Master Apprentice Archive Fruit of the Vine Quick search:

Fruit of the Vine

by Ula Luva

Title: Fruit of the Vine
Author: Ula Luva
Rating: NC-17
Categories: Q/O, First-Time
Archive: M_A
Feedback: Yes, please!

Warnings: This is a tentacle (well, tendril) fic. Really.

Disclaimers: George Lucas has an economic stranglehold on Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan. I'd like to free them, but I can't.

Summary: It takes two to tangle.

Author's Notes: This piece was written, with gratitude, for Fledge. Think 'Strawberries' :).

Big hugs and thanks to Master Rose, Christina, LindaJ, Morgan, and Merry for their support, encouraging feedback, and excellent betas. I know this one was a stretch for a few of you.

Any boo-boos are due my sticking my nefarious fingers in at the last minute.

Few of the rays from either of DuSol's twin suns made it all the way through the canopy covering the jungle trail. The Dahl Amur wasn't slowed down by the dim light; he must have taken these paths many times. Qui-Gon automatically kept the fast pace, knowing that Obi-Wan, following the usual two steps behind, had plenty of practice keeping up with his long stride.

The darkness allowed Qui-Gon to focus on the aura of Living Force that surrounded him. A tapestry of plant life engaged in a slow-motion dance of competition and cooperation. Leaves thrust ever upward to capture more light, while creepers clambered up the trunks. Roots stretched wide to support and balance. Blossoms burst out here and there, vying for attention.

The fluttering wings of a hovering nectar-sipper brushed against Qui-Gon's consciousness. So fast--without the Force, it would just be a noise, but for the Jedi master it reflected other rhythms... a long-limbed creature's swinging through the trees, the frantic coupling of a pair of small lizards, growth cycles of the trees, Qui-Gon's own heartbeat, the turn of day and night, birth and death. Almost overwhelming, it might have stolen his breath away if that too weren't woven into the picture.

To think that Obi-Wan could not fully experience this saddened -- and worried -- him. While they were on DuSol, he'd have to make time to focus on Obi-Wan's connection to the Living Force. If it weren't for that one weakness, he'd confidently recommend Obi-Wan for his trials, even though he was just twenty-two. And once Obi-Wan were knighted, no longer his apprentice, then maybe...

'Stay in the moment,' Qui-Gon chided himself. It wasn't appropriate to daydream, at least not while on duty. He forced his attention to what he knew of the planet from his mission brief package.

The Senate was always anxious to bring new planets into the Republic to mine their untapped wealth. DuSol's scans had shown a nearly-complete lack of metal ore, precious gemstones, or any other valuable natural resource... except biodiversity. That it had in abundance.

While the thick atmosphere helped protect the surface from the double dose of radiation, it captured the heat in a greenhouse effect. That, combined with a generous supply of water, nourished the lush jungles which covered all the land masses except those nearest the poles. Separated by stretches of ocean, countless ecosystems, each with its own riot of plant and animal life, had evolved.

Rather than provide manufacturing feedstock, DuSol would be a fountainhead of organic chemicals, furnishing new drugs, flavorings, perfumes, and such, to nourish the Republic's economy.

They were far from the poles right now, and he had to suppress his metabolism to keep from sweating too heavily. He wondered how Obi-Wan was faring. Instead of looking back, he tested their bond --no distress, and the footsteps behind him sounded steady. Obi-Wan was probably fine; cold climates, not hot ones, gave his apprentice the most difficulty. Better to check, though...

"How are you doing, Padawan?" he asked, without turning around.

"Quite well, Master, considering the celebration we attended last night. Would you like some water?" Obi-Wan was carrying the supply.

"No, thank you; I'm not sweating much. But make sure you stay hydrated," he added a little too peremptorily.

The spark of annoyance in their link was quickly squelched, but Qui-Gon flinched inwardly. Obi-Wan's irritation was justified. Qui-Gon trusted his padawan with his own life, and rightfully so. Yet he continued to cluck over his apprentice's welfare like a mother garfowl, and he knew he had to start letting go.

Obi-Wan was a senior padawan, for Force's sake, and he had earned it the hard way, with plenty of missions landing him flat in the bacta tank. By now he should be used to his apprentice getting injured, but instead it kept getting harder to bear.

The dedication that had earned Obi-Wan his senior status at just nineteen years old would be like a two-bladed lightstaff. On the one hand, it meant that Qui-Gon could trust his padawan to put the needs of the mission first. On the other, it meant he had to stay on his toes to keep his apprentice, who had always been willing to blow himself up or leap in front of a blaster shot, unharmed.

