Fault and Blame

by Bonny ( BonnyMagret@hotmail.com )

Archive: Master_Apprentice

Category: Drama, Angst

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Q/O

Warnings: Things have been a bit dry between the boys lately.

Spoilers: none

Summary: When Qui-Gon is injured on a mission, he thinks it's because he's getting old, and Obi-Wan thinks it's because he's too young. Will this be the end of them as bondmates?

Feedback: are you kidding? Of course!

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, Lucas thought these guys up, and owns them entirely. I am just trying to bring them to life off screen. Not only do I not make any money off them, I actually lose money for all the time they greedily consume.

THANKS: Kudos to Jax for a wonderful beta, for her encouragement and for having patience with a struggling novice. Thanks also to Alex for . . . well, she knows what for.

If the hallway had been just a bit wider, or there had been less traffic, they would have been able to walk side by side. But, as fate would have it, mornings were the busiest time of the day in the Jedi Temple and, following old habits, Obi-Wan was following a few steps behind Qui-Gon, his former master. The nearer they got to the committee room, the more withdrawn and contained they became. To a stranger it might not have appeared all that noticeable. To someone who knew them both and knew their history, the closer they got to the counsel room, the stranger their behavior became. Their hands, which had been clasped loosely inside the folds of their cloak sleeves as they left their quarters, were now holding tight to the opposite elbows. Chins that had been demurely dipped were now pressed tight against their necks. Eyes that had been lowered, but which had at least acknowledged the passersby were now hidden behind their cloak hoods. Each was lost in his own thoughts; for neither of them were those thoughts pleasant.

Their thoughts converged only in their mutual dread of the upcoming meeting.

It was two months after they returned to the Temple from their last, most disastrous mission that they received the call to appear the following day, together, for the investigative committee's report. It was a bit unusual since their debriefing sessions had been conducted separately. When Obi-Wan received the call, he relayed the message to Qui-Gon. Qui-Gon merely nodded, his attention apparently only minimally diverted from the datapad he had been reading. Obi-Wan tried to act like this was nothing out of the ordinary as he went back into the kitchen to finish cleaning, discarding the remains of their barely touched late meal.

Neither of them would admit what was really on their minds. How did this happen? On a simple trade treaty negotiation? How had two well- trained Jedi fallen prey to an attack without any awareness through the Force that they were in peril?

After Obi-Wan retreated to the kitchen, Qui-Gon sighed in relief. He didn't need to act like he wasn't worried and upset when Obi-Wan wasn't around. In truth, he felt like he was in greater distress than he could ever remember experiencing before. Not so much from his injuries. He was actually healing well, although it had been a long, slow process.

After Qui-Gon took the blaster hit to his stomach, he had little memory of what had transpired for the following three weeks. He had been told that if it hadn't been for Obi-Wan pouring healing strength into him through their bond, he might not have made it back to Coruscant. Qui-Gon knew that he had spent the first week in the healer's ward fully submerged in a bacta tank. The healers had said that Obi-Wan had spent that entire first week pacing the ward, fussing over the details of his care, declining to sleep until forced to do so.

When the healers had finally allowed Qui-Gon to return to their quarters, he had to contend not only with the pain and frustration of his disabilities, but with Obi-Wan constantly fussing over him. Every little thing that Obi-Wan did for him, that Qui-Gon wished he could have done for himself, reminded him of how low he had fallen.

Those weeks were no easier on Obi-Wan than they were on Qui-Gon. After three weeks in the healer's ward, Obi-Wan had been solicitous of Qui-Gon when he returned to quarters, relieved to have his bondmate back in his own care. Qui-Gon still required daily treatments and therapy with the healers, and he could barely care for himself. He moved slowly and stiffly. He tired easily and Obi-Wan often found him sleeping, sitting up with a datapad in hand. What made it hard was that Qui-Gon did not particularly appreciate Obi- Wan's efforts. Obi-Wan could tell that Qui-Gon didn't like being coddled and he didn't take well to being told what to do or when to do it by his younger mate.

