Summary: NC-17 This is so entirely Black Rose's fault and that
of the picture she did. I told her she was interfering with my
ability to stick to stuff I already have started. That picture
has been haunting me since she posted it. (All ghosts should be
so pleasant. <G>) Uhm, it's a vignette, there's kind of a
story but I really was trying to capture the picture, not
develop a new plotline.
Disclaimers: Not mine. Characters and concepts belong to George
Lucas, Lucasfilms,LTD and ILM. No infringement is inended, no
recompense is sought.
Feedback: Please: Good, bad or indifferent. Any comments
welcome to maygra@bellsouth.net
The preliminary preparations done with, Obi-Wan sat back on his
heels, a faint smile on his lips as he looked at his master. He
kissed Qui-Gon lightly, pulling back with a rough, breathless
chuckle when his master would have tried to deepen the contact.
"You promised me a different kind of kiss, Qui-Gon," he said,
shifting to get his legs off the bed and then he was on his
feet, stepping away, his back to Qui-Gon as he looked at the
fire for a moment.
"I still think this unwise," Qui-Gon murmured, knowing the
protest would be heard but not heeded. Since having acquired
this parasite that had changed him, altered him, given him the
hunger and need for the blood of other living things, he and
Obi-Wan and the other Masters had been working on the issue of
control; months of it. He felt more confident now than he had
since it had happened, but this experiment, this test, made him
nervous.
Obi-Wan was far more confident. Only at the very beginning had
he shown any fear at all and that only because Qui-Gon had
attacked him so suddenly, neither of them sure what had
happened. Since then, he had worked tirelessly with his master,
with the healers, taming the wild Hunger that rose and clawed
at Qui-Gon's control, and discovering on his own that there
were other aspects to the life form now occupying Qui-Gon's
blood that were less about biology and more about survival. The
amount of blood Qui-Gon needed each day was actually very
small, and the side effects of his feeding -- well, that was
what they meant to test.
The slowly dying fire cast a warm a glow over the small room.
Regardless of his need to breathe, Qui-Gon felt his breath
catch as his otherwise proper padawan stood in front of the
fire and, with unconscious grace and a total lack of modesty,
let the pale robe slip from his shoulders and to the floor.
Hunger rose up in Qui-Gon and he ruthlessly thrust it back
down. It snarled and snapped at him but he ignored it, finding
it easier than he thought. //I have traded one form of madness
for another.// But what a glorious madness it was, almost as
glorious as the slender body before him.
Obi-Wan did not move, his back still to his master. The fire's
light turned the usually pale gold skin to a deeper bronze,
teasing Qui-Gon with the promise of blood beneath the skin, the
false flush ghosting over Obi-Wan's shoulders and hips before
it faded into the shadows that outlined his back.
Qui-Gon moved slowly, barely a brush of sound as he rose from
the bed, but Obi-Wan heard it or sensed him, a small quick
intake of breath lifting his shoulders and chest briefly.
"Afraid, beloved?" Qui-Gon murmured, coming up behind him until
he was close enough to feel the heat of the younger man's body
against his own cooler skin, but not touching him.
"Never of you," Obi-Wan said softly, louder than a whisper but
the effect was the same. The sound carried no further than
Qui-Gon's ears.
Letting his eyes rove, Qui-Gon smiled, tongue unconsciously
testing the sharpness of his teeth. The Hunger made its
presence known again and he ignored it. There was more than one
feast here. Lightly, he let his fingers run over the curve of
Obi-Wan's shoulder, smiling when his padawan did not flinch.
The trembling was there, nonetheless, just below the surface.
Qui-Gon traced his fingers along the wing of Obi-Wan's shoulder
then along his side, brushing forward, and Obi-Wan lifted his
arm slightly so as not to impede Qui Gon's exploration. Warm
skin, firm and silken, met the caress.
