Warnings: Explicit sex between two hot guys. If it's not your
cup of tea, leave the pot for the rest of us. No spoilers.
Disclaimer: The characters are George Lucas's, bless him for
having such a fevered imagination, even if it's not as fevered
as mine. I should be so lucky as to make any money from writing
stuff that's this much fun to write. Unfortunately, I'm not.
Note: This particular story is the "fault" of Gail Riordan, who
asked a crucial question about a gap in this series. Turns out
she's inspired a whole new thread I'll have to follow up in
subsequent stories. Thanks!
This is now officially a series, though with no formal title to
it (suggestions welcome). Since I'm not keen on serials, I
promise to keep the stories complete in themselves, sans
cliffhangers. If you want to read them in story order, as
opposed to the order I wrote them in, "Rightful Owner" comes
first (no pun intended); then "Crime and Punishment";
"Ecstasies"; "The Anger Exercises"; "The Geometry of Desire";
"But For Grace"; "Nomenclature"; then "Master &
Apprentice." Qui-Gon's failed apprentice, Xanatos, from the YA
Jedi Apprentice series is mentioned here. I don't own
him, either. However, if anybody'd like to sell me Qui-Gon,
slightly used or otherwise, I have a platinum card waiting to
be broken in. A trussed-up Obi-Wan wouldn't be amiss either.
Home delivery requested. Please?
Thoughts in italics (or /); telepathy in //.
Summary: Qui-Gon learns to receive and not just take.
Feedback: The more I gets, the more I writes, so if you like
what you read, please feed the writer. Warning: Proportion of
writing to feedback may increase exponentially, unless I go up
in flames shortly. E-mail only, please.
"Enough! Oh gods Qui-Gon, please! Enough! Stop it--please! Now!
Hurry! Hurry!" Obi-Wan begged, on the verge of what felt like a
seizure. Every nerve was blazing, the pleasure centers in his
brain firing like rockets. Qui-Gon was torturing him. He loved
every minute of it.
He lay sprawled across his master's bed like a spaceport whore,
feet on the ground, legs spread, Qui-Gon kneeling between them,
driving him mad with mouth and fingers. Even now, Qui-Gon
plunged a third slick finger into him where there had been two
and ran his tongue under the sensitive ridge of Obi-Wan's cock,
then pressed hard against the underside to keep him from
coming. The younger man thrashed and sank his fists into the
sheets, head thrown back in a guttural moan.
//Let me in, Love.//
"Yes! Now, Qui-Gon. Now," he gasped.
The fingers withdrew, leaving him stretched and ready for
Qui-Gon's cock, which slid inside him slowly and stayed still
while he adjusted to the girth. The sensation was both vaguely
uncomfortable and electrifying as he felt himself hugely,
impossibly filled, that ring of muscles spasming down hard in
response. He'd never imagined such a feeling, how intimate it
was, being taken this way, eased open like a treasure box,
penetrated and plundered, impaled by his lover's flesh,
vulnerable and yet utterly safe, reserve and flesh pierced with
love--how strange and exquisite it was to have Qui-Gon inside
him. Inside him! Gods! He'd never felt so close to
anyone before, so consumed by them. He wondered why he'd ever
been hesitant about it.
His master grasped his hips and began to move, withdrawing
slowly until he was almost out and plunging in again with a
quick stroke that raked his prostate and sent jolts of
lightning up his spine to explode in his head. Obi-Wan cried
out, almost sobbing.
His legs trembled uncontrollably and he wrapped them around
Qui-Gon's waist, locking his ankles, drawing his master in
deeper, until he could feel the older man's balls pressed
against his ass. "Stay there," Obi-Wan panted, pulsing the
tight ring of muscles. "I want to feel you inside me. Stay
there. Don't move."
Qui-Gon did as he was asked, and ran his large hands over his
lover's chest and belly, down to his cock, stroking the fluid
pearling at the tip down over the shaft with a lazy firmness
that soon had Obi-Wan thrusting his hips up and back, torn
between being penetrated and being enveloped. Qui-Gon quickened
the pace of his strokes and thrust into his apprentice as
Obi-Wan bucked against him. Very soon the pace built to a
pounding rhythm that had him hanging onto whatever purchase and
sanity he could find, mindlessly reaching for the last caress
that would push him over the edge. His hand closed around
Qui-Gon's, guiding it to that point, and he came, shouting
wordlessly, cum spattering both their hands, his stomach, the
sheets as he thrashed.
