Master Apprentice Archive Liberties Quick search:

Liberties

by Lapis Lazuli (rangerk8@home.com) and Lilith Sedai (lilith_sedai@hotmail.com)

Category: Angst, AU (whoo, boy, is it AU!)

Warnings: Slave-fic, not much else

Rating - definitely NC-17

Archiving : permission to M_A, of course, and to our own home pages. All others please ask.

Summary: Qui-Gon rescues another pathetic creature, and gets his most private fantasy in return.

Disclaimer : Hey, if they were ours, Qui and Obi would never get outta bed. So they must belong to that George guy. Not to mention LucasFilm Ltd., 20th Century Fox, and the gang at Skywalker Ranch. And nothing changed hands - not money, considerations, firkins of salt, or cheese sandwiches.

Feedback: Well, seeing as how we worked so hard, a little would be nice. A lot would be most unlikely, but we'd manage somehow. :-D

Acknowledgements - this section is actually a bit of history. This story has been hanging out on our hard drives for at least 6 months, if not longer, waiting for a home in a print zine. But it's home went the way of all things, so we've just decided to get it over with and let y'all have it right between the eyes (or whatever part of your anatomy tends to process this stuff...).

Thanks also to Black Rose and Cori Lannam for kibbitzing, helpful editorial comments, and asking "What about breakfast?". Y'all are the best.

Qui-Gon Jinn stepped out of the Royal Palace on Kaiuron, gazing up through the shifting golden leaves, squinting against the rays of the brilliant yellow sun. Kaiuron was a lovely planet, with charming rulers and a wealthy populace who were much given to the pursuit of idleness and trivial pleasures.

That might even be said to be a part of the charm, he admitted to himself privately. Surely his assignment here had been generally envied in the Temple, and Obi-Wan had been beside himself that a last-minute illness had prevented him from accompanying his Master.

His duties for the day had been light, and they were over; for once not needing to provide an example for his Padawan, Qui-Gon had permitted himself the leisure to explore the city. He left the grounds at a pleasant amble, gazing over the wide, well-landscaped prospect of the city sloping down beneath him. The buildings were pale and columned, shaded in most places by broad-spreading trees; flowers poured from every yard and balcony idyllically. He must see to getting Obi-Wan a souvenir, something that would soothe his dismay at being excluded from the trip.

This morning he thought he might try to find the sporting arena and watch the races; Kaiuron's racers competed for pleasure, not for profit, and the animals and riders both were true athletes without the cut-throat edge that so often ruined Qui-Gon's enjoyment of sporting contests. He could see the tall round stands of the arena in the distance, and he wandered off in that general direction, nodding at passing citizens and returning their smiles.

He was just about to decide Kaiuron was the happiest place he had ever been when he heard the sound of heartbroken sobbing behind a gate. He stepped forward to the bars, spotting a little girl gazing forlornly up into the trees.

"What is the matter, little one?"

"I thought my father's canary would like to fly outside, but it won't come back to its cage," the little girl raised a tear-streaked, trusting face to him. She couldn't be more than four. "Can you catch it for me?"

Qui-Gon pondered. They were in a temperate zone; likely the bird had been imported from the tropics and could not survive the winters without shelter and care. It would possibly fall victim to predators, as well. Much as he hated caging living things, recapture seemed the best option for the creature's welfare.

"I'm in trouble," the child wept, giving up on him as he thought, starting to move deeper into the garden, dragging the empty cage over the flagstones.

"No, you aren't. Wait." Qui-Gon lifted the latch of the gate and stepped inside. Gazing up, he spotted the flash of brilliant blue and crimson--more than a canary, an expensive rarity. He could hear it chattering in mimicry of the Kaiuron language as it flew from branch to branch.

"Kaiti, where are you?" a man's voice from inside the villa. "Have you taken Per out into the gardens again?" A note of worry, half anger. The man was coming closer, and would be in sight shortly.

The little girl, Kaiti, winced, and Qui-Gon got to work quickly. He closed his eyes, summoning the Living Force, reaching out to the frightened bird. He explained its circumstances as well as he could through images in the Force. He could feel its response, its fading fear, its interest in this human that could nearly speak to it. Smiling very slightly, he lifted his hand, felt the beat of wings and the whoosh of air as it simply swooped to light on his sleeve and stayed there, stepping toward his wrist, gripping the fabric of his tunic in its claws. He opened his eyes and met the alert gaze of a round eye. The bird preened its hooked beak through its feathers.

"You have quite the way with animals, sir," the man was moving slowly to Qui-Gon's side. "Kaiti, how many times have I told you not to play outside with Per?" The man opened the cage and Qui-Gon gently nudged Per to enter it, watching as the bird swooped to catch the edge of the door and stepped in, hopping to its perch.

"Perhaps if Per had a larger cage, he and Kaiti would both be happier," Qui-Gon suggested.

"I have a fenced conservatory built especially for him to fly in," the man smiled. "Kaiti just doesn't understand that the gardens are different, that he could escape and be killed." The man paused. "I saw him in the tree--how in the world did you persuade him to come to you?"

Qui-Gon shrugged minimally, not wanting to advertise his Jedi identity. "I've an affinity with animals, I suppose."

The man set down the birdcage. "Kaiti, run inside. I'll bring Per." The little girl paused long enough to hug Qui-Gon's leg gratefully, and he tousled her hair, then watched her trot away. "I'd like to thank you, sir," Kaiti's father smiled at Qui-Gon. He reached into a pouch at his belt, and withdrew a card, handing it to the tall Jedi.

"Oh, there's no need," Qui-Gon protested, realizing that the card was a coupon for admission to an exclusive holographic pleasure resort. "I was happy to help Kaiti. I don't require a reward."

Kaiti's father huffed softly, laughing. "Then accept the coupon as a second favor to me," he smiled. "I give these free trial coupons to all my friends and business contacts." He grinned. "It helps to build a clientele, through references if nothing else." His mirth was infectious. "Guaranteed enjoyment, sir."

Qui-Gon smiled at him, then returned his eyes to the card, reading more carefully: Holographic pleasure vacations. Choose your pleasure, choose your partner. Live the fantasy of a lifetime in an afternoon! Celebrity images available. Confidentiality ensured.

"Celebrity images?" Qui-Gon was amused.

"Available for any kind of interaction. We take them from public-domain holobroadcasts," Kaiti's father explained. We have Senators, holovid-stars, infamous felons, planetary rulers." The smile grew sly, inviting Qui-Gon's complicity. "We even have a number of Jedi images available, sir. From the Senate vids."

"Jedi?" Qui-Gon blinked, glad that he hadn't worn his distinctive robes. He'd never thought that his appearances on public-access holovids might target him for inclusion in such a database.

"There are a wide variety of fine scripts and personality imprints to draw from," Kaiti's father picked up his pet. "Computerized personality extrapolations based on holodata, or sculpt your own personality preferences with the latest engram technology." He escorted Qui-Gon courteously to the gate. "We look forward to your custom, my friend."

Jedi, eh? Qui-Gon tucked the card into his pocket, leaving the house behind him. He might just have to see what this operation was doing; it would not be good for people to become too complacent about the mysteries of the Jedi.

The building was tasteful but unprepossessing, Qui-Gon decided as he stood outside. But then, it hardly needed to be lavish, since the pleasures that occurred inside were largely illusory. He took the card out of his pocket. He would have to take advantage of this sample, to see how Jedi images were being used.

He stepped across the street and his pass granted him entry. A plush lobby awaited, with a variety of cubicles and friendly receptionists. One gestured to him cordially. "Permit me to help you tailor-make your individual adventure," her purr was sultry.

He moved to sit in the cubicle, tucking his lengthy legs under the recessed desk. The receptionist smiled at him perfunctorily, turning a video terminal to him. "Are you a first-time customer?"

"Yes," Qui-Gon proffered his coupon.

"Ah, a personal friend of Ser Hontyp's. Excellent, sir." Her gaze warmed, became more sincerely friendly. "You will be receiving our deluxe package, fully personalized, satisfaction guaranteed." The receptionist rummaged briefly in a desk, lifting a small electrode. "With your permission, sir."

Qui-Gon let her press it to his temple, probing it cautiously with the Force. "What is this for?"

"Standard engram customization procedure, sir. Do not worry. It is all a part of the deluxe customization process. It contains a small computer chip. At the termination of your adventure, you may choose to leave it on record with us, or you may destroy it personally."

"It's a thought-reader?" Qui-Gon plucked at the chip with some alarm, and it came away in his hand.

"Of relevant fantasy-related alpha-wave engrams only, sir." The receptionist retrieved the chip. "It is already finished." She marked a number on the chip with a pen and handed it to Qui-Gon.

Qui-Gon watched the chip warily. He knew that it took a great deal longer to record the full contents of a mind, but he did not like at all what had just been done to him, anonymous or not.

"What sort of engrams?" He quizzed.

"Those required to construct your perfect personalized vacation encounter." She plugged the chip into a small circular pad and watched the readout. "Ah, two celebrity images..." she punched a complicated set of numbers into a computer, hardly looking at what she was doing. "Scenario and characters loading..." she tapped at her keyboard.