Had he been asked, Obi-Wan would have said that Qui-Gon was lucky that he had little memory of those first three weeks back at the Temple. After Qui-Gon had taken the blaster hit, it had been all Obi- Wan could do to get him back on the ship and home to Coruscant, fearing every moment would be his last. Obi-Wan had spent that entire first week pacing the healers ward, still fearing for Qui- Gon's life.

From the moment he felt the blast its mark on Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan had battled the pain with him through the bond, using that bond to hold tight to Qui-Gon's consciousness to keep him from slipping away. Obi- Wan had avoided the numbness of sleep for fear that his hold on Qui- Gon would falter. When Qui-Gon had finally regained a measure of consciousness, it had taken a hard push by a healer using the Force to put Obi-Wan into the first real sleep he had had in over a week. When he awoke, after spending a week scared out of his living mind, Obi-Wan had been relieved that Qui-Gon was on the mend. But he had still been far from well.

Qui-Gon was a man who had been self-sufficient for all his many years, and he did not accept his limitations well. Thinking he was testing himself, he had tested Obi-Wan on every issue, starting with his first attempt to walk to and from the fresher his first day back in quarters, not calling for Obi-Wan to be by his side. When Obi-Wan had called from the kitchen and gotten no response, his heart thumped wildly when he found Qui-Gon on the floor of the fresher where he had fallen. Qui-Gon would not ask for help, and if Obi-Wan didn't keep a vigilant watch, Qui-Gon would try to push himself farther than his recovery would permit.

Within two weeks in quarters together, both men had become fractious with the confinement. Qui-Gon bristled and resented his need for help. Obi-Wan grew more and more frustrated trying to be subtle about providing care, all the while just wishing Qui-Gon would get well so he could quit feeling so guilty. The more Qui-Gon regained his strength, the more he shut Obi-Wan out of their bond. Obi-Wan, feeling Qui-Gon's resistance to his attempts to maintain the bond contact and to prevent Qui-Gon from sensing his own anger at the situation had raised his own shields as well.

So the tension had built. And now, walking toward the committee room, both Jedi Knight and Master were so absorbed in their thoughts that they had little attention for the other. Both wondered why, if they had previously been interviewed separately, the investigative committee would have demanded their joint presence. Surely they had made a decision, and that decision needed to be presented to both Obi- Wan and Qui-Gon at the same time.

For the two weeks following his return to consciousness, while Qui- Gon remained in the healer's ward, they had both been debriefed as thoroughly as the Council could manage. Detailed searches, conscious and sub-conscious, into how the incident had occurred. The mission should have been routine. Trade treaty negotiations. No warring factions, no military involvement. So why had the Jedi negotiators been targeted? And why had they succumbed?

Obi-Wan thought he knew the answer, but he couldn't bring himself to broach the subject with Qui-Gon, or for that matter, with anyone else. If honeymoons were supposed to last a year, theirs wasn't even over yet. It had been just five short months after their bonding ceremony that they had departed on this mission. They were still so engrossed in each other that they had little energy left to devote to maintaining a vigilant watch on the ripples in the Force.

Obi-Wan was certain that, instead of being a stronger pair, they had ended up being weaker together because of their love for one another. It was the very thing that bonded them together that put them at risk of separation by death. Their love. Their bond. They were so occupied with exploring the depth and facets of the new bond that they were not attuned to the external manifestations of the Force as they should have been. And Sith, maybe they had been so busy inventing new ways to make love and to explore one another's bodies and the pleasures that they could give to one another, that they just weren't paying proper Jedi attention.

What was awful for Obi-Wan was that it was all his fault. It was he who had taken the first step. He who had asked for the bonding. He who had seduced this venerable Jedi Master into his arms and into his mind. It was he who had failed to sense the threat and to protect his bondmate from the blast that almost killed him. His love no longer seemed like a gift to his beloved, but more of a curse. And it was going to kill him. But how to solve this problem? He hadn't a clue.