And inside him, gloriously deep inside him, Qui-Gon came a
moment later, holding Obi-Wan's ass tightly against his groin,
shuddering as his cock pulsed and spilled inside his lover.
Qui-Gon's head was thrown back, revealing a long, elegant line
of throat behind the neatly trimmed fringe of beard beneath his
chin. Obi-Wan watched him with greedy delight as he surrendered
to his own pleasure, eyes closed, the lids flickering, mouth
open and gasping, skin flushed and gleaming in the soft light
of the bedroom. The sound that came from him was always the
same: a gasping inhale, and a soft exhale of breath drawing
with it a low groan that started somewhere deep in Qui-Gon's
belly. Obi-Wan could feel the sound in his bones, like a
subterranean rumble.
Spent, his lover lowered himself onto Obi-Wan's body, sleepily
nuzzling his neck and shoulder. "Oh, Love," he murmured. "It's
so good with you. I never imagined. . . ." Obi-Wan ran his
fingers through the heavy, silver-shot hair, robbed of speech,
communicating his agreement through touch alone.
They stayed like that for several minutes, listening to each
other's hearts calm, before Obi-Wan settled his legs back on
the floor and Qui-Gon leaned back and withdrew, his apprentice
arching his hips in response and sighing. Qui-Gon touched his
face gently, fingertips coming away filmed in salty moisture.
"Did I hurt you, Love?" he asked with some concern.
"No. No, Qui-Gon," Obi-Wan responded, half laughing, and wiping
his eyes. "I don't know why I do that. It's just so . . .
intense, having you inside. I love it when you come in me."
Qui-Gon swung his lover's legs up onto the bed and lay his long
body down beside him, hip to hip, legs entwined, propped on one
elbow, his fingers tracing down the center line of Obi-Wan's
body from throat to groin and up again.
"Tell me what you feel when I'm inside you, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon
murmured, his hand moving with hypnotic slowness, barely
touching his lover's skin.
The younger man closed his eyes, letting himself be lulled by
Qui-Gon's tactile sorcery. "It's not quite real, yet," Obi-Wan
answered in a distant voice, half asleep. "But I wonder some
times if I'm not merging into you. Losing myself.
Disintegrating."
There was indeed still an aura of unreality surrounding the
fact that he was lying here beside his master in the afterglow
and exhaustion of lovemaking. The last mission they had
returned from had been emotionally draining for both of them,
earning them ten days of leave, which Obi-Wan had immediately
nearly ruined by earning himself ten demerits and a halfyear of
probation, fighting with another apprentice. His uncontrolled
emotional outburst had somehow brought down the last barriers
between Qui-Gon and himself and led to them lying together here
and now, which made it worthwhile somehow, but no less
exasperating to his master. Nonetheless, Qui-Gon had soothed
his fears and claimed him, without hesitation. None of that
made it seem any less impossible to Obi-Wan, even now.
"And are you lost, Beloved?" Qui-Gon murmured in his ear,
tongue licking out to follow its whorls. Obi-Wan shuddered
delicately. Yes, he was lost. Very lost. But he was not alone.
Having made their report to the Senate the morning following
their return, it seemed they'd hardly gotten out of bed since
Qui-Gon had picked him up and dumped him into the middle of it
three nights ago, as though years of need and passion were
having their way with both of them. And it had been a true test
of their control to make themselves meet with the committee who
had sent them on that precipitating mission, present their
reports, listen to the stories of the other padawan and the
older children they had rescued, answer questions, discuss
interminably, make recommendations--and retain all their
patience and decorum. Obi-Wan was convinced he should be given
a medal for keeping himself from fidgeting, sighing, squirming,
and revealing in other ways how badly he wanted to be back in
their quarters with his master, in bed or wherever they could
manage to get to. Qui-Gon, as usual, had been the complete
picture of a serene Jedi Master, until the door of their
quarters closed behind them and the lock had been keyed to the
"Do Not Disturb" setting. Then he had revealed himself to be
just as hungry as his new lover, taking Obi-Wan up against the
door with clothing only half off and soon after wildly strewn
about the room. In the hours that followed, lessons and
training were forgotten, meals skipped or cobbled together,
sleep snatched when neither of them was capable of staying
conscious a moment longer. Obi-Wan was nearly at that point
now. Qui-Gon had wound him up and spun him out and left him
dangling bonelessly.