Tilting his head forward only slightly, Obi-Wan watched the
long fingers brush down his side, the digits spreading, the
cool skin feeling wonderful against his over-warm flesh. He
sucked in a soft breath as those splayed fingers covered his
belly, pressing gently into the muscles there, testing, then
let the breath out as he felt his master's body press against
his back. Qui-Gon fit himself against Obi-Wan, using his hand
to pull his lover back and pressing his hips and torso forward,
the soft heavy weight of his well-oiled genitals fitting snugly
against the top rounded curve of his ass.
"What a courtesan you would have made, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon
whispered against the top of his head.
Obi-Wan found himself chuckling softly. "Too short and too
contrary, Master," he said leaning back slightly and bringing
his head up to catch a glimpse of his master's face. As with
his own skin, the fire lent color to Qui- Gon's face, making
the blue eyes seem darker, the face more austere but no less
beautiful. Having spent days convincing Qui-Gon this was what
he wanted, he was a little surprised to find he was not nervous
at all.
//You trust easily, beloved.//
//But not foolishly,// Obi-Wan returned, calmly.
//No. A fool you are not,// Qui-Gon assured him, using his
other hand to trace along the opposite shoulder, along Obi-
Wan's throat, mapping his skin with his fingers as he had done
a thousand times before. But not like this, not with this extra
awareness of how hotly the blood ran beneath the flesh, not
with the scent of sweat and musk and oil and bathwater that
still clung to Obi-Wan's skin so sharply clear to his senses.
His fingers curved as he slid this arm, too, around his lover,
both of Obi-Wan's arms lifting as if he might be preparing to
take flight. Qui-Gon let his fingernails drag slowly across the
fire-warmed skin, tracing over a one nipple and Obi-Wan
shivered in delight. Heightened senses let Qui-Gon actually
smell the first stirrings of arousal. Or perhaps not the first.
Obi-Wan 's body was reacting too quickly for this to be a
sudden onset. No, his beautiful padawan had been hovering at
the edge of it since he had dropped his robe, if not before.
"I don't think you need the bite," Qui-Gon murmured, lips
tracing the taut tendon on the side of Obi-Wan's throat.
"I never have before," Obi-Wan agreed, a soft sigh escaping
him. "But you did promise. I feel greedy, Master. I want more
and you need to be sure."
As if he didn't already have everything Qui-Gon had to offer
merely at the asking. But, there it was, this thing, this
difference that separated them no matter how slightly. This
doubt....
"Not greedy, Obi-Wan. Never that," Qui-Gon soothed
automatically, sincerely. He kissed the younger man's shoulder.
"Relax, beloved. It will not hurt," he said and felt the
conscious effort Obi-Wan made to rid his body of any
trepidation. He was not entirely successful. He had braced his
legs wide but Qui-Gon took more of his weight, supporting him.
Qui-Gon was not prepared for the reaction that followed the
press of his sharpened teeth through the flesh and muscle at
the curve of Obi-Wan's throat and shoulder; the sudden hot
flare of desire that overtook Obi-Wan. Pleasure, yes. That much
Qui-Gon had expected -- learning quickly that the bite could be
masked with any array of sensations to distract those he fed
from.
Or perhaps it was only that with Obi-Wan, there was no need to
measure the amount of pleasure or distraction he offered. Like
his lover, the trust was absolute, and there was no fear at all
to overcome, or so they kept hoping.
The first salty, hot pulse of blood hit his palate and he
heard/felt Obi-Wan take a deep gasping breath, the small sound
escaping him and his hands coming up almost as if to fend
something off. The shudder that ran through the slim body
dislodged Qui-Gon with surprise momentarily, blood spilling
across Obi-Wan's shoulder, down his back and across his chest.
Startled, Qui-Gon almost stopped there save for the soft moan
he heard and the hand that suddenly covered his where it rested
on Obi-Wan's hip.
A glance over the bloodied shoulder showed Obi-Wan to be
beautifully, gloriously erect, his other hand held out, fingers
flexing as he denied himself the urge to touch himself.
