Archive: M&A, The Nesting Place. Others please request.
Category: Q/O--PWP
Rating: NC-17
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 is now officially a series called "The Warrior's
Heart" (thanks to Devo for the title). 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"; "Give and Take"; "Nomenclature"; then "Master
& Apprentice." Bruck Chun, a character from the YA Jedi
Apprentice series (great stuff!) 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.
Thoughts in italics (or /); telepathy in //.
Summary: Our Boyz wake in the Temple gardens with very
different takes on how they spent the night.
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.
Fission:
Qui-Gon woke just before dawn hearing the echo of his lover's
voice crying out with his own; feeling the ache left by their
muscles spasming as though they had both been struck by
lightning; with the afterimage of the Force lighting the grove
and coruscating blue over their bodies burned onto his retinas.
He woke painfully hard and desperately aroused, wanting to sink
himself into the warm, tight, forgiving refuge of Obi-Wan's
body again, to plunge into him until they both came as they had
last night, joined in heart and mind and spirit as much as in
body, in a shattering explosion of ecstasy. He woke feeling
darkly bereft and abandoned without him, even though the boy
lay in his arms, knowing that even in its beauty their joining
had been incomplete, that it might never be whole, as he might
not ever again.
They had been conduits for something far greater than
themselves last night and it had been both rapture and torment.
The pleasure had been indescribable, almost beyond endurance,
as overwhelming in its intensity as the fear and darkness they
were counteracting. Obi-Wan had actually passed out and Qui-Gon
nearly had. Instead, he had clung to both his lover and his own
shredded consciousness, weeping shamelessly into the boy's hair
in racking sobs. After a few moments, Obi-Wan had woken and
held him close, as alarmed by his reaction as he was himself.
Eventually, they had drifted into an exhausted sleep together.
And what had he been weeping for? The emptiness he sensed in
the lingering spirit of Bruck's master? The despair at her
betrayal by those she had trusted? The denial of the one thing
that would make her whole again? All those things, and their
analogs in himself. The knowledge that they were too much
alike, he and Bruck's master, that he was no more ready to make
the kind of sacrifice asked of her than she had been.
He had never in his life been so undone, not even in the moment
he had opened himself up to Obi-Wan before they were overcome
by the Force. In that moment, he had laid bare nearly all his
soul for his lover and apprentice. Obi- Wan, with his great
heart, had mirrored the gift, incapable of merely taking what
Qui-Gon offered without returning as much or more. In the
following moment, the Force swept through them, stripped from
Qui-Gon everything he had laid bare, and entwined it with
Obi-Wan's offering, making a powerful entity greater than the
two of them that burned away the darkness in the grove. For a
moment, just a moment, he had seen himself and his lover as one
inextricably bound creature and it had filled him with a joy he
had never guessed existed.
But that one instant was all he had been allowed. The fall from
heaven had been fast and the impact all but mortal. The torment
lay in knowing he could not have that now, and might never have
it with his young man he loved so. Too much time and
circumstance stood between them.
And it was so much worse to have had it once, however briefly,
and lost it.
He would take what he could get, instead. Anything to fill that
emptiness. Qui-Gon slicked his aching cock with spit again and
pulled his apprentice close, gently pushing inside him, knowing
it was not a selfless act.
Frisson:
He woke with Qui-Gon already moving inside him, as though they
had never stopped making love, and at first, he thought they
hadn't. Then the memory of ecstasy came back to him and he knew
they had, in a moment of completion that had turned him inside
out, shaken everything out of him, and put him back together
again, a new man. In that moment of surrender he'd felt Qui-Gon
pouring out everything, not just his seed, but his essence, his
being, his heart and soul, his oneness with the web of life,
releasing it all into the Force as though he were joining with
it himself in Leth Astl's place. He remembered being amazed at
the selflessness of his lover and being a little afraid it
would go too far. But even in that outpouring, there was some
part of him that Qui-Gon kept to himself, closely shielded and
tightly leashed, raging inside him like something caged too
long. Obi-Wan had only glimpsed that hidden roiling within his
lover before losing consciousness in the wake of their
explosive and impossible orgasm.
