Master Apprentice
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"Why are you so worked up, Kenobi?"
As he turned away from the comscreen, Obi-Wan sought to tamp down his burgeoning excitement. It had been more than four months since he saw his Master last, and six months before that.
But the message he'd received that morning had been short and to the point;
"Obi- I've been granted three days' leave for
the successful completion of the Natira Treaty.
I'll be on Spanga Four as soon as I can and I
will contact you then. -Qui"
As lovenotes went it wasn't much, but knowing that Qui-Gon was scrambling for passage to get to him as quickly as he could meant more to him than any pretty words could.
Now he just had to do his part.
Leave time was private. If Qui-Gon used his own credit chit or bartered for the passage no-one on Coruscant would know where he'd gone, and they needed to keep it that way. After the close call they had experienced at the Temple last cycle, when Mace Windu had spoken to Obi-Wan about the intensity of an 'overheard' connection, he and Qui-Gon had tried to pull back, just a little bit.
They hadn't been taking chances lately.
But they needed each other more than ever. The pain grew between them, thickening the bond they tried so hard to hide, making it obvious and perceptible. Only the strongest of shields protected them now, but they had found a solution to that problem; a portable shield-generator, a smaller version of the ones used at Temple, in places like meditation rooms and to protect young minds from large-scale exercises. It had been prohibitively expensive, but Qui-Gon, with his usual calm insistence, had found and purchased one on the black market - it had probably been stolen from the Temple recycling pile and rebuilt. This would be their time to try it. If he got here in time.
"Nothing, Toe." He belatedly answered the other Knight, his assigned partner for this mission. It was another diplomatic affair, this time the betrothal of the children of three ruling houses. An odd betrothal, as two were male and one was female and one of the boys only fiveyears of age; but the way things were done on Spanga Four. Every generation a state marriage was made between the children of the ruling houses, which ruled the three continents, and the married trio would live part of the cycle in each kingdom until one of them ascended his or her throne and there they would reside for life. The last generation had seen the marriage of three females, fortunately of similar ages, and all had taken consorts to produce these children. The ceremonies took place at the kingdom of the oldest of the betrothed and the honeymoon at the kingdom of the middle one and they would live first at the home of the youngest.
Currently they were in the middle of the formal greeting stage, which consisted of several weeks of the children getting to know each other while the dignitaries and court members watched indulgently.
A Jedi presence was traditional, one for each kingdom. The third member of their party, a quiet middle-aged woman, was somewhere in the palace, probably the library, as she had proven to be rather studious and serious.
Obi-Wan had the charge of the youngest boy, as he was the youngest of the Jedi assigned, and so, fortunately, was free for the rest of the evening, as his young prince had become grumpy and been taken off to bed by his nannies.
The first thing he needed to do was locate a safe place for them; an inn or hotel. Someplace discreet but not too expensive. As a rule Jedi did not collect material wealth, though a stipend was assigned, to allow them to indulge in hobbies and recreation. Despite some of the restrictive rules and the desires of the more conservative representatives of the Order, there were still Jedi who had lives outside the Temple. Jedi that married and had families, though it was frowned on. But it could not be denied, the urge to form a family unit was too strong in most races. And the children of Jedi did tend to become Jedi.
As he thought Obi-Wan scanned the city directory, available on the public access page. There were many stories and comments concerning the upcoming betrothal, most of them positive, though it seemed there was a faction that thought the actual ceremony should wait until the youngest prince was of age. Obi-Wan noted that, and the names associated with the article for future research, and then found the residence listings.
Spanga Four was relatively liberal in attitude, relationships between any sexes generally accepted, so he didn't need to concern himself with finding a place that catered to same-sex couples. They did frown on interspecies pairings, but that wasn't a problem for he and his master.
There was a wide selection of mid-range lodgings. Skimming the descriptions, he paused at one that seemed to call to him. Discreet and private, with self-contained rooms and droid service.
No actual people involved. That could be a good thing. No witnesses, if there should ever be a question.