Though not inexperienced, Obi-Wan had barely imagined some of
the things Qui-Gon had done to him, had barely imagined
anything could feel quite as good as Qui-Gon was capable of
making him feel. "Good" was a totally inadequate word, in fact.
There were, he reflected, distinct advantages to having a lover
35 years older than one. He'd always thought "ecstatic" was an
exaggeration when it came to sex, or most things, for that
matter; his master had shown him differently.
Ecstasy at Qui-Gon's hands came in many different shades and
colors, as well: passionate, explosive ecstasy that was all
heat and lightning, like it had just been; slow ecstasy that
built gradually with touches and kisses and tender words,
sometimes over an hour or more, then blossomed long and easy as
he was finally entered or taken in; cunning ecstasy that crept
up on him with some wicked twist of movement; sleepy, warm
ecstasy, the kind he felt now, that was part the afterglow of
orgasm and part gratitude and all love; the fierce ecstasy he'd
endured when they'd come back to their quarters after the
Senate debriefing and Qui-Gon had turned on him wildly and
kissed him breathless, pulled open his tunic, perfunctorily
slid his pants around his knees and nearly swallowed him whole;
the contented ecstasy he'd felt last night leaning against
Qui-Gon in the hot, fragrant water of their bath, soaping each
other; the joyous, funny ecstasy of the tickling attacks and
laughing fits they'd launched on each other and suffered under,
leaving them gasping, sides aching, new spots for exquisite
torture discovered; and the wondrous ecstasy of simply
discovering one another, of finding the utterly new in the
long-familiar, seeing each other with entirely fresh eyes.
Amazing. Astonishing. Miraculous.
Exhausting. He drifted into sleep with Qui-Gon as his lover's
hand came to rest on his hip, pulling him closer, and tousled
bedcovers settled over them magically.
When he woke again, it was light, late morning from the looks
of it, and Qui-Gon--wonder of wonders--was still asleep. It was
the first time Obi-Wan could ever remember his master not
rising with the dawn and certainly long before he. They were
lying side by side, Obi-Wan on his side with one arm thrown
over Qui-Gon, who was lying on his back, looking exceptionally
handsome, even in sleep. It wasn't often Obi-Wan had the
pleasure of seeing his master in unguarded moments. Qui-Gon
seemed to be always awake, always alert, always controlled,
even in meditation, even--Obi-Wan reflected wryly--taking a
piss in the woods. Now, he looked almost entirely different,
his mobile and often-amused mouth relaxed and open a little,
the piercing eyes hidden, the weathered face smoothed of
anxiety and watchfulness and younger in sleep: vulnerable,
peaceful, more serene than Obi-Wan ever remembered seeing him.
Released. Content.
Obi-Wan felt a glow tinged with darkness fill him, yet another
kind of ecstasy, this one a little poignant. Before they had
made the decision to sleep together, Obi-Wan had known nothing
of Qui-Gon's previous lovers, or whether he'd even had any.
Now, Obi-Wan was certain he had, and that they'd been many and
talented--all he felt he had need to know, curiosity
notwithstanding. He also realized now that the last one had
been some time ago, probably before Obi-Wan had known him, and
that it had ended badly, not in death but in anger and
bitterness. In the first real kiss they had shared, Obi-Wan had
tasted not just desire, but tension and longing and fear not
his own. He wondered then where it had come from and understood
at least partially now.
He'd known from the moment Qui-Gon had first taken him in his
arms that his master needed this as much as Obi-Wan wanted it.