When he woke again, he had found his lover not just in tears
but sobbing uncontrollably. The sound had nearly torn him in
two. He had never seen Qui-Gon so completely shattered, never
seen him weep at all, that he could remember, and couldn't
imagine what could rend his lover so, especially not after what
they'd shared. Stunned, he could merely watch for a moment,
before reaching out through their bond to find his master's
shields in shreds, his heart wrung out for Leth's stained
spirit, for Bruck's broken one, for--for himself? That shocked
him. Qui-Gon was not a man to indulge in self-pity. But Obi-Wan
sensed such a well of sorrow in his master, full of old pain
and bitter disappointments, that it brought tears to his own
eyes.
"No," he'd whispered. "No, My Master. It's all right. Let go of
it." Panicked and hurting, he turned and gathered the bulk of
Qui-Gon's shivering body against him, pulling him over atop his
own and holding the great shaggy head against his shoulder with
one hand, stroking the other soothingly up and down his
stiffened spine. Qui-Gon wept like a man bereft of everything
he held dear. The anguish in it had tortured Obi-Wan, who
wondered how he could feel so replete and Qui-Gon so hollow. He
could only assume he had not given enough of himself to his
master and lover, but exhaustion had claimed them both before
he could rectify that lack.
Now, Qui-Gon thrust slowly and gently into him, though he could
feel the amount of control necessary for his master to keep
that pace. He had wrapped one arm around Obi-Wan's body,
holding his torso back against his own chest, one large,
blunt-fingered hand spread wide across his breastbone, as
though he were cradling Obi-Wan's heart. Obi-Wan reached back,
caressing his lover's flank, pulling him closer. Qui-Gon
groaned and thrust into him a little harder.
He was hard himself now, balls aching and tight, cock arched
against his stomach, throbbing with need. The friction of
Qui-Gon's body against his own, the warmth and size of it
around him and inside him made him feel as if he were being
engulfed as well as claimed, that when they were done, he would
be inextricably a part of Qui-Gon. He'd never wanted anything
so much as he wanted to be bound to this man, come what may.
His lover groaned again, mouth buried at the juncture between
Obi-Wan's neck and shoulder, his breath hot and harsh and fast,
his jaws working as though he were trying not to bite down on
the tender flesh so close by.
"Do it," Obi-Wan told him. "Let go."
As though those words had released a physical restraint,
Qui-Gon roared like a man going into battle and rolled them
both onto their knees. He grasped Obi-Wan's hips and pistoned
into him at a furious pace, as though consumed by a fire only
his lover could quench. Obi-Wan surrendered himself to his
lover's demands.
Fever:
There was only one thing in his mind now, one thing that
mattered in the emptiness, and that was the body into which he
plunged, because he knew somehow that it held the key to his
wholeness. They were on their knees again, and he did not know
how they had gotten there. The smell of sex was heavy in the
air like pollen. It only made him more frenzied. The back and
hips beneath him arched and writhed and ground against him as
he plunged in, quivering with each meaty slap of flesh against
flesh. Inside. Deeper. He heard groans, a kind of keening,
panting gasps, a cry in a voice he loved:
"Qui-Gon! Please!"
The soft skin of neck and shoulder against his cheek and chin
smelled of sweat and the faint remnants of soap, clean and
boyish, and of a night spent outdoors in the pursuits of love.
What was the boy begging for? For him to stop? Or to go on? Was
he causing pain? He didn't know, couldn't tell.
No. This wasn't right. It wasn't right to use this boy so. And
yet Qui-Gon heard his voice: No, My Master. Let it go.
But that had been some time ago. Not now, not now. Not like
this.
He stopped suddenly, tried to find his center, could not, could
not. Broke open again, hiding his face against the boy's
bristly soft hair. There were no tears this time, but he
thought he might never breathe again, stopping them.
Fervor:
What had started fast and furious stopped entirely, so abruptly
that it took him a moment to register the fact. "No- -" he
heard himself beg. So close. He'd been so close. They'd been so
close. Qui-Gon's breathing was harsh against his neck. All at
once he felt the weight of his lover's head against the back of
his own and the panting stopped.
He could feel Qui-Gon's muscles beginning to tremble with need
and fatigue, his own doing the same. Their completion would
have to be soon. Though he knew it would not be as it had been
the night before, he wanted that moment of oneness with his
lover, reached out to him through their bond again to draw him
in. Qui-Gon seemed unaware of it, unaware of Obi-Wan's
presence, unaware of his love or desire, unaware of anything
but his own raging emptiness.
That pain caught in Obi-Wan's chest, smothering his own breath.