It was affordable, and claimed to have complete educational access in each room - so his master would not be bored. If he were detected on the planet by another of the Jedi team Obi-Wan was working with, there were be awkward questions. Questions that might lead to the Council's interest and scrutiny they could not withstand.
Secrecy was their only defense.
Making the reservation directly through the comunit, Obi-Wan felt a familiar pang of regret. Not that he couldn't acknowledge his love for Qui-Gon publically - that was simply too much to ask for -but that his master experienced such guilt for what was between them. He did not think he had corrupted Obi-Wan, or that he was hurting him in any way; it was simply the possible consequences of their actions that pained him. And the need for subterfuge. Dishonesty did not come naturally to Qui-Gon Jinn and its presence in his life was a constant tiny irritant. The concept of denying the Force anything was foreign to the older Jedi and he felt the burden of his sacrilege every time they came together. Yet he did not deny that this relationship was meant to be. It was driven by the Force and nurtured within it.
How could the Council deny that? For himself Obi-Wan liked to think that he was more pragmatic. Erasing all traces of the reservation after it had been saved, going into the program to remove all traces, it would not be traced back to this terminal, he explored his feelings once again.
Given the choice between love with Qui-Gon, with the accompanying emotional baggage, and a life without that love - or worse, a life denying it - he would pay whatever price required; by the Council, by the Force, by Qui-Gon himself.
"As long as he loves me." Saying the words aloud felt daring and he repeated them, just to hear them, excitement rising again, firmly squashed. "As long as he loves me."
Reservation made, he turned his attention to meditation, to gaining control of the emotions that would give him away if he let them continue this way. Qui-Gon would be here soon. If the Force was willing.
"Gotcha!" With a Force-enhanced grab Obi-Wan snatched his rambunctious charge before the little prince could dive beneath the banquet table as he wished. The dinner had been long and boring for a small child, the speeches dry and rambling. Hoisting him into his lap, Obi-Wan wrapped the edge of his cloak around the prince and began a quiet, private game of tickle - not enough to make him giggle, just enough to make him squirm. At the next table Master Toe frowned and glared, but Obi-Wan ignored him, choosing to deal with his charge as he saw fit. The second of the betrothed, a shy young man in his late teens, sat beside Toe. He seemed as bored and disgruntled as the youngest prince, but flashed Obi-Wan a quick, bashful smile.
It was going to be odd for them, Obi-Wan thought. He needed to think about something to keep his thoughts from his master who should arrive before the evening passed. The two older mates would have to raise the younger as if he were their child, and then somehow transfer those feelings to an adult sexual relationship, or the marriage would become unbalanced. It was a bit like a master sleeping with a padawan; first parent, then teacher, friend, lover. Not necessarily a natural transgression. Most never went beyond the friend stage, and some never beyond the parent.
Did that make he and Qui-Gon the exception that proved the rule? Not a pleasant thought.
"I wanna go play." The little prince lisped in a whisper. "You can return to your room and your toys after dinner." Obi-Wan whispered back, using a touch of the Force to mute their words, preventing them from traveling past a foot or so. "Your betrothal-mates will come and play with you tonight." It was one of the middle steps toward the marriage, the older two spending more time with the youngest, getting him accustomed to their presence in his life before they set up house with him in their wing of the royal castle. His many nannies and servants would still be there but their role greatly reduced as he learned to depend on his betrothal-mates for his needs and comfort.
"Will they play with me?"
"I would think so. Or perhaps they will read to you or just talk."
These children had had almost no exposure to each other as they grew, he marveled that the society had developed this way, and that, for the most part, it seemed to work.
"Can you stay and play with me?"
Oops. It wouldn't do to have the boy become attached to him. He had to walk that line between affection and distance.
"I have other duties tonight, your highness. I'm sure your mates will be very kind to you."
Saddened, the boy leaned into him, wrapping sturdy arms around Obi-Wan's waist and laying his head on the Jedi's chest.
"But I like you." He whispered.