"Wait," Qui-Gon reached and caught her arm firmly. "I wanted to request Jedi, specifically."

"Your engrams have already done so, sir," she smiled brightly. "Both celebrity characters I entered had the Jedi coding as part of their identifiers."

Qui-Gon settled back, nervously. "What sort of scenario should I expect?"

She beamed at him, positively smug. "Your fondest dream, sir. You'll be partly aware of yourself and will be able to steer the fantasy according to preference, but the fantasy will progress until completion before you may take truly independent action." She handed over the circular pad with his data chip. "Holocube sixteen. Set the projector on the floor and press the red activation button. When you're finished, you'll be met, and you may decide how to dispose of the chip."

She sent him on his way, already calling to her next customer.

Qui-Gon stood nervously in holocube sixteen, staring down at the small personalized fantasy that awaited him. He'd have felt better if... ah, well. People did this every day. There was nothing to be done about it now but to go along for the ride, then make his report back to the Council. He reached and touched the activation button, conscious of projectors hidden in the walls humming into life as the image of his deepest desires coalesced around him and swallowed him.

The ceremonial bell rang and Qui-Gon Jinn, military ruler of the Empire of Astat, gestured idle permission to the guard who stood at his door. He barely looked up from the printed matter he was reading as four men entered, two carrying a rolled woven rug with a thick bulge in its middle. Muffled sounds of fury emerged from deep within the thick roll, which twisted and writhed in the arms of the men carrying it. He lifted his head, blue eyes narrowing keenly. Perhaps this would be more interesting than reading after all.

He rose, gesturing at the floor before his seat. The men laid the rug down carefully and caught its corners, lifting suddenly, unrolling the constricting length of cloth and tumbling the inmate of the woven prison onto the tiled floor amidst the intricate mosaic depictions of Emperor Jinn's military conquests.

Jinn looked down upon the tawny-haired vision sprawled at his feet, and felt his blood surge.

Perhaps his day was looking up.

"Well, well, well." He looked at the two youthful soldiers who had carried in the struggling young man, and the two older counselors who had followed them into his audience chamber. Trying to appear uninterested, he sat back in his chair. "And to whom do I owe this - surprise? - today, gentlemen?"

"A gift from General Aelika, great Emperor. The man originates from a primitive tribe on Rakis IV - he is a war captive." The speaker was Jinn's major domo, Kerulias. "The General has sent him to you for your personal entertainment."

"My personal entertainment? Hmmmm... it would seem that Aelika has suddenly acquired some taste in a region besides his mouth, Kerulias." The tall ruler sat back lazily, his sensual lips curving in a sudden smile.

The chief counselor smiled slightly. "It would appear so, honorable Master."

The ruler of the Astat Empire smiled down at the young man on the floor, who was wearing nothing except for a set of steel slave bracelets and a sulky look. "Well, take him off to the baths, and cut his hair into some style less resembling a shock of hay. Then have him brought to my quarters this evening."

"As you command, my Emperor." The major domo snapped his fingers, and the two burly guards dragged the slave off the floor. "To the baths, then. And watch his teeth - he bit his cagekeeper when he was delivered."

"He bit the cagekeeper, Kerulias?" Jinn watched as his house guards dragged the young man out.

"A minor injury, honorable Master. He was punished immediately by the slave factor, who lashed him soundly."

"Was the man hurt badly? You know I like my slaves unmarked, Kerulias..." Emperor Jinn frowned, a forbidding expression. He did not believe in physical discipline other than when it was absolutely necessary.

"He is unhurt, my Lord. Though he really shouldn't be trusted..." The man trailed off uncertainly, obsequious.

"Very well. Civilize him by sundown, at least on the surface - and make sure he's fed decently. I hate being distracted by an empty stomach rumbling." Qui-Gon waved the man away.

"Yes, honorable Master."

Qui-Gon looked back down at the scroll he was reading - an obscure philosopher's text on the interconnected nature of the energies that fired the evolution of the natural world. Inherently incorrect, of course, but still somewhat fascinating if one was bored enough.

He suddenly found he had lost all interest in the document.

The new slave really was beautiful.

Emperor Jinn stared at the young man who was kneeling sullenly on the floor in his bedchamber, naked. The guard behind him had pushed his face down to the floor when Emperor Jinn had entered the room, after a muttered command had not produced the desired effect.

He let his eyes travel lazily down the curve of the spine, across the tightly muscled shoulders, the well-defined hips, lamplight shimmering off the lightly oiled skin. Reaching his hand down cautiously, he put a hand under the slave's chin and raised his face up to look him in the eye.

The house servants had trimmed his hair short, leaving a single slim braid along the right side of his head and trailing down his chest, in the manner of a hand-chosen, marked concubine. His face had been accented with cosmetics and the scent of spice-attar rose from his hair.

Following the braid downward, Qui-Gon could see a well-muscled but slim chest, a tightly defined stomach, and a lightly furred groin that had an impressive, if quiescent, shaft springing from it. Going back to the face, he finally looked the man in the eyes-- and found so many different things in that gray-blue glare he was tempted to do nothing but stand and stare into them for the rest of the evening.

Sadness. Anger. Hatred. Hurt. Defeat. Defiance.

Pride.

"Leave us." He spoke to the guard, not taking his gaze off the slave. He sensed a slight hesitation in his underling, so he angrily snapped his fingers and pointed at the doorway. "Now."

The guard obeyed, though Emperor Jinn could tell he did not go far from the door. That was fine-- he was taking a bit of a chance here, after all. But he was suddenly eager to know this man, in all ways, in all things, and to see if he could be bound by something other than chains.

He took his hand out from underneath the defiant chin. "Stand up." The man did not move. Reaching swiftly down to grasp the slim braid near the head, he repeated himself. "Stand up. Now." He tugged firmly. Throwing back his head, the slave surged to his feet gracefully, swiftly, his eyes flashing anger-gray lightning.

"Do you have a name?" The slave tensed as if waiting for punishment, though Jinn had not spoken angrily. Studying the face carefully, he had a sudden notion. Speaking in a Rakisian dialect he had learned on campaign, he repeated his question. "Do you have a name?"

Finally, something like intelligence entered the man's face. "I do." The voice was not deep, but rich and strong, his Rakisian flavored with a delicate, exotic regional accent.

So, that was the problem-- or at least one of them. No one had taught him the language of his new owners. Well, that could be fixed if he had half the intelligence apparent on his face. In the meantime, the meager Rakisian he knew would have to suffice. "What is it? Tell me - I wish to know."

"I am named Kenobi."

"Kenobi, eh? Interesting name. Do you know who I am, Kenobi?"

"No."

"Well, I'm going to have to teach you manners along with Astatian, I see." Jinn spoke in his own language and was pleased to see puzzlement on the man's face. Good. If he was curious, perhaps he would learn.

"I suppose all you really need to know for now is that I am your master, Kenobi. You belong to me, now." He hesitated, considering how best to obtain compliance from the young man who was now his. Frequently it was best to begin with sternness, and then to surprise and earn gratitude with unexpected mercy.

"You will do exactly as I say, when I say. If you do not, you will be punished. Punishment can be anything from a slap on the hand to the severing of that hand from your body, to the ending of your life, all at my pleasure. Do you understand that?"

"Yes." Kenobi hesitated, as if to speak, then subsided.

"You have a question? Ask it now, while you have permission." He waited for a moment, watching the hesitation in the young man's expressive features. "You may not soon have this chance again - I am not normally a patient man, Kenobi." The Emperor plainly saw curiosity war with discretion in the man's face. Discretion lost, by a narrow margin.

"What will you ask me to do?" Was there a hint of fear there? If so, that was definitely a good sign - a little fear was a good thing in a bondslave. Not too much, though.

"I will ask you do to many things, Kenobi. You will do anything and everything I ask of you. If you please me, I will reward you and take care of you. If you displease me, I would be within my rights to sell you to the gaming arena or have you killed." Emperor Jinn kept his voice normal, even-toned, watching his slave's reaction to the carefully-chosen words. "Any more questions?"

"No, master." He lifted his head, brave and defiant, the hint of fear well-hidden.

"Good." The Astatian ruler hardly believed that it would be that easy--Rakis were known for their stubborn defiance and mercurial humors. But there was something odd about this one... The silence in the bedchamber suddenly became deafening as both men assimilated the situation.

Jinn knew it was important to keep his young captive off-guard to prevent him from going on the offensive. He smiled very faintly, letting a touch of the predator into his expression. The young man swallowed defiantly, drawing his back very straight.

"Stand still."

Surprise in those stormy gray-blue eyes, and before he could recover to formulate a defense, Jinn took advantage of the momentary obedience. His hand fell on the young man's chest, stroking slowly down along the tight belly, around the curve of the narrow waist. As he circled behind the man, he trailed up the ridge of spine, across one shoulder blade. Through the short ruff of hair, running the braid quickly through his palm.

Then he slid his other hand under the roundness of one perfect hip. At last the young man reacted, flinching hard, jerking his head to glare over his shoulder, eyes narrowing to daggers. The older man allowed his smile to grow infinitesimally. "Ah, a bit nervous yet? Tell me, Kenobi - why are you still here?"

