Master Apprentice Archive Indebted Quick search:

Author's website:  http://members.aol.com/CoriLannam/fanfiction.html
Archive:  Yes to m_a and BIC
Pairing:  Q/O, O/BBTA (Big Blue Tentacled Alien)
Categories:  whore!fic, angst, non Q/O
Summary:  Obi-Wan earns his keep.
Disclaimers:  Most of these characters and settings belong to Lucasfilm, not me. And for once, I think they might prefer it that way.
Feedback:  I really love hearing what you thought worked and didn't work, and every letter makes me do a little dance of joy.
Notes:  Once again, this is for the Ten Credit Whore challenge on Boys in Chains, whether they want it or not. <g>  Adoration goes to Nicole, the Midnight Beta of the Wild West, as usual.

"Good-bye, Obi-Wan."

He flung himself down, forehead scraping on the hot concrete.  "Qui-Gon.  Don't leave me here."  His voice cracked with desperation, and he flushed.  A Jedi did not succumb to desperation, but he was not a Jedi yet, and if he did not stop Qui-Gon Jinn from leaving Bandomeer without him, he never would be.

"Obi-Wan."  One of the boots in front of Obi-Wan's head lifted, but Qui-Gon could not quite step over him to get to the waiting ship.  "I wish it could be otherwise for you, but your destiny is here now.  You must accept that."

But he could not accept it, not when the Force itself screamed not to let Qui-Gon walk away.  "I know you don't want an apprentice-"

"Obi-Wan-"  Qui-Gon bent and hauled him up by his armpits.  Obi-Wan let him, but kept hold of Qui-Gon's hand as he met the somber eyes with every speck of intensity he could muster.

"I promise, I will make it worth your while.  I'll pay you back for everything."

Qui-Gon's eyes narrowed and his hand tightened, and Obi-Wan knew Qui-Gon had not mistaken the nature of his offer.  "My tastes do not run toward children, Obi-Wan."

"I will not be a child all that much longer."  He wondered if he should feel hope at the small answering smile playing around Qui-Gon's lips.

"No," Qui-Gon agreed, gaze seeming to weigh and probe him.  "No, you will not."

Obi-Wan held still as Qui-Gon cupped his face in one broad palm.  He tried to project his sincerity through the fledgling link that had built between them during their spontaneous partnership on the mission.  A padawan was a burden, one that Qui-Gon did not want or need, but if he would just give Obi-Wan a chance-

"Very well."  A last pat to his cheek and Qui-Gon stepped back, putting a temporary distance between them.  "You have your deal."

He wanted to howl with relief and ground his jaw to keep from babbling his gratitude.  Qui-Gon would never regret it.  He would make sure Qui-Gon was more than adequately repaid for every credit, every hour he spent on Obi-Wan's instruction.

Qui-Gon smiled, a minute acknowledgement.  "I know you will," he said and ushered him aboard the ship.

***

Obi-Wan laughed and leaned closer to his master, who sat beside him on the sofa.  "I knew you would say that!"

Qui-Gon laughed with him.  "I shall have to work at being more unpredictable, then."

He snorted.  "You can try.  But don't forget that I know you very well."

"You certainly do."  Qui-Gon smiled in the way that had always made Obi-Wan's heart beat faster, then reached up to brush his fingers along Obi-Wan's jaw. "You have grown up so beautifully, my Obi-Wan."

He froze.  The gesture combined with the words took him back to a moment and a promise he had almost forgotten in the exhilaration of their growing intimacy.  "Yes, Master," he answered faintly as Qui-Gon leaned forward to kiss him.

Qui-Gon's lips moved over his with all the skill he would expect from a master.  Obi-Wan's insides kindled and melted, but his shoulders remained stiff beneath Qui-Gon's hands.  "Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon said against his mouth. "What is it?"