They are going to separate us, Obi-Wan thought to himself. We convinced the Council to let us become bondmates by assuring them that the bond would make us more useful. But it hasn't. Qui-Gon wouldn't have taken that hit if he had been alone and all of his senses devoted to protection of himself and the mission. They will have little use for us as a couple if I couldn't protect Qui-Gon from that attack. I have made him vulnerable and he is too valuable to be left to my care.

The thought terrified him. If they were separated, he would not be there to guard his beloved's back and, while they were the strongest warriors in the galaxy, Jedi were not totally invincible. What if he took a hit while out on a mission alone? It was Obi-Wan's ability to push strength into Qui-Gon through the bond that kept him alive until he could be put into the bacta tanks. But then, if Qui-Gon had been alone or paired with an older, wiser and less emotionally involved partner, he might not have been injured in the first place.

Not only did the thought terrify Obi-Wan, but it made his heart hurt. And how could he survive without the constant presence of his bondmate? He'd be good for nothing but teaching initiates, if that. But if it would be better for Qui-Gon to be separated from Obi-Wan for his health and his future, Obi-Wan could endure.

If these thoughts troubled Obi-Wan on that long walk to the committee room, Qui-Gon's thoughts were no less disturbed. He, too, was certain that he knew why they had been jointly summoned, but he also could not bring himself to broach the subject. Never one to avoid the realities of a situation, Qui-Gon could not hide from the fact that he was getting older. Although he still appeared to be physically in his prime before this last mission, Qui-Gon knew he was at the apex of his abilities. This blaster hit was a sign that he was on the slippery slope to his old age. When you climb to the top of a mountain, whether it's an easy climb or a difficult one, the only direction available to you from there is down. And he was dragging this dear precious young man, whom he loved more than life itself, down with him.

Qui-Gon was tortured with the knowledge that he couldn't think of any way he prevent this from happening. He couldn't get younger. It was all his fault. It was he who had fallen in love. He who had seduced this younger man into a relationship that just might be the death of him. He should never have agreed to the bonding. He was older and wiser and he should have known the peril he was putting Obi- Wan in by taking him as his mate. As a pair, if Obi-Wan was absorbed with trying to care for or protect his older, weaker bondmate, he would be put at greater risk than their jobs already called for. But how to solve this problem? He hadn't a clue.

Why together this time? he wondered. They are going to separate us, he thought. And they want to tell us at the same time. The Council can see that I'm past my best days and that Obi-Wan needs to be paired on missions with someone younger, more virile. They think our bonding was a mistake. This thought terrified him.

If they were separated, who would be there for him? Who would be there for his beloved? No one would love Obi-Wan as much as Qui-Gon did. Qui-Gon knew that he would willingly give up his life to save Obi-Wan, and that he would do so without even a moment's hesitation. But apparently, love wasn't enough to keep his beloved safe. Qui-Gon believed that a decade earlier, he would have felt the threat and faced it before the attacker could get a blast off. If he couldn't feel the threat, he was putting his beloved at risk. When he finally did see the threat, he had only a split second to intercept the hit and prevent Obi-Wan from being injured. Or worse, killed. In another few years, with slower reactions, he would be powerless to protect his beloved. If it hadn't been for Obi-Wan sharing his strength with Qui-Gon after he took the blaster hit, he wouldn't have made it back to the Temple and into the healer's hands. And now, instead of being of service to the Temple or to the Republic on a mission, Obi-Wan was playing nursemaid to his older mate. While it would break his heart to be separated from his bondmate, if it would keep him safer, Qui-Gon could bear the pain. He'd be good for nothing but teaching initiates, but that was what the future had in store for him. Obi-Wan deserved better.

After Obi-Wan had advised Qui-Gon of the meeting scheduled for the following morning, he attempted to act normally, using their mutually avoided bond to hide his true feelings.

Obi-Wan had come to dread bedtime. He could handle their days lately, but their nights had become a torture.

Sex? It was a thing of the past. Relegated to the memories of the honeymoon. If either felt the urge to approach the other, he had only to take a close look at his bondmate or to try to send a tentative tendril through the now limited bond to feel the ardor cool.