"I do not understand, master. I am here because I cannot leave."

"Of course you can leave." The ruler trailed one hand lightly across the firm rise of Kenobi's bottom. "I'm just one man-- a warrior could kill me and be out the door before anyone could stop him. And you are a warrior, Kenobi-- I can tell." The younger man whipped his head back around and shut his eyes tight, his body shivering under the touch.

"I cannot run from you, master. I will not."

"Oh? That's an interesting statement from a newly captured slave."

The Emperor continued his delicate stroking, moving back around in front of the man. Moving a bit closer, he ran one finger gently across Kenobi's left eyebrow, then down his cheekbone. "Open your eyes, Kenobi," he whispered. The eyelids flew up and once again the Emperor felt the urge never to stop looking at them. "You have the most incredible eyes, do you know that? I could get lost in them, just staring into them." From the cheek he moved his finger slowly back under the ear, stroking the sensitive flesh and sending another shiver through the younger man's body.

Qui-Gon was wary of barbarian sharp teeth, so he tilted up the graceful cleft chin and kissed his throat instead, letting his tongue taste the faint salt of perspiration at the hollow. Amazingly, his young slave didn't resist, holding his hands clasped before him, standing resolutely squared. He didn't respond, either.

Emperor Jinn drew back briefly to look into those quiet eyes, to taste again the fear he sensed hovering behind them. Many of the primitive tribes did not practice customs similar to those of Astat. Perhaps his young slave had never been with a man. No, not perhaps. He was sure of it suddenly; the tension in the compact, well-muscled body, the nervousness behind those eyes...

He'd expect much more of a battle from a Rakis, particularly one who'd only tasted women. Aelika would be disappointed that this young one offered so little sport... but curiously, Jinn was not. He slid one solid palm over the young man's shoulder, onto his neck, firmly up the back of his neck, nestling his fingers in the soft, freshly-shorn hair. "I would have expected you to risk the arena by this time, Kenobi," he gazed into those hypnotic eyes. "I begin to believe that you do not wish to fight."

Amazingly, Kenobi's eyes flared, blazing suddenly with something... incredible, wild and seductive. "Are you asking me to fight you, master?"

Qui-Gon almost laughed at the young man. "Finally! A little eagerness, passion even! You are a mass of conflict, Kenobi-- I do believe you would fight me..." The older man sobered suddenly, looking sharply at his captive. "You would, wouldn't you. Fight me, hurt me, perhaps even kill me if you could. So the question now becomes - what is stopping you?"

The blue-gray eyes suddenly clouded, and fell to the floor.

"Oh no, none of that! Look me in the eyes, slave, and tell me what's going on in that head of yours. You say you won't run, that you cannot leave. What's stopping you? Certainly not one unarmed old man."

Kenobi lifted his head slowly and met Emperor Jinn's eyes again. "If I tried to leave, I would be dead before I went through that door."

"Well, there is that possibility, yes-- there are guards all over the place, and one of them would probably catch you."

"I do not speak of your servants, Master."

"Oh? Then what are you talking about, Kenobi?"

The young man hesitated, then took a deep breath. "The gods of my people would strike me dead if I tried to flee you."

"They would?" An almost cynical smile spread over Jinn's face. "Well, that certainly makes it convenient for me, doesn't it."

The Astat Emperor walked once around his slave, then stood in front of him, taking the man's face in both hands and tilting it up to his own. Slowly, carefully, he kissed his captive barbarian on the lips, then drew away. A shudder went through the man's body, but he made no other move or sound. Jinn drew back, speculatively.

"Why did you bite your keeper, if you are resigned to this destiny?" he asked suddenly. Did this seriousness, this passivity apply only to him? Had the cage keeper harmed the young man? Or was Kenobi's submissiveness a front, a ruse designed to lull him into complacency? Might he waken to a broken neck or a knife in his throat? Aelika had always been over-ambitious... perhaps a gift from him was not to be trusted.

The young man lifted his defiant eyes, and they were even more vulnerable now, shot through with the faintest hint of something that almost approached timid desire. "I did not know I was being brought to you," the words were musical. "But when I saw you..." he swallowed hesitantly, almost diffident. "Your face was the face from my visions."

Jinn felt his lips curving in a smile of amusement. The man was clearly either delusional or lying... but such lovely, enticing lies. He would see just how far this reluctant acquiescence stretched, then-- just how far the oracle of the poor priest's false gods had pushed him. While keeping one hand close to his sword and shield, of course.

"Get onto my bed, Kenobi."

He watched, feeling the heat in him rise as the young man, defiant even in obedience, strode across the tiled floor onto the rich rug that pooled around his wide bed. Kenobi crawled onto the mattress slowly, the sight of the beautiful buttocks drawing the Emperor forward irresistibly. His captive lay quietly, face-down on a rich pillow, legs tightly together.

The tall Astatian moved quietly, sensing that he must go gently, that he must not frighten the young man further... this brittle acquiescence was an unimaginably fragile, precious gift. If he decided he valued his dignity more than his life, more than his gods... Qui-Gon would have a far less pleasant time taking what he wanted from the young Rakis.

His considerable weight shifted the mattress, making light dance over the young man's bare back. Jinn reached again for the impossibly beautiful hips, laying both palms on them, stroking softly. The man was so beautiful... muscled in a way that a bred-slave never was, luscious. It was impossible not to taste him. The ruler leaned to the side, and drew his tongue over the sharp angle of a shoulder blade.

The young man trembled, terror and reluctance near tangible in him, but he submitted with quiet bravery as Qui-Gon drew his palm down the back of one firm-muscled thigh, teasing his thumb over the sweet crease at the back of his knee. There were marks on his back, faintly pink lines, warmer than the rest of the smooth sun-gold flesh, and Emperor Jinn meditatively traced one of them with his tongue. He thought he might beat whoever had injured his prize; clearly if the man had been properly handled he would not have required such rough discipline.

"Open your legs." He punctuated the order with a gentle nip to the nape of his slave's neck. The tension in the young man ratcheted up another notch, and the knees parted very slightly, hardly a complete response to the command, but enough to allow the ruler access to the slim softness of the inner thighs.

He stroked slowly, bringing his hand further upward with each gentle, exploring caress. It could take a lifetime to discover all the sweetness in this perfect youthful body, and another to find all the ways the lovely skin and flesh could be used to give and to take pleasure. Emperor Jinn smiled, wondering how long it might be before he could convince the young man to offer pleasure eagerly, for the longer he looked at his young captive the more he thought that he wanted that. Oh, yes. He very much thought so.

He bent and slowly licked along the crease between hip and thigh, feeling the muscles of the smooth, round bottom quiver against his cheek, the perfect flesh nearly cramping with desperate tension. He nipped gently at the single fold in the taut skin, aware that his captive's fists had clenched in the pillow. He expected to be raped, perhaps immediately.

He would not be.

"Turn over," he spoke in Astatian, illustrating the words with a judicious push. Reluctantly, the young man allowed himself to be turned.

He was even more beautiful lying on his back than he had been on his belly. Jinn slowly traced the slightly-defined ribs. His slave was slender, too slender, though he had been fed as the Emperor commanded. One night's meal could not make up for weeks of near-starvation during his shipment.

He watched the body beneath his fingertips slowly begin to respond, the dark rose nipple nearest his hand tightening very slightly, very slowly, in response to the light pressure of his touch. He let his lips curve as he watched it, and raised his gaze to his prize, deliberately meeting the nervous blue eyes and tilting his chin downward to indicate his hand, which now slid closer to that small pink bud, inviting him to observe the response as well. "Does your tribe think it an abomination for man to lie with man?" Qui-Gon inquired casually. "If so, your body seems to disagree, Kenobi."

"I was trained to be a warrior priest," the Rakis whispered faintly, his throat obviously dry. He swallowed to bring moisture into his mouth, briefly resumed speaking. "I..." his gaze was suddenly defensive, and he closed his lips firmly, compressing them into a thin line.

"Was celibate?" Emperor Jinn guessed, and let his head fall back in delighted laughter when the gray eyes flashed angrily at him. "You will not be so by morning, that I can promise you."

"You have already destroyed my chosen life," the words were bitter. "I serve my gods in the only way that is left to me."

The Emperor frowned, not entirely liking the sound of that. He wanted this one's allegiance, wanted it swift and entire. "I am your god now." His voice grew harsh, thick with command and desire.

"And you will have my sacrifice." The words were quiet, determined. Kenobi's legs parted with silken sweetness, offering his body up on the altar of his master's bed.

The vision before him was irresistible; he could not grudge the man his insane convictions or his half-unwilling martyrdom. He slid a suddenly trembling hand all the way up the interior of one strong thigh, gently cradling what had been offered him. Kenobi's eyes closed, and his tongue flickered out to wet his lips; a visible shudder racked his body. His hands stole upward, finding the slave-ring set in the head of the bed, clasping it as though clinging to life itself.