"I like you too." Obi-Wan replied, moved by the innocence and trust. The child's parents were seated at the long table on the dias, with the other ruling families. Obi-Wan knew that this was their only child, the other two kingdoms had several. Apparently there had been talk of an adoption if they could not conceive, but they had and now they were going to have to give him up, at least partly. Though they would see him and live with him for one-third of the year, he would no longer be truly theirs.
The way Qui-Gon would never belong wholly to Obi-Wan, or he to his master. The insight brought pain instead of happiness and he had to fight himself to release it. Master Toe noticed the quick internal battle and gave him another disapproving frown.
Perhaps he should notify his master, tell him to not come. The situation suddenly seemed far more dangerous than it had before, the risk too great.
No. He wanted to see him. Needed to touch him. Taste him, smell him, kiss him. Nothing less would ever suffice.
Cuddling the prince, relieved when the boy began to doze off, Obi-Wan pondered the kinship he now felt with this child.
The room was dim, and warm. Nights on Spanga Four tended toward cold, so there was an automatic heating system that had kicked in earlier. Curled on the bed, which was as large and comfortable as advertised, Obi-Wan had given up trying to sleep or meditate. His thoughts drifted disobediently. Lustful imaginings of the night he hoped to have were interspersed with a growing fear of discovery and deepening sadness.
It wasn't supposed to be like this. Yesterday he had been happy, ecstatic. This was simply an example of over-thinking, not living in the moment as his master had frequently advised him. But he could not stop it, his thoughts did not seem to care what he wanted, and this lack of control worried him further. He had reached an epiphany this evening at the banquet and the corner refused to be unturned.
He longed for Qui-Gon. His lover's presence would ease his mind, calm his thoughts, and sooth his soul.
There had been no word yet. It was late. He had expected his master to arrive sometime around dusk, by his own calculations of projected travel time. There had been other nights, and other days, though, when an encounter had failed to happen. When duty or threat of exposure had forced one or the other to change plans, to back out, with little or no warning for the lover waiting. It always hurt.
He didn't think he could stand it this time, not on the heels of his recent thoughts. The door opened, and welcome warmth flooded his mind. "Qui." He sighed, rolling over on the bed, coming out of the tight defensive curl, reaching for him.
"Shh, just a moment." The tall man fumbled in the dark, then a small lavender light lightened it, giving the bed a romantic glow, and Qui-Gon was setting down a carryall and pulling out the rebuilt shield generator.
"Yes, master." The obedience of a padawan combined with the laughter of a lover - Obi-Wan tried to keep it all in but something had to ooze out at the edges. Just a few more moments...
"There." The switch was flipped and a calm stole into the air. It was a strange sensation. Not quite the all-but-unnoticed of a shielded room in the Temple or Academy, but more of a buzz at the base of his skull.
"Is it safe now?" He asked, holding himself back just that last minute.
"Yes." Qui-Gon unbuckled his belt and it hadn't even hit the floor before Obi-Wan was on him.
He tackled the larger man, hitting him square in the chest with his full weight, sending them both to the thickly carpeted floor, hearing the whoosh as the air was forcibly expelled from Qui-Gon's lungs, but he didn't care. His mouth closed over his master's, tongue shoving inside, he heard himself moaning and then Qui-Gon was there, with him, in his head, making the growling noises that Obi-Wan loved to hear, big hands grabbing his butt and pulling them tight together, giving as good as he got.
There was shoving, and thrusting, and the taste of blood on his tongue, and a large finger jammed into his passage, drawing a moaned plea for more, then the larger man flipped them over with astonishing ease and shoved his legs apart, one finger still deep inside Obi-Wan, making him writhe and plead loudly, needing all of it, everything, now.
"MORE!" He screamed, some part of his mind appalled and cringing from the sound, but it only got louder. "MORE, QUI, PLEASE!"
"Hush, hush, hush, love, there, love..." Two fingers within him, hot weight pressed to his arched back, a large hand stealing over neck and shoulder to cover his mouth firmly. Sucking air through flared nostrils, Obi-Wan writhed violently as the penetrating fingers sought and found his prostate, he bucked helplessly, little mewls of need escaping around Qui-Gon's hand.
"One minute, just one minute, give me a minute..." The older man was shaking with need above him.
