certainly didn't recognise me as one."
"You fell in love with him." The thought chilled me. Jedi loved, but not like that. Not with a singular passion for a special one.
"No. But I cared for him. And one day he kissed me." My Master's eyes closed with the memory. "I let him, and it was the sweetest thing I'd ever known. It warmed away the solitude I'd found and brought me the peace I'd thought lost forever. I felt forgiven, from nothing more than his lips pulling at mine and his hands on my elbows." His eyes opened, slowly, piercing mine. "It saved me."
There was no arguing with his certainty. "Perhaps it did, but you must know it can't continue. Perhaps if you spoke to Master Yoda-"
"He wouldn't understand."
"*I* don't understand."
Qui-Gon swept over to sit beside me with a squeeze of my shoulder. "This may not be standard Jedi practice, Padawan, but it works for me. I don't want to give it up."
He was watching me, hopeful that I would see his point of view. He couldn't even see that there was a problem. I had to wonder what had been in his mind when he taught me the exercises to release my own lust.
*** Passion is vital for the rest of the galaxy,
Padawan, but as Jedi we must sacrifice desire.
Uncontrolled emotions risk the Dark Side. ***
Words I'd accepted without question, that he didn't believe himself. What was good for the Master it seemed, was not...
He was watching me still, waiting for me to accept his superior wisdom and keep my philosophies to myself. Perhaps I should. Instead I shoved him to the bed and kissed him, pressing my body against his with a little grind into his groin.
The effect was explosive: I was on my butt on the floor before I could even start to deepen the seduction.
"What in Sith are you doing, Obi-Wan?"
I picked myself up from the floor and approached slowly. "Better a discreet moment between two Jedi than a Republic-wide scandal when a Jedi Master is found naked in a pleasure house." I leaned in, and rested a hand on his thigh. "I am willing to trust your control, if you will share it with me."
Victory. He pushed my hand away, firmly. "This path is not for you."
I crowded in until my belly was in his face. "It is a good path or it isn't." With both hands I cupped his jaw, lifting his gaze. "I am the sum of the lessons I learn from you." Lips to his ear, voice from deep in my throat, "Teach me well, Master."
Time hung, and I began to worry that he would accept my offer, then his jaw tightened in my hands and he pushed me away. "You've made your point."
I stepped back and folded my arms in classic dignified Jedi pose. "You have always guided me well, and I am not a child anymore. I can support you."
Care softened his eyes, touched by my willingness, but sad. "You do not yet understand the nature of Darkness. What I have accepted has become part of who I am. You cannot wipe away my own shadow."
"Have you even tried it?"
He shook his head at my naivety, and I raised my chin defiantly.
"Perhaps it will not be so simple, but we are going to try, and if we cannot cure you, we will find another way, and another."
He closed his eyes, accepting the force of my determination, then nodded with affection and approval. "You are a fine Jedi, my student." I bowed, and he graced me with one of his rare smiles. "I would be honoured if you would meditate with me."
I smiled back and we settled down on my bed. He put himself into the effort, and we worked through the night, teasing away the dark lines in his mind until he was able to meditate on his own.
I barely noticed the cruiser setting down in the marsh in front of us, and even Master Qui-Gon seemed a little slow to react. The ramp lowered and we trudged on board, far too weary to appreciate the first dry ground under our feet in two months. Two months in the guerilla war-torn Perriter Swamps, trying not to be killed in the crossfire as we bickered with hostile locals in search of an abducted Queen.
Her body was found three star systems away, long dead; she'd been slain before we'd even left Coruscant on our wild chase. Almost a week had passed before anyone thought to tell us; another two days before our ship arrived.
It was the most difficult mission I'd ever been on, constantly in danger, living, eating and sleeping in the mud, never an ally to speak of. Learning the entire exercise had been pointless had tested even Qui-Gon's calm, and we hadn't spoken five words since.
The pilot took one look at us and gestured to our adjacent doors.