And sometimes he wasn't fast enough. Maybe he was getting too old. He'd certainly had plenty of opportunities to etch his padawan's fine features into his memory, staring at them repeatedly through a ruddy haze of bacta, as his fingers traced the image on the topside of the tank.

So beautiful -- the thick lashes, well-defined cheekbones, and strong, almost obstinate, set of jaw made Qui-Gon's hand ache to reach through the healing gel. He envied the healer's apprentice whose task it would be to wipe the clinging substance off his padawan's face. And, oh, the cleft in his chin! Qui-Gon didn't, usually, allow himself to fantasize about licking the bacta away from that adorable dimple.

He had kept his feelings in check by concentrating on the heartbreaking contrast Obi-Wan's slack expression made with its usual vibrancy. The spark in his eye when he was teasing his master, the single arched brow when he was perplexed, and the quirked grin as he commented on something with understated sarcasm all called out to Qui-Gon like the Living Force itself.

To see that stripped from his padawan's features was devastating. Even when Qui-Gon knew Obi-Wan would get better and was healing even as he watched, he still had to use the sleeve of his robe to hastily wipe up the splashed drops obscuring the view of Obi-Wan's visage whenever a healer approached.

Force knew, the sight of him healthy was torment enough. If he turned around and saw that comely face glistening with sweat, a little flushed with exertion, arching an inquisitive eyebrow at him... but no, thank the Force that even senior padawans walked behind their masters. He shouldn't indulge himself. He shouldn't even allow himself to hope for anything in the future. His padawan was so young, and he was... not. Qui-Gon sighed deeply.

"Are you tired, Master?" Obi-Wan asked solicitously, nudging at the edges of his shields.

"No, Padawan. I'm not so decrepit that I can't handle a hike like this."

"I know that, Master," Obi-Wan laughed. "But I'm feeling the effects of last night too." Qui-Gon's frown of concern was eradicated when Obi-Wan added, "You are mortal, you know, despite your godlike appearance."

It was said in jest, but Qui-Gon's chest tightened as he tried desperately not to read too much into it. He latched onto an unwelcome interpretation, and asked, "Do I really look that imposing, Obi-Wan?" still not daring to look back.

"When you want to," Obi-Wan replied lightly, and Qui-Gon could hear the grin in his voice; he had guessed right, and it only enhanced his self-portrait as an aging, stern, and over-protective mentor. But after a pause, Obi-Wan added, "That's not what I meant, though."

Reaching out through the bond, Qui-Gon met with tight shields that could mean his padawan was kidding, perhaps, or hiding something. Obi-Wan wouldn't welcome any further questioning, and Qui-Gon didn't feel ready to face the possible answers, so he once again forced his focus back to his knowledge of DuSol.

Qui-Gon knew that if it weren't for the sentient race living here, the planet would have already been plundered. How humans had originally reached this remote place, as colonists or as castaways, was unknown at this point. The descendants still spoke a variant of Basic, but they had lost most of their technology.

Total dependence on the ecosystem had resulted in a religion that worshipped nature's bounty. It was so central to their culture that when the two Jedi had met with the Vizier and Dahl Amur, the high priest, Qui-Gon had agreed to honor their primary deity, even though the details involved hadn't been explained. When Qui-Gon had probed the Vizier's aura, he had met only with a warm sense of welcome, so he simply stipulated that he and Obi-Wan must stay together. Even on this seemingly benign planet, he couldn't suppress his urge to watch over his padawan.

The trail abruptly widened into a junction where several paths converged. Qui-Gon looked to the Dahl Amur for guidance, but the man had stopped walking.

The high priest wore a loose-fitting robe resemblant of Jedi outerwear, except the color blended well with the verdant growth. The unbid notion came to Qui-Gon that Obi-Wan would look good, very good indeed, in it. It would complement his eyes, or at least it would during his greener moods. Steely gray during battle and almost blue when he was contemplative, his eyes blazed with green fire when he was passionate... defending some cause or clinching an argument. In Qui-Gon's daydreams, Obi-Wan's eyes always glowed like back-lit emeralds.

The high priest captured Qui-Gon's attention by spreading his arms wide; Qui-Gon wasn't sure if the act was an earnest supplication or just for effect. The Dahl Amur then parted a living curtain of foliage to one side and exclaimed, "Behold!"