Jinn stroked him very gently, keeping his own huge hands carefully delicate, arousing the slave in gradual, careful stages. It would not do to hurt him, not now. The slender body was completely vulnerable, the braid catching the light on the pillow. Kenobi's head arched back, pink tongue licking the tense lips again; his body fairly quivered even as he firmed in the ruler's gentle hand. Jinn smiled, petting upward with his free palm, stroking a gentle fingertip over one rosy nipple, then the other. Kenobi arched involuntarily as he pinched the second one lightly, and he closed his hand a little more tightly around the thick, long shaft. He slid the shaft through his palm, a long, slow stroke. Kenobi uttered the faintest moan, his erection swelling still further.

"That's it," the ruler gentled him, stroking the soft cheek with the side of a bent finger. "That's how it will feel. I won't hurt you, not on purpose." He spoke in Astatian, but his soft tone calmed the young man.

His danger signals should have been going off like a thousand trumpets of warning, but instead he felt absolutely safe with the young man. Paradoxically he, a veteran campaigner, trusted the enemy tribesman.

To a certain degree.

Enough to gather him close, sliding his thigh over the parted legs, letting his lips roam the sweet young chest. Heavenly, the taste of the pale golden skin, freckled lightly here and there with a faint dusting of darker pigment. He shifted his thigh against the lightly bobbing erection, keeping it stimulated to a peak of hardness even as his hands and mouth devoured his prize gently. Kenobi lay passive, tension emanating from his very skin-- surrendered but not defeated. Not yet.

The Astatian caught the copper-gold head in one wide palm, steadying his prize, and met the resolute, worried blue eyes. They'd shared one very chaste kiss; Jinn found that he wanted more, that he could not bear to wait.

He pressed his mouth down over Kenobi's, his lips covering the smaller man's entirely, suckling the narrow mouth softly. He ran his tongue over the line where the lips pressed together, slipping between them, between his teeth. He sighed into the kiss, savoring the clean, youthful taste of his prize's mouth, enjoying the reluctant, hesitant surrender.

Innocence and obedience beneath his mouth, a stiffened shaft clasped in his palm.... Qui-Gon veritably purred with contentment, sliding a little more weight over the young man's body. He felt so good, so vital and energetic. Springy, elastic skin and muscle... the Astatian drew back briefly, nuzzling his way down the pale neck, nipping at the braid with his teeth.

"Undress me," he rumbled softly into the pink shell of an ear.

As the ruler watched he could almost see the slave take hold and mentally shake himself, reminding himself of where he was and why he was there. As he scrambled up to his knees on the sheets, Kenobi's only reply was a whispered, "Yes, Master."

The dazed slave reached out and gingerly began to unwind the cloth sash holding his robe in place, then removed it, folding it gently and laying it on a bedside table. The robe itself was a mere matter of removing drapery, though Kenobi worked slowly, reluctantly, insecurity and fear writ large on his face. As he reached for the last scrap of cloth wrapped about the other man's hips, hesitation slowed to inaction, and hands froze on the fastenings.

"Kenobi, I told you to undress me. You are not finished." Jinn's voice was mild, but the inherent threat was there.

"Yes, Master, I..." An odd gulping sound, and then another whispered "Yes, Master." Slowly, the breechclout was removed, and Kenobi sat back on his heels, his eyes closed tightly, the cloth still gripped in his whitened fingers.

Qui-Gon sighed lightly, gazing at the vision of young masculinity before him. This was not going well - he had made a rare error in tactics. Now he would have to gentle and arouse the young man all over again. At the sound of the sigh, however, Kenobi opened his eyes and threw himself face-down on the bed, his legs spread, arms stretched out to the side.

"I am sorry, Master! My gods will not be pleased. I will not disobey again."

Qui-Gon started at the panic in the words. "You will not be punished, Kenobi." He resolved to have his slave factor lashed after all for having beaten his prize earlier. "The order was obeyed, and bravely so. It is not wrong to fear what you have never done. It is only wrong to permit that fear to keep you from meeting your future with courage."

A soft gulp, and the perfect shoulders hitched very slightly, and before the Emperor realized it, he had gathered his slave gently into his arms, and the young man was lying against his broad chest, struggling against dry, silent sobs.

"You did not think to find an ally here, did you, my precious one?" Qui-Gon stroked the soft fluff of newly-shorn hair, reverting to Astatian again. It would not do to let Kenobi hear the endearment. No, not at all. And again in the obscure dialect. "You are alone among enemies, and must trust someone, Kenobi. Why not your master? It will go the easier for you."

The young man stilled slowly as Qui-Gon kept stroking his hair, his cheek moist and warm against the older man's chest. His fingers crept up slowly until his hand lay on the ruler's shoulder, a timid gesture of embrace.

The ruler felt his throat threaten to close, and he bent to kiss the gentle slope of his slave's brow. Softly he settled back until Kenobi lay half atop him, still holding the younger man to him gently. "Would you like for me to have a woman brought, to warm you?" he offered softly, stroking that coppery hair, half-disbelieving himself for this unexpected weakness of purpose.

"No." It was the faintest of whispers against his skin. And then Kenobi's hot, soft tongue darted delicately against his chest, just the slightest flicker, and the young man's arm slid timidly around his neck. The hesitant seduction softened his bones with tenderness at the same time it sent flame racing throughout his body. Such a little touch, to bring such pleasure - ah, this one would be well worth the trouble taming him. At the moment, however, a delicate hand was needed. Or, perhaps, something else.

Rolling over slowly, he lowered Kenobi to the bed. He could feel the muscles grow tense beneath him, the lad instinctively fearing his trapped position. "Shh..." he spoke once more in Astatian, humming the words soothingly. "Gently, my precious one, my beautiful priest, my beautiful warrior. All is well." He ran his hands over the paler flesh of the young man's flanks and down each arm, caressing him carefully, stroking the sparse hair on that golden chest, arousing without threatening. Blue eyes never left him, widened in fear and determination. Emperor Jinn smiled into the uncertain face -- a good hunter knew to use the best of baits. "Never worry, young priest. I will take care of you."

Shifting back along the mattress, he continued gently tracing along the whipcord muscles, firming his touch to a sensual massage. As he felt the slave's body begin to relax slightly, he moved his touch down, fondling the quiescent shaft, petting and encouraging it to rise once more.

Their chests came together as the younger man's breathing quickened. Continuing his ministrations, Qui-Gon felt length in his hand harden and thicken; tightening his grasp, he rubbed and pressed deftly under the crown. Kenobi gasped in reaction, and he plunged his tongue deep into that virgin mouth, plundering its softness, taking his own pleasure and coaxing forth the other man's, swiping his tongue along the soft palate teasingly.

The need for breath separated them eventually, and Emperor Jinn pulled back, gratified at the dazed look in those sky-blue eyes-- still uncertain, but the fear was being edged back slowly by pleasure. Bending down over that luscious body again, he pressed another quick kiss to the swollen lips, then trailed his own mouth down over the strong neck, sucking briefly at the pulse-point, bringing forth another surprised gasp. Qui-Gon smiled in pleasure. It had been a long time since he'd had the opportunity to introduce a virgin to so many sensations.

He bit down hard enough to leave his mark on that lovely, pale throat, then continued downward, tasting the sweat of fear and growing desire as he skimmed the chest, searching out the pleasure-points, licking and nipping at them, finally latching onto one stiff-peaked nipple. He closed his teeth gently around the little nub, sucking strongly, plying it with his tongue, until the lithe body beneath him pressed up against his mouth. He held the young man's sides down and continued for long seconds, then lifted his head to view the results of his ministrations. Kenobi's face was flushed, his mouth open and panting, his eyes tightly shut, whether in denial or concentration he could not tell-- he expected the young man himself was not entirely certain. Good. He did, after all, want this man's enjoyment, but a challenge was exciting as well.

Giving the nipple one last lick, he resumed his downward progress over the tautly-stretched stomach, pausing to give attention to the dip of the navel. The slightly-parted legs had lost most of their rigidity, and he traced erotic designs over the inner thighs with light fingertips, encouraging them to fall open further. He let his lips follow, settling himself in between the long legs, parting them as much as possible without resistance, pleased to note that whatever the Kenobi's life had been, it had left him flexible.

Some tension returned to the slave's body as he seemed to realize what was happening to him, but Emperor Jinn gave him no time to think too long on the situation. Leaning forward, he let his unbound hair trail over the young man's groin as he pressed his tongue to the round balls beneath the now fully erect shaft. The legs on either side of him jumped in reaction, and he placed one hand on each thigh, stroking at the same time he held them open. He brought his tongue to the sac once again, swirling over each globe, stroking and pressing. Continuing gasps reached his ears, and he fancied he could hear the rapid beat of his slave's heart as well.

Having bathed them completely, he opened his mouth wide and sucked one heavy round into his mouth. Above him, Kenobi cried out in surprise, and Qui-Gon did not suppress a brief chuckle, knowing that the vibrations of his mouth would only serve to intensify the pleasure. He continued his sucking until the slave was writhing in enjoyment, his previous reluctance forgotten, then released his prize to feast on the other. Whimpers began and quickly turned to moans, firing him to further efforts, and he dropped the testicle from his mouth, raking the pleasure-swamped body with a hungry gaze.