Qui-Gon needed--and wanted--him. Not just a good recreational,
tension-releasing fuck, which he could get anywhere and any
time and presumably had in the past, but him, specifically, for
specific reasons. Obi-Wan had never felt so desired or
desirable before, or so necessary. But in turn, he'd never
before held someone else's happiness in his hands nor wanted so
much to be able to give it. For he found he wanted that for
Qui-Gon. He wanted his master to be able to sleep this way,
without care, without old pain, secure and peaceful, always. He
wanted Qui-Gon to know how much he was loved, and how much his
love, in turn, meant to Obi-Wan.
All at once, however, he realized that, so far, Qui-Gon had
been the one doing most of the giving and showing. Not that
Obi-Wan objected. His master seemed to have a bottomless bag of
tricks he wanted to share, and they were all very enjoyable.
But it suddenly felt a little selfish to be doing most of the
receiving, although it was sometimes hard to tell which one of
them was enjoying himself more. Qui-Gon had made him come over
and over, and pleasured himself doing so, which was all very
well, but giving had its own rewards. Obi-Wan wanted very much
to return some of the pleasure he'd been receiving, to watch
his lover's face in ecstasy he'd been brought to. He wanted to
hear Qui-Gon cry out, knowing he'd made his master do so.
Qui-Gon rolled over against him, pulling him close in sleep,
hard cock pressed between them as Obi-Wan nestled against him.
He combed his fingers gently through his master's sleep-tangled
hair, pressing their foreheads together, and then kissed him,
his eyelids, the space between his brows, his cheek, his
temple, the salty skin beneath his earlobe. By the time Obi-Wan
reached his mouth, Qui-Gon was awake again, reaching for him.
Their arms slid around one another and Obi-Wan kissed Qui-Gon
with all the tenderness inside him, giving him that tenderness
like a gift. Sleepy gratitude and warmth spilled out across
their bond in a wave.
Their mouths met and parted, met and parted, met and parted as
they sipped and tasted one another like new wine. Finally, they
pulled apart just a little and looked into each other's eyes,
cobalt blue into blue-grey, both of them smokey with
slow-burning desire. Obi-Wan leaned forward and kissed his
lover again, his hand on the back of Qui-Gon's neck, his tongue
plunging hungrily between the lips that opened beneath his. "My
turn," he murmured, returning to the kiss and rolling Qui-Gon
onto his back.
//Your turn,// Qui-Gon conceded. //A lovely way to wake me up,
my heart.// And it was. He smiled as Obi-Wan straddled him and
moved his arms out to the sides, stroking slowly down from
shoulders to fingertips repeatedly until there was a flow of
energy between them that was almost visible. His apprentice
gathered it to him skillfully and combed his fingers again
through Qui-Gon's hair, making his scalp prickle and the hair
snap and fly away, strands untangling of their own accord, then
moved his hands around to the back of his master's neck, where
that energy flowed down his spine in a tingling wave into his
groin. Qui-Gon shuddered as it did, letting out a little sound
of pleasure. Obi-Wan interlaced his fingers behind his lover's
neck and tugged upward until Qui-Gon's head fell back, then
rocked up and back a few times, loosening muscles he hadn't
known were tight. Qui-Gon sighed and sank into the bed,
relinquishing himself to his apprentice.
Obi-Wan's broad fingers moved down over his body, just barely
touching him, loosening knots, drawing his own energy and his
master's through the underlying nerves. The first time Obi-Wan
had touched him this way, Qui-Gon had been amazed at the
delicacy and skill, if not the already familiar agility, in
those heavy hands. Now, Obi-Wan's mouth followed after them,
hotter and wetter and a more insistent. The places Obi-Wan
touched were not merely pressure points but spots that made him
arch and gasp: the soft skin behind his earlobes and under his
chin behind the neat beard, down his neck to the hollow of
throat, across the line of collarbone, down to the tender flesh
covering the edge of the pectorals outside his armpits, over
his nipples, down the centerline of his muscular stomach. Even
the dead scars over Qui-Gon's ribcage, where he should have
felt nothing, became lines of fiery ice when Obi-Wan traced
them with his tongue. His apprentice touched and kissed him
everywhere, finding every known spot and some new ones until
Qui-Gon was moaning low in his throat and writhing under his
lover's touch.