Light poured in from the opening. Looking through it, Qui-Gon saw a clear tract, free from any trees. The area was covered instead with a low-growing vine. The three of them stepped into the bright sunshine. Oddly, the Living Force pulsed even more strongly here than in the crowded jungle. Obi-Wan wasn't very tuned to the Living Force, but surely even he could...

"Do you feel it?" Qui-Gon asked quietly.

"Yes, Master," came the soft-spoken reply. "Perhaps we should explore the possibility of finding initiates among the DuSolans," he added.

"Very good, Padawan." A population with Force-sensitives might well consider this spot sacred. Qui-Gon was proud and allowed it to bleed through their bond. Obi-Wan's insight was worthy of a leader on an early contact mission.

Qui-Gon wanted to bask in the radiant warmth... from the suns, the surrounding Force aura, and Obi-Wan's response in the bond, but the Dahl Amur was speaking again. 'Be in the moment,' he chided himself sternly.

Qui-Gon realized Obi-Wan believed the disapproval was aimed at him when their link went cold, but he had to let it drop for now.

"... and I've decided that I should guide you each individually in the offering," the Dahl Amur concluded.

"The Vizier agreed that my student and I could remain together," Qui-Gon retorted.

"I sought the wisdom of the Living Being on our way here. As off-worlders, you will each need extra guidance. And the ritual is traditionally performed in pairs. This is the only workable solution," the Dahl Amur declared, crossing his arms.

Qui-Gon tested the man's aura and found it thick with deception, but without any malignance. Yet there was something else directed at them -- in particular at Obi-Wan. Once Qui-Gon zeroed in on that, he had no trouble identifying it: lust. No way on Hoth he would leave the man alone with his padawan now.

"Nevertheless, we shall proceed with the original plan," Qui-Gon stated definitively.

"I assure you, my way will work out better," the Dahl Amur insisted. Then, to the shock of both Jedi, he waved a hand in front of the master and ordered, "You will remain here." Apparently confident in the effect, he turned to Obi-Wan, waved his hand again, and said, "You will get undressed now."

"Shall I try, or will you handle this?" Obi-Wan cocked his head at Qui-Gon, half-grinning.

Qui-Gon quickly interposed his large mass between the high priest and his padawan. The Dahl Amur might be too difficult for anyone but a master to mind-whammy. Before the high priest could object, Qui-Gon raised his own hand and stated calmly, "You don't need to guide our offering."

"I don't need to guide your offering," the Dahl Amur agreed readily.

"You will return to the temple..."

"I will return to the temple..."

"We should go about our business."

"Go about your business," the Dahl Amur commanded them brusquely, and hastily left without a word of farewell, his robe fluttering in his wake. That wasn't so hard after all, Qui-Gon reflected.

"You do that so well," Obi-Wan remarked aloud, chuckling.

"You'll master the technique soon," Qui-Gon assured him. Though not if he didn't let his apprentice handle his own situations, he thought ruefully to himself.

"So what do we do now, Master?" Obi-Wan asked.

"From what they said earlier, we take off everything except for our robes, stand out in the open, and see if the Living Being finds us worthy."

"Worthy of what?" Obi-Wan asked, placing his fist on a thrust-out hip.

Worthy of everything, Qui-Gon answered only to himself. Did Obi-Wan truly not realize how sensual he looked, striking that pose? Or any other pose, for that matter. Somehow the robe flowed in resonance with him, accentuating his grace and emphasizing his movements. The fabric flattered rather than hid the form beneath it.

Qui-Gon sighed inwardly. How much longer would he have to keep his feelings hidden? He wasn't at all sure he could manage it. His apprentice meant everything to him, but needed to reach knighthood at any cost. If Obi-Wan discovered how his master felt before then, what might happen?

"Maybe we'll find out," he replied belatedly.

Qui-Gon turned away and warily peeled off the layers. He wasn't concerned about the Living Being, whatever it might be. Instead, he worried about the effect Obi-Wan's near-naked body would have on his own. He could hear the rustle of cloth as Obi-Wan undressed; that alone filled him with more heat than the two suns above. He resolutely shunted it out into the Force and willed his body back into submission.

Qui-Gon neatly folded his tunics and leggings, piling them next to his discarded boots. He placed his lightsaber carefully on top, within easy call -- should there be any unexpected trouble. Then he re-donned his robe and belted it shut, glad to be allowed some concealment. Without even glancing at Obi-Wan, he headed off towards the center of the glade, knowing his padawan would follow him as always.

The thick runners sported no leaves at all, but he noticed two types of tendrils. One tapered off conventionally; the other ended abruptly in a tight bud. In a few areas around the glade, the buds were replaced with fruits, varying in tone from stark porcelain to deep crimson.