That night, Obi-Wan went to bed first. He said he was tired but expected that Qui-Gon knew better. He just wanted to avoid any more discussions. Well, that was just as it should be. Obi-Wan knew that Qui-Gon had only been being polite these past few weeks not to bring it to Obi-Wan's attention that his youth and inexperience had contributed to his injuries. Qui-Gon had never been one to place blame. As a padawan, Obi-Wan had always been grateful that his master had always worded his criticisms in a positive way, never saying something had been done wrong, but instead saying what could be done to make it better. Compared to the tongue lashings that he heard other padawans subjected to at the hands of their masters, Obi- Wan had always considered himself very lucky in that regard. Obi-Wan felt guilty enough without having his beloved forcing him to discuss his shortcomings.

When Obi-Wan said he was tired and going to bed, Qui-Gon had merely nodded his head, keeping his eyes on his datapad, feigning attention to his reading. He had watched Obi-Wan disappear into their bedroom, holding tight to his shields, keeping his fears and feelings to himself. They hadn't made love since his injuries and Qui-Gon didn't know if he could. And he didn't want to find out yet. Especially not tonight.

Qui-Gon fully expected that the purpose of the request that he and Obi-Wan appear together before the investigative committee the following day was to point out his failings in public and to advise them both of the resultant need that they be separated. Once joined, the Council could not demand their bond be broken. But they could be persuasive. Surely Obi-Wan would not want to remain with him if the Council requested that they go their separate ways. Qui-Gon was fully aware of Obi-Wan's commitment to the Order. It was equal to his own. He would accept the will of the Council and his mate with as much dignity as he could muster. He just didn't think he could muster much dignity if they had spent the night loving one another. It would be too fresh, too hard.

Obi-Wan had been grateful for Qui-Gon's apparent lack of interest as he announced he was going to bed. He removed his leggings and tunics and put on sleep pants. Obi-Wan had never slept in sleep pants until these last few weeks. Since their bonding, they had always slept naked with limbs twined together, or spooned into one another. But Qui-Gon hadn't made any move toward him since his injuries. What if he was incapable of performing? Maybe Qui-Gon just didn't want him that way now that Obi-Wan wasn't able to protect him. If they tried to make love and Qui-Gon couldn't, Obi-Wan would just cause more pain than he already inflicted. Besides, if he was going to have to let the Council break their bond, Obi-Wan didn't think he could give his consent if they had spent the night loving one another. Better not to know. For all his tortured thoughts, sleep would not come to him.

It was hours before Qui-Gon finally came to bed. He slipped under the covers carefully, trying not to disturb his mate. Trying not to remind himself of what he couldn't have. But the warmth radiated from the other side of the bed. He sent out a tiny tendril through the bond but it was blocked. As it had been for weeks.

Now that he had decided that he would not oppose the inevitability that, in the morning, he would be called upon to agree to break their bond, and with Obi-Wan sleeping quietly beside him, Qui-Gon was unable to stop himself from remembering how wonderful it had been to share physical love with his bondmate. He burned to turn to Obi- Wan, to awaken him with soft gentle kisses, to pull him into his arms as he slowly wakened, to hold him tight to his own body and to feel his response. That lovely body. Those sweet soft lips. The firm thighs. The tight hot heat that accepted him, whether moving slowly and savoring every nuance of response, or holding still while he pounded away until he reached his release. He hadn't had a really good erection since before the mission, but now, when he couldn't put it to use, his body offered him proof that he could still accomplish one. An erection that ached and demanded satisfaction.

His hand crept to his shaft and he tried to move as little as possible as he sought some relief. The closer he came, the more he tried to contain his movements. The tears flowed down his cheeks and he was just barely able to keep himself from shaking with the terrible reality of his loss. When his orgasm came, it was short and to the point. A quiver and a spurt and a suppressed sigh of relief. No bliss, no pleasure, and certainly no ecstasy. Those things were in the past and he needed to get used to that idea. The tears were sticky on his face, and he wiped them away with his clean hand. Thank the Force that his lover had slept through this. His last waking thought was concern that Obi-Wan would see in the morning what he had done to himself in the night.

