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Archive: master_apprentice, heartofslash.net

Category: Qui/Obi, First Time

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: Sex.

Summary: After a difficult negotiation, Qui-Gon Jinn and his Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi must conduct a difficult negotiation.

Feedback: Always welcome. It keeps the Padawan purring.

"Master, must I?"

Qui-Gon Jinn gave his faithful Padawan what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

Poor Obi-Wan. It could not be easy for him, being Padawan to the unorthodox and unpredictable Master Jinn. While his peers still spent a good deal of their time in classrooms and study halls, practicing their light sabre techniques in relatively safe conditions, with padded floors on which to fall and medical help at the ready, passing their free time with each other engaged in social and other relations, Obi-Wan had to follow his Master across the galaxy on all manner of difficult missions.

This was, Qui-Gon had to admit, one of the more disturbing tasks they had encountered in their years together.

Obi-Wan looked up at him with keen eyes. "Master, I do not regret accompanying you on the mission."

How had Obi-Wan read his mind so easily? They shared a strong training bond, but it did not extend to the deciphering of thoughts, only the sensing of proximity and vague emotion. But then, Qui-Gon remembered, last night when they had fallen to their pallets from exhaustion, too tired to even remove their boots, Qui-Gon had expressed his concern that Obi-Wan's life was too rough, too hectic, and too unstructured. Obi-Wan was merely making a connection between last night's discussion and Qui-Gon's perturbed expression in the present. Perhaps he had been dwelling on Qui-Gon's confession that he felt the impoliteness of these people created a potentially harmful environment for such a young man.

Obi-Wan had, of course, protested that he was no longer a child and need not be sheltered from the more unsavoury aspects of life. This environment certainly qualified as unsavoury.

The drink in Qui-Gon's hand, though, went beyond unsavoury. It was revolting.

Obi-Wan was looking down at his matching goblet uneasily. "I believe I have conducted myself honourably and in accordance with the code throughout the mission. I have encountered nothing to harm my development as a Jedi, and I have learned far more than I would have sitting in a classroom listening to one of Master X'amima's interminable lectures on diplomacy in the midst of tribal strife. But this..."

He swirled the thick liquid in the cup. Revolting indeed. Fresh blood from an Oxoliet grarbous, which was a large, shaggy sort of goat common on this continent and the pride of its herdsman, mixed with the milk of the Urubian scrotto.

Qui-Gon had not, during their weeks on this planet, actually seen an Urubian scrotto, but judging by the smell of its milk he considered himself lucky to have missed that dubious pleasure.

"Obi-Wan, this is a necessary part of the negotiations, a confirmation of our conviction that the settlement is just and fair. This is a tradition older than me, probably older than even Master Yoda. We must not question it. We will endure it with a calmness and acceptance worthy of the Jedi order."

Obi-Wan wrinkled his nose. "But master, we don't even know what it will do to us. Physiologically, I mean."

"I contacted the Temple Archives, and was assured that no Jedi has ever been harmed by this ritual. Delay, I believe, will render this concoction even more... unsavoury," Qui-Gon suggested, repeating Obi-Wan's description from the night before.

Obi-Wan bowed his head. "Yes, Master." He raised the goblet to his lips.

Qui-Gon wished he could offer Obi-Wan some way to escape the ordeal. The clotted milk swam thickly through the gelatinous blood, yellowish lumps swirling in maroon, never quite merging. The milk and blood could be stirred together, but tended to separate out once the liquid stopped moving. Qui-Gon was assured by the priest conducting the ritual that this was the way it was meant to be - two substances sharing the same vessel, together yet still distinct.

Qui-Gon lifted his cup and drank at the same moment Obi-Wan's forehead crumpled in distress. They would get through this together.

So overwhelmed was he by the acrid taste, he did not notice the gasp that arose from the crowd when both Jedi drank at the same time.

Once the initial bitterness passed, there was a warmth to the concoction. A pungent calm settled in Qui-Gon's gut as soon as he drained the goblet of the foul liquid. There was a sweet, almost cloying aftertaste. Not entirely unpleasant. In fact, what had begun as an objectionable exercise, conflicting tastes and colours, stomach churning in its conflict, had ended in harmony.

"Much like the negotiations," Obi-Wan whispered as he set his empty cup next to Qui-Gon's.

Qui-Gon could not staunch his swell of pride, most unbecoming of a Jedi, but then Obi-Wan was no ordinary Padawan; he had grasped the significance without Qui-Gon's help.

Each of the tribal leaders drank, one at a time, and the priest intoned a solemn blessing on the event. "The negotiations do not end. We must constantly strive if we are to remain as a whole. We pledge ourselves to this endeavour wholeheartedly, and give thanks that our communion is harmonious." There was a flurry of activity as the celebrations carried on.

The leader of the faction that had called the Jedi for aid appeared before them, mildly flustered. "Venerated Jedi, we once again thank you for your wisdom and skill, and for your patience with our conflict. We are unworthy of your attention, and will forever be indebted to you."

Qui-Gon bowed. He disliked the self-abasement but, as was the drink, ritual humility part of the tradition. He knew was not expected to reply.

"I... apologize for our oversight." The chieftess hesitated - not part of the ritual subjugation. "We will make more suitable arrangements for your quarters at once," she offered. "They are obviously inadequate for your needs."

Qui-Gon tried to gauge the reasons for the sudden change. Their room seemed perfectly adequate to him. It was large enough to house him, his Padawan, and their few belongings. The paper screens on the doors did not keep out the chill in the very middle of the night, but the thick blankets they'd been issued were sufficient to ward off the worst of it. The low pallets, firm and smooth, were more comfortable than the rocky ground on which they had too often been forced to sleep. They had been using the room for several weeks without complaint. "That won't be necessary," he said.

The chieftess looked down and straightened her shoulder sash. "We insist. My attaché will guide you there when you wish to retire. Your belongings will be moved at once."

"I assure you it is not..."