He stopped at what seemed like a reasonable spot without any fruit that might be crushed underfoot.

"Let's try here," Qui-Gon stated, as he turned about to face his padawan.

Looking at Obi-Wan was a mistake. Qui-Gon had somehow managed to steel himself over time to the sight of Obi-Wan's naked form. He saw it often enough showering at the gym or floating in bacta. But seeing it draped in just a Jedi robe, with the thought of the nubby fabric rubbing against his skin, was irrationally erotic to Qui-Gon. How simple it would be to slide his hand into the opening and feel for himself.

Thankful again for his own robe, he decided it would be wisest to shut out the vision before him. Why not work on Obi-Wan's connection to the Living Force right now?

"I'm going to meditate. Join me," he half-commanded as he adopted a standing meditation posture.

"Of course, Master," the young man replied.

Qui-Gon closed his eyes and relaxed, centered on his breathing. Through the link, he could sense Obi-Wan's presence, following him.

Qui-Gon didn't have to reach out to the Force as he normally did. Instead, it grabbed his consciousness and drew him in, like a desperate lover into bed. A little surprised, he still surrendered quickly to the all-encompassing embrace.

Wrapped in the Living Force, Qui-Gon was usually closely attuned to any nearby animals. But in this glade, the signature of the vine prevailed. It not only predominated, but formed the very nexus connecting other creatures together. Even his sense of Obi-Wan came channeled to him through the plant.

It felt new but familiar, alien yet natural. Qui-Gon didn't try to pull away, but accepted the experience. He was a servant of the Force and its will in all its forms. He allowed the vine's aura to dominate him.

It wound round him and through him, insinuating itself into all the crevices of his mind. He could hide nothing. His carefully shielded love for Obi-Wan and his even more carefully shielded lust were simple truths, nothing more. If the infiltrator had been anything but the Force, Qui-Gon would have felt exposed, perhaps even violated. Instead, he relished this unique chance to share something so beautiful.

And the Force shared something in return. Qui-Gon's senses stretched out and branched off in a thousand different directions, tangling and bumping in a riot of growth. The air, still and heavy, pressed against him. Moist dampness, drawn out of the ground by the heat, kissed him with beads of dew. The suns above drenched him with life-giving warmth, while beneath him the earth offered cool sanctuary.

He was rooted within the complex system of topsoil symbiotes. As he had grown, he had channeled the available energy from the suns, from the Force, from his own body and others, back into the loam, replenishing its nutrients. It was ready to support other life again. Time to move on.

The sunshine seeped into his long winding limbs and he directed all his energy now into the fruit he bore, the next generation. It swelled to fullness, the skin flushing from pallor to ripeness, an enticing offer of give and take.

That truth reflected for Qui-Gon in the way he poured all his effort, his love, his entire life essence into his padawan. Obi-Wan was nearly ready, mature, fully developed, so enticing -- he could almost see Obi-Wan's face through his closed lids, the smooth creamy skin turning red...

Qui-Gon forced his eyes open to the sight of his padawan's exposed face right in front of him, already sunburned. He yanked his padawan's cowl up with one hand and cupped Obi-Wan's cheek with the other to judge how much damage had been done by the intense radiation.

His contact with Obi-Wan's skin completed some sort of circuit. The hot flesh pressing against his palm shot warmth up Qui-Gon's arm and down to his groin. Obi-Wan, still held in thrall, leaned unconsciously into his master's touch and a whispered moan escaped his lips.

Qui-Gon tried to focus on Obi-Wan's complexion, determine if there was heat stroke, but he was transfixed by the slightly parted lips, full and ruddy, almost begging to be consumed like ripe berries.

His hand dropped lower and slid around the back of Obi-Wan's neck. Obi-Wan's face tilted up towards his, as a blossom to the sun, mouth flowering open further in invitation.

Qui-Gon leaned in to accept. But as he got closer, his focus flicked upwards from Obi-Wan's lips to his eyes. They were closed and his face was slack and inexpressive, as it looked when floating inside bacta.

Sith! What was he doing? He pushed himself back, snatching his hand away. Qui-Gon suddenly realized it was the vine, not the Force, dictating his actions. But the vine was somehow controlling the Force, and he couldn't access it without succumbing to the plant's aura.

"Obi-Wan!" he called out loudly, trying to recall his apprentice from its hold.

The young man's eyes did snap open, but he started jerking about madly, without any of his usual grace. Qui-Gon couldn't fathom the cause.