He felt his legs gently forced open and spread with knees and
one hand, while the other lazily circled his belly. Obi-Wan
knelt there between Qui-Gon's legs, his hands going back to
where they had stopped and continuing down his hips, tongue
dipping into his navel and sucking at it, fingers stroking the
line of dark hair running from there to his groin. Following
that line to its logical end, his lover closed a hand around
the hardened, arching shaft of Qui-Gon's cock and brought his
lips down over the head of it, tongue circling and pressing the
tip, licking the fluid from it. Qui-Gon let out a low, soft
moan, feeling those mobile lips closing around him. Then
Obi-Wan nibbled his way down the underside and licked upward,
and Qui-Gon shuddered again and cried out. His hands played
through Obi-Wan's hair tentatively, not wanting to distract him
but needing to touch him, to make sure he was real, then flew
to either side of him to grab a handful of covers as his lover
brought his mouth down fully over the head of his cock again
and sucked hard. Gods, he'd forgotten how good that felt!
Qui-Gon moaned louder, thrusting his hips upward, and Obi-Wan
obliged, taking him in more deeply, sucking hard and raking the
shaft gently with lips and teeth, peeling away first coherence,
then speech, then thought itself
"No!" Qui-Gon gasped as he pulled away, vaguely surprised he
still had any vocabulary.
"Shhhh, Love," Obi-Wan hushed him, his own voice a little
hoarse with arousal. He leaned up again, ducking in for a quick
kiss and dangling the tail of his braid over Qui-Gon's chest,
teasing his nipples until they hardened, raising gooseflesh
over his arms, and drawing it downward, painting a line of
shivers down Qui-Gon. Then he did the most extraordinary thing:
he wrapped the braid several times in a tight ascending spiral
around Qui-Gon's cock until he'd brought his mouth back to it,
took the crown in and pulled back quickly with a pop
that made him grin wickedly and Qui-Gon jerk his hips and shout
in surprise. Then Obi-Wan leaned back, tugging. Qui-Gon's hips
followed with it as the braid unwound itself, the slithery
friction and torque producing a sensation he'd never felt
before, pulling noises out of him that made it sound as if
Obi-Wan were torturing him, which, in a sense, he was. It was,
however, a marvelous form of it. Qui-Gon hoped he'd do it
again.
So he did. This time, when the braid was unwound, Obi-Wan
descended on his cock like a bird of prey, engulfing it,
groaning low in his throat as Qui-Gon thrust into him,
swallowing as he finally came, shouting and bucking, Obi-Wan
milking the last of his orgasm and leaving him entirely spent
and nearly unconscious. Distantly, he was aware he was sprawled
and splayed across the sheets like a casualty, gasping as
though he were in pain. Somewhere, someone muttered a terribly
obscene string of curses in a number of languages. It might
have been he.
When he opened his eyes again, Obi-Wan was sitting back on his
heels between his legs, looking exceedingly pleased with
himself, as he should have been. Qui-Gon's apprentice leaned
forward and took a bolster from head of the bed, then rummaged
in the drawer of the bedside table until he found the well-used
tube of lubricant. He ran his hands lightly over Qui-Gon's
thighs and grasped his hips. "Up, Love," he said and slid the
hard bolster under them when his master complied, groaning.
"Padawan, I do have certain limitations . . . " Qui-Gon
protested feebly.
"I'm not sure I believe you, Master, after the last three
days," Obi-Wan replied, one corner of his mouth quirked upward
in the half-smile his master loved. He paused a moment, opening
the tube, looking uncertain. "Is this . . . "
"You needn't ask, my love," Qui-Gon told him, still a little
breathless. "Not here, remember?"
"It felt right to, somehow. Habit, perhaps." He leaned over and
kissed Qui-Gon, who drank it in hungrily, nipping his lower
lip.
"I'm yours, Obi-Wan," he said quietly, stroking the back of his
knuckles against his apprentice's cheek. "Do as you like."
Obi-Wan took in his words of surrender with the same gravity he
considered Qui-Gon's lessons, honoring him with that solemn
regard, but he was afraid his apprentice would bow right there
on the bed, kneeling between his legs. He smiled at the image
and that seemed to lighten Obi-Wan's mood a little. "I want to
do this right for you," he said earnestly.