Without the need for mental restraint he had complete access to his lover's mind and what he found there made him crazed. Qui-Gon wanted him, wanted to be inside him, wanted it more than he wanted to breathe, wanted to take Obi-Wan and pound into him mercilessly, make him beg for more, mark him for life.
He wanted to claim him, where anyone and everyone could see it. Yes! Obi-Wan thought, dizzy from lack of oxygen and violent arousal. Yes, that was what he wanted to. He shoved his ass back, collapsing to his forearms as his master leaned into him more heavily, his fingers caressing Obi-Wan's cheek and chin while still covering his mouth. The two probing fingers were unceremoniously yanked out and then the thick hot rubber satin head of his cock was poised at that entrance and Obi-Wan fought to push back onto it, to take it all in, the high-pitched sound of his frustration leaking out around Qui-Gon's hand, he was drooling and desperate.
Please His mental plea was heard and Qui-Gon thrust in, hard and fast. There was pain, it hurt, he was probably bleeding - but he didn't care. It felt too good.
"Obi." Qui-Gon growled, as helpless in the face of this storm as the younger man was. "Obi."
The name became a chant, mental and aloud and Obi-Wan returned each thrust with a buck of his hips, driving that cock into him just a bit deeper, answering his lover's need with his own. Qui-Gon's hand slid to his throat and curled there, wrapped to his pulse, which beat wildly in his neck, his heart pounding as if it were trying to break free of his ribs. He felt the answering rhythm on his back, Qui-Gon surrounding him, covering him inside and out.
It was far too much to maintain. But they tried, oh they tired. Without the Force to call upon, its contact made sluggish and lazy by the shield, they could only rely on inherent stubbornness, which both possessed in abundance.
The pressure grew, Obi-Wan could feel the exhaustion pulling at his lover's arms, feel the strain of keeping the pace and keeping his bulk off the smaller man, but he couldn't come yet, couldn't quite reach it - Moving one arm down, Obi-Wan let his upper body fall to the floor, Qui-Gon following him down, changing the angle of his thrusting, making it deeper, making it hurt, and he closed his fist around his own cock, face mashed to the carpet, Qui-Gon's large hand still around his throat, gripping tightly now, his vision was starting to grey out.
He pulled on his cock and it was enough, finally, and he came, spasming helplessly, entire body jerking with each throb of pleasure, each spurt of semen that dripped to the carpet.
Qui-Gon's hand tightened convulsively and his air was abruptly cut off and then his master was shuddering, hips jerking without grace, and they were falling, they fell, and he could breathe again, but it would be too much effort to try.
Obi-Wan passed from consciousness to the void without a thought between them.
"Obi. Obi, love, wake up, please. You need to bathe. Please, wake up." The voice surrounded him. It bounced off the inside of his ears and rattled around his mind. Low and hoarse, roughened by emotion - was that Qui-Gon? He had never heard his master - his lover - sound so sad. So lost.
"Qui?" It hurt to smile, his mouth sore, the corners cracked and bleeding. Had he bitten his lip? Yes. The taste of blood lingered on his tongue, coppery-sharp.
"Yes, love. Where else are you hurt? Does it hurt inside?"
Obi-Wan opened his eyes, and sucked in a deep breath, startled by what he saw. He was on the bed, Qui-Gon was leaning over him, on his knees beside him, still nude, streaked with sweat. His hair hung around his face in matted, damp clumps.
Qui-Gon's blue eyes were swollen and reddened, as if he'd been crying. His lower lip was puffy, bite marks scabbing over in dark red. "I'm sorry, Obi." While he watched fresh tears weled and slid down the haunted features. "I hurt you..."
"Looks like you didn't escape unscathed." Gently he reached up and traced the swollen lip. "I need to know if you're hurting - inside." Qui-Gon pulled his head away, either unware of or ignoring the tears. His mind was a mass of jumbled images, it was impossible for Obi-Wan to make any sense of them at the moment.
"I'm fine, I think." He said, reassuring.
"You need to bathe. There is some damage - I will help you heal it, but it must be cleaned first."