"What's wrong?" he demanded.

"It's got me!" Obi-Wan gasped, darting a glance downward.

"Don't use the Force!" Qui-Gon shouted, in contradiction to all his prior teaching. Whatever was happening, he needed Obi-Wan in his right mind.

Looking at the ground, Qui-Gon saw that the shoots by Obi-Wan's feet had come to life, writhing about. Some of them had swarmed up, wrapping around his padawan's bare ankles before disappearing beneath his robe. Qui-Gon couldn't tell what was happening under the fabric, but Obi-Wan was struggling to free himself.

The obvious thing to do was to rip off Obi-Wan's robe and help free him. He should have done it without pause. Instead, the thought of removing Obi-Wan's clothing made Qui-Gon hesitate and the moment was lost.

Tendrils poked out of Obi-Wan's sleeves, wrapped around his wrists, and pinned his arms to his sides. Another tendril, one with a bud, popped out of the neck opening. It arched outward in front of Obi-Wan's face like a huge question mark.

"Master!" Obi-Wan implored him.

That call for help plunged like a dagger into Qui-Gon's chest, but was a tactical error on Obi-Wan's part. The animate stalk thrust into his mouth before he could close it again. The thick fleshy creeper worked its way deeper inside as the young man thrashed his head about in an attempt to dislodge it.

Qui-Gon quickly dismissed using his lightsaber. He would have to access the Force to call it to his hand and he was unwilling to leave Obi-Wan's side for the time it would take to retrieve it without enhanced speed.

He reached out to grasp the intruder invading his padawan's mouth, but more tendrils shot up from the ground and wrapped themselves around his wrists, anchoring him.

Qui-Gon couldn't understand how a plant could be so immensely strong. His efforts to break away with brute strength were futile. Fixed in place, he was forced to watch as a bulge formed in Obi-Wan's throat and, starting at the top, slowly moved down, the knobby bud pushing the flesh outwards. His padawan couldn't possibly breathe like that and even a Jedi could only live so long without air. Obi-Wan's struggles were only shortening the time he had left.

Each second passed like an agonizing eternity for Qui-Gon, pierced by the pleading gaze Obi-Wan directed straight at him. Qui-Gon could do nothing but hope the lump would start to withdraw, but instead it continued inexorably downward. When it reached the halfway point, Obi-Wan suddenly went slack. Qui-Gon felt the presence of the vine suffusing their bond and realized Obi-Wan hadn't passed out, but must have entered a Force trance to conserve oxygen. But by opening himself to the Living Force, he had succumbed.

Desperate beyond thinking, Qui-Gon dove headlong back into the Living Force himself, ready to engage in a life-or-death struggle. But as it wrapped him up again in its mental embrace, Qui-Gon's arms were abruptly released. Taking advantage, he grabbed the shoot obstructing Obi-Wan's throat with both hands and pulled.

It came out slowly with an obscene sound of suction ending with a distinctive 'pop'. Free of the blockage, Obi-Wan panted loudly, mouth hanging open, sucking in air. Qui-Gon could sense Obi-Wan through the vine, though he seemed barely conscious. He held the squirming stalk with both hands, but two other bud-tipped tendrils stretched menacingly towards Obi-Wan's open mouth while the young man fought simply to control his breathing.

Every atom inside him and the universe about him screamed at Qui-Gon to protect his padawan. But how? He couldn't let go of the tendril he was already holding. Still acting without thinking, he leaned forward and covered Obi-Wan's mouth with his own.

It didn't start out as a kiss. But the wash of astonishment that came from Obi-Wan was accompanied by an even larger current of lust. A rational part of Qui-Gon's mind yammered something about the vine's influence or the Code or practical objections, but that voice seemed far away and Obi-Wan's eyes were so close.

Their pupils were widely dilated, almost crowding out the vivid green rims. They looked just like Qui-Gon had frequently imagined them and when Obi-Wan opened his mouth even further, Qui-Gon plunged his tongue inside.

He released his grip on the plant and wrapped his arms around Obi-Wan. He wanted to hold every inch of him simultaneously, to nestle him close, to protect and succor him. Still open to the Force, his consciousness suddenly encompassed the tendrils binding Obi-Wan's body, as if they were his own appendages. He was roped tightly around his padawan's lithe form, from ankles to shoulders, and down his arms to his wrists. Sending out waves of reassurance, Qui-Gon loosened his hold into a whole-body caress, lightly stroking him beneath his robe.