How could Qui-Gon think he had been emptied? Couldn't he see--
//Oh, love, no. Let me fill you again.// Obi-Wan sent
everything, everything of the love he felt for Qui-Gon, as
lover and master and friend, out along their bond. It would
have drained him completely if love were not something that
only expanded to fill the space given it. How had Qui-Gon
forgotten that?
Foundering:
The force and weight of Obi-Wan's love hit Qui-Gon like a
tsunami, reared him upright on his knees, blasted into the
empty places in him like floodwaters into a small room,
flattening everything in its way: self-pity, loneliness, fear,
lust, formless need, pride, guilt. Roughly awakened from the
manic trance of desperation, he found his gaze traveling up the
perfection of the smooth, arched, glistening back below him as
though seeing it for the first time, as though just realizing
he was not fucking something, but someone, and who that someone
was. His self-absorption sickened him, shamed him.
Obi-Wan looked at him over his shoulder, eyes hooded with
arousal but also overflowing with the gift he had just given
his master. "Qui-Gon," he pleaded in a voice febrile with
desire, "Love me."
He touched the small of his lover's back with shaking fingers.
"I don't know how," he said, voice thick and dull and
frightened, so appallingly frightened, looking into Obi- Wan's
trusting face with shame. He did not, truly. He knew only how
to take from this seemingly bottomless wellspring of love that
wore his lover's flesh. Darkness gathered around him, almost
palpable. Leth's darkness, his own.
Found:
//Take, then. You gave last night. It's your turn now. Take,//
Obi-Wan told his lover. He felt the darkness gathering nearby
and pushed back against it and against Qui-Gon's groin and
thighs, driving his lover deeper inside and rocking him back on
his heels as Obi-Wan moved back with him to straddle his lap.
This would not come between them; Obi-Wan would not allow it to
take Qui-Gon as it had taken Bruck's master. He leaned back
against his lover's chest, glad for once of the height
disparity that let him nestle against Qui-Gon's shoulder and
neck, his hands running over the heated and tender skin of his
lover's flanks, drawing a shiver from him.
Slowly, he rocked up and back, letting Qui-Gon fill him,
feeling as though his lover were so deep inside him that he was
reaching up under his ribs and into his heart, stealing his
breath. "O gods, Love," he moaned in a guttural voice, and
reached for Qui-Gon's hands, laying them against his chest and
holding them there as he impaled himself again and again like a
willing sacrifice. Everything he wanted was right here,
kneeling behind him, the hands beneath his own and warm on his
chest, the cock deep inside him, the breath stirring against
his skin, the long tendrils of his lover's hair flowing across
Obi-Wan's shoulder, the heart and soul of him for the asking.
//Take what you need. Let me give to you,// Obi-Wan told him,
contentment and love filling him, spilling into their bond,
pushing away Qui-Gon's despair the darkness with it.
Fable:
It both warmed Qui-Gon and saddened him.
This was not a time to be thinking of old lovers, but he was.
He and Mace had sat like this one night, many, many years ago,
when they were both young knights, meditating together on love
and passion and serenity, hands joined like this across
Qui-Gon's belly, bodies joined as Obi-Wan was to him, Mace's
cheek resting quietly against his back as they rocked together
in tiny movements. They had balanced in a perfect equilibrium
of arousal and fulfillment for hours, cocooned in and buoyed by
their openness to the Force, by their love for each other, by
the serenity they found in both, having harnessed their passion
for one another. They had been lovers for nearly a decade at
that point and knew one another so well that they could convey
their thoughts through glances and half-finished sentences or
the brief touch of the Force. Not a master-padawan bond, nor as
strong as a life bond, they had yet shared a congruence of mind
and heart that made them, in many ways, a pair, a single unit
composed of two comrades, two colleagues, two peers.
This is what he was missing with Obi-Wan, what he knew he might
never have.
No matter how much Obi-Wan gave, Qui-Gon could not yet return
it whole-heartedly, without some restraint, and it grieved him
to know that. He grieved, too, for what he had lost with Mace
when they had parted ways, and the way they had parted. He
grieved for Leth's misplaced and unbridled desire, for her
apprentice's misguided and painful attempt to fill it, and for
his own possibly just as misguided liaison with Obi-Wan.
No matter, he told himself. No matter, old fool. The
present is here, on your lap, in your hands. Live in it. Make
it live.