"Nothing."  After all, he had made a promise.  And what cause did he have to complain?  Qui-Gon had taught him and cared for him, and until this moment, had seemed to forget the way their partnership had begun.  The intimacy that had built between them was strong, sweet and real.  He loved Qui-Gon.  Nothing could be wrong.

Even as his arms came up to hold Qui-Gon, his master pulled back with a frown. He had sworn to himself never to be the cause of Qui-Gon's frowns.  "Obi-Wan, if you don't want this, please don't--"

He put his fingers over Qui-Gon's lips to quiet him, then straddled Qui-Gon's lap.  "Of course I want this.  It's no more than I owe you."

The frown deepened, and Qui-Gon started to protest again, but Obi-Wan silenced him again, this time with his mouth.  After a few seconds, Qui-Gon stopped trying to push him back, and Obi-Wan felt the instant Qui-Gon lost his battle with love, desire, and the sweetness of their encounter.  He pushed Qui-Gon back against the sofa and began his own, private battle with
the same forces.

Obi-Wan was not a virgin; the desire to come to Qui-Gon as a passionate, experienced lover had overridden the question of keeping himself pure for their eventual union.  Although he had not thought of it that way at the time, he realized now that he had made a wise choice.  After all, he could hardly redeem his debt to Qui-Gon if his master had to instruct him even in this, but a small, pained part of him wondered how different that first embrace might have felt with no shadow of obligation between them.

After he pleasured Qui-Gon as thoroughly as he knew how, he let Qui-Gon do the same for him.  He knew his pleasure pleased his master as much as Qui-Gon's own enjoyment, and that was just as well.  The mere knowledge that he was having sex with Qui-Gon had already pushed his arousal to the breaking point; the slow tenderness with which Qui-Gon stimulated his body made his need to climax unendurable, and he surrendered with a low, agonized keening muffled against Qui-Gon's throat.

Boneless and numb, he did not protest when Qui-Gon gathered him up in his arms and carried him to bed.  He supposed he would be spending a good deal of time in his master's bed from now on; he had a good deal to repay.  As long as Qui-Gon stayed happy, there was no harm if he took some happiness as well.

Still, he awoke with damp cheeks as Qui-Gon caressed him and whispered endearments in the darkness of early morning.  Two fingers massaged him inside his lower body, hardening and softening him in the right places.  When the fingers left him, he pressed back into Qui-Gon's hips, aching for the slick penis waiting to enter him.  Qui-Gon braced Obi-Wan's pelvis with his
hands during his slow, sliding penetration.

The pain and pleasure renewed his tears, and it was a mercy when Qui-Gon wrapped his arms around him and rolled them until Obi-Wan's face pressed into the pillow.  It muffled his cries as they made love, and his sobs as Qui-Gon brought him to orgasm again.  "I love you," Qui-Gon said on the edge of a groan, just as his thrusts came to a shuddering stop, hot jets of semen
shooting deep into Obi-Wan.

Qui-Gon soothed him with more words of love as their bodies calmed.  He soon fell asleep, content with a clear and righteous conscience, but Obi-Wan lay awake, uncomforted.  The tears had stopped, but he still grieved for what he could have had, what Qui-Gon might still think they had, something they could never have as long as the issue of Obi-Wan's repayment lingered over him.  A padawan could love his master, but a prostitute's love for his patron meant less than nothing.  He had gotten what he wanted; he wished he had known then what the price would be.

***

The irony alone could well kill him, if Qui-Gon did not do it himself, Obi-Wan mused as he surveyed the smirking Dunesin gangster-an impressive example of his species: seven feet tall, humanoid save for the heavy and powerful tentacles in place of arms and legs, deep blueish-green skin his only covering.  Qui-Gon would certainly not approve of what he was about to
do, but Qui-Gon had no place to complain.  He had gotten them into this, and left it up to Obi-Wan to get them out.

