Master Apprentice
Archive
Finding Balance
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Pairing: Qui-Gon/Obi-Wan
Rating: NC-17
Category: AU, Angst
Archive: Sure.
Summary: It's been five years since Obi-Wan was Knighted, and Qui-Gon is seeing him again for the first time. What, I wonder, might an old master and an ex-padawan do?
Disclaimer: These are not the Jedi that belong to me. Move along.
Notes: For Wyomingnot. ^_^
The Force was not a master, nor slave. It had no emotion of its own, no thought, no desire. Its workings were not given for mortal beings to understand, and though it might be considered heresy, Qui-Gon did not believe it was possessed of any sense of rightness or wrongness. It simply existed and sought nothing more than a sense of balance. That was Qui-Gon's perception and he had yet to be convinced otherwise.
The days when he joined the debates Master Kowwan held every week in the mediation gardens were quite popular. He had yet to be bested in the discussion but neither had he managed to win. Even if he convinced no one of his ideas, if nothing else it made for an interesting evening for the spectators. He, of course, did not believe the Force was one of them.
He was, however, not entirely convinced that it didn't have a sense of humor.
Truly, only some faint hilarity on the part of the universe could explain why he was here at this moment, mostly crouched on a too-narrow bed with Obi-Wan roughly fucking him.
Had it only been five years, Qui-Gon wondered, since he had last seen his old padawan? He had changed so much; gone was the beardless, soft-spoken youth. This man, this Knight he had met, passed in the hallway before recognition had struck him, was a stranger to him. Qui-Gon had barely had time to marvel over the changes, the light in his eyes that spoke of a strength, a confidence he had always known Obi-Wan could possess, before he found himself seduced.
He couldn't help a groan as Obi-Wan pushed deeply inside him, almost brutally, the hungry thrust of his hips echoing in his grunts and sighs of pleasure. His hand, braced against the bed, was clenched into a whitened fist, his other hand sliding almost desperately in the slickness coating Qui-Gon's cock. It was only the smallest show of a loss of control and Qui-Gon reveled in it.
It was not, he thought dimly, nearly lost in the sinking pleasure of it, the pained heat of Obi-Wan inside him, how he had expected to meet Obi-Wan again. They had not parted well, his taking of Anakin as padawan a brutal wounding to the young Knight's pride, and certainly Obi-Wan had made no attempt to contact him since then. He had regretted the necessity, but balance was balance and he knew without someone to guide him Anakin could wreak more damage than the Jedi Council, in their own arrogance, would admit.
If this was the way Obi-Wan wished to reconcile their troubles, he certainly hoped they fought often.
"Ahhhhh," Obi-Wan moaned, his hips slapping hard against Qui-Gon as he thrust deeper yet, and edged even as it was with a touch of agony, Qui-Gon could not resist the sudden whirl of pleasure, tumbling from Obi-Wan into the Force, into the very air around them and he gasped as he came, streaks of wet heat spurting over Obi-Wan's hand. It was almost a kind of pain, their ecstasy moving in the Force and he pulled it into him and slowly released it, in a mimicry of the stilted movement still inside him.
He lowered himself to the bed on shaking arms and felt oddly moved, too open, too vulnerable, and Qui-Gon found himself looking to Obi-Wan for comfort. His old padawan was standing next to the bed and made no effort to sit or even to touch Qui-Gon. He only stood and stared, the light in his eyes that had spoken of confidence now speaking an entirely different tongue.
"You fucked me," Obi-Wan said finally, his voice cool. It sent a shiver through Qui-Gon but his words were like being touched with ice. "And now I've fucked you. I'd call that even."
Qui-Gon could not find a word to speak, could only stare mutely as his...his what? Was there a word for this? Obi-Wan's lips curled into a faint smile, mockingly sweet. "You always told me the Force appreciated balance," he reminded him, fastening his pants. It took barely a moment to brush away any hint of sex that clung to him, shaking away the encounter like one might sweep dust from their hands.
He lay silently on a bed that was not his own and listened as Obi-Wan walked from the room and out, away from him. He knew then that he would not see his old padawan again and it was not regret that filled him now, only emptiness and the feel of Obi-Wan's seed easing from his body, dampening the sheet beneath him.
The Force did not have a sense of right or wrong, it knew only balance and sought only that. But Qui-Gon thought it knew a bitter humor, and balance was not always of the light.
-finis-