"You will. However you touch me is right," Qui-Gon told him
encouragingly, taking the tube from his hand and coating
Obi-Wan's fingers, one by one, with the contents, then stroking
his apprentice's erection with more.
Obi-Wan smiled. Soon, those fingers were caressing the tight
ring of muscle in Qui-Gon's ass and the sensitive flesh around
it--another pleasure he'd almost forgotten. After a very short
time, he felt himself growing hard again. Amazing, he
thought dazedly, as Obi-Wan's mouth descended on him again,
coaxing him back to life, at my age. His apprentice
slipped a finger inside him, curling it against his prostate,
and drew it slowly out again. Qui-Gon growled, "Oh, gods, Love!
Don't stop!" feeling his rationality slipping away.
The outside world drifted away from him and he let it go with
only a twinge of conscience. After all, he'd let it go on
without him since their report to the Senate--what was a few
more hours? All that mattered right now in any significant way
was Obi-Wan kneeling between his legs, that sweet mouth around
his cock, the second finger sliding up inside him, the promise
of more to come.
He knew he'd been greedy these past few--could it possibly be
days?. Lords, he had been undeniably greedy, then, and sel--
Obi-Wan had pulled back the foreskin of his cock and was
rolling his tongue across the exposed crown. Qui-Gon lost his
ability to think for a moment, until his lover stopped.
--selfish. Yes, he'd been greedy and selfish, wanting to do all
the exploring, wanting to watch his lover writhe and cry out
knowing it had been his doing, wanting to finally do to Obi-Wan
all the things he'd been fantasizing and dreaming about for so
long, forgetting his lover had dreams and fantasies of hi--
Obi-Wan's fingers scissored him open slowly, stroked inside him
again, were joined by a third. Qui-Gon moaned and arched his
back off the mattress and bolster, almost up on his shoulders.
--fantasies of his own. Apparently, this was one of them. His
apprentice seemed to be enjoying it as much as he was. Obi-Wan
worked his fingers expertly, stretching and teasing until
Qui-Gon's vision was red around the edges. He bucked hard
against those fingers, muscles pulsing, a vast need opening
inside him. "Now, Love, for gods' sake, now," he cried. "I want
you. Fill me. Come inside me. It's been so long."
Qui-Gon wanted and Obi-Wan gave. The younger man raised one of
his lover's legs to rest against his chest, pressed his own
hot, hard, slick cock against the ring of muscle, then drove
inward gently. A hard shudder of thrill overcame him as he
watched Qui-Gon's face go slack with pleasure and his back arch
as he pushed himself tight against his lover's ass, deep
inside. Qui-Gon clutched at his hips, holding him still,
muscles pulsing around his cock, pulling him impossibly deeper.
Enveloped in that tight, silky warmth, Obi-Wan felt a guttural
groan rising in him.
It didn't seem possible to either of them that they could be
more a part of one another--Obi-Wan feeling Qui-Gon inside him
again, his own muscles pulsing, stretched and filled, so he was
not sure which of them was inside whom if he closed his eyes;
Qui-Gon feeling not his own hand surrounding his cock, but
Obi-Wan's body, as it so perfectly had in the hours past. They
stayed that way for long moments, stupefied, rocking a little
together without realizing it. Finally, it was too much for
Qui-Gon and he groaned and ground against his lover, "Obi-Wan .
. ." he murmured in a voice so deep it was almost
unrecognizable. "Please."
Obi-Wan shook himself from the near-trance he had fallen into.
"Yes," he whispered, a little choked, and crossed the lifted
leg to his other shoulder, tightening the passage and Qui-Gon's
buttocks around his cock and began to move inside him, breath
leaving him in an animal groan with the first thrust. So tight.
He hadn't imagined . . . His master locked his other leg around
his back, pulling him closer. They found the right rhythm
together after only a few moments and Qui-Gon's hand closed on
his own cock, matching it. Obi-Wan gripped his lover's thighs
as he thrust harder and quicker, matching Qui-Gon's movements,
feeling his own orgasm rising through his groin and belly,
upward through his spine, distantly aware of his master's
rising in tandem. He could see it moving through Qui-Gon as it
moved through his own body, the bands of hard muscle over his
belly tightening, the muscles in his chest flexing, shoulders
pressing back into the mattress, neck curving gracefully
backward, jaw opening, eyes rolling back, half closing . . .