"Well," the Dunesin said from his throne-like seat in the shabby main hall of his headquarters.  He did not seem to notice or care about the shabbiness; he held the city and most of the region in thrall to his whim, and power outshone luxury to those who knew the difference.  Around him, his henchmen and lackeys mimicked his smirk with less success, but enough effect to make
Obi-Wan's skin crawl.  "What brings the little Jedi to visit?"

A pointless question, considering Obi-Wan had the Dunesin's ransom note in his belt-pouch, but he would answer it anyway.  He was the supplicant here, for the time being. "You have my master," he replied, bowing slightly.  "I would like him back."

"And you may have him!"  Blue skin rippled with silent laughter.  "If you received my note, then you know his price."

Obi-Wan bowed another acknowledgement.  "I do.  But I am afraid I cannot meet it."

"That's too bad for you.  And even worse for him."

Bile rose in his throat at the threat in the Dunesin's voice.  They had set on Qui-Gon as he protected a wounded man and his family, poisoning him with a dart that sickened him too quickly for him to defend himself or his charges.  The gangsters killed the man and his wife for whatever sins they had committed against the organization, but they took Qui-Gon alive. They left
behind a letter for Obi-Wan with the three orphaned children in the empty, bloody house.  For his master's sake, he would not underestimate them as Qui-Gon had.  "I am hopeful we can come to an arrangement satisfying to both of us."

One appendage rippled in a shrug.  "You want to deal?  What do you have to offer?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?" he repeated over the laughter of his followers.  "You offer me nothing?"

"I have nothing."  He ignored the laughter as though he did not hear it. "You impounded our ship as soon as we landed.  What money we had my master carried. I'm sure someone in your organization has helped themselves to it by now.  Even my weapon was lost in combat."  That, of course, was not true.  He had hidden it before coming here so they would not be completely defenseless on their return trip.  No doubt Qui-Gon's saber had gone the way of his credit pouch.

"You have nothing?"  the Dunesin said again and joined the laughter.

Obi-Wan held out his arms, showing himself vulnerable and unimpressive with only his drab robe and tunics to adorn him.  "Only what you see before you."

Perhaps, he thought as the laughter reached a new crescendo, they had never heard of the Jedi vow of poverty, for they seemed to find the idea of a destitute Jedi uproariously funny.  He curbed his annoyance as he knew Qui-Gon would.  Their opinion of him did not matter.

"Ten credits!" The Dunesin swiped the length of one handless arm across his eyes as his amusement subsided.  "I'll give you a real bargain, little Jedi.  Your master--and yes, even your ship--for just ten credits."

"I do not have ten credits,"  he replied, unruffled.  The Dunesin found him entertaining; that could only work in his favor as they reached the end of this play.  "Nor do I have any means of obtaining them, except through service.  But I would prefer to deal with you here and now."  Especially since, should he return with the ten credits, he would undoubtedly find the terms of the deal changed.

"Service, hm?"  The Dunesin leaned forward, arm appendages draped over the sides of his chair.  Obi-Wan repressed a grim smile.  This was going well.

One last bow.  "Jedi lead a life of service.  In an open market, I am told we would command quite a good price."

"I was less than impressed with the first Jedi I met."  The Dunesin continued to study him.  The race had a genetic predisposition toward Force-sensitivity, and one who had achieved this position had to have strong psychic ability.  Obi-Wan held himself open in the Force, just enough for the Dunesin to taste him and recognize the nature of his offer.

"Perhaps it was under less than ideal circumstances," he suggested with a slight brush of the Force on his captor's unconscious mind, looking to spark his libido and make him agreeable.  A ripple down the long body and a stirring between what passed for legs told him he was succeeding. He shivered at the sight; it was too late now to renege on his wordless proposal.

The Dunesin laughed again, but this time the sound smoldered as much as his gaze along Obi-Wan's body.  "So.  The Jedi are whores after all.  And look at you, so eager to recover your whoremonger--or is he merely your most valued customer?"

