Masquerade 2: Guedeh Baka

by Oncidium

Archive: M_A and my own site. Others please ask

Category: PWP

Pairing: Qui/Obi

Rating: R

Warnings: Nightmarish images and semi non-con fondling. Can make sense alone, but makes more if you read Courir le Mardi Gras.

Summary: Don't go into the graveyards alone, young man. Guedeh Baka might just get you. Second in a PWP series.

Disclaimer: The characters in this story do not belong to me; they belong to George Lucas. I just like to play with them and will try and return them in somewhat the condition in which they were found. No money was made.

Feedback: Makes my day (hellsmouth@sympatico.ca)

Notes: Again, this would not be possible without the cheering and support from my Master, Briony. Her enthusiasm is infectious. I thank her for her expert beta, she was the last line of defence between you and my sometimes interesting grasp of English grammar. Any mistakes are all mine.

Guedeh - Lust's bright ember shines bright within the darkness of the grave. Guedeh rushes forth where angels, and for that matter demons, fear to tread.

Baka – A sinister spirit that often takes the form of an animal.

Obi-Wan sighed and swayed drunkenly as he passed the rusted iron gates of the old cemetery. The stories his friends had been telling him about the strange creature known as Guedeh Baka that haunted the old cemeteries of Vau'Karreh still fresh in his mind. He was an old trickster spirit who could take on animal form when hunting his prey.

He laughed at himself for being here at all. If he had not had so much to drink at the party and felt so bold after playfully winking at his Master like that, he would not usually be so susceptible to taking up such a childish dare. He was sure he was on the raw end of a practical joke his companions had set up for him when they wheedled and goaded him into going into the cemetery alone to find the tomb of Marila-Veau, the Loa Queen, claiming they would know if he made it that far by his reporting on the number of crosses painting her crypt door.

They told him to keep his eyes on the statue at the cemetery gate so he would not get lost in the twisting paths between the ancient monuments, a task that he figured was not out of his capability, even in this state. He walked slowly along the whitewashed outer wall for a while, whistling tunelessly to himself and letting his hand brush along its rough, damp surface. He looked down and enjoyed the way the semi-obscured light from the moons reflected off the beads on his chest and illuminated his skin to an almost ethereal quality. His regard travelled down his arm to his hand, resting lightly on the wall, his skin looking almost dark next to the pristine whitewash. He leaned in to marvel at the dusky appendage and when he got close, he could make out letters carved into the stone between his splayed fingers. A shack ran up his spine when he realised it was not just letters but a name and set of dates. He had been casually running his hand along a row of nameplates on tombs in the cemetery wall. He pulled his hand back quickly and stole a glance back in the direction of the cemetery gate, not quite sure what he was expecting to see, but relieved all the same that the tombs did not seem to show any sign of disturbance from his casual caress.

He veered away from the wall at the place his friends had indicated and started to walk in between the raised crypts. The stucco had flaked a way from many of them and the underlying brick was starting to decay. The marble faceplates of these ancient monuments to the dead stood out in startling and sharp relief against their dark and moss-covered walls. The effect was a little disorienting; as if a hundred little lighted doorways beckoned him toward them. He took a quick glance up and saw the statue at the gate but refused to go toward it and give up his quest. It was now a matter of Jedi honour that he find the tomb of the Loa Queen, but it would not hurt if he moved a bit faster.

The wet ground squelched slightly between his toes as he jogged past tombs of a different shape, only slightly raised, bricked over and tarred black so they looked like gaping holes in the moonlight. He was not scared, of course he wasn't. He had spent years mastering his fear and would not let a simple trick of light unsettle him.

He quickened to a light sprint along the spidery path and finally spied what he was looking for, the luminous form of a recently cleaned crypt crosshatched haphazardly with small Xs. Out of the corner of his eye he caught the movement of something large in the shadows behind the sarcophagi next to him and he turned his head to look. There was nothing there, but that moment cost him, as his bare toe snagged on a low iron fence and sent him crashing down in a flurry of beads.

White-hot pain shot up his leg from where he had snagged the fence but his shout was suppressed by the mouthful of dirt. He spat it out in disgust and several times more for good measure as he pounded his fist against the ground. How could he be so foolish? His friends would not wait idle for him at the gate and allow him to escape the cemetery encounter free. He laughed, even as he saw a shadow in a long cloak, the hood raised, loom up out of the low mist several metres in front of him. "Very funny! Ha ha... We all had a good laugh at my expense. Come help me up!" he called merrily to the shadow. But even as his so-called rescuer started to glide toward him, a sense of dread hit the pit of his stomach. Unless they had sat one on top of the other's shoulders, none of them were that tall or imposing. Also, no one could make it that smoothly over the patchy earth; it gave him the eerie feeling that whoever it was, his feet did not touch the ground at all.

Obi-Wan leapt hastily to his feet and started at a run in the opposite direction of the spectre but could feel it approaching quickly from behind. He chanced a quick look over his shoulder and saw the creature gliding silkily behind him. Obi-Wan wished desperately that this one evening he had