The chieftess held up her hand and looked him in the eye. "We live on our isolated world, Master Jinn, and while we do not have contact with the Jedi often, and may be unfamiliar with all of your ways, we are not unaware of the ways of the greater galaxy. We appreciate your discretion, but we appreciate even more that you have chosen to honour us with this revelation. We feel no shame in these matters, only prudence. We admire your delicacy; it is something many of our young people lack."

Qui-Gon watched the slender woman bow gracefully, then retreat to her delegation's table.

"What was that all about?" Obi-Wan asked.

"I have no clue, Padawan. It appears we have given some sort of impression."

"She did not appear to be upset by the impression, Master."

Qui-Gon looked at his Padawan. Obi-Wan had a keen sense for mood in these sorts of people. Koana was a planet strong in the force, but the people did not share that capacity. To Qui-Gon, grounded as he was in the Living Force, they were close to unreadable. It had made negotiations difficult. He'd had to rely on theory much more than usual. Obi-Wan understood their body language and vocal tone with much greater ease.

"What was she, then?" he asked.

"Slightly embarrassed. Trying to portray herself as sophisticated. Whatever the reason for us being moved, it is something they do not talk about openly, but it has not lessened their respect for us. I think we should move to these new quarters graciously."

"Very good, Obi-Wan. I believe you have read the situation accurately. I sense no disturbance in the force. We will go along with whatever this change entails." Besides, the negotiations were over. All sides had agreed on the settlement. There was no reason to suspect a trick or trap.

Qui-Gon busied himself greeting the various leaders and their attachés. He accepted congratulations and gratitude, and returned those congratulations to the leaders of the different tribes. He lost track of Obi-Wan at one point, and was somewhat bemused to find him in a crowd of young men all watching the young Jedi with undisguised admiration and, Qui-Gon could not help noticing, not a small degree of lust.

Obi-Wan had a look on his face similar to that of a hunted creature. He noticed Qui-Gon and sidled away from a quite handsome young man who had been toying with Obi-Wan's Padawan braid. "Master," he whispered. "Those men appear to have the wrong idea about me."

"Oh, really? They all seem to be quite attracted to you. However could that be 'wrong'? One must not judge the preferences of others." While it was disturbing to see anyone touch Obi-Wan's braid, it was also amusing see his young apprentice so rattled by a little attention. Obi-Wan had fended off advances from all manner of young ladies at various formal functions in the past. Perhaps it was the maleness of his admirers that threw him off his usual calm reaction to any difficulty.

Perhaps that also explained Qui-Gon's irrational irritation with the young man for daring to touch the braid.

"Some of them were quite... forward. And one of them suggested he was of a more suitable vintage!"

Qui-Gon chuckled. It was both rare and delightful to see Obi-Wan flustered. His wide eyes and flushed skin were most becoming.

That was inappropriate. Qui-Gon schooled his features. "Perhaps we should retire for the night. I think you have had quite enough excitement for the day."

The chieftess' attaché led the two Jedi up a winding path to a cabin situated far from the well-lit compound below. This particular hill was dotted with small dwellings, which nestled in natural hollows. Qui-Gon breathed the crisp night air deeply, thankful to be away from the heady scents and sounds of the crowded celebrations.

The attaché slid the delicate doors open and gestured at the simple interior. "I believe you will find this more suitable." It may have been Qui-Gon's imagination, but he could have sworn the attaché winked at him before descending to the gathering in the public square far below in the valley.

Obi-Wan looked around the room. "It is the same as our original quarters," he said, "but for the incense and the candles."

It was true. The sleeping room was approximately the same size, contained the same sleeping pallets and firm pillows, the same low table in the centre. The only difference was the smoky incense and flickering candles, exuding a scent similar to sandalwood.

"More secluded," Obi-Wan continued in his analysis of their new quarters.

The ritual. Of course, Qui-Gon realized.

"Perhaps they believe we require more solitude for our meditations," Obi-Wan suggested, demonstrating his innocence in a way that made Qui-Gon feel less than honourable.

So naïve, Qui-Gon thought fondly. He suppressed a laugh. "Obi-Wan, it appears we have given them the wrong impression after all, when we drank from the goblets at the same time. They believe we are... more than just Master and Padawan."

Obi-Wan blinked at him in the dull light. "More? What could be more than Master and Padawan?"

It might have been Qui-Gon's imagination, but Obi-Wan looked even younger in candlelight than he did in the daytime.

"Padawan, every culture has its own quirks. Ignorance can lead to misunderstandings."

"I studied the files carefully, as you instructed. It was our duty as negotiators to imbibe that vile substance. We did nothing untoward."

"True. It appears that we unwittingly gave the impression. We drank at the same time."

"I assumed we were giving each other much-needed support during a difficult task."

"And they assumed we were choosing to reveal our profound desire for one another."

Obi-Wan's jaw dropped. "Really?"

"The consumption of a ceremonial drink simultaneously..."

"Indicates that we are..."

"Lovers."

Obi-Wan looked around the room in alarm. "You can't be serious."

"I'm afraid I am," Qui-Gon said. "It is clear they believe us to need more privacy. The chieftess was probably so apologetic because she believes us to have been harmed in some way, due to restraining ourselves."

It really was amusing, the panic on Obi-Wan's young face.

"Master! But I... you can't be.... They mustn't..."

Qui-Gon had not heard Obi-Wan stutter so much since he was a young lad barely as tall as Qui-Gon's elbow.

"The seclusion of this cabin is to ensure our lovemaking will not be heard by all and sundry."

"Master!" Obi-Wan looked positively scandalized.

"Calm yourself, Padawan. If we are far enough away that our 'passion' would not be overheard, then no one will be the wiser if we do not indulge in such pleasure."

And a pleasure it would indeed be. Obi-Wan was a very attractive young man, if a bit unseasoned in the arena of love.