But Obi-Wan wasn't asleep. He was holding himself carefully in a sleeping posture, regulating his breathing so Qui-Gon wouldn't know that his coming to bed had awakened him. He felt the tendril coming toward him through the bond and had managed to close himself off, appearing to be unresponsive.

Then he felt the movements in the bed. How could he not? The little rustles of cloth. The wiggles in the mattress. The heat that flowed off Qui-Gon as he pleasured himself. And the shudder when he reached his release. No question now. He could perform. Just not for Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan had let him down. Hadn't protected him when he was needed.

The thought that he would never get to feel those strong calloused hands on his body, those arms around him, drove him mad. Would he never taste that salty essence that was his lover? Would he never feel that wonderful hard cock sliding into him giving him that blissful feeling half-way between pleasure and pain, the pain making the pleasure all the sweeter as it receded? Would he never again be pounded into mindless oblivion?

His own penis was awakening at the memories, becoming stiff against his belly. Qui-Gon's breathing was slow and steady, fast asleep. Moving carefully, Obi-Wan slid a hand under the waistband of his pants and drew the tip of a finger across his own erection, drawing the moisture there to his lips. He licked the finger, tasting his own essence. He would never taste himself on his sweet lover's lips again. He felt the tears that had gathered in his eyes flowing now, tickling him as they traced a path down his face. His hand had returned to his hungry shaft without conscious thought, rubbing himself through the cloth. He didn't even realize he was touching himself again until he felt his balls draw close to his body and he shuddered with a brief, unsatisfactory release. Thank the Force that his lover had slept through this. His last waking thought was concern that Qui-Gon would see in the morning what he had done to himself in the night.

Qui-Gon entered the conference room first, closely followed by his bondmate. The committee members were already seated. Neither of the two Jedi attempted to read the expressions of the committee members arrayed around the conference table as they bowed slightly from the waist to acknowledge their respect. There were only two empty chairs at the table, side by side, and from long habit, Obi-Wan waited for Qui-Gon to be seated before taking his place. Neither of them attempted eye contact with the other.

Arms folded with hands tucked into the opposite sleeves of his cloak, Obi-Wan awaited his fate. His right hand twitched to slip itself into Qui-Gon's warm broad hand, but he gripped his wrist tightly to restrain the impulse. He needed to get used to taking bad news without the familiar comfort of turning to his bondmate. He tried to center himself, to open his mind to the Force, and to maintain serenity. Qui-Gon deserved that. He deserved not to have his bondmate fold and make a scene at this moment. It would reflect badly on Qui-Gon that he chose to bond with someone who couldn't take this news like a man.

Qui-Gon's face was a mask of impassive acceptance. Years upon years of Jedi training paid off at that moment. He could do this. He would accept the will of the Force, as dictated by this committee, with apparent grace regardless of how hard it would be to maintain a calm fa�ade. His Obi-Wan deserved that. Obi-Wan deserved not to have the Council think less of him because of his one mistake – to choose an inappropriate bondmate. And Qui-Gon would do whatever it took to maintain Obi-Wan's position of respect in the Temple.

Master Mace Windu cleared his throat. Two pairs of eyes, one bright blue and the other blue-green, focused on the dark face.

"Drugs," Master Windu pronounced firmly. "You had no way of knowing."

"The Dryck Cartel has been using the ordinary shipping lanes to transport the drugs hidden amongst the other containers. The deal you negotiated would have literally put them out of business with the terms for the import inspections and taxes. Once they got wind of the deal that was about to be signed, they probably figured that if they took one or both of you out, both sides would think that the other was at fault and the treaty would never get signed." Mace smiled at both of them, as did the other committee members.

"They didn't count on your efficiency as a team. While you," he said, indicating Qui-Gon, "were brokering the deal, Obi-Wan was putting in all down in writing. You were able to use the bond to keep one another fully informed of where the negotiations were going, so that each of you could anticipate the other. If it hadn't been for your experience and diplomatic skills, this treaty might never have gotten signed, and the cartel would have continued poisoning the galaxy."