His own eyes half-hooded in bliss, he lowered himself to the straining shaft, taking it as deeply into his mouth as he was able. The yelp he received in reply was gratifying, and he held the hips beneath him as they tried to rise up, bucking and straining instinctively. This priest might not have known sexual pleasure before, but his body certainly knew what it wanted. Qui-Gon continued, lowering himself until he had taken the entire shaft into his throat, and used the muscles there to massage the hard length. He felt it as the young man's pleasure began to peak, and drew back, holding the tip of the erection in his mouth without moving, his hands rubbing to soothe rather than to arouse, until the incipient orgasm stalled. Then he began again.

He sucked at the tip, licked around the base, bit lightly at the vein trailing up the underside of the shaft. He brought the young man to the peak again, and once more stopped him before he could reach it. The thrashing beneath him and the cries above became constant as he worked, and he encouraged every ounce of pleasure that he could, bringing one hand up to massage behind the tight-drawn testicles with his thumb, intensifying the experience. The cries turned almost to sobs as he stopped another climax from occurring and cooled his desperate prize down once more. Running one long finger along the erection, he collected the moisture of his own saliva and the leaking shaft, coating the digit before settling back in again.

He varied his rhythm this time, pressing with his tongue at different points, tightening his lips, scraping gently along the length with his teeth, bringing his slave to the peak slowly, releasing his hold on the hips enough to allow him to thrust slightly, arching up off the mattress. Reaching underneath the tempting curves of that body, he tickled the rim of the rear opening with his fingertip, feeling it twitch and pulse in reaction. Taking the shaft as deeply as he could, he released his hold further and positioned his hand below the virgin opening.

The young man surged up into his mouth and back down, impaling himself all at once on the invading finger. He yelled in shock and attempted to lift himself off again, but Qui-Gon followed him, gripping tightly, and his squirming only caused the invader inside him to press up further into his passage.

Taking advantage of the situation before Kenobi had time to react, Qui-Gon twisted his finger, searching for that certain place within all men. He found it and pressed skillfully, and the young man cried out once more as his entire body stiffened, twitching as the callused finger continued to rub and press there.

Sucking strongly, the ruler moved his mouth back off of the shaft, leaving only the tip between his lips, teasing that with his tongue until the slave arched up, pressing in further. Then he ran his finger over the spot he had pleasured in a light tickle, agonizingly slow, until the hips arched back again, forcing him in further, but pulling the aching erection from its warm haven. Soon the young Rakis was moving steadily, pressing into his master's mouth and fucking himself on his finger, faster and faster, encouraged further as Qui-Gon brought up his free hand to roll and pull at his balls as they pressed up against his shaft.

The Astatian ruler lifted his eyes to observe as the young man approached climax again, all thought dissolved in the overwhelming pleasure, tears of sensation streaming from his tight-shut eyes. The sight was almost enough to bring on his own orgasm as he felt the shaft in his mouth thicken further, and sucked more strongly at it, swallowing it completely, driving his finger in at the same time. With a scream, the man beneath him convulsed and shot his seed deep into his master's mouth, every muscle in his body stiffening before collapsing in a boneless heap, moaning as he attempted to regain his breath, limbs still twitching in the aftermath.

"They told me you would hurt me." Kenobi whispered faintly, when he was again capable of speech. "The warriors in my tribe. Even as they carried me to meet your soldiers, they taunted me with what you would do to me, to make me scream and beg for death..."

Jinn slid up the bed slowly, stroking his hand along the sweat-sheened limbs, the taut flat stomach, the still-panting chest. "That was foolish of them," he commented mildly. "Why would I want to hurt you when we can bring one another such pleasure?"

Half-dazed blue eyes sought him uncertainly, the sadness in them even deeper now, mingling with a touch of fear. "I hardly know which is worse," the young priest admitted, his voice broken. "To be a tortured slave... or to become your willing whore."

The Emperor considered him for a long moment, face impassive, then moved to prop himself up against a pile of pillows on the bed. "A lesson for you, my passionate barbarian. A whore is available to anyone, for a price. But you..." he stroked his fingertip up the side of the gently rippled belly, watching it contract involuntarily. "You are mine."

Kenobi accepted the correction with a low "Yes, master."

The ruler gathered the stiff, reluctant body close. "Willing...?" he tasted the word thoughtfully. "You reveal yourself, sir. You would like for that to happen again, I think." He gently caressed the strong back, rubbing in small circles, and when the man did not respond, dropped a kiss into the sweat-spiked, spice-scented hair.

"I was most pleased with your responses, my young barbarian, willing or otherwise. Was it so unpleasant, then? Tell me, Kenobi - I will never punish you for answering a direct question truthfully."

The young man gave a deep, shuddering sigh, keeping his face turned away from Qui-Gon's. "Among my people, men do not use men for pleasure." He paused and took another deep breath. "And I was raised to celibacy in the priesthood." He swallowed hard, continuing in a small voice. "Yet... I cannot say that it was unpleasant, my Master." He abruptly turned and buried his head in his only shelter... the ruler's chest.

"You will never go back to your people, Kenobi," the Emperor told him gently but firmly. "Your home is here with me now." The Astatian ruler reached down and with a gentle hand turned his slave's face up towards him, and kissed him softly. "Now sleep, man - any more can wait until the morning."

A soft chime floated through the suite, and the Emperor stirred, his hand reflexively groping for his bedmate of the night before. When the searching hand found no target, he sat up in bed ready to sound the alarm that his new favorite had fled.

Before he could summon the guard, he saw Kenobi-- still naked, kneeling next to the bed holding a heavy tray full of heavenly-smelling food. He allowed himself a small, silent sigh of relief. "Good morning, my lovely Kenobi. Gods, that smells good-- did they remember to bring the chocolate?"

"Yes, Master." He set the tray on the floor and took a steaming cup from the tray, handing it up to the older man. Qui-Gon sipped the hot drink cautiously, closing his eyes and feeling it as it began to arouse him from early morning doldrums. Some benevolent deity somewhere had given the secret of chocolate to humanity-- for that alone, they deserved worship.

Opening his eyes, he realized that Kenobi was still kneeling on the floor, his head down and shoulders hunched, an air of resigned defeat about his sagging body. "Kenobi." The refined head came up.

"Yes, Master?"

"Come up here on the bed-- bring the food with you." He smiled down at the bland expression and patted the mattress next to him. Kenobi picked up the tray and set it on the bed, then carefully climbed in on the other side of the food. "Go on-- eat. You must be hungry. I'm famished." Ignoring the surprise on the slave's face, he picked up a slice of smoked sgarmish and began to wolf down a sizable portion of the food.

After a few moments of hesitation, the younger man timidly took a slice of toasted oarabread thickly spread with jellied gamberries and took a bite. As he ate, a blob of jelly slipped from the flimsy bread in his hands and fell onto his chest, and began to slowly slide down his body.

Grinning, the Emperor leaned over the breakfast tray and began to lick the preserves off, following the trail of sweetness down and trapping the last of it just before it passed his waist. Raising his head, he kissed Kenobi, then pushed gently on his shoulder. "Lie back, my lovely." Silently Kenobi did as he was told.

Still grinning like a madman, Qui-Gon took the pot of jam and thrust his finger into it, then traced a path from Kenobi's neck down to his nipples, circling both in curlicue patterns. Taking more of the conserve, he ran his fingers along the bare ribs, outlining each one deliberately, then dropped a fingerful into his navel. Replenishing the sweet jelly one more time, he laid a trail down the stomach and onto the other man's sleeping member, coating it with the sticky substance.

"Ah, a feast fit for an Emperor, indeed." Placing the breakfast tray on the bedside table, he looked at Kenobi's face and found the same tightly shut eyes and quivering desperation that he had hoped banished by the events of the night before. Sighing silently, he caressed a sticky hand along the curve of the young man's jaw. "Kenobi. Open your eyes."

The extravagantly long lashes flew up and gray-blue eyes stared at him. "Yes, Master?"

"Do you recall what we did last night, Kenobi?" The expression in the young man's eyes went flat.

"Yes, Master."

Jinn swore silently. "Kenobi - did I hurt you last night?"

"No, Master." These monosyllables were getting old fast.

"Then why are you lying there like a man who is about to be executed?" The Emperor ran a sticky finger gently up stickier ribs, then dabbed the end of the perfectly shaped nose with jam. "I tell you for the last time, my sweet barbarian - I do not seek your pain." He smiled down, determined to get something in the way of a positive reaction. "In fact, I wish to see your pleasure - I demand it of you. If I do anything that gives you pain, you will tell me immediately." A puzzled look settled into the cloudy eyes, which pleased Qui-Gon - anything to replace that flat nothingness.

"Yes, Master."

"I mean it, Kenobi - at the first sign of pain, you will tell me." He leaned over and gently licked the jam spot off his nose. From the nose, he shifted down and licked at firm lips.