Obi-Wan used his freedom to push closer to Qui-Gon, moaning into their full-blown kiss. Obi-Wan's arms slid around Qui-Gon, his fingers entwining themselves into the long locks of hair.

Qui-Gon knew the vine was affecting them, but it wasn't making him do anything he didn't truly want to do. Obi-Wan also seemed completely willing.

As if in response to that thought, one of the runners at his feet came to life and started winding its way up his leg. That, in itself, wouldn't have surprised Qui-Gon much at this point, but he could sense Obi-Wan directing it through the Living Force, as though he had mastered it as a child.

The touch thrilled Qui-Gon. It was the vine; it was Obi-Wan; it was the Living Force; it was a fantasy come true -- one that he'd never had, but would have if he'd thought of it. He thrust his tongue deep into Obi-Wan's mouth, trying to convey not just acceptance but his intense need.

When the questing shoot reached his crotch, it encountered a very hard erection. It coiled round, spiraling up from the base to the head. Then the finely tapered tip slipped under his foreskin and flicked about.

Qui-Gon squirmed uncontrollably and groaned, breaking mouth contact. He'd never felt anything like this and the fact that it was Obi-Wan's doing made it that much more mind-blowing. New tendrils quickly joined in, supporting him while they caressed his chest, belly, and thighs. One gently wound round his balls. Another inched its way between his cheeks to his entrance, where it swirled about.

Obi-Wan dropped his hands to Qui-Gon's sash and yanked it away. Then, pulling open the folds of Qui-Gon's robe, he ordered, "Come for me!" in a voice that echoed in every corner of Qui-Gon's mind.

The tendril squirming around his opening pushed inside. An orgasm shot up from the roots of Qui-Gon's being, pulsing through every fiber, and burst out as a thick spray of seed, arching out and spilling onto the ground.

Qui-Gon thought he might black out for a second, but it was Obi-Wan who actually tottered. The runners looped about the young man had fallen off as Qui-Gon's connection to the Force was swept away by his climax. Eyes wide, Obi-Wan looked aghast, and it was clear that his mind had also been freed. The shoots holding Qui-Gon slipped off him as Obi-Wan asked in a small voice, "Did I do that?"

Hoping to defuse the situation, Qui-Gon glanced at the creamy splashes on the ground and responded wryly, "No; I'm pretty sure that's mine. I think I just honored the Living Being."

"Oh... " Obi-Wan said, his expression still filled with trepidation.

His face was even redder than before, and his eyes were a muddy color Qui-Gon wasn't sure he'd ever seen. Qui-Gon stepped close to Obi-Wan, pulled up the cowl again, and laid his hands on his padawan's shoulders. "I hope you know you are the only person I would want with me to make that offering."

Obi-Wan smiled now, though still a little shyly. Tilting his face upwards, he said merely, "Please... "

Qui-Gon leaned down and kissed him gently on the lips. Almost chaste, nothing like the way he had nearly ravaged his mouth while under the influence of the Living Being, it still left no room for doubt about his feelings.

To make doubly sure, he nuzzled his face under the cowl and whispered in Obi-Wan's ear, "I love you, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan sighed, "Oh, Master... I love you too." He started to rub his cheek against Qui-Gon's beard, but pulled away sharply, with an "Ow!"

"Sunburn," Qui-Gon stated, running his finger lightly across Obi-Wan's cheek. "I'll heal that for you, but we'll have to wait until we leave this glade or I might reactivate the vine when I access the Force," he added, pointing at the ground.

Obi-Wan's gaze followed his gesture, then he touched Qui-Gon's arm, urging, "Master, look!"

About their feet, and for several meters around, the buds were opening. Qui-Gon realized that although the glade was dotted with fruit, he hadn't noticed any flowers.

They both squatted for a closer look at one. The green casing split apart and flexed backward, as if stretching after a long nap. The tight knot inside at first appeared gray, but as the synthpap-thin layers unfolded, each individual petal revealed its own hue... cyan, gold, teal, umber, emerald.

Qui-Gon reached out and delicately stroked the velvety blossom with a fingertip.

"Beautiful... " Obi-Wan breathed.

"Like your eyes," Qui-Gon added, knowing it sounded trite but needing to say it anyway.

Those eyes looked sharply into his and one brow arched dramatically. Qui-Gon readied himself for some scathing comment. But as Obi-Wan drew in his breath, Qui-Gon watched his expression soften and what Obi-Wan actually said was, "Not as beautiful as yours," reaching over to lightly feather his fingers over Qui-Gon's lids.