"Master..." barely a whisper.
//More...// It was silent, but forceful and Qui-Gon could not
tell if it were Obi-Wan pleading or his Hunger making itself
known once more. Nor did it matter. There was still no fear in
Obi-Wan, only the same kind of shivery, breathless, trembling
that came over him when Qui-Gon made slow love to him. His body
was tense again; not with fear or anticipation, but with
passion. Obi-Wan's nipples rose to small hard nubs and the
muscles of his stomach fluttered under Qui-Gon's hand.
Qui-Gon lapped at the still trickling blood and then covered
the small wound completely with his mouth, sucking softly then
with greater force. His attention was split between the
life-giving, heady taste of his lover's blood as it flowed
through him and the steady gasps and soft moans Obi-Wan was
making with every breath. Qui-Gon put more of himself into the
bite, more of his own desire, his love for this remarkable
young man. He could hear Obi-Wan's heart begin to pound faster,
body moving unconsciously to press back, seeking some kind of
release, to increase the build.
//Not yet...// it whispered through Qui-Gon's mind and without
thinking about it he altered the bite that much more and heard
Obi-Wan gasp then groan, the trembling becoming more
pronounced. Another glance and Qui-Gon could see the pearly
fluid gathering at the head of Obi-Wan's flushed cock, the
glistening liquid hovering there like some exotic nectar. He
reached around, a single fingertip rubbing against the tip of
the blood-flushed penis, spreading the fluid. Obi-Wan pushed
against that touch, a low whimper escaping him, then again as
he reached for himself and Qui-Gon caught his wrist to restrain
him. He sucked hard once at the wound in Obi-Wan's shoulder
before lifting his head to better see the effect of his
attentions.
He was supporting Obi-Wan even more than he had before, the
younger man's legs threatening to give out on him, but with
fresh blood, //Obi-Wan's blood...// dancing like fire in his
body, it required no effort at all to bear Obi-Wan's weight.
Qui-Gon lapped at the blood, tasting his lover's desire, the
quivering need that had overtaken the younger man's whole body,
almost more heady in content than the blood itself. Another
touch on the rigid cock and Qui-Gon lifted his finger to his
mouth, tasting the bitter-sweet precursor to release.
A fine sheen of sweat now danced over the fire heated skin,
mingling with the tiny, pulsing rivulets of blood streaking
down the left side of Obi-Wan's chest. A bead of sweat mingled
with the blood, lending it weight and speed as it ran down
Obi-Wan's skin until it was stopped by the dark bud of a
nipple. The droplet hung there, lending a ruby tint to the
usually dusky brown skin. Obi Wan moaned again and pressed
back, setting the droplet quivering, but it did not fall.
//Be still...// Qui-Gon sent, covering the wound again,
impressing his will mind to mind, and Obi-Wan was still,
shivering slightly. Fascinated, Qui-Gon watched the bloody
droplet cling and hover until more blood and sweat mingled to
overset the balance. He watched it fall, as if in slow motion,
tracking the drop all the way to the floor where it spattered,
forming a tiny puddle of blood that was quickly absorbed by the
natural stone of the floor, the moisture sucked into the dry
heat of the rock.
Qui-Gon tasted the blood again, savoring it, opening his senses
to the full impact of Obi-Wan's arousal, his need, his nearly
mindless reaction to the sensations Qui-Gon offered him. The
younger man was panting shallowly, barely able to gather enough
air for sound and those sounds he did make were incoherent
moans or an occasional whimper of protest or plea. He had given
up trying to touch himself, Qui-Gon's hand batting his away at
every attempt. But he still pressed back, rubbing his buttocks
against Qui-Gon's groin in a mute entreaty. So caught up in the
nuances of the blood, Qui-Gon's own erection was almost a
distraction, but he stilled Obi-Wan again and pushed his legs
further apart. The entrance to Obi-Wan's body was tight, but
Qui- Gon sucked once more at the heady wine of Obi-Wan's blood
and commanded his padawan to relax, to not resist, and although
not all resistance faded under the command, it was enough.