Obi-Wan smiled, feeling a curious sense of freedom steal over him.  The Dunesin had it exactly right, more so than he could know.  Since Qui-Gon had taken him to bed, and even before, he had been both more and less than a common prostitute.  But now he was neither more nor less than that.  He would fulfill his role, and when he had Qui-Gon back, their slate would be clean.  "Ten credits for his return, you said.  With our ship.  I assure you, you will find me worth a great deal more than ten credits."

A slow smile answered him.  "I hope you're not expecting to be paid the difference."

His heart thumped with dread and anticipation.  "Do we have a deal?"

Their audience howled and stomped their feet as one limb snaked out to seize him around his waist.  He forced himself not to fight as the Dunesin lifted him without effort and brought him close.  "If you live up to your claims, little Jedi," his captor said, close enough for Obi-Wan to feel his breath, "then we'll have a deal."

His belt loosened suddenly and thudded to the floor.  He swallowed, and another nimble appendage twitched over him, shedding the rest of his clothing until he was as nude as his--partner? Captor?  Customer?

The howls turned to vocal leers and bawdy encouragement.  The two lower limbs pulled him down between them to face another appendage, only half-hard but still as impressively sized as the rest of the Dunesin's humanoid attributes.  "Go on."  The hoarsening voice above him reached him through the noise as though they were alone in the room.  "We'll consider this a deposit."

The upper tentacles held his arms fast, and the tip of one pressed against the back of his neck.  He parted his lips and let the thick organ push into his mouth.  The Dunesin was larger than Qui-Gon, who was larger than a human male had any right to be, in Obi-Wan's opinion.  The cock grew harder and darker as it filled beneath the wet ministrations of Obi-Wan's mouth.  He
would have preferred to use his hands as well, but the Dunesin, breathing hard, did not seem inclined to criticize his technique.

"Enough," the Dunesin said shakily, just as Obi-Wan was beginning to wonder if he could take the full load, should the Dunesin choose to shoot in his mouth.  But the appendages wrapped around his arms lifted him up and brought him closer; the Dunesin intended to fill another part of his body.

He relaxed his muscles as the Dunesin pulled him down onto his lap, releasing a single grunt at the pain of penetration.  The cock was slick enough from his spit to slide in, and it took him only a few short bounces before he sank down to the root.  He waited to catch his breath and maintain his calm, until the Dunesin thrust impatiently up into him.

Without further pause, he began to ride at a pace that would build the pleasure to a quick natural spilling point.  Mutual pleasure: he was soon as hard as the cock he rode, but he dismissed the twinge of shame.  He enjoyed being full, and he had never been more so than now.  The last of the pain faded, and he began working his muscles around the hard shaft.  He smiled at the gasp he received in return; the Dunesin would get his ten credits worth and more.

The shouts around them banked to a dull buzz until all he could hear was their labored breathing.  The Dunesin groaned and pulled Obi-Wan against his shoulder.  A long, wet tongue laved his throat.  His own tongue tasted the salt coating the bewilderingly soft skin against his face.  He shivered, felt the shiver pass through the Dunesin and back into him with redoubled
intensity, and realized the Dunesin had enough power to form a rudimentary empathic link between them during intercourse.  The Dunesin drew out his pleasure and returned it to him, until they shuddered in concert.  Obi-Wan buried his face against the silken flesh and surrendered to the driving rhythm of their joined bodies.  He had no more choice in it; their final ecstasy was interdependent now.  To fulfill his job, he had to let himself be fulfilled.  The Dunesin could not have found a harsher jest if he had tried.

But when it ended, he confessed to himself that surrender was not a trying duty.  As they crossed the final boundary together with the first hot streams of semen, the restraint became an embrace.  The Dunesin bucked wildly beneath him, and he came as hard as his captor until they were both spent.

****

The spell broke with the final orgasmic shudder, and Obi-Wan shuddered again, this time in disgust at the sweaty, sticky intimacy with this being to whom he had sold the use of his body.  He ripped away from the sense of the Dunesin in the Force, yanking free of the still-hard cock to free himself from the Dunesin's physical presence as well.  The Dunesin laughed, and
Obi-Wan found himself sprawling on the cold floor, the jeers of their erstwhile audience loud again in his ears.