Qui-Gon grasped the hand, stood, and levered Obi-Wan up. Maybe the vine's influence hadn't completely dissipated. Still holding the hand, he gave it a small tug. "We'd better leave," he said shortly.

But Obi-Wan remained still, looking down at the flowers. When he returned his gaze to Qui-Gon, those eyes were glowing like green coals. "We can't leave yet, Master; I haven't made my offering," he explained with a half smile.

Qui-Gon's worry that the Living Being still controlled his padawan's mind couldn't quell the fresh flush of desire that swept through him. He had just had the most intense orgasm of his life, but the thought of making love with Obi-Wan again, even through the medium of the vine, made him instantly hard beneath his loose-hanging robe.

But it was madness -- Obi-Wan couldn't be thinking clearly. This so-called Living Being had nearly killed him.

Apparently sensing Qui-Gon's concern, Obi-Wan hastened on, "Master, it didn't mean any harm. I could tell when I went into the trance."

Qui-Gon reflected that the aura had certainly felt Light side and remembered how the tendrils had released his arms to allow him to save Obi-Wan. And things had certainly worked out well enough --maybe that was what the Living Being had intended.

"Wouldn't it be best if we could honestly tell the DuSolans that we both honored their god?" Obi-Wan added, clinching his argument.

Letting go of his fear, Qui-Gon grabbed Obi-Wan instead and kissed him, conceding.

"In that case, I'll take care of your sunburn right here. Maybe you should enter a light healing trance."

Qui-Gon tried to make the suggestion sound innocent, but when Obi-Wan responded with a throaty, "Yes, Master," he couldn't resist pressing up against him and discovering that the young man was already as hard as he was.

Impatient now, Qui-Gon slipped off Obi-Wan's sash and drew their robes apart so they could touch skin-to-skin. Obi-Wan slid his erection along Qui-Gon's and whispered, "Yes, Master," again, his voice rough with passion.

Qui-Gon sucked in his breath and raised his trembling hands to Obi-Wan's face. The skin really was quite flushed and hot to the touch. As he reached out for the Force, he sensed Obi-Wan doing the same.

Once again engulfed, Qui-Gon focused to siphon off some energy, and direct waves of it to Obi-Wan's features. Qui-Gon fought the urge to clutch at his padawan and concentrated on the healing pulses and the rhythm of growth and renewal in the flesh beneath his hands. His fingers tingled as they brushed lightly over forehead, temples, cheeks, nose, lips, and chin. Obi-Wan's grateful acceptance flowed back to him, amplified, through the medium of the vine.

The nearby tendrils once more became extensions of himself, and they joined his fingers in gently skimming over Obi-Wan's face. Without conscious thought on Qui-Gon's part, they started to exude a cool, slick gel, counteracting the heat of the burn. Soon Obi-Wan's face remained just a little pinkish beneath the sheen of balm.

Then Qui-Gon's tendrils began to wander into Obi-Wan's hair, making the locks spiky with more gel. One twined up the length of his padawan braid and tugged, tipping Obi-Wan's head back.

His eyes had taken on the deep green of the vine; his lips, the red of ripe fruit, now contrasting once more with his paler complexion. Give and take... that too was part of the cycle and when Obi-Wan's mouth parted in a soft moan, the tip of his tongue showing between rows of white teeth, Qui-Gon leaned down to devour him again.

Qui-Gon cradled Obi-Wan's head with his large hands as he thrust his tongue inside. His other appendages ranged further, slipping under the padawan robe, gliding over hard muscles, leaving behind trails of moisture.

One of them touched Obi-Wan's heated erection and the apprentice bucked against his master. Qui-Gon looped the fleshy stalk around both their cocks, pressing them together. Their erections slid against each other in its slippery grasp. Both men groaned, and Qui-Gon scrambled to keep possession of Obi-Wan's sweet mouth.

Simply unable to hold Obi-Wan close enough with just his arms, Qui-Gon roped coil after coil around the two of them, drawing his lover snug against his chest. Then he used more tendrils to part Obi-Wan's legs, draping them around his hips and supporting him in place. He continued to work their cocks slowly, the tip of his tapered tendril just teasing the edge of Obi-Wan's foreskin but not darting inside yet.

An irrational urge drove him to completely fill Obi-Wan with the Living Force -- and forge a connection he'd never forget. He slid one of his glistening stalks, this one ending with a bud, to Obi-Wan's exposed entrance.

He would have stopped then if Obi-Wan had fought him or tried to shrink away. But Obi-Wan humped eagerly, and the blunt tip slid just inside with little resistance. Obi-Wan's mouth did escape his then, as he wrenched his head back to release a moan from deep down, one which was echoed by Qui-Gon.