In fact, Qui-Gon would not be at all surprised to learn his Padawan was a virgin. Qui-Gon had never been given any hint, not an inkling, of any carnal activity on Obi-Wan's part. There were never late nights or misplaced clothes or little love bites on his Padawan's neck, none of the usual things that a Master might expect from a mature and desirable Padawan. Obi-Wan always conducted his social life with a controlled dignity, his passion reserved for lofty ideals and eminently just causes.

This lack of amorous activity only increased speculation around the temple as to Obi-Wan's preferences, and even his relationship with his Master.

It also peaked Qui-Gon's curiosity to an unhealthy degree.

"Close the door and let them think what they wish," Qui-Gon instructed. "It has been a very busy day, following a tumultuous few weeks. We should meditate before we retire, centre ourselves in the Force."

"Yes, Master." Obi-Wan slid the thin screen shut and sat on the floor opposite Qui-Gon.

Qui-Gon smiled. "You did very well at the ceremony, Obi-Wan."

"Thank-you, Master."

"And the Drink of Union was not nearly so foul as you feared. I trust you suffered no ill effects."

"A little light-headedness, Master, but that could be from the ale I had afterward. Or perhaps this incense."

The incense was a tad overwhelming. Qui-Gon reached over and extinguished the smouldering stick. "Better? Good. Now, sit quietly and reflect on the negotiations. The tribes were far apart when we began, but came together when they realized their dependency on each other for material wealth and social health. The interdependency of tribes reflects the interdependency of species, planets, systems... the Force links us all and balance can only be achieved when we recognize our need for others. Meditate on the lessons we have learned."

Obi-Wan closed his eyes and relaxed his muscles into a contemplative posture.

Qui-Gon did not. These were lessons he had learned many times over. He found it much more soothing to behold his Padawan's meditation.

It was possible that that simultaneous drinking of the concoction had been enough to convince the entire gathering they were lovers. He had been on worlds where the mere holding of hands was considered betrothal. On Thalaysu Three a couple were considered bound if they wore each other's tokens from their ear lobes. It was more likely, Qui-Gon suspected, that the synchronization of their actions was but the final clue. He had, he knew, been watching Obi-Wan more closely of late. It could not have failed to escape notice.

Obi-Wan's abilities were admirable, his skills impressive, but he had found the constant bickering of the tribes during this mission distressing. All participants had been on their best behaviour during the ritual, but the negotiations had more often resembled open warfare. Minor disagreements, both outside and inside the meeting centre, had often exploded into violent clashes. It was a relief that all sides were finally in agreement, but Obi-Wan had become, and remained, edgy.

Qui-Gon did not think his Padawan needed extra attention because of this nervousness. He did, however, find his Padawan all the more fascinating for it.

Obi-Wan had always worked toward total serenity, whether he was mimicking his Master's Jedi calm or drawing peace from within. For such a vibrant individual, the attainment of outward calm was the highest achievement. Obi-Wan only let his innate energy truly flow free in battle, or while performing the most challenging kata.

The outright, unrelenting hostility of the tribal leaders had worn through Obi-Wan's façade. Small bursts of emotion had been surfacing. Nervous energy leaked out. Obi-Wan fairly sizzled with power.

Qui-Gon did not consider it dangerous at all. He considered it sinfully attractive.

Most inappropriate.

He had probably been watching Obi-Wan far too closely in the past few days, waiting for the next hint of the passion beneath, the flickering of emotion in his lovely eyes or the flickering of a nervous tongue across his soft lips. That way Obi-Wan had of bouncing, as if sparring, when a situation became tense. Hints of what lay within.

Exceedingly inappropriate. Qui-Gon forced himself to close his eyes, and gave himself the metal equivalent of a cold shower. Master Yoda, beating him about the shins with his walking stick for being caught with his hand on...

"Master."

...the ground when he was supposed to be levitating.

"Master?"

Qui-Gon groaned inwardly. He would be remiss in his duties if he ignored his Padawan during a meditation on such a complex and difficult situation. He cautiously reopened his eyes.

Obi-Wan's eyes glittered at him from across the table. "If our actions led people to believe we were together, why were those men propositioning me?"

"That is a good question." Qui-Gon took a steadying breath. "It appears that... well, what we revealed... that is to say, our actions..." Qui-Gon took another steadying breath.

"Is the desire of a man for other men so highly-valued that monogamy is not presumed?"

Qui-Gon peered at his Padawan. Obi-Wan's expression was not significantly dissimilar to the one he wore when questioning his Master about astrophysics or intergalactic law.

"Is the revelation of the preference for males enough to make other males who desire the same assume that the one revealing his preference is... fair game?" Obi-Wan continued.

"Fair game, Padawan?"

Obi-Wan carefully composed expression fluttered for an instant. "Just a turn of phrase I heard from one of the pilots."

"Hmmm. I do not know if this is an appropriate topic for meditation, Obi-Wan. We should be concerning ourselves with what is most relevant to the situation."

Obi-Wan shifted his hips. "You do not think that men desiring other men is relevant to the evening's events?"

Qui-Gon made an effort to keep still. Obi-Wan was almost squirming, and he was within reach. All Qui-Gon would have to do is extend one hand across the table to still him. "Perhaps those men were pleased when they discovered your supposed orientation and took it as permission to make advances. You may be correct that sexual preference is a factor; I doubt that they would have approached you so if you were a female."

Or if Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan really were together. For if Qui-Gon were truly involved with Obi-Wan in a romantic fashion, he would not tolerate a single hand laid on the young man.

But that was something he was not about to include in his meditations.

"Master, this has been a very confusing evening."

Qui-Gon heartily agreed, although he might be willing to apply a different adjective to the situation. Something along the lines of 'frustrating', perhaps.

"The simple revelation of my sexual preference has somehow rendered me desirable in the eyes of others."

Qui-Gon felt a tremendous pressure in his chest. Obi-Wan would be viewed as desirable no matter what his preference. Even if he made it clear to one and all that he only sought the company of the Urubian scrotto, he would still be desirable. "An inadvertent and false revelation, so no harm has been done. Ease your mind, my Padawan. Focus on the now."