"And you, Obi-Wan. If it hadn't been for your quick intuitive ability to reduce the ideas to wording acceptable to both sides of the treaty, it might not have been signed in time." Mace smiled fondly at the younger man. "We don't always expect such expertise out of our new knights. It's a pleasure to see that your bonding with Qui-Gon has made you both a stronger team."

Obi-Wan was not experienced enough to keep his mouth shut. "But the blaster hit. I didn't see it coming."

"No. But you couldn't have." This from Master Yet-su. "Our informants had indicated that the cartel was working on a drug that would dampen the Force in sensitive individuals. We didn't know that the research had reached the stage for field testing. If our information is accurate, you two were the first test. We're not sure how it was administered. We need you both to go out and see if you can locate the research facility, as soon as Qui-Gon's recovered. We must find out just how far along they are. If this explains why you were unable to sense the danger in advance, we need to develop counter technology."

"Yes," Mace said. "You are the perfect undercover pair. With your age disparity, no one would assume that you are a pair of Jedi Knights on a mission. We can pass you off as a father and son team looking to set up business selling industrial secrets to the cartel."

"Or maybe master and servant," Yet-su offered. The other committee members agreed. The perfect cover. "We will need you to report back as quickly as you both feel you are ready to resume active duty. Hopefully, that will be very soon."

The meeting ended shortly thereafter. Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon were on their way back to quarters, each wrapped in their own thoughts when their musings were interrupted by an all-too-familiar voice. "Surprised you, did they? Hmmm?" Master Yoda had come up behind them on his air chair. "Blamed yourselves, you did." There was amusement and concern in the voice. "Know better, you should. Bondmates. Hmpf." He shook his head slowly, his long green ears waving.

Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon were too startled to speak. They should have known that there were no secrets in this Temple from the venerable senior Jedi master. They both bowed their heads.

"His hand, you shall take," Yoda said sternly. They looked up to see that he was pointing his stick at Qui-Gon. When Qui-Gon didn't respond quickly enough, Yoda poked him in the arm. "His hand. Take it." Yoda insisted. Qui-Gon reached over and took Obi-Wan's smaller hand into his own. "Better, that is." Yoda nodded. "But fix this today, you shall. Afford any more of this silliness, we cannot." And with that pronouncement, he drifted past them, proceeding down the corridor, the sound of his chortling fading away along the hallway.

The two bond-mates stood fixed in place, still holding hands, as the traffic in the hallway moved around and past them. It was Qui-Gon who regained a measure of composure first. He pulled Obi-Wan into an alcove, out of the way. "Sorry, love, I'm so . . ."

"Oh, Qui-Gon, I'm so. . ."

"What?" they said in unison, their startled eyes locking.

Obi-Wan let the words rush out before they could be stopped. "I thought it was my fault. That our bond made us vulnerable. That I put you at risk."

Qui-Gon shook his head. "No, it was me. I thought I was too old, not sharp enough any more. That they would pair you with someone younger."

"Oh," Obi-Wan sighed. "I thought they would want you to be assigned to work with someone older and more experienced. Someone wiser."

Qui-Gon smiled, "Do you realize that we've been wallowing in our own separate pain needlessly these past few weeks?"

"Not very smart for bonded Jedi warriors, are we?" Obi-Wan replied. He grabbed Qui-Gon's hand, pulling him through the open doorway into a small meeting room. He wrapped his arms around Qui-Gon, leaning forward to taste the lips he had denied himself for too long. The kiss was sweet and long and they broke apart when they both needed air.

"It's been weeks since I felt anything that nice," Qui-Gon murmured, leaning back in for more of the medicine he most needed. This time the kiss went rapidly from sweet and tender to hard and longing as Obi-Wan raised up to meet him. They pressed hard against one another, groin to groin, their need taking physical manifestation quickly. "I didn't think you wanted me any more," he whispered into Obi-Wan's mouth.

"I was worried for you. I didn't know how bad your injuries affected your ability to... I didn't know you could until last night."

Qui-Gon pulled away a bit and looked down into Obi-Wan's face. "What do you mean?" he asked.