It was Qui-Gon's turn to groan, staggering forward and only
Obi-Wan's desperate reach for the mantle kept them from
collapsing entirely. Recovering his balance Qui-Gon steadied
them, withdrew, and plunged in again, driving deep and harshly,
feeling, through the blood, the shock and shudder of pleasure
that raced through Obi-Wan's body at the plundering. Obi-Wan's
responsiveness was like a drug, the twist of his hips as he
tried to take more of Qui-Gon's cock inside himself as
intoxicating as the blood itself. The sensations were coming so
fast and so thickly, his ability to command his lover's
reactions so pleasurable, Qui-Gon barely acknowledged the
breathless cry that escaped the younger man.
Sensation battered at him again as he fed, finding a rhythm as
he sucked and thrust. One arm supported Obi-Wan around the
waist, the other hand was braced, as Obi-Wan's hands were,
against the mantle. Obi-Wan's body arched back at each
penetration as if Qui-Gon had hold of his hair rather than his
waist. Strengthened by the potent blood now coursing through
him, he felt he could continue this rhythm forever, never
pausing, rising always to the crest and never falling over.
Heat surrounded Qui-Gon, warmed his otherwise cool flesh.
Against his arm, he could feel Obi- Wan's heart beating faster,
the too-quick pumping sending the blood to his limbs with less
force and Qui-Gon had to suck harder to draw blood from the
small vein, smiling at the deep groan the effort elicited.
Obi-Wan twisted and pressed back, held almost immobile by the
influence of the bite and the strength of his master's arm. The
taut body was straining and Obi-Wan almost fell, legs and arms
giving way. Sweat mingled with the blood in Qui-Gon's mouth,
with the sharp scents of the room, of Obi-Wan's flushed skin,
with the fear that made the blood taste even sweeter...
Fear.
So wrapped up in the taste of Obi-Wan, in the feel of him --
how had he missed that? Like cold water thrown over a mad
beast, Qui-Gon had a moment of shocked stillness. The fear
itself was unfocused, wavering, wrapped in and around the
desire, the arousal, the passion that still enfolded Obi- Wan
like a cloak. Pulling him upright, Qui-Gon sealed the wound and
held him, bodies still locked together, Obi-Wan nearly limp in
his arms, although his body was still hard and ready. Hissing
softly, Qui-Gon pulled his cock from the tight channel and
turned the younger man, ignoring, for the moment, the whimper
of loss from Obi-Wan. His eyes took in, at a rapid glance and
with more sanity, the blood that now ran in a dozen streaks
down the reddened skin; skin that was not only reddened from
desire but from the heat of the flames.
"Obi-Wan?" he asked, eyes searching the flushed face, seeing a
glazed, almost feverish look in the grey-green eyes. //Oh,
beloved, what have I done?// he demanded of himself, not sure
Obi-Wan was in any state of mind to understand such a question.
Scooping the younger man up, he retreated from what now felt
like intense heat from the fireplace. He cradled the shaking
form to his chest until he could deposit him onto the cooler
sheets of their bed. Obi-Wan was still trembling, the lightest
touch of Qui- Gon's hand sending him into another twitching
spasm of reaction. Qui-Gon's own erection faded almost
unnoticed as panic set in.
Only vaguely did Qui-Gon even remember his own command sent
through the blood link, of, "Not yet." A command imprinted in
Obi-Wan's blood and body that forestalled his release, had left
him hovering on the edge of orgasm for however many minutes or
hours Qui-Gon had been lost in the madness and power that his
Hunger had used to mask itself.
