Choices

by micehell

Title: Choices
Author: micehell (micehell at rodentinferno dot com)
Archive: any list archive
Category: Q/O, A/O; drama
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Non-con... ish.
Summary: He told himself again that he needed this, needed Obi-Wan, but he still felt sick. He still felt home.
Feedback: As you will.
Disclaimer: The only thing that belongs to me is a little effort and a lot of debt. Everything else belongs to not me.
A/N: My NNNoN story -- the real(er) one, not the fake one from before.

"Is that too tight?"

"If I said it was, would you loosen it?"

Qui-Gon considered, knowing just how dangerous Obi-Wan could be. "No."

"Then why bother asking? It's not as if either of us believes that I'm a willing participant to this. I've made it perfectly clear that I don't want this."

The bruises that Qui-Gon would have on his back, side and groin if he'd been able to bruise attested to that. Obi-Wan certainly had made his displeasure known. "I'm sorry." And he was, just not enough to let Obi-Wan go. "There was a time when you did want this."

There had been a time. They'd been more than master and apprentice then, more than friends, even. But that was years ago; before Anakin.

Obi-Wan echoed his thoughts. "Yes, years ago. But back then it was always, 'The Code forbids attachment,' and 'You're far too young to realize,' and 'We have a duty.'" Obi-Wan laughed, and Qui-Gon hated the bitterness of it. "Always lecturing me on releasing my fears, but you held on to yours. You wouldn't ever admit it, but you were afraid; that I'd leave you one day, that I'd grow to think you too old. Well, that's certainly not a problem anymore, because, look, I'm twenty years older, and you're not."

"Obi-Wan…"

"Don't. Just don't. You made your choices then, and I may not have agreed with them, but they were yours to make. But I've made my own choices now, and I'm… satisfied with them. I have a partner who isn't afraid of being committed to me. You remember him, don't you? The child you thought so important that you ignored everything else, including me? Well let me just say you were right. He is important. And together we serve a Senate that is actually maintaining peace, order; something the Jedi never managed. It's what I always wanted, and nothing you do to me now is going to change that."

Qui-Gon didn't argue, knowing exactly how much choice Obi-Wan had had. Knowing how much choice Qui-Gon was going to give him now. But he couldn't help it. He needed Obi-Wan. He had to have him.

Tamping down doubts and hesitation, knowing he was going to cause pain, but needing it all the same, Qui-Gon pushed into Obi-Wan, past the resistance designed to keep him out. Ignoring the scream that Obi-Wan couldn't help, he forged ahead, not allowing Obi-Wan any time to adjust to his presence before he sunk all the way inside. He told himself again that he needed this, needed Obi-Wan, but he still felt sick.

He still felt home.

Now that he was firmly buried in the other man, Qui-Gon could start. His first thrust was a brutal one. "Anakin killed all the younglings, Obi-Wan. Do you not remember? You found them, all dead, where some had tried to fight while the younger ones fled. But neither the fight nor the escape worked."

Obi-Wan shook his head, trying to pull away from the memory that Qui-Gon was laying him open with, but he was helpless as it stabbed through him. "No." It was a strangled denial, bitten off, as the memory tore him open.

Qui-Gon pressed in again, breaking through the resistance, sinking deep into the place in Obi-Wan that only Anakin had been before. "Mace discovered that Palpatine was a Sith and between them, Anakin and Palpatine killed him. You went after Anakin, trying to get him to see reason. You remember, don't you? You do. You remember Amidala trying to find the man she'd loved in the monster that he'd become, and the monster striking her down."

That memories tore into Obi-Wan, making him scream again. He pulled against the restraints holding him, his entire body trying to win free from Qui-Gon, but he was helpless as another memory sank deep into him.

"You remember fighting Anakin, winning, but Palpatine arrived before you could finish the fight. He'd killed Yoda, and had come to Anakin's assistance. You fought them both, but they were too powerful, and you couldn't win. Palpatine wanted to kill you, the last of the Jedi, but Anakin wouldn't let him. Wouldn't let you go. He loved you too much, hated you too much. Wanted you, even in the face of Palpatine's disapproval. So he stripped you bare, took your body, took your mind, made you believe in him. In his new order. You fought that, too, but in the end it was too much. You'd lost everything. You were alone, and hurt, and tired, and if you let go, let him have what he wanted of you, then you could forget, and it wouldn't hurt any longer. But he couldn't take the memories from you like he took away your choices, he could only bury them. But you remember now, don't you? You remember it all."