As they hadn't yet, they climaxed together this time, the
energy flowing through and between them moiling the air like
heat haze, making each of them somehow more distinct yet
spectral and mirage-like to the other. They cried out each
other's names, Obi-Wan feeling his own final thrust and quiver
and rush as though it were Qui-Gon's inside him. He was losing
himself this time, completely, melding with his lover's body
and spirit. Qui-Gon, in turn, felt himself filled with his
lover's climax as though it fed and were a necessary part of
his own. Their shared orgasm rolled over him like a great,
bright engulfing wave. He went under gladly.
They came back to themselves lying together, Obi-Wan cradled
against Qui-Gon's chest, sweat drying on both of them, neither
of them certain how they'd come to that position. Qui-Gon felt
as if his whole world had broken apart and been put together in
an entirely new way; everything around him seemed subtly
changed--brighter, cleaner, warmer. Right. Obi-Wan could
feel his tranquility through their bond and smiled to himself.
It was just what he'd hoped to achieve. He shivered a little
and Qui-Gon called the blankets up around them both again,
stroking strong fingers over his back. "Thank you, Love," he
said quietly. "Thank you," and kissed the top of his head. "I
haven't felt so well-loved in a long time."
"How long?" Obi-Wan ventured. When his inquiry was greeted with
silence, he backpedaled quickly. "You needn't answer, if I'm
being nosy."
But Qui-Gon appeared only to have been calculating. "Three
years before I met you, Love. A very long time indeed."
"Who was it?" he pressed. "They treated you badly, didn't
they?"
"Is it that obvious, my padawan?"
"Not to everyone. It's hard for your lover to miss. You're so
surprised and so grateful--and so eager to please."
Qui-Gon rolled him over and gave him a very appraising look. "I
do believe you're much better at reading people than I've given
you credit for, Padawan."
Obi-Wan blushed, as he always did when Qui-Gon gave him a
genuine compliment. "Well, you, perhaps, if not people in
general. It ended badly, didn't it? I'm sorry."
"Yes. With an ugly quarrel that had nothing to do with how we
felt about each other. We never managed to make things right
again. It put an unfortunate breach in our friendship as well."
Several pieces of the puzzle that was Qui-Gon's history snapped
together in Obi-Wan's head with those words. "Master Windu.
That's why you're so harsh with one another now. I knew you'd
been friends before, for a long time."
Qui-Gon sighed. "And that is also why he's so hard on you. And
was so disapproving of us."
"You still care for him." He ought to have felt some pang of
jealousy, he thought, knowing that was true, but he found none
in his heart.
"We were yearmates. We came up through Temple together, were
chosen as padawans at the same time, came into our knighthoods
within weeks of each other. As you said, we've been friends a
long time. Mace stood by me in some of my worst moments, and I
in his."
Only some, Obi-Wan thought, calculating. Not when he'd lost
Xanatos. Not when your old friend and former lover needed
you most, Master Windu. Where there had been no jealousy, a
protective anger sprang up, instead.
Sensing it, Qui-Gon held him closely and kissed him. "Thank you
for that indignation, Padawan, but let it go. I hurt Mace as
much as he hurt me. Such quarrels are seldom one-sided. We both
have words to answer for and we are both too stubborn for our
own good. And I have you, now. And you are much more than just
compensation, my love, lest you think that. You are a gift." He
wound Obi-Wan's braid thoughtfully through his fingers. "But I
must confess that I never knew the wrapping had so many uses,"
he said, tickling his lover's ear with it. Obi-Wan giggled and
pushed his hand away.
"Stop it," Obi-Wan said, stifling a yawn and letting himself be
distracted. "I loved seeing your face as you came." He reached
up to run a finger down Qui-Gon's throat, feeling his pulse
beat there as he listened to the heart pumping it. "You seem so
very alive then."
"Ecstatic," Qui-Gon murmured, "I believe, is the word."
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