Obi-Wan blushed. Oh, how he wished he would outgrow that habit. He knew Qui-Gon could see, so there was no sense in dissembling. "Last night. In bed. I wasn't sleeping."

"Oh." Now it was Qui-Gon's turn to be a bit embarrassed. "I couldn't help it. I thought. . ." He sighed deeply. "I started remembering," Qui-Gon whispered as his fingertip trailed down the shell of Obi-Wan's ear, lingering lightly on the lobe, "and I just...oh, Gods, it hurt so bad to think I would never have you that way again."

Obi-Wan shushed Qui-Gon by pressing his fingertips against those luscious lips. "I know. I did it too. After you fell asleep." He smiled sadly up into his beloved's eyes. "But it's not what I wanted."

Qui-Gon grinned. He pulled up the front of his tunic and pushed his leggings down in the front, exposing his rapidly filling penis. "What?" he teased. "Is this what you wanted?"

Obi-Wan's hand went to the stiffening cock and caressed it lightly. "That," he answered, as he insinuated his other hand down the front of Qui-Gon's pants. He cupped the soft sac in his palm and grinned back at his mate, "and this." He pressed his erection up against Qui-Gon's thigh and sighed with the pleasure of the contact, "and this."

Qui-Gon reached around and under Obi-Wan's cloak. He pulled Obi- Wan's tunics up in the back and slid his hands down both sides of the firm flanks, then down, cupping the buttocks firmly. "How about this?" he asked as he pulled the cheeks apart, knowing that the motion would stretch the entrance between the supple globes of flesh. "Or," he went on, rubbing his thumbs down the crevice as he pulled, pressing against the opening through the fabric, "maybe this."

Obi-Wan let his body lean against Qui-Gon's chest, bracing his legs apart to invite the touch to continue. "Oh, yes. That." He continued to stroke Qui-Gon's penis, spreading the moisture that collected in the slit around the crown with his thumb.

Abruptly, Qui-Gon pulled away. "Now," he said hoarsely. "I need you now."

Obi-Wan looked up, surprised. "Here? But..."

"But, nothing," Qui-Gon said as he reached over and locked the door. Before Obi-Wan could even think, Qui-Gon had tossed his cloak to the floor and untied his leggings, which dropped around his knees. He pulled a chair over, and used the arms of the chair to brace himself, offering his back side. "Inside me."

"But we don't have any lube."

"Lick me," Qui-Gon ordered. Obi-Wan leaned forward and used both hands to expose Qui-Gon's entrance. He took several long, slow strokes, from perineum to the base of the spine. Qui-Gon quivered in anticipation, hissing each time the tongue passed over his anus. "Hurry," he insisted.

Obi-Wan would have thought his mouth too dry to accomplish the request a few minutes before, but he found he was almost drooling with the taste and smell of his lover. He spit quickly, using his fingers to spread the moisture. One finger pressed into the tight muscled ring, then two. Qui-Gon arched back at the touch, his breath coming in gasps. "Inside me."

Obi-Wan wasn't sure if Qui-Gon meant his fingers, his tongue or his cock, but he knew what he wanted. He spit again, this time into his palm. He used his other hand to free his cock from the cloth that confined it, and spread the saliva and the pre-cum leaking from it around the top. He pressed down on Qui-Gon's back. Qui-Gon's legs were longer and Obi-Wan would have to stand on the tips of his toes to get good penetration. Instantly, Qui-Gon understood. He spread his legs further apart, lowering himself into a better position and leaned forward into the chair again.

"That's good," Obi-Wan said, as he fit the end of his cock against the entrance. He slid the head in slowly, careful to feel along the bond for pain. He could tell that Qui-Gon was feeling a lot of discomfort, but it was hard to tell whether it was from his entrance or from the injuries. He could also feel Qui-Gon's consuming need, which compelled him forward.