"Well worth your price, little Jedi."  The Dunesin smiled, collected and mocking despite the trails of Obi-Wan's come still dripping down his chest and stomach.  "I think I'll keep our bargain after all.  Though if you get tired of the old man, come back and we'll bargain again."

Unlikely on either point, he thought as he dressed with mechanical efficiency, making his fingers stop their shaking and ignoring the cold semen oozing down between his legs.  His whoring days were truly done now.  "Where is my master?"

The Dunesin waved, and a tall, scraggly man stepped forward.  "Take the little Jedi to the big one and see them on their way."

His word proved good.  Qui-Gon was groggy and weak, but unharmed, and their escort, silent but not hostile, even dosed him with anti-venom and restoratives to counteract the poisons in his system.

"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said with a sigh and leaned on his shoulders as Obi-Wan steered him down the corridor toward the door the tall man indicated. "I had a feeling I'd be running into you here."

"No running today, Master."  They stepped out into open air, and Obi-Wan breathed his own sigh of relief.  "Not unless our ex-host changes his mind about the exchange rate."

"What--?" Qui-Gon began, but then spotted three small figures running toward them.  "Thank the Force, you found them."

"Of course."  He stopped their forward motion just as the two tiny girls barreled into their legs, shrieking.  The boy stood a few feet back to maintain his dignity as the new man of the family, but suspicious tears spilled over onto his cheeks.  "There, now," Obi-Wan said, as Qui-Gon touched each of the girls' heads with affection.  "I told you we would be back.  Did you bring the things I told you?"

"Yes, Master Jedi," one of them said and pointed to the satchel her brother carried.

He felt Qui-Gon's head turning toward him, could see the raised eyebrow without even looking.  "Master Jedi?"

"They're barely seven, Qui-Gon," he muttered, then ducked out from under Qui-Gon's arm and knelt down to take his lightsaber from the child's hands.  "Careful, remember what I said about that button.  That's right.  Thank you."

"These are yours as well."  The boy stopped him when he would have risen, hesitated, but then shoved a pouch into his hands.

Obi-Wan hefted it in his palm, then handed it back.  "These are yours," he corrected.  "Your payment for guarding them for me."

The boy frowned, puzzled by his logic, and started to protest, but then visibly thought better of it.  Obi-Wan nodded his approval.  The children had friends with whom they could seek refuge, but the boy would still have to take care of his little sisters for a while.

Qui-Gon's curiosity hung palpably between them, but he said nothing until they found their newly released ship and were safely back in space.  Obi-Wan set the auto-pilot for Coruscant, then bullied Qui-Gon into his bunk.  He checked his vital signs, tucked the covers around him, and turned to let his master rest, but Qui-Gon seized his wrist before he could go.  "Obi-Wan,
satisfy my curiosity.  If you had neither your lightsaber nor your credit pouch with you, how did you obtain my release?"

"Funny you should phrase it that way."  He snorted, enjoying Qui-Gon's puzzled but indulgent look.  The sense of liberation had returned, and he bent to kiss his lover, almost surprised that he still craved Qui-Gon's touch as much as ever. "I've earned my keep once and for all.  Let's leave it at that."

He turned away again, but Qui-Gon did not let go.  "You have never owed me anything," he said, low and intense.  "Any debt between us was never yours to pay."

"Now you tell me," he answered lightly, but he frowned.  Qui-Gon had been the one to collect on that debt, and if that had never been his intention, if he had only meant to be Obi-Wan's lover of his own free will, then the onus had been on him to say so. He shook his head to dismiss the uneasy feeling.  "It doesn't matter now.  Sleep."

Qui-Gon held his gaze another moment, then relaxed his grip.  Obi-Wan turned out the light and left.  He needed to bathe.  And he needed to meditate and cleanse his spirit, to readjust his expectations of himself and his master, and to decide how to interpret the nagging voice in the back of his mind that insisted that either everything or nothing had changed.