They quivered at the touch, then opened slightly to release a deep sigh, almost a moan. He considered pressing through the invitingly parted lips, but realized that such deep kissing was a pleasure better reserved for a willing partner, and moved down. There were other things he could do, things much more likely to entice the frightened, unskilled slave. Some of those pleasures had worked very well the previous evening; if Kenobi was determined to be a slow learner, then it was fortunate that his teacher was both patient and persistent.

He lightened his kisses, trailing soft tickling licks down the pale neck and tracing his blunt fingertips up along the tender abdomen, feeling it quiver under the light touch. He lingered, suckling lightly at the base of his slave's neck while his fingertips traced the sweet stickiness around his pink nipples, teasing them into small stiff buds. "You're very sticky, my own," he whispered. "Perhaps I should do something about that."

With a small smile, he lowered his head and sealed the heat of his mouth over one sweetly flavored nipple. Sucking gently, he savored the unique blend of barbarian and berries, silently vowing never to eat the stuff from bread again. He ran his tongue around the sweet nubs, then nipped, pleased at the twitch and moan this elicited.

"Good, good," Qui-Gon muttered as he moved to the other nipple. Changing tactics, he reached out with the tip of his tongue and flicked it back and forth, tickling and then soothing the tickle. The young priest began to move under him, breathing shallow and quick. Dipping his head swiftly, the older man clamped his mouth over the nipple and sucked hard, drawing blood into the hardness and feeling it throb under his tongue. The smooth chest heaved under him, and a cry of surprise flew out of the startled slave.

"Master!"

"Did that hurt?" The emperor soothed the small nub with his tongue, looking up into his slave's startled gaze. He swallowed, licking his kiss-pinkened lips nervously, but didn't speak, lashes blinking over his blue crystal eyes. "Since you agreed that you would tell me, I assume that it did not." He lowered his head to the nipple again, nipping and sucking it till the man writhed under him, his facade of indifference growing perilously close to a transformation into begging.

Jinn reached for the jar, dipping two fingers into the red sticky jam and smearing it in a jagged trail down the pale belly, following it with lips and tongue, leaving reddened skin and light love-bites in his wake. He enjoyed the hairless smoothness of the taut stomach, holding the lad's hips down firmly. Zeroing in on the blob of jelly he'd deposited earlier, he tickled and teased the depths of the man's navel, pleased that he had to exert himself to hold the twisting body on the bed.

Begging was definitely imminent-- the man below him was making noises that were closer to animal than human, but need was apparent in every phoneme. "Do you want something, my Kenobi? Tell me." Jinn lifted his head and was pleased to hear a whimper of loss. "What do you want, my lovely barbarian?"

A sob flew out from a tortured throat. "I don't know, Master...I don't know." A slim hand waved in the general direction of his swollen and neglected penis, erect and weeping as if in desperation. "It hurts..."

A sympathy pang shot through him; he realized he'd been teasing the man mercilessly, and his own erection was just short of painful. He realized he needed release as well, preferably before the slave saw his condition - he wanted no additional pressure on Kenobi's emotional condition. "I could stop," he murmured, "as I promised. But I think the pain would take far longer to subside than if I simply tend to you now." So saying, he slid his mouth over the angry, swollen head of the shaft, pumping his hand around its length. With a wordless wail his slave arched up, fingers digging into his own belly and thigh, his head turning on the pillow.

Qui-Gon stroked the sticky arms, then sank down along the sweet erection, sucking away the jam he'd coated it with earlier. A wicked idea dawned in his mind and he sucked and licked carefully, cleaning away all the sticky jam and thoroughly wetting the lad's penis. Pulling away and eyeing the quivering organ thoughtfully, he judged it would be enough; he was used to such lovemaking.

Swiftly he raised himself, kneeling over the man's hips; he watched the shock in the blue-gray eyes as he positioned himself and then sank down, taking the erection inside his body. There was a little pain in spite of his preparation; his penis sagged even as he settled himself with his hips against his slave's legs.

The barbarian cried out, writhing-- half-choked words the emperor did not know. Perhaps a prayer. He smiled, purring in satisfaction as the slender penis pushed across his prostate, sending a blur of pleasure up his spine.

His young barbarian's façade of resistance was entirely lost. He squirmed, bucking his hips up, repeating the electric movement that had sent such pleasure through the emperor; he raised himself to let him thrust, thigh muscles tightening and straining pleasantly to hold the unusual position.

A few quick thrusts of the slender hips ended the young man's torment; he came rapidly. Qui-Gon felt the warm fluid surging into him and sank down again, covering his prize's body with his own. He kissed his slave's neck, tasting salt sweat, and licked his jam-sweetened lips, savoring the contrasted flavors. He reached down to the base of his own penis and pressed hard, praying the trick would work and his arousal would subside for a time. Thankfully, his swollen member subsided to half mast, a condition he could live with for the moment. He slid up next to his slowly recovering companion and kissed him gently on the forehead.

"It's not so terrible," he whispered, seeing his barbarian's wet cheeks. "You'll grow to love it soon, and really..." he hesitated, stroked the sticky belly with a fingertip. "It's hardly that different from what a man does with a woman." The slave looked up at him with timid, dazed misery, not answering; briskly the Emperor sat back on his heels.

"It's been a pleasant breakfast, the more so for the company. But I truly believe both of us are in need of a bath." Climbing out of bed, the older man pulled aside a heavy curtain at the back of his bedchamber and motioned. Kenobi hesitated, then slid out of bed and peered into the revealed passageway. A smell of fresh rain, growing things, heavy with moisture and warmth rolled invitingly over the senses. Taking a deep breath, Kenobi preceded his Master into the hall.

A few dozen paces brought him into a wondrous place. The room seemed like a forest hot spring, full of plants and a huge pool of steaming water. Then he noticed others in the room, waiting expectantly, then bowing when the man behind him entered the room. A bird called, a loud shriek, and the barbarian's eyes rose, seeking it amidst the tangled foliage.

"Get into the water, my young priest. Let them clean you." He laid a gentle hand on Kenobi's shoulder as the man hesitated, seeing two women waiting in the pool, apparently ready to bathe him. "Go on-- I'll be there in a moment. Don't worry. They don't bite." A sly grin crept over Qui-Gon's face. "Unless you ask them to."

The young man glanced back at the Emperor uncertainly, but did as he was bidden and stepped down into the blood-heat water. Jinn turned to a second pool where his personal body-slave and a masseuse awaited him. Standing quietly in the hip-deep water, he watched his new slave being bathed while the one behind him kneaded his back and shoulders, releasing tension and lulling him into sensual relaxation. His eyes slid closed as his arousal began to quicken once more, fueled by the skilled hands of the woman cleaning and stroking his skin.

A feminine squeal and a splash brought his attention back to the bathing pool. The Emperor realized that one of the bath-slaves was helping the other back to her feet from a dunking, and his barbarian had retreated to the other side of the pool, his hands cupped protectively over his genitals, and his face flaming with embarrassment. Sighing lightly, he realized that he was going to have to do this himself-- a lifetime of conditioning was not going to be overcome in a single day, and persuasion and seduction was best done in private.

Qui-Gon tilted his head towards the exit, signaling his well-trained servants to leave him alone with his problem barbarian. They left swiftly, making no sound, their faces expressionless. Climbing out of his bath, he walked to the edge of the other pool.

"They were following their instructions, Kenobi. Why did you stop them?" He went down the short steps into the water and came up behind the still-flushed man. Taking a dropped sponge into his hand, he slowly began to wash Kenobi's back, letting the water trickle down his muscular back. "Well, Kenobi? Did they hurt you?"

"No, master. I am not injured."

"Well, why did you dunk that poor girl in the water? Did she say something that angered you?" He carefully ran the sponge over tense shoulders, keeping his pace slow and his touch firm.

"She..." Kenobi threw a glance over his shoulder at the Emperor, showing a face red with embarrassment. "She tried to wash my genitals."

Keeping in the laughter that threatened to break loose contained was one of the hardest things Qui-Gon had ever done. "And for that you tried to drown her? She was not trying to arouse you, Kenobi-- she was only trying to do her assigned task, cleaning you." He was unable to keep amusement entirely from his voice. "If you recall, I did much more than touch you earlier, and you enjoyed it." He moved up carefully behind the young man, fitting their bodies together, wrapping himself around Kenobi like an oversized cloak.

He moved the sponge slowly over his young barbarian's sleek chest, feeling him shiver beneath his touch. He ducked his head behind a pink shell ear and nuzzled the slight hollow softly, breathing the scent of warm skin, moist air, and scented bath water until he was almost dizzy. He felt his erection begin to grow, finding its way naturally to lie cradled against the seam between the two smooth globes pressing into his hips. Raising his head after a long slow lick behind the ear, Qui-Gon moved smoothly in front of Kenobi and dipped the sponge once more into the fragrant water.

"If I do what she tried to do, will you attempt to drown me, too?" Emperor Jinn smiled and ran the sponge down the still body in front of him, then passing the sponge gently over the young slave's sensitive organs. Kenobi closed his eyes and took a deep breath, as if preparing for pain.