Half way in, Obi-Wan could sense that the pain had started to take over. Obi-Wan held still and focused his mind on his lover's sensations. "Here," he said, holding his palm up in front of Qui- Gon's face, "help me out." Again, Qui-Gon instantly understood. He moved his tongue around in his mouth for a second, and spit into the palm. Obi-Wan collected what saliva he had been able to work up, and added his contribution. He pulled himself out just a little and carefully smeared the liquid around the anus, eliciting a groan from his lover. It was enough. He slid in the rest of the way without feeling that the tissues were resisting him.

Obi-Wan took a few languorous plunges savoring the tight heat. But Qui-Gon wanted more. He bucked back against Obi-Wan's hips forcing the shaft to impale him quickly.

Qui-Gon wanted, no, he needed, to feel Obi-Wan become one with him. Groaning tightly, he opened his shields fully, letting all the love and need he felt burst through, pushing into Obi-Wan's mind. He almost cried with relief when he felt the emotions flooding back to him through the bond. The weeks of self-imposed loneliness were quickly banished as the two minds blended and flowed together, building in intensity.

Qui-Gon's attentions quickly turned back to his body, encouraging Obi- Wan to increase the speed and intensity of their coupling. As much as he would have like to have this crush of sensations last forever, he could only stand so much. He tilted his pelvis up, so that the next few thrusts pushed hard against his prostate letting the pleasure burst within him, groaning with each explosion.

When Qui-Gon felt Obi-Wan reach around him and take a firm hold on his erection, he knew they weren't going to be able to last much longer. He intentionally contracted the muscles inside himself, tightening and releasing several times, knowing that would bring Obi- Wan with him. With a deep satisfied groan, he felt the climax begin to overtake him. "Come with me," he rasped out, forcing air into his lungs to make the words. "Please, come now."

Obi-Wan responded to the sensations Qui-Gon was creating, feeling his cock being squeezed, milked and took the few short hard strokes necessary to bring on his own orgasm. Qui-Gon heard his lover's cry and let go, letting his mind and body be consumed with the feeling of being filled and emptied at the same time, knowing that Obi-Wan was sharing the same explosions of pleasure.

Obi-Wan collapsed onto Qui-Gon's back, his legs trembling so hard he was afraid he would topple over. If it hadn't been for the chair, Qui-Gon would have fallen to the floor.

At that moment, they both froze. There was a rattling of the door knob and voices in the alcove.

"Hey, I thought these rooms were unlocked."

"Well, you should have asked. Is this the right one?"

"Yes. It's the one my master said to use."

"Well, who has the key?"

"Sith if I know."

"Well, what do we do?"

"Obviously, we either find the key, or we use another room."

A more distant voice. "Hey. Guys. This one's unlocked."

"Oh, thank goodness." This was a feminine voice. "If we don't get this project done before tomorrow, we'll all have to face our masters' wrath."

There were noises in the adjoining room. Chairs scraped across the floor. A thumping sound as things were dropped onto the table.

It was all Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan could do to stifle their chuckles.

"Thank the Force that you remembered to lock the door," Obi-Wan whispered as he withdrew, tucking his now limp penis back into his pants. He reached out to help Qui-Gon shakily to his feet, steadying him as he reached down to pull his leggings back up.

When all their clothing had been re-arranged, it was Obi-Wan who opened the door and peered out into the hallway. Normal traffic. No one was paying any attention. They walked down the hall, past the open door where the padawans were working on their project.

"Can you imagine what would have happened if they'd heard us just a few minutes earlier?" Obi-Wan asked, trying to keep his voice in a normal conversational tone.

"It's your fault," Qui-Gon said smiling. "You're just too sexy to resist."

"Hrumpf," Obi-Wan replied in mock indignation. "You're just too old and in too big of a hurry. You're the one to blame."

Qui-Gon stopped, turned to his love, and took that adored face into his palm. "Enough of fault and blame," he said softly, seriously. "We've had enough of both these past few weeks to last a lifetime."

Obi-Wan turned into the palm and kissed it. Smiling up at his mate, bright blue eyes fixed to blue-green ones, he said, "If we don't hurry back to quarters, it will be your fault you can't resist and take me in the lift!"

Thaaaaattttsss all, folks.