I spent hours in the fresher, scraping the mud from my body and clothes. The tunic and pants could be replaced when we returned to Coruscant, but they would have to do for the trip.
I wanted to dump everything in a pile and crawl into bed and never speak to anyone ever again. The pointless killing and maiming of innocents had been difficult to bear, and the sure knowledge that there was no end in sight or help we could offer had been a constant strain, but the silent tension with Qui-Gon was the worst. Both of us had been too weary to speak civilly, so we had stopped speaking altogether. Somehow, being annoyed at each other for no reason at all had seemed fitting.
I was leaning naked over the sink, despairing at my pale brown trousers when I heard a knock on our connecting door. My hands fisted. If he wanted to do a debriefing now, I would throw myself to the Dark Side with all the enthusiasm I could muster. "Come."
I didn't even bother to straighten when he entered, a towel slung around his waist. Annoyance narrowed his eyes at the small disrespect, but he didn't call me on it. Instead, he raised a comb. "When you are done with your washing, Padawan, if you could offer some assistance?"
"Of course." I stood, guiltily, and crossed to pluck the comb from his hand, then guided him towards the shower. "My pants can wait."
"It would be easier to simply cut it off."
"Don't do that." I took a closer look at the braid and winced. He'd had his hair in the usual style for a week before gave up and braided it back, tangles and all. "This must itch like crazy."
"I stopped noticing a month ago." He shucked off the towel and settled into the shower seat, adjusting the water as I began to work my way up from the bottom of the braid. The close contact and gently spoken words were such a relief that they tugged on the last of my strength, and I found my breath shaking. It took almost ten minutes to work the tie out of the bottom, an hour and copious amounts of softener before I could pull the comb from his scalp to the ends. He didn't move.
"I'm done."
He shifted, turning slightly further away. "Thank you, Obi-Wan. I think I'll give myself another rinse while I'm here."
"All right." I stepped out and pulled my pants from the sink to dry. They weren't going to get any whiter, and I didn't have the strength to wring them any more. Bed was calling me.
When he finally came out of the refresher, I lifted my head from the pillow. "I asked the pilot not to wake us before Coruscant."
It was a twelve day trip, but Qui-Gon merely nodded. "Thank you, Obi-Wan. Sleep well."
I should have fallen straight to sleep, but all the stresses of the mission took advantage of the quiet to surge back into my mind. Endless dead ends; drawing my lightsaber to deflect blaster fire from children; damp, sleepless nights; the incredible loneliness. Eventually I gave in and sat up to meditate, but even there, peace wouldn't come, so I just sat in a daze.
I was roused by my Master's hand shaking my arm. "Obi-Wan?"
"Master?"
He stilled in the darkness, and then the hand touched my face. "Obi-Wan."
"What is it?" A strange energy trickled through our bond, something I didn't recognise until his hand trailed down my chest. "Master-"
"Obi-Wan." He rolled in and lay on top of me, giving me ample feel of his generous erection.
"Master, you don't-"
"I do. This is exactly what I need." Hands touched my hair. "I can make it all go away."
"We can meditate together."
"It doesn't work." A thumb across my lips.
"Lights." I pushed him back and mustered up a glare without a great deal of effort. "I'm going to help you, not join you in this madness."
"I told you; I don't want to be helped." His eyes were afire, determination and lust in equal parts, and he didn't give care in the least about consequences.
Somehow, I'd become my own Master's guardian, and in my own vulnerable exhaustion, it infuriated me. I shoved his reaching hands away. "How far have you fallen that you would try to corrupt your own Padawan?"
That cut him, and he reeled back, shields slamming into place. "My apologies, Obi-Wan."
"Master, wait!" but the door closed behind him, and I was alone once more.
Now there was even less chance of sleep. I paced my quarters, worrying. This had got out of control. I'd been arrogant to believe I could help him at all. Stupid to protect him from the only people who had a chance of retrieving him, but even the idea of turning him over to the Council seemed a betrayal. He would never see it any other way.