"Still, I suppose it would be wise from now on to wear my tunic when I partake in my morning exercises."

Qui-Gon shut his eyes and pictured Obi-Wan that very morning, clad in only his trousers and boots, performing his drills with determined precision, a thin sheen of sweat on his flexing muscles despite the chill of the air. Indeed, it would be wise not to display himself so enticingly to those who believed him open to their advances. The curve of Obi-Wan's spine when he executed the spin turn during the fourth movement was breathtakingly...

Qui-Gon stood abruptly. "I think I need some air."

Obi-Wan leapt to his feet. "Don't leave me here alone, Master. What if they are waiting for you to leave?"

"They are not predators, Obi-Wan. They will not pounce the moment you are alone. I simply desire..." Best not to speak about what he desired. "It is too warm in here."

"But, Master, we wouldn't want the chieftess to think her efforts have gone to waste. Perhaps if you remove your outer tunic you will find the room more comfortable."

Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow at his Padawan.

Obi-Wan sat back down and resumed his meditative posture. "I will meditate on these matters," he said quietly.

"As will I," Qui-Gon assured him, lowering himself to the floor.

Obi-Wan squirmed again. "Are you sure there was nothing in the drink? I feel odd."

Qui-Gon centred himself and searched his body for signs of poison, medication, allergic reaction or intoxication. "No. There was nothing in the drink other than the blood and the milk."

"Perhaps they combine to form some sort of stimulant. I am restless."

"You are merely overtired. Meditate, and you will clam yourself."

Obi-Wan sighed. "What about the incense?"

"I extinguished it."

"The candles?" Obi-Wan suggested.

"That would leave us in the dark," Qui-Gon pointed out, not wishing to sit in the dark with his Padawan, who could suddenly not sit still although he'd been trained to do so all his life.

Perhaps the dark would be preferable.

Obi-Wan Made a concerted effect to settle, and closed his eyes.

Qui-Gon followed his lead, but could not find peace. He could only find the image of his startled Padawan dodging the grasping hand of the handsome young man. Of Qui-Gon pushing the young man aside. Forcefully. Of a grateful look on Obi-Wan's face. Of Obi-Wan taking his hand and leading him up the path to the cabin.

"Master?"

Qui-Gon gritted his teeth. "Yes, Padawan?" he breathed out.

"What if it was inadvertent, but not false?"

Qui-Gon kept his eyes shut. "I beg your pardon?"

"The impression we gave."

Qui-Gon opened his eyes. They were not together, so the impression was false. Unless Obi-Wan was referring to...

"The impression I gave. Of my preference. What if I do desire men? I mean, a man?"

Qui-Gon did not like where this seemed to be leading. Obi-Wan was old enough and well within his rights to return to the gathering and choose whichever of the men he desired. Qui-Gon had no right, even as his Master, to prevent Obi-Wan from doing so, no matter how much it would pain him. Every muscle in his body tensed. "Did you... see a young man you desired?"

"No."

Qui-Gon relaxed. "Well, then, it is not an issue."

Obi-Wan fidgeted with his braid. Qui-Gon sincerely wished he would not do that, since it made Qui-Gon yearn to reach out and...

"Do you think it is wrong, Master?"

"Certainly not," Qui-Gon said. It was not wrong, but it was not right, either. "We are Jedi, Obi-Wan. We must be mindful of our actions. We cannot form attachments, and that sort of activity, unless undertaken with great care, and with someone who understands what it means to be a Jedi, inevitably leads to emotional entanglement."

"So it is acceptable to act on those desires as long as it does not result in a new attachment?"

Qui-Gon nodded curtly, unwilling to contemplate how Obi-Wan might wish to act on his desires.

Obi-Wan nodded solemnly. "I understand, Master. There is no passion," he quoted. Paused. Continued. "But I didn't mean... I meant men. Desiring men. Do you think there is something wrong with desiring men? A man. Me... desiring a man."

Qui-Gon felt himself begin to squirm. Of all the times for his Padawan to choose to be open about his nascent sexuality. "There is nothing at all wrong with it," he snapped.

"I'm sorry, Master. You looked uncomfortable with the idea. If you don't wish to talk about it, I can speak to someone when we get back to the Temple. Perhaps Master Windu..."

Over Qui-Gon's dead body!

"Nonsense, Obi-Wan. I'm not uncomfortable with the subject. I am merely a little warm."

"I did suggest you remove your tunic, Master."

So he had. Qui-Gon sighed. His tunic. That would be the tunic that draped heavily over his front, hiding his interest in the conversation quite effectively.

"I could open the door, but someone might see in and see that we're not doing what we're supposed to be doing."

"We are doing precisely what we are supposed to be doing, young Padawan."

And that was the problem. Qui-Gon would much prefer to be doing what he was not supposed to be doing.

Obi-Wan rose and walked around the table. "Master, let me help you prepare for bed. These negotiations have been tiring, and you had to deal with all those politicians at the celebration." He knelt beside Qui-Gon and put his hands on Qui-Gon's shoulders. "Turn toward me. I'll help you with your boots."

Qui-Gon had no choice but to obey. Obi-Wan would suspect something was amiss if he refused.

It was something Obi-Wan had started doing years before. When times were difficult, he would care for his Master the same way Qui-Gon had cared for him when he was very young.

Qui-Gon let Obi-Wan pull his legs straight and tried to train his thoughts on the image of the loathsome Oxoliet grarbous.

The heat from Obi-Wan's hands penetrated the polished leather of Qui-Gon's boot as Obi-Wan held it securely in his lap. "Your injury isn't bothering you, is it? I could massage it for you."

Qui-Gon had not felt even a twinge of pain from the twisted ankle since long before they arrived on this planet. "Perhaps, a bit," he said weakly. His voice was weak. His morals were weak. His discipline was weak. He would have much to meditate on during the voyage home.