***

Bandomeer, Coruscant, Naboo.  For the third time in his life, he wept over Qui-Gon, and even his master's touch on his face brought no comfort now.  "You can't.  You can't go."

Qui-Gon wheezed, chuckling as well as the hole in his chest would allow. Obi-Wan had killed the Sith who had put it there, but now he was helpless to do anymore.  "It's too late.  Promise me you will train the boy."

"No."  He sobbed and shook his head.  If Qui-Gon wanted the Skywalker child trained, he could damned well stay and do it himself.  Obi-Wan was not ready or willing to take that on.  "I can't."

"You must."  Qui-Gon clutched at his hand, rapidly losing his final battle.  "Train him... train him and your debt is paid."

The shock rattled through him, making his chest hurt as much as Qui-Gon's must.  His debt... the debt he had thought paid, that Qui-Gon had insisted had never needed to be paid at all.  Years as Qui-Gon's partner and lover had swept all thought of it from his mind, but now it came back to crash onto his head.  He could not refuse, no matter how unfair it was, and Qui-Gon, damn him, knew it.

"Obi-Wan?"  He could barely feel the weak squeeze of Qui-Gon's hand.

"Yes," he choked out.  Qui-Gon had no right to do this, but he had sworn.  Obi-Wan, at least, kept his word.  "Yes, I will train him."

Qui-Gon's last breath might have carried thanks, but he did not hear it.  Grief and confusion suspended his thoughts, and not until he heard voices approaching the generator chamber did he realize that Qui-Gon was dead.

A week passed before he came back to full awareness of the world around him.  He emerged from his dark cocoon long enough to face down the Council as though possessed by his master's spirit, but the adrenaline lasted only as long as it took to claim Anakin and ensure that he would be allowed to keep his promise.  Even watching Qui-Gon's body crumple and blacken in the flames of his pyre brought only a vague bitterness.

But today the sun shone through the window onto his face and glinted off his padawan's hair as they struggled to tighten the new leather belt enough to stay in place around Anakin's tunics.  Anakin let out the occasional snort and squeak as Obi-Wan's fingers hit a sensitive spot on his ribs.  On impulse, Obi-Wan made a sneak attack and tickled under his arms until Anakin
was laughing and squirming so hard he fell down.

They had a few minutes before they were to join the Queen and the Council to receive the Gungan's delegation parade, and Obi-Wan sat down beside Anakin, content to let the moment linger and fade in its own time.  He felt good, at least for a few minutes, and the celebration would be easier if the mood lasted.

After a while he realized Anakin was staring at him, and Obi-Wan waited, already used to his apprentice's pattern of building up and then blurting out whatever was on his mind.  He reached over and gave the belt one last tug. Anakin grinned as it finally settled into place like a proper Jedi's.  "Thank you, Master."

"You're welcome, Anakin."

"And-" Anakin hesitated, and Obi-Wan waited for the blurting.  "Thank you for letting me be your padawan.  I know you didn't want me-"

"Ani-"

"-but I'm going to work really hard to be a great Jedi Knight like you.  I promise you won't regret it."

"I know I won't."  He gave the short braid behind Anakin's ear a playful tug and received a wide smile in return.

The smile soon faded into the serious look Anakin had worn more often than not since Qui-Gon's funeral.  "I mean it, though.  I owe you big time.  And I'll repay you somehow. I swear I will."

His breath caught, and suddenly it was a different sun on his face and his own voice making such a similar pledge.  For a moment he thought he would cry again, but the tears faded before they reached his eyes, and he was surprised to find himself laughing a little instead.  "Don't say that unless you mean it," he said, half mocking.  He took pity on Anakin's confused frown and ruffled the boy's hair.  "Just trust me.  Don't say it unless you mean it."

***
The End (feedback welcome!:-)