"Of course." It didn't seem like such an emergency, but there was a definite sensation of pain and getting clean certainly could't hurt, especially if it made his lover feel better. "Help me up." He grinned and held out a hand that was instantly engulfed in a larger one.
As soon as he stood he knew he'd been wrong. "Oh." Bending over, arms crossed over his lower abdomen, a soft moan escaped him. "Oooh."
"Sith." The curse was uttered with heat, and he was swept up into strong arms. He laughed even as he groaned again.
"You haven't - carried me - since I was fourteen!" He protested. The pain was growing worse, deep inside, some damage done; bruised or punctured, he didn't know. "Was there a lot of blood?" An internal tear would bleed heavily in an area so replete with nerve endings. He wasn't frightened, or worried; though neither of them were healers they both knew enough to care for minor injuries, which this most likely was, despite the level of pain it caused.
"Only a bit. A few drops, perhaps a few more." The bathroom was large, the tub already filled. Obi wondered how Qui had managed that from the bedroom.
"Force." His master replied, picking up the stray thought. "It has its uses."
"Ahh." Settled into shoulder-deep hot water, water that steamed faintly and gave off the scent of herbs, he felt the pain begin to ease. Just bruised, then. He said it aloud, to be sure Qui understood. His lover's mind was still in turmoil. "I'm just bruised, master. Easily fixed."
"This was wrong." Picking up a sponge, Qui began to bathe him tenderly. His neck felt sore, too, he realized. Also bruised, from his lover's grip? "It should not be that way."
"Perhaps we were apart too long." He offered, relaxing into the comfort of that touch.
"Perhaps we need to maintain shields when we are together." Qui countered, sounding no less unhappy.
"But the pain..."
"This has hurt me far worse than anything I have ever felt from the Force." Rinsing him with a wash of hot water squeezed from the sponge, Qui urged Obi up onto his knees. "Bend over the edge, love."
He did, raising his ass in the air, shivering as he was spread, cool air evaporating the hot water quickly. Then he moaned softly as he was washed, as carefully as possible, the skin raw and abraded, swollen and sore.
"I am so sorry, love." Qui sounded near tears again and Obi hastened to sooth him.
"If it was the shield that did it we won't use it again. Let's not decide just yet, though. I have the rest of the night, we can heal and lie together and try again. It's always rough the first time, you know that."
Yes. The thought was in both minds. We are wandering a strange new land without a map, he heard Qui-Gon's thought. As the man calmed the bond became clearer. It was not deliberate yet but he sensed it soon would be. It's unsafe and foolish to keep information from those who need it - the Council is harming those it claims to serve.
He agreed with that whole-heartedly. If there was any information available on bonded Jedi, they should have it. They should be able to find it. But it was as if this had never happened before to any Jedi ever, the details were well-hidden. Even looking could bring attention to them.
At least we are wandering together, he told his lover. Qui lifted him from the tub, wrapped him in a large towel, and carried him back into the bedroom, still lit with only the lavendar glow-lamp.
"I'll be right back." Tucked into the bed, propped on pillows, Obi sighed and laid back, preparing himself for the first stage of a healing trance.
There was too much to work out. He would rest, they would make love again - gently, he hoped - and then he had to be back at the castle before his absence was noted.
Perhaps the shield generator was a bad idea. They did not have to use it again - as long as they were not on a planet where there were other Jedi. But that happened rarely, the Order spread so thin across a galaxy far too large for a few thousand individual to govern.
Qui came back into the room, slid into the bed and pulled Obi to his chest, stroking his head with both hands. The guilt was familair, as was the joy that balanced it.
I need to tell you something. The thought was as clear in Obi's mind as if Qui had spoken it aloud. Another change, this one serious, the consequences far-reaching.
Yes, Master? He replied with an ease that made him giddy.
I will do whatever it takes to remain with you. There are no longer any other options.
Not that there ever really were. Obi scolded mildly, laying his head on the broad chest and listening to that heartbeat.
No. There never really was. His master agreed, almost sadly.
-- End