He would have to lock himself in his cabin to avoid further weakness.

But just to feel Obi-Wan's gentle hands and long, aristocratic fingers on his ankle would surely do no harm. Those nimble fingers worked the straps of his boot loose. He sighed and leaned back on his elbows when Obi-Wan pulled the boot off.

"I'm sorry, Master. I'm trying to be gentle."

"And you are succeeding, Obi-Wan. Thank you for your attention to my comfort. You are a great help to your old Master."

Obi-Wan scrunched his nose, making the face he always made when Qui-Gon referred to himself as 'old'. He ran his fingers over the ankle and closed his eyes to better concentrate. His fingertips probed the joint delicately, precisely. Encountering no swelling, they took on a more active role, soothing the tendons and massaging the heel.

Qui-Gon felt a wave of protectiveness and calm. He did not wish to take advantage of his Padawan after all. That had been some sort of aberration, brought on by tension of ceremony. Perhaps there was something in the drink that had caused an imbalance. He would have to discuss the matter with other Jedi who had helped in negotiations in the past. Perhaps the incense was some sort of mild intoxicant. The effects would pass. All was well. This little crisis of responsibility was over.

He closed his eyes and felt the peace of a Jedi Master, resting at the end of a difficult mission while his innocent Padawan massaged his healing injury, warm fingers circling his ankle, palms warming the tired joint, thigh muscles flexing under his heel.

It was almost perfect.

Then Obi-Wan's fingers slid under his leggings and caressed his bare calf.

Qui-Gon snatched his foot away.

"I'm sorry, Master. Honestly. I was being as gentle as possible!"

Qui-Gon sat upright. "Perhaps we should retire. I am quite tired."

"Of course, Master." Obi-Wan made a half bow from his kneeling position. The poor boy looked quite flustered. "I'll get the other boot."

Before Qui-Gon could stop him, Obi-Wan grabbed the other boot and began to remove it.

Very well. Qui-Gon could endure that. He watched as Obi-Wan deftly pulled the leather straps. He watched the elegant fingers linger on his ankle.

Obi-Wan looked up at him with astonishingly blue eyes, through impossibly thick lashes. "Are you sure it wasn't this ankle that was injured, was it, Master?"

"I'm not sure," he said, alarmed at the huskiness of his own voice, and at the realization that he could not, for the life of him, remember which ankle he had injured.

Soft lips curled up in a sly smile. "Perhaps I should massage this one as well, just to be sure."

Qui-Gon nodded, not trusting his voice to work at all, when Obi-Wan's tongue snaked out and swept across his lower lip.

If the blood and milk, or the incense, or the candles, had aphrodisiacal qualities, his Padawan was obviously under the influence. It was far easier to believe there was some outside, vaguely sinister stimulus that than to confront the truth.

Obi-Wan was kneeling at Qui-Gon's outstretched feet, caressing him tenderly, fingers well above the ankle and in direct contact with Qui-Gon's skin. He gently kneaded the calf muscle, swept his fingers up behind Qui-Gon's knee and back down to the ankle, all the while pressing Qui-Gon's bare heel against the hard ridge of his...

"Is that better, Master?" Obi-Wan whispered.

Qui-Gon groaned. It was much better than anything he'd hoped for.

He could not, however, as much as he was enjoying his position on the floor, ignore his position as Master. He was an authority figure. He could not take advantage, nor pressure his Padawan in any way. He could make no assumptions. Assumptions could be coloured by desire. Incorrect assumptions lead to the dark side.

He must remain calm and passive.

He must let Obi-Wan make the first concrete move.

Obi-Wan lowered Qui-Gon's foot to the floor and leaned forward, with one knee between Qui-Gon's long legs. "Master?" he said cautiously, crawling up until his knee was nestled between Qui-Gon's thighs. He hovered above, with his braid swaying across Qui-Gon's chest. "Is this acceptable?"

Qui-Gon willed his hand to move and grasp the middle of the braid.

Obi-Wan lowered his head so his cheek rested against Qui-Gon's trembling fingers, keeping his eyes locked with Qui-Gon's. "Is it, Master?"

"It is," Qui-Gon answered helplessly, "most acceptable, my Padawan." He tugged the braid. Obi-Wan's head dropped to his chest, and was relieved to not have to look at the startling blue of those eyes, so unlike the usual serene grey they normally were after Obi-Wan's meditation.

Qui-Gon drew one foot up the back of Obi-Wan's leg, pressed the side of his foot against the thigh, pushed Obi-Wan down fully on top of him. His Padawan stretched out across his body, a warm solid weight. "It is most desirable, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon sighed.

Obi-Wan stretched up and pressed his face against Qui-Gon's neck. "I was not interested in any of the young men at the celebration," he murmured against Qui-Gon's neck. "Only one stubborn old Jedi Master."

Qui-Gon gripped Obi-Wan's shoulders tightly, held him close. Strong shoulders under Qui-Gon's hands, the exquisite curve of Obi-Wan's hip against his hip, the muscular thigh between his legs, pressing against his hardness.

They might spend the entire night in that position, Qui-Gon realised. Obi-Wan would make no more advances without express permission. Ever the obedient, humble Padawan.

That was simply not acceptable.

"Obi-Wan, you know that when negotiations come to a standstill, it can be most difficult to break through the inertia."

"Yes, Master. One must always keep the parties talking to prevent deferment of a conclusion," Obi-Wan said as if repeating a lesson. He was, actually, repeating a lesson.

He raised his head to look at Qui-Gon's face. "Master? Do you consider this a business transaction?" He looked remarkably hurt.

Qui-Gon curled up to a half-sitting position.

Obi-Wan moaned.

Qui-Gon worried he might have injured him somehow, but then felt the tightening of Obi-Wan's fingers, which had come to rest on Qui-Gon's now rigid stomach. He tried to ignore the way the fingers quivered against his hard muscles, and how Obi-Wan nudged himself against Qui-Gon's hip.