Tears were running down Obi-Wan's face, running over the memories clearly visible there.

With a sigh, part pain, part pleasure, Qui-Gon finished, still deep in Obi-Wan, but there was no resistance any longer.

Obi-Wan didn't want to remember even now, but Qui-Gon had stolen away all his defenses, all the barriers that Anakin had planted in him. Obi-Wan could feel the hot rush of the memories spill deep inside him, the stream ebbing away in pulses, turning cold as Qui-Gon pulled out, leaving him empty and broken again. "I remember."

"I'm sorry, Obi-Wan. I know it was easier to forget. I know the order that Palpatine imposed on the Republic was actually comforting to you, but the peace has too high a price. We can't let it continue."

Obi-Wan sighed as the force bonds holding him in place let go. "I'm sorry, too."

He was cold. He'd had twenty years to deal with Qui-Gon's death, but at the moment it hurt as badly as it had when the wound was new. He'd have given anything to have someone hold him right now, and even though it was Qui-Gon who had taken away the comforting veil over his thoughts, it was Qui-Gon's touch he longed for.

"I know you are, but we've no time for regrets. The Republic needs us."

Of course it was also Qui-Gon that had given him up for duty those same twenty years before, without a single word in all that time, only to show up now, a ghost of himself, because duty demanded it.

Obi-Wan hugged himself, resigned to a short life -- one slightly battered Jedi and one Force construct against two Sith with the entire Republic army behind them didn't speak well for longevity -- of only his own touch. He felt shuddery and ill, and part of him wished Qui-Gon had never taken away the illusion that Anakin had bound Obi-Wan in. He already missed the way the illusion had made Anakin's arms warm and comforting even when he was at his cruelest. He had no illusions now.

Only questions. "Exactly how do you propose that we stop Palpatine and Anakin then? I lost to them once already. I hardly think I'm likely to be more successful this time."

"Yoda, Mace and I have been working all of that out. We've found others that managed to escape the purge, and more that are willing to help us."

Obi-Wan couldn't help the skepticism that obviously showed on his face, since Qui-Gon smiled and said, "Trust me, Obi-Wan. You're not alone."

Obi-Wan shivered, wondering if Qui-Gon had seen that fear in him when he'd been so deep inside. He tried to release his fears and doubts, knowing Qui-Gon was right. He'd always had a really annoying tendency towards that. Obi-Wan knew he should wrap the tattered threads of his own duty around himself, cover up all the broken places that Anakin had made, that Qui-Gon had stripped bare. And he would, as he'd always done. He just needed a moment.

A moment that was lost and found in Qui-Gon's touch. It wasn't warm, and it gave less comfort than it did confusion, but Obi-Wan felt it, which was more than he'd ever expected, if less than he'd dreamed. "How?" was all he could get past the chaos of questions lodged in his throat.

Qui-Gon slowly pulled him closer, still giving off no heat, but the comfort was growing as he cradled Obi-Wan's head to his chest. "Something that Mace figured out. I'm here, Obi-Wan. I'm here."

There were more questions struggling to get out, but Obi-Wan didn't care. Let duty wait on him for once. The touch wasn't quite right, but it was good, and it was Qui-Gon, and it was all Obi-Wan really needed.

At first Obi-Wan couldn't help but think, that the lips on his weren't flesh, that the hand carding through his hair wasn't quite real, but it felt real enough. The heat from Qui-Gon's body was missing, but not the knowledge of where Obi-Wan liked to be touched, of that place right below his ear that seemed to be connected directly to his cock, Qui-Gon's (sort of) tongue making him squirm beneath this new assault, making him harder than he'd (voluntarily) been in years.

The mouth was too cool, but Obi-Wan felt on fire, his cock sinking deep into the too dry throat, sliding along the just right tongue until he couldn't hold back, his climax coming so fast and hard that he could almost have believed himself twenty-five again.

Then there were hands pushing his knees up, a cock pushing into him, and it was frictionless Force, but it hurt and it filled him and it felt so damn good that Obi-Wan could feel himself growing hard again. He let go of the differences in Qui-Gon now and Qui-Gon then, he let go of questions and fears, and wrapped his arms around that broad back, pulling Qui-Gon deeper into him, mind and body open, welcoming, as Qui-Gon filled up empty spaces inside.

Obi-Wan felt the cold finally melt under the weight of the body on his, in his, under the weight of their combined passion. And he let himself trust in whatever Qui-Gon had planned; that this time, this time, he wouldn't be left behind.