"No, Master." Qui-Gon was pleased to see that as he laved the penis and ball sac, the young man's shaft began to slowly flush, not filling quickly, but swelling and firming to a half-erect state. Time for a tactical diversion, the Emperor thought, and knelt in the shallow pool to wash Kenobi's legs and feet, lifting first one and then the other, keeping his attention firmly away from the enticing display in front of his face. Then regaining his feet, the smiling ruler tossed the sponge to the side and tapped his quarry on the shoulder. Opening his eyes, the young man squatted and rinsed off when Qui-Gon motioned to do so, then stood.

"Now, Kenobi-- I think you ought to return the favor, don't you? Wash me, my young priest. Wash me as carefully as you might one of your sacrificial victims." Qui-Gon smiled warmly. "Who knows, perhaps if you get me clean enough, your gods might find me acceptable even without a sacrifice." He laughed at his joke, but was caught by the odd expression on the young man's face-- the closest thing to a smile that he had yet seen on his visage. Kenobi turned to pick up the sponge.

"My Master has no need to fear that my gods find him acceptable." The slave took the sponge in hand and moved behind Jinn, squeezing warm water over his shoulder blades and then lowering the sponge to scrub gently at his neck and spine. Qui-Gon pondered the cryptic statement while the young man washed his back and legs, timidly swabbing at his buttocks, but being thorough enough to part his cheeks and cleanse the area.

Emperor Jinn closed his eyes and concentrated on the sensations-- the sponge both rough and soothing against his skin, the scent of the bath oils in the water, the fresh smell of wet earth and greenery in the surrounding vegetation, the filtered sunshine coming in the frosted glass walls. The sheer sensuous pleasure of it all caused his shaft to harden further and his balls began to throb -- he had to have this young man again or burst into flame.

The strong scent of wet hair under his nose brought him back to find Kenobi standing in front of him, staring at his erection like a bird fascinated by a snake. Moving slowly so as not to startle the young man, Qui-Gon put his hand under his chin and raised the still face up to his, laying a kiss on the soft lips.

Encouraged by the fact that Kenobi did not pull away, the older man cautiously drew him into his arms and pressed the warm, unresisting body against his own. The slave shivered slightly, then almost timidly, put his own arms around Jinn's waist. The sponge dropped out of his hands, making a soft splash in the water behind Qui-Gon.

Silently, afraid to say anything that might tip the balance the wrong way, the Emperor moved carefully backwards, finding the bottom step into the bath with his heel. Sitting on the step, he drew Kenobi down with him and settled him on his lap, nestling their swollen organs against each other in a warm, soapy mutual caress.

Placing one hand behind the young man's head, the Emperor pulled him back down to continue the exploratory kiss, tasting ripe lips and teasing them with his tongue. Surprisingly, Kenobi opened his mouth and touched his tongue to Qui-Gon's, a touch so fleeting he almost missed it in his rising urgency. Taking the invitation with enthusiasm, he plunged his tongue into the soft space, plundering it like a soldier raiding a stronghold.

Unwilling to wait any longer for his own satisfaction, the Emperor wrapped his massive hand around both their erections, squeezing them gently together and slowly moving his fist up and down, massaging them both in the same erotic rhythm. A moan that might have been a protest went unheeded, absorbed in the all consuming mouth that could not seem to get enough of the flavor it craved. Then, as if suddenly discovering other prey, the marauder moved down the younger man's chin, nibbling and nipping as it went, passing the tendon of the throat and down toward the erect pink nipples.

Qui-Gon sucked lightly at the hardened flesh, his arousal rising like lava in a volcano as the now-freed lips brushed his ear, pants and groans rising from the slave's throat when he quickened his rhythm. Whispered words he did not recognize were uttered in alternation with small cries of passion and gasps for breath, and he moved back up the smooth chest to the throbbing vein in the young priest's throat and bit down gently.

Moving his hand more quickly, he sucked hard at the spot, knowing he would leave a mark, his mark, on this slave he now knew would someday be utterly his own in both mind and body. With a final thrust, he felt himself spurt into his hand and over Kenobi's belly. At almost the same moment he heard Kenobi cry out as if in pain, and the body in his arms collapsed forward onto his chest. Their cries startled the tamed exotic birds; one exploded from a nearby treetop, winging across the surface of the pool with a wild cry that matched the harmony of passion from the men in the water. Its green and red wings nearly brushed the surface of the bathing pool as it crossed the room twice, swooping low, then launched itself upward and resettled in its nest.

Emperor Qui-Gon Jinn of Astat smiled into his slave's hair. The first battles had been won. Not the final triumph, but a good start to the campaign.

After the episode in the bath, Qui-Gon knew two things very well-first, that the young Kenobi was an extraordinary man, and second, that he was never going to be able to let him go. He was drawn to the man-- so much so that he briefly entertained the notion that a spell had been cast to make him desire the barbarian. He soon laughed that idea off as silliness. Kenobi was beautiful, strong, smart, and wary, a combination that men far stronger than he had fallen prey to.

But in order to replace that wariness with the trust he craved from the man, he was going to have to tread lightly and cautiously. He took the young man everywhere with him: meetings with Imperial officials, dinners with friends, watching plays at theaters. For three hours a day, the Emperor sat in an office with a language tutor and had Kenobi schooled in Astatian. As the slave painstakingly copied out his lessons, the nervous teacher watched the Emperor idly play with the Great Seal of Astat and answered rapid-fire questions about Kenobi's native language.

Kenobi soaked up Astatian like a dry garden being watered, and eagerly asked questions about everything he saw around him. He seemed to appreciate, and even like many things about Astatian culture, though some still gave him pause. The war games particularly disturbed him; the notion that people practiced killing each other for sport offended the morals of the priest he had trained to be. Through it all, Qui-Gon watched his eager pupil with a joy in his heart that he knew was rapidly approaching love.

It had been a long day, spent in reviewing a distinctly substandard legion of troops; the Emperor was dreadfully weary as he entered his sleeping chamber, fumbling at his dusty, sweaty tunic. Kenobi knelt on his wide bed, watching him in silence; the man could speak Astatian now, but often chose not to speak at all. His eyes followed his Master, and he rose gracefully, coming around the foot of the bed and picking up the dropped tunic, setting it where the chambermaid might take it with the morning laundry.

Qui-Gon nodded curtly at him and stepped away to the bath without speaking. Quickly rinsing his hair and body in the blissfully warm water, it took little effort to ignore the body-slave in the bath with him. He was weary enough to forego supper entirely, and had no thought of his bedslave's body as he dropped the bathsheet and headed wearily for the bed. He slumped back onto his pillow, arm falling over his face, and uttered a bone-deep sigh.

He felt Kenobi's weight shift the balance of the mattress and sighed. "I missed you at my side today. Those fools fear you, it seems-- they have your tribes pegged for some kind of sorcerers. What they would do if they met battle with your people I hardly know. Probably soil themselves. I--" he paused suddenly, lifting his arm to peek at the young man from one eye. "Not that that band of idiots has much to be superstitious about. Your people would devour them alive."

Kenobi's mouth lifted in a wry half-smile. "As you say, Master."

The Emperor sighed again, feeling weariness drain out of him. He hadn't the energy even to order the young man into his arms; already he felt sleep creeping up on him. Sleep... and something more. The bed shifted slightly, and he could hear Kenobi moving. He held his breath, anticipation suffusing him with sudden wakefulness.

The slave was slowly slipping closer to him; before Qui-Gon had always drawn the young man into his arms and begun the slow, tender process of arousing him with gentle caresses that eventually grew intensely erotic. Kenobi had always acquiesced, always let himself be drawn close, be kissed. After his desire was roused, he would even kiss back, would let Qui-Gon guide his hands to the emperor's body and move them to bring himself pleasure, would even continue to move as directed when Qui-Gon drew his own hand away. But he had never approached the Emperor on his own initiative.

Until now.

The slim, warm body settled against him shyly, and the emperor didn't dare move, wondering if his slave thought that he slept, sensing instinctively that the young man's courage would be enhanced if he believed it to be so. He felt his heart falter and then pound as hesitant, warm breath caressed his lips, and then the silky skin of barbarian lips descended onto his, and a trembling hand settled on his belly.

He heard himself rumble low in his chest, an aching purr of pleasure and happiness, and Kenobi's hand shyly stroked over his chest and the young man settled half-atop him, delicate velvet tongue-tip teasing at Qui-Gon's lips. He struggled to restrain himself, opening his eyes and letting his mouth be teased open, melting under Kenobi, projecting trust, willingness, pleasure. He had waited too long for this moment to spoil it with eager roughness. Not trusting his voice, he simply moaned quietly in his throat, letting the sound be absorbed by the seeking mouth of his exploring slave.

Retreating slightly, the young man stared down into his dark eyes, looking for what, the Emperor knew not. But he apparently found whatever he had been seeking; he leaned forward once more and placed a careful kiss on his master's lips.

Qui-Gon let his arm move back over his eyes as Kenobi slowly moved downward, narrow lips delicately drawing on the flesh of his neck and chest, sharp-pointed tongue flickering pleasure against his skin. He could not stifle a moan, feeling Kenobi try out some of the same things Qui-Gon had done to him, feeling the man stroke a thumb, then a tongue, over his nipple, feeling him pull back and blow cool air over the wet spot.