"Not at all. You are most precious to me, but we are entering dangerous territory."

Obi-Wan pulled himself away from Qui-Gon, rising on his knees. He automatically reached to straighten his tunic. "You think me dangerous to you?"

"No." That was the last thing Qui-Gon had intended. "My apologies. I'm not expressing myself well."

Qui-Gon was understating the case. If he had been this clumsy in his mediation attempts, they would still be sleeping in the city, near the main square, fitfully or with one eye open, listening to the raging battles outside.

He sat up fully and pulled Obi-Wan to his side. He would have preferred to pull Obi-Wan into his lap, but it would remind him too much of his responsibility as teacher and mentor. And it would have reminded him that Obi-Wan had come to him at a young age, seeing him as a father figure.

"Obi-Wan, this is not forbidden but there is a matter of propriety. We must be certain we understand what we expect of each other, and what we are willing to give."

"I don't want to have to negotiate for your favours, Master. That isn't the way it should be if two people desire one another!"

Qui-Gon merely stared at Obi-Wan for a moment. He wondered when his shy, serious young Padawan had become so mature.

Obi-Wan turned his face away. "At least I'd hoped it would be different."

As did Qui-Gon. If it weren't for the veritable chasm between their respective positions in the order, the issue of informed consent, the age difference, the difference in levels of experience...

"Obi-Wan, have you ever... with anyone?"

Obi-Wan shook his head sadly. "No, Master. I'm not very popular."

Qui-Gon remembered the last time he'd seen Obi-Wan interact with one of his peers as they were preparing to leave for this very mission. Obi-Wan had been leaning against a packing crate near the landing bay, talking with another Padawan, a fetching young woman about his age, with lush red hair and a delicate flower tattooed on her left temple. Qui-Gon had felt a flare of something hot inside, and when he'd approached the woman had scurried off, and stuttered something about being late for a class.

How long had Qui-Gon been scaring off Obi-Wan's potential partners? he wondered. He must have terrified every Padawan in the temple with his unconscious jealousy.

He would have to be sure to do that to every interested young man in this city as well. Especially that very handsome young one.

Had he caused Obi-Wan to be unnecessarily lonely? It was not as if they spent that much time at the temple. They were usually travelling to or from a mission, when they weren't actually on a mission. It must have been a dreary life for Obi-Wan, yet he rarely complained. He was always cheerful and ready to serve his Master with a smile.

"Have you been... waiting for this?" Qui-Gon dared to ask.

Obi-Wan tugged the end of his braid.

Qui-Gon clamped his hand over Obi-Wan's fidgeting fingers. They stilled immediately. Obi-Wan leaned against him and touched his forehead to Qui-Gon's shoulder.

"Obi-Wan, you are my Padawan. I cannot allow anything to come between us."

Obi-Wan looked up grinning. "Really?" His hands rushed to pull off Qui-Gon's belt. "I'd prefer it with nothing between us as well."

Qui-Gon would have stopped Obi-Wan. He should have explained that he'd meant that figuratively and not literally, but Obi-Wan's fingers wriggled through the opening of his tunic and brushed against the bare skin of Qui-Gon's waist. Qui-Gon had to accept Obi-Wan's enthusiasm as consent before his anticipation caused an accident. The wildly fumbling fingers at his waist, the look of impatient concentration on Obi-Wan's face as he wrestled with the sash, the hot slide of Obi-Wan against his thigh, all threatened to shred his Jedi calm and dignity.

It took all Qui-Gon's restraint to not push Obi-Wan on the floor when he realised Obi-Wan was straddling his thigh and rubbing himself against it. Vigorously.

"Obi-Wan, let me..." But help was not necessary, for Obi-Wan tossed the sash aside and slid both hands up under his tunic.

"Oh, Master," Obi-Wan breathed out as his fingers flicked across Qui-Gon's hard nipples and ruffled his chest hair.

Ah, so the little misunderstanding about literal and figurative meanings had been on purpose. Always the clever little Padawan.

Qui-Gon gave up trying to control himself. He pulled Obi-Wan fully onto his lap and spread his hands over the muscles of his Padawan's ass. Obi-wan wriggled forward and pressed his pelvis against Qui-Gon's hard cock, sighing another 'oh, master' before he raised his mouth to meet Qui-Gon's.

Obi-Wan's lips were unskilled but determined. He pressed hard and opened them, eagerly licking around them. Qui-Gon felt a surge of energy when their tongues met. So sweet, so delicious. Obi-Wan squirmed on his lap and whimpered.

"Master, I have wanted this for so long, but I never had the courage to approach you."

"I'm glad you found it," Qui-Gon assured him. "I hope this is not the result of too much grarbous and scrotto."

Obi-Wan rubbed his smooth cheek against Qui-Gon's neatly trimmed beard. "No more negotiations," he whispered. "I want this to be as it should be, between... lovers."

Absolutely perfect. It was a simple matter to grab Obi-Wan's slim hips and lift him off his lap and over to the nearest sleep pallet. It was less simple, but also less physically straining, to whip Obi-Wan's sash off his waist, push his outer tunic open and the inner layer apart, to reveal the clean lines of his chest and belly. Qui-Gon licked from the indent of his navel to the shallow indent of his chin, one long, delicious stroke that made Obi-Wan shudder violently.

"If you are sure of that, then I would ravish you," Qui-Gon growled.

The blue of Obi-Wan's eyes widened. "Please, Master," he said breathlessly.

The tunics landed in a pile beside the bed. Qui-Gon spent a few minutes rubbing their bare chests together and kissing his Padawan thoroughly. Obi-Wan was as unstill as a Padawan could be. He writhed beneath Qui-Gon's larger body, grasped at waist, thighs, ass, ground his pelvis up into Qui-Gon's belly, wriggled his legs until he was hugging Qui-Gon's leg with his thighs.