Being inside Obi-Wan was like being immersed in the Living Force -- nearly overwhelming, too perfect to endure. He almost wanted to die right then so he would never have to live an instant unlike this one.

Instead he brought his face within millimeters of Obi-Wan's. "Be in the moment," he urged. Obi-Wan's voice was tense, high and nearly breaking, as he gasped out, "Yes, Master," yet again. Qui-Gon swallowed the young man's staccato breaths as he sealed their mouths together.

Qui-Gon stretched his mind out and submerged his consciousness. He was the Living Being; his invisible tendrils connected all living creatures, even master and padawan. He abruptly plunged into Obi-Wan's mouth, his foreskin, and deeper inside his core. Obi-Wan writhed in his grasp, making inarticulate noises.

He pumped their cocks together, synchronized with his thrusting. Connected by the Force, the rhythm reflected back from each creature, through him and into Obi-Wan. They swirled together in a spiraling cycle of building tension, becoming unbearable. At the exact instant Obi-Wan couldn't hold back any longer, Qui-Gon breached his shields and filled his mind with his Force aura as they both climaxed, physical sensation forgotten in ecstasy.

Qui-Gon did black out then. When he came to, he was lying on his back in the glade, Obi-Wan sprawled on top of him.

"Are you all right?" he couldn't help asking.

Obi-Wan drew himself into a seated position and offered him a shaky smile. "Force, yes! I've never felt so completely sated, so completely... " He trailed off, searching for the right word. "Just complete," he added, waving his arm about.

His skin glistened in the bright sunlight, covered with the gel. Qui-Gon sat up too, then reached out and scooped a dab off Obi-Wan's cheek. He rubbed his fingers together. The stuff was clear, but it felt like bacta.

"If you don't mind, there's something I'd like to do," he requested.

"Master, we just engaged in a m?nage a trois with a plant. What could I possibly mind?"

"Indulge me," Qui-Gon said, as he leaned forward and licked the gel out of Obi-Wan's cleft.

When he finished and drew back, Obi-Wan gave him a look that clearly meant 'Some day you're gonna have to explain that' but all he said aloud was, "The Vizier is coming."

Qui-Gon reached out in the Living Force. Sure enough, the man was almost here. He looked up in surprise, not at the arrival, but at Obi-Wan, because he had sensed it. There seemed to be no danger -- no reason the Unifying Force would alert him.

They rose quickly, grabbed their sashes, and tied them on as they walked across the glade to meet the leader, who emerged from the jungle near their piles of clothing.

The Vizier wore an expression of profound relief at seeing the Jedi ambassadors. "Blessings to you," he greeted them in his heavily accented Basic. "I hope you weren't offended by the Dahl Amur. I was very surprised when he returned alone. But he assured me you could make your offerings without guidance and that you would be found worthy."

"We are honored by his faith in us," Qui-Gon responded diplomatically.

"By the Living Being itself!" the Vizier exclaimed, looking over their shoulders.

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan turned around. Blossoms were bursting out all over the glade. About half were multi-colored and the other half were a pure cerulean blue that matched Qui-Gon's own eyes.

"You have brought us many blessings with your offering," the Vizier stated, clearly awed. "The high priest was right; you didn't need his guidance."

The Vizier eyed them anew, and Qui-Gon sensed lust tingeing his aura. "Rather, I would be honored to have your guidance in an offering..." He trailed off, sounding expectant.

Obi-Wan reacted before Qui-Gon could reply. Waving his hand in a familiar gesture, he said, "You don't need to make an offering now."

"I don't need to make an offering now," the Vizier agreed.

"You will return to the temple..."

"I will return to the temple..."

"We should go about our business."

"Go about your business," the Vizier commanded them and left hastily.

As the foliage closed behind the Vizier's departing figure, Qui-Gon remarked, "You did that so well."

"I surprised myself; I just felt sure I could."

Qui-Gon suddenly circled Obi-Wan with his arms and asked, "Obi-Wan, would you pair bond with me?"

Eyebrow arched, Obi-Wan looked askance at Qui-Gon. "I would, but it's forbidden for masters and padawans to pair bond."

"But not for masters and knights. I'm going to recommend you for your Trials."

After a moment of shocked silence, Obi-Wan objected, "I thought you said my connection to the Living Force needed a lot more work."

"It's gotten much better recently," he assured his apprentice. "Let's just say my teaching has finally come to fruition."

--END--