Guileless, innocent, with only the experience Qui-Gon had shown him... and yet, his touch was like fire, sending stabs of pleasure to center in the emperor's groin. He held himself quite still though, hoping, longing for that touch to move lower, wondering if he would be so lucky.

Kenobi drew back for a moment, then the silky tongue dipped into his navel, hair now grown to shoulder length brushing over the ruler's belly, making the muscles jump with ticklish reaction. He couldn't suppress his reflexive reaction - but Kenobi didn't stop, hesitantly kissing a dry trail along the narrow line of hair that led downward. As he felt a warm current of air at his groin, he saw Kenobi hesitate for a moment, then lower his head. A current of soft breath, and he felt the tip of his penis meet the young man's lips.

Gods! The torment was exquisite as he held himself motionless, knowing that if he moved it would be to explode into a frenzied thrusting that would ruin all the work that had led to this moment. He became aware that his breath was rasping in his chest, but somehow it did not break the fragile spell that had fallen over the young slave; Kenobi drew a slow tongue along the curve of the crown, hesitant but sweet, teasing at the loose foreskin. Qui-Gon trembled, longing for more, and the young man slowly reached, two fingers drawing the loose skin downward, and his tongue repeated its slow journey, even more hesitantly, just the tip touching him. Qui-Gon could not repress a low moan, his toes curling at the light, experimental caress.

Kenobi seemed to steel himself suddenly, pressing a kiss to the slit and then sliding his lips over the moist head, letting it press between his teeth and lie on the soft pillow of his tongue. He let the organ lie still for a moment, as if adjusting to the notion that he was actually doing what he was doing. Then he began to gently suck on it, as if he was a newborn nursing at a mother's breast.

He wrapped one hand around the length of the Emperor's shaft, moving his fist slowly up and down, massaging the velvet length. The other hand tangled in the wiry hair at it's base, almost tickling, teasing, at the heavy sac contracted tightly up against Qui-Gon's groin. The touch was hesitant, inexpert. But that it was happening at all was such a miracle to him that the older man didn't care about technique or expertise. He licked his dry lips, fingers slowly clenching into fists. The fact that Kenobi was doing this, willingly and unasked, more than made up for the young man's lack of skill.

He moaned again, more urgently, as Kenobi speeded his hand slightly, sucking just a little harder. His response did not seem to disturb the young man, if anything, it reassured him, and he took a little more of Qui-Gon's erection into his mouth, letting it nudge slightly against the back of his throat, recoiling a little, and then trying again. Qui-Gon felt tears of tenderness stinging the corner of his eyes at the earnestness of the endeavor, and wondered if Kenobi was suffering, enduring merely out of a sense of duty or debt.

He eased himself very slowly onto his elbows to gaze down at the young man, saw the proud stiffness of Kenobi's erection bobbing between his thighs as the young man worked him. The tears stung again, harder, along with an up-welling of sweet tenderness that choked in his throat and surged in his groin.

"I'm going to come, love," he warned, an urgent whisper, feeling himself tighten. "You don't have to leave your mouth on me for that if you don't... ah!" he gasped as Kenobi's eyes darted to his, and the young man gave a firm sharp tug with his hand, sucking with sudden ferocity. Qui-Gon exploded, sagging down onto the bed with an incoherent shout, unable to keep his hips from bucking once as he came, feeling Kenobi ride the sharp motion successfully, mouth working as he swallowed.

Kenobi released him after a moment, panting, his face shy, eyes turned down, limbs drawn inward. Qui-Gon felt a moment of sharp worry, not assuaged by the sight of the firm erection his slave bore, and he sat up, gathering the young man into his arms to comfort him. A face burrowed against his neck shyly, and Qui-Gon stroked his fingertips down the curve of spine, nuzzling his hair, gratified to feel the young man's lips move in a gentle caress against his skin. Encouraged, he tipped up Kenobi's chin and smiled down at him.

"That was incredible, my lovely barbarian. Under other circumstances, I might ask what brought that on, but tonight I am too tired and too well loved to care." He kissed the young man softly, then gently rolled him over and drew him into the curve of his body. He ran a firm hand down Kenobi's hip, and grasped the bobbing erection, eliciting a tiny moan from the young man.

Moving his hand over the soft hardness, he began a steady, gently rhythmic stroking. He nibbled and licked the back of his slave's neck and earlobes. holding the squirming young body close to his. "Come for me, my love, come and take your pleasure in turn." Licking the bare shoulder in front of him, he sank his teeth into it lightly and increased the speed of his stroke. Crying the Emperor's name out softly, Kenobi's hips jerked and his seed covered Qui-Gon's hand.

He quieted quickly, and lay in the older man's embrace without a sound, but the clutching arms wrapped around him as a drowning man would hold on to a piece of flotsam. Even breathing and a loosened grasp soon told Qui-Gon that his slave was asleep. He continued to hold the young man tightly, not wishing to follow him into slumber until he had memorized each detail of the night, afraid that if he slept he would forget some crucial point.

He had finally been given the gift he had been seeking - Kenobi had decided he could trust his Master. "Oh my lovely priest, my dear barbarian," Qui-Gon whispered to the night, "is it possible that you might even love me, just a little?" His throat filled, his eyes watered in unexpected tears. He was both elated and terrified at what he had been given. Gods above, he thought - please don't let me destroy...

The world flickered away. Qui-Gon swayed dizzily, startled to find himself enclosed only by the four sterile walls of a small cubicle.

"You'll be disoriented for a moment, sir," a pleasant young voice intruded on his confusion. "Your holographic vacation has ended." A young Kaiuron man slipped into the cubicle with him and picked up the holographic projector, efficiently extracting the chip and handing it to Qui-Gon. "We hope you had a pleasant experience. Would you be interested in filling out our exit survey?"

Qui-Gon did in a polite monotone, his head reeling. The most melodramatic possible fantasy-- it had to be a stock drama, not drawn from Qui-Gon's engrams at all, all they'd taken from his mind was his preference for the images of Obi-Wan and himself. Wasn't it? Could he possibly want his Obi-Wan as a trembling, terrified slave, to be seduced and romanced with ruthless precision...? Did he really secretly yearn to take Obi-Wan to his bed, giving his padawan precious little choice in the matter?

Force. He remembered Obi-Wan's trim strong body lying under him, the sweet tight heat of Obi-Wan's mouth enclosing him... all as vividly as though it had truly happened. He would never be free of it again. From now forward, he would always see the ghost of the compliant slave of his fantasies hovering in his memory when he looked at his padawan.

Qui-Gon clenched the chip tightly in his fist.

"You may destroy your engram chip now, sir, or leave it on file with us for reference in creating future personalized vacation experiences." The young man's bright smile grated on his nerves but at least his voice was silent; apparently he'd reached the end of his prepared speech.

He should keep it. Take it back to the Council, let them see how private and public images were being collected and abused... but he could not bear the thought that others would see what he had been and done in the depths of his shameful fantasies. Qui-Gon dropped the chip and ground it to powder under his heel, not even causing the professional smile to flicker.

"Thank you," he spoke with reserved courtesy, and wishing for outer robe to cover his white-knuckled, clasped hands, he followed the guiding employee out of the building.

"Thank you for your custom. Please come again." Honey-smooth, he was released into the street.

The sun still shone brightly, dropping slightly toward the horizon. Apparently his vacation had taken only a few hours. Qui-Gon walked moodily through the plaza, watching as the Kaiuron citizens lit lanterns against the coming of evening. As he stepped past a crowded restaurant, a storefront caught his eye, and he moved to stand before it.

Caught in the dazzling glow of the late afternoon sun, an elaborate sculpture of spun and carved crystal the size of his arm hung suspended from the ceiling of the display window, gleaming with inner life. A bird in flight, roughly the same species as Per, Hontyp's pet canary, and the birds the emperor of Astat had kept in his bathing conservatory. Scarlet and emerald and blue plumage were picked out in exquisite detail, the bird's wings and trailing tail arced and splayed gloriously, capturing the delightful freedom of flight. The eyes were made of glittering onyx, looking almost intelligent, the beak opened in a joyous, ever-silent cry.

Qui-Gon laid his fingertips on the glass. The artist had rendered a graceful arc of exhilarated motion, a sense of infinite potential captured in eternal reverence for beauty. The glass bird was much more like a representation of his own Obi-Wan than it was of the poor imprisoned Per; gloriously beautiful, untouchable, never fettered by any cage or ownership other than those bonds he chose for himself.

"Winged Freedom." A small placard labeled the sculpture and announced its price, far more than Qui-Gon could reasonably afford. It was not the Jedi way to own elaborate and frivolous things; the Jedi preferred simplicity and purity over elaborate artifice... but there was a purity to this thing, a dazzling beauty that could be owned without harm.

Half an hour later, Qui-Gon Jinn left the small shop with a well-packed box tucked under his arm. Wrapped severely in plain white paper, it bore a single card.

For Obi-Wan Kenobi. May you always fly free. With love always, Qui-Gon Jinn.

-end-