The wild humping against his leg drove Qui-Gon down Obi-Wan's body to curse at the straps of his boots. He understood the need for Jedi footwear to be sturdy and secure, but surely the outfitters could have devised a less intricate fastening system. The leather warmed under his fingers, was smooth, even slick from the sweat on his palms. The thick boots fit Obi-Wan's calves perfectly. Qui-Gon found himself running his hand up and down the back of one leg, feeling the muscle strain against the leather.

Obi-Wan sat up and wrestled the boots off without ceremony. His entire body went still when Qui-Gon's hands hesitated at the waist of his pants.

This was a moment of truth. If Obi-Wan was not sincere in his desire, if he wanted to have the slightest chance of stopping his Master... Obi-Wan roughly pushed the hands aside and opened the pants. His back arched as he threw himself back on the bed and shoved the fabric past his hips.

Pure bliss, Qui-Gon thought as he gazed at Obi-Wan's erection for the first time. So exquisitely shaped, so achingly hard, so gracefully proportioned. So like his Padawan to be sculpted to perfection everywhere. Qui-Gon's lips itched. He bent and took it in his mouth.

The moan from Obi-Wan was music. The taste of him was succulent and rich. The satin skin of his hips under Qui-Gon's fingertips almost brought tears to the master's eyes. Qui-Gon knew he would drink of Obi-Wan, drink him down as if he were the finest wine, lick him as one would lick the sweetest honey, and that Obi-Wan would be as refreshing as sparkling spring water.

"Qui-Gon!"

The sound of his name urged him to suck more intensely. Obi-Wan's fingers tangled in his hair and tugged him upward, but Qui-Gon paid them no heed. If nothing else, he would have this taste.

His name was repeated over and over. He had rarely heard it from his Padawan's lips, and never had it sounded so pleasing. He wished for the ability to communicate without speaking. He would tell Obi-Wan to let go, to let his emotions pour forth into Qui-Gon's mouth. He had to rely on his tongue in a different way. He lashed it around the head of Obi-Wan's cock and pressed his lips tightly around the shaft.

The first spurt of seed was bitter, the second bracing, and the third only made Qui-Gon want more. Obi-Wan's thigh quivered under one large hand, and his whole body sank into the bedding. "Oh, Master," Obi-Wan groaned.

Qui-Gon threw the rest of his clothes to the floor and pulled himself up beside his panting lover. He caressed Obi-Wan's cheek gently. He would be patient, give the boy a chance to recover. He needed the time to calm his own nerves.

"My Padawan, it is a rare treat to see you out of breath," he said lightly, hoping to diffuse any awkwardness before Obi-Wan's natural shyness surfaced. He skimmed his fingers over the sheen of sweat on Obi-Wan's chest. "And as much as I love to watch your body glisten when you perform your katas, this is infinitely better."

Obi-Wan looked up at him blearily. "You watch me like that when I exercise, Master?"

Qui-Gon could not help grinning. "Indeed. Of late, I have watched you ever closer. Especially when you strip to the waist. You are strong and beautiful, and that I had a hand in shaping you brings me more pride than is suitable for a Jedi, young one. But this is something I had not dared to believe possible."

Obi-Wan snaked his arms around Qui-Gon's neck. "I did not think someone so young and foolish could ever appeal to someone like you."

Qui-Gon laughed. "Young you are. Foolish? Never. You are already wiser than I, Obi-Wan."

"But you always tell me to be more mindful."

"Of the living force, yes, you could be more aware. Sometimes you rely too much on this," he tapped Obi-Wan's forehead lightly. "And these." He leaned down and kissed first one eyelid as it fluttered shut, then the other.

"What about this?" Obi-Wan asked, and he wrapped his fingers around Qui-Gon's thick cock. "I don't need the Force to know what this wants."

"No," Qui-Gon moaned. "But search your feelings. What do you sense?"

Obi-Wan squeezed lightly and nuzzled his Master's cheek. "I sense desire. Need. I sense your caution. You do not want me to do anything I will regret... I sense your love. And it warms my body, inside and out." Obi-Wan opened his eyes. Brilliant blue they were now. "You want to be inside me."

Qui-Gon resisted the urge to congratulate his student on his accuracy.

"Will you... fit?" Obi-Wan asked hesitantly.

"Only if you wish it."

"Then you will fit!"

"Well, it takes more than merely wishing."

"What must I do?" Obi-Wan asked eagerly, already beginning to harden again as he twisted against Qui-Gon's flank.

"Nothing at all. Just relax; I will take care of everything."

"That's not fair. You've already done all the work."

Work? Nonsense. Qui-Gon had done nothing but pleasure himself thus far. He gently turned Obi-Wan on his side. "You are not work," he murmured against the skin under which the ridge of Obi-Wan's spine passed between his shoulder blades. "You are effortless luxury."

That didn't sound very Jedi-like to Qui-Gon's ear. But then, neither did what he was about to do to Obi-Wan with his tongue. He pushed Obi-Wan's top leg forward and scraped his beard across the firm, round ass, earning himself a very surprised 'oh'.

Qui-Gon kissed the base of Obi-Wan's spine, licked the swell of his hip, nibbled the lush flesh of his left buttock enough to cause a delicious squirm, and drew his tongue across goose pimpled flesh to the dark cleft. Here the taste intensified, the dark hairs reminded him that Obi-Wan was no longer a boy, and the low groan from above assured him that everything he had done was welcomed. Coarse hair tickled his tongue as he licked lower. The timbre of the groans rose and Obi-Wan spread his legs further apart.

There was another bright surge of energy when Qui-Gon's tongue connected with the virgin ring of puckered skin. He soothed it, prodded gently, then with more force, spearing it and spreading Obi-Wan's ass with his hands as he lapped at the dusky hole. The muscles loosened and quivered under his tongue.

He would not hurt Obi-Wan; he would make sure of that.

He thrust his tongue as deep as he could and stroked the heavy balls that pressed against his chin. Obi-Wan twisted and lifted up on his knees. His moans were muffled, and Qui-Gon realised Obi-Wan had grabbed Qui-Gon's discarded robe and had buried his face in the cloth.