Fact:
Qui-Gon was stock still for a moment, then began to rock up
against him, sliding his hands out from under Obi-Wan's to
wander over his young lover's body, as though exploring it for
the first time. His mouth found the tender skin behind
Obi-Wan's jaw and kissed and licked a line down it, then bent
to his shoulder, which he bit gently and suckled, sending
warmth through him in a gentle wave. "No other like you,"
Qui-Gon murmured, "nothing sweeter." Qui- Gon's fingertips
circled his sensitive nipples, spiraling closer but not
touching until Obi-Wan began to moan and squirm, aching for
that touch. Finally, they were pinched and rolled between
Qui-Gon's fingers, and he gasped and shuddered, writhing back
against Qui-Gon's chest.
Clever hands ran in long, slow caresses over Obi-Wan's
shoulders, down his arms, up the outside of his legs and sides,
down over his chest and belly and thighs, back up inside them,
as he rubbed his cheek and beard against Obi- Wan's hair as
though marking him for his own. Qui-Gon's hands lingered on the
inside of his thighs, stroking in light touches, then up over
their crease to his hips and back down again slowly, so slowly
that Obi-Wan's cock was twitching in anticipation.
Then one hand carefully burrowed in behind his balls, which
were tight up against his body, and just barely stroked the
painfully sensitive underside until Obi-Wan was half lifting
himself both up into and away from that touch, not sure if he
wanted it or wanted to escape it, whether it was pleasure or
pain. The other hand closed around his cock, gliding upward
with a steady pressure, swirling the palm over the crown and
the pre-cum beading there and sliding back down again in a
tight ring to repeat the motion.
The movement was so smooth it was almost hypnotic, and yet the
tension mounted just a notch each time they rocked together.
Obi-Wan shuddered and reached back again to clutch as much of
Qui-Gon's ass as he could reach, feeling the edge approaching.
Fusion:
Obi-Wan fed each sensation back to him as though it were a
delectable morsel from a banquet, until he could feel his
caresses on his own body and there became less and less of a
distinction between the two of them. But Obi-Wan was more than
a mirror to him. With each physical sensation came the emotion
it aroused, the desire, the anticipation, the surprise, the
gratitude, the expansive affection, the amusement, the
consternation, the trust, the overwhelming peace, all of them a
feast of love--his love, their love. Obi- Wan offered; Qui-Gon
took and was replete.
No, it was not what he had had with Mace, or with any other
lover. It was a new thing, bright and hot, melding them
together, tempering both of them, scorching first one then the
other in the process. They had built this truly new thing
together last night--together--a part of both of them,
greater than the sum of those parts through the Force. Who was
to say what they would have when Obi-Wan was knighted, when
they could come to each other without reserve? For Obi-Wan had
his own constraints, though it had not occurred to him before.
Besides, it had taken years of their own learning as padawans
and lovers to reach what he and Mace had had in that remembered
moment. How foolish to expect it now from his own padawan and
his own heart that was so scarred. They both had so much
learning to do.
They rocked together with more urgency, two hands entwined over
Obi-Wan's cock, two hands entwined over his belly, holding them
steady. Already it felt as though they had been moving together
for hours and both of them wanted completion. Still, they built
toward it slowly, savoring each other. Qui-Gon moved them onto
their knees again and drew back until only the head of his cock
was inside his lover and stroked in shallowly, just nudging his
prostate, eight times before plunging in fast and deep, raking
into him hard. The effect was electric. Obi-Wan shuddered and
gasped, legs and arms going weak as the charge spread through
his oversensitized nerves. Seven more slow, shallow strokes and
this time two hard, deep ones that nearly sent him over the
edge. Qui-Gon waited before starting again, to let his lover
find his equilibrium, and they fell easily into the pattern. As
the ratio shifted, the pause between the sets became shorter
and their movements less controlled until they both came
together in the middle of the last set of nine, the final deep
thrusts completely involuntary. Obi-Wan cried out his lover's
name but Qui- Gon had no words, no coherent thought at all.
There was merely the glory of his lover's body, the gift of it
and all the love that filled it sluicing into him on the sound
of his name in that moment.
Like a building tumbling in on itself, they settled almost in
slow motion back onto Qui-Gon's cloak as Obi-Wan pulled his own
up around them in the dewy morning light. They shivered a
little, sweat drying on their bodies in the cool air, and
nestled closer for warmth, Qui-Gon reluctant to withdraw and
Obi-Wan reluctant to have him do so. They hovered on the edge
of sleep, petting and touching one another, still connected.
"Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan, my heart," Qui-Gon whispered. "What do you
see in me?"
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