Shifting behind Obi-Wan once more, he bit carefully, his hand
reaching for the swollen flesh at Obi-Wan's groin, almost
wincing at the small choking sound that escaped his lover -- a
sound that was both pleasure and an indicator of pain. //Let
go, beloved... // he coaxed, feeling the shudder that ran
through the entire length of Obi-Wan's body. A near convulsion
racked Obi-Wan as if he'd been struck by lightning, but his
release was immediate, warm seed spilling over Qui-Gon's hand
in short, hesitant pulses until there was no more to be spent.
Closing the wound on Obi-Wan's shoulder once more, Qui-Gon
rested his cheek against his lover's hair, listening as the
rapid heart beat eased into something more normal, as the short
pants for breath deepened and slowed.
He all but went into shock again when Obi-Wan sighed and
twisted tiredly, curling into Qui-Gon's body and wrapping his
arms around his master's waist. Gathering the pliant body
close, Qui-Gon closed his eyes, fighting the rise of emotion
that closed his throat.
//I wasn't afraid of you...//Obi-Wan sent him weakly, wearily.
"But you were afraid," Qui-Gon said hoarsely.
"Just because...I didn't know how long I could stand it. I was
afraid I would pass out," Obi-Wan murmured, his tone and
demeanor, and even the pattern of his thoughts, far calmer than
his master's. "I've never felt...experienced anything like
that..."
//And never will again, // Qui-Gon said to himself ruthlessly,
allowing none of his anger at himself to disturb the gentle
stroking along Obi-Wan's back to keep him from catching a
chill.
"Qui-Gon..." There was a warning tone in Obi-Wan's voice and he
struggled upward to look at Qui-Gon, the dazed look gone from
his eyes. "You did not hurt me. I've come to no harm and it was
quite the most spectacular orgasm I can remember having," he
said severely, frowning at Qui-Gon as if he were willful child.
Then his gaze softened. "Let it go, beloved. You stopped
yourself -- I had nothing to do with it. I would say you have
better control over this condition than you supposed."
Qui-Gon started to protest but stopped himself, studying
Obi-Wan's face. Exhausted but stubborn, his lover was not going
to give in so easily and for just a moment, Qui-Gon let himself
believe what Obi-Wan said. Obi-Wan was paler now, but from
spent passion, not blood loss. Qui-Gon had not taken him past
the threshold of passion into pain although they had come
close, and there was nothing in Obi- Wan's face or manner that
indicated he had any lingering anxiety about the exchange. If
anything he looked somewhat more sated than usual.
Perhaps he did have better control than he thought -- not as
good as he needed if he were to continue in this manner, but
that could be worked at, trained for. It took him a moment to
realize that Obi-Wan was still watching him, almost as if he
could see the internal discussion in Qui- Gon's mind.
Reaching for Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon caught only the barest glimpse of
a relieved smile on Obi-Wan's face before he allowed Qui-Gon to
manhandle him into a more comfortable position against his
chest. Obi-Wan chuckled softly as Qui- Gon rolled them so that
the younger man could be supported against the pillows. A long
slow kiss followed, offered to both reassure Qui-Gon that
Obi-Wan was all right, as he said, and as an apology.
Qui-Gon got no protest as he nuzzled and then licked, clearing
away the smears of blood from the pale gold skin, Obi-Wan's
fingers carding pleasantly through Qui-Gon's hair until they
grew quiet and Obi-Wan's breathing eased into deep shallow
breaths. A quiet mind indicated he had fallen asleep even
before Qui-Gon looked up to see the eyes closed, the pale
lashes feathered along Obi-Wan's cheeks.
Qui-Gon shifted his weight to the side slightly, but lay his
head on Obi-Wan's chest. The Hunger stirred again at the solid,
steady rhythm of Obi-Wan's heart then settled, biding its time.
The battle was not over and a shiver ran through Qui-Gon as he
studied his lover. His fearless, trusting, beautiful lover.
//Not yet...// Qui-Gon sent savagely to the sleeping beast
within. //Not ever...//
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