Qui-Gon doubted he would ever be able to don his robe without thinking about that.

He judged it time to move on. He slid two fingers into his mouth to wet them thoroughly. Obi-Wan pushed up, moaning, when Qui-Gon's knuckles brushed over his opening.

"Yes, Master," he gasped, in a way Qui-Gon had never heard him say 'yes, Master' before. He thought he'd experienced all the variations. He thought he'd known his Padawan as well as any Master could know a Padawan. Well, he had never claimed to be infallible.

He pressed a fingertip tentatively, delicately... until Obi-Wan lunged back and impaled himself. Ever the impatient Padawan, Qui-Gon was known to say. He did not say it, as his mouth was far too busy exploring the underside of Obi-Wan's balls while his finger snaked in and out, stretching and caressing inside. Two fingers snaked in and out. A frantic sob came from the depths of his robe.

Qui-Gon looked around the room and spotted a slender glass bottle beside a sputtering candle. How thoughtful of their hosts. He reached for the gleaming bottle with one hand and uncorked it using the Force. Expecting to find some exotic unguent, he was pleasantly surprised to smell the familiar aroma of sweet almond oil. Perfectly harmless, perfectly safe, and perfectly smooth as he drizzled it down his fingers and inside Obi-Wan.

"Better?" he asked harshly.

Obi-Wan nodded within the envelop of the dark brown fabric. The only part of his head still visible was the braid, slung back over his shoulder and skidding across the smooth skin as Obi-Wan jerked about on the bed.

"Master, please..."

Qui-Gon answered the plea immediately. He pulled Obi-Wan back down on his side.

Obi-Wan did not understand what was happening. "I meant to go forward, not halt," he wailed in desperation.

"I am fully aware of what you meant." Qui-Gon nestled behind Obi-Wan and used the slick, hot fingers that had been inside to guide his stiff cock. "Take a deep breath and relax your body. I'm going to glide into you, and you'll open up for me naturally, so easily."

There was no need to put the power of the Force behind the suggestion. Obi-Wan was more than ready. He panted and gave a small whimper at first, but Qui-Gon slid easily inside and was soon enjoying warm ass pressed against his groin. He wrapped his arm around Obi-Wan's torso used his other hand to pull the robe off tousled hair.

They had been on this planet long enough for Obi-Wan to be in need of a haircut. His hair stood out in spiked tufts, and made him look even younger. Qui-Gon ran a hand over it to smooth it.

"There, much better," Qui-Gon murmured. He had to use his considerable powers of concentration to ignore the heat and pressure and intensity; an ordinary man would have reached his peak before he was fully sheathed. He ran his hand down Obi-Wan's ridged abdomen and settled it on his fully erect cock. "Rest a moment, and get used to the feeling."

Obi-Wan pushed back. "No, I want to feel everything. Stop using your powers to make it calmer. I don't want calm. I want this to be like it is for everyone..."

Qui-Gon stroked the rigid cock in one hand and squeezed Obi-Wan's shoulder with the other. "Shhhhh, Padawan. That is impossible. It cannot be like it is for anyone else; you are not with anyone else. And..." Qui-Gon kissed the top of his head. He might as well admit his feelings; Obi-Wan would sense it now if he held anything back. "I do not want you to ever do this with anyone else." He pushed his hips carefully forward. Obi-Wan met the thrust gracefully. "Ever."

"Yes, please, Master." Obi-Wan rolled his head back to rest on his Master's shoulder.

They rocked together, slowly at first, building, rising, mounting as they grew more familiar with each other's bodies, the curve of Obi-Wan's ass, the shape of Qui-Gon's thigh, the rasp of beard on shoulder, the pinch of fingers on nipples, until Obi-Wan reached up over his head to twine his fingers in Qui-Gon's hair. Now he slammed his hips back with all the power he could muster. Qui-Gon fought to retain control, lost the battle and flipped Obi-Wan onto his knees, shoulders pressed to the bed.

"Only us," he growled as he fucked his Padawan without check.

Obi-Wan sang his approval with a low, continuous moan.

"Mine," Qui-Gon said as he thrust for the final time. His grip on Obi-Wan's hips kept him in the moment, was the only thing that kept him in the moment.

Obi-wan surged up to meet him and reached his own peak seconds later. Qui-Gon was aware enough to fall to the side instead of crushing the smaller man beneath him. Obi-Wan pressed back against him, panting furiously.

Qui-Gon nibbled the end of Obi-Wan's braid, where it had fallen across his shoulder. "Are you alright?"

"Hmmm." Obi-Wan wriggled slightly and pushed back more. "I want you inside me as long as possible."

"That sounds ideal, Obi-Wan."

They lay peacefully, watching the candles flicker a slowly burn out.

"Master."

"Yes, my Padawan?"

"Have we upheld the Jedi reputation for honesty in all dealings by confirming the impression we made at the ritual?"

"Is that how you wish to justify this?"

"There is nothing to justify, is there?"

Qui-Gon buried his face in his robes. There was much to answer for, much to trouble him. But the lithe body in his arms was worth whatever it would take to bring back the balance. "I honestly do not know. As I said before, it is not forbidden, but it is dangerous. Others will notice; there will be questions, from friends, from colleagues, from the council. We cannot allow this to alter our relationship as Master and Padawan. We cannot allow unhealthy attachment to form."

"Too late," Obi-Wan murmured happily.

"No, my young one. I said 'unhealthy'. If we can maintain our calm and behave responsibly, then we do no harm."

"And we do a great deal of good."

It was good. A great deal of good. Too much good for an old Jedi such as Qui-Gon. He could not help but fear that this was too good to be true.

But he would not think on that now. Fear leads to the dark side. In Obi-Wan he could see only light. Now he would rest with his Padawan in his arms.

In the morning, he would figure out a way to explain all this to Master Yoda...

>End