I could live with it, though. I squeezed my eyes closed and pressed my face to the cold bulkhead. I could live with his anger if I knew it would make him better. Even if he never forgave me.
Anguish welled up, overwhelming me, and I slid down the wall, gasping. It hurt. I fumbled to control myself, to calm the tumult in my mind and separate out the emotions, and realised that the rush I'd felt wasn't my own. I probed along the bond, to find my Master in misery.
I was at his side in a moment. "Master!"
No response. He was curled in a ball on the bed, and I had no idea what to do. I'd never seen any Jedi like this, never imagined my formidable Master so awash with emotion. I sat on the bed and touched his shoulder, and he heaved a shuddering breath. Like a terrified child in the creche. Giving in to instinct, I gathered him into my arms and rocked him, making nonsense sounds until the shaking slowed, crooning until he raised his glassy eyes and leaned up to kiss me.
It was the most amazing thing I'd ever felt. Gentle warmth of his lips pulling on my lips, his beard scratching at my freshly shaved jaw. His hand settled on my neck, tipping my head and I found my mouth opening, worried under his lips and his tongue ran along the sharp of my teeth, dipped to touch mine, softly. My own tongue followed back into his mouth, seeking more, and he welcomed it. Sweet sharing, comfort I hadn't known since the creche.
Arms wrapped around me - when was the last time I'd been held? - and lowered me to the bed, his body covering mine and he deepened the kiss. My Master was cradling me, sending me warmth and care. I combed my fingers through his hair, kaipur-pelt soft from my earlier ministrations; I wanted to do it again. I wanted to care for this man, soothe away the shadows that plagued him. I buried my hand deeper in his hair and rubbed the other up the tender skin of his back, catching my breath as I recognised the prodding at my belly and felt my own body responding.
He desired me. My Master thought me beautiful. It was shocking and arousing, it shouldn't have mattered to a Jedi but it was humming in my nerves like the Force. Our kisses grew greedy, the sweeping caresses of our hands becoming squeezes, then he grabbed my buttocks with both hands and I cried out, arousal crashing through me. Need. Wild, consuming need - I needed this man. Our training bond twisted with the passions pulsing through it and our teeth began to bump as our kisses hardened.
He started biting at my throat and I was squeezing his penis, the pair of us grunting and moaning, stealing each other's passions and building on them, revelling in the shadows threading through our minds.
It was a heady rush like I hadn't felt since my first lightsaber drills on the high beams, and then my Master - my Master - was preparing me for his possession. Direct intervention from Windu himself could not have moved me to resist.
I sometimes remember my friend on Alderaan, and wonder what she'd think to know the turn my life has taken. More than ever, I understand our way of life, now. Why the path my Master and I have chosen is not a choice for Jedi.
We rarely indulge our needs. Three, perhaps four times a year, one of us finds the creeping solitude too much to bear, and we put aside the code to fill the space together. It has never interfered with a mission. We have never been driven to Darkness by the force of our passions. Our bond has only been strengthened.
But I am learning why it is not a choice for Jedi. I still have no trinkets, no objects I call my own, but I have our secret nights. I hoard my Master's tenderness, my own desire, our private joy, and I treasure the tendrils of jealousy when I see him absorbed with another. I own a palette of emotions and a few times a year I possess my Master, and I clutch all of it greedily to my breast. I would not give anything of mine away, even to the Force.
Our path is rockier, and we are weighed down with all that we keep from the Force, but the choice cannot be unmade. I can reclaim my serenity no more than I can reclaim the virginity my Master took from me, and I cannot imagine I would ever try.
I'm cute, I'm fluffy, and I got big eyes. Pet me.
drsquidlove@virginqueen.com
If you're interested in those post-Xanatos days, when Qui-Gon took his first steps away from the Jedi code, there is a non-Q/O companion piece, The First Need on my website.
More Squidfic can be found at
The Lecherous Tentacles of Dr Squidlove
http://members.iinet.net.au/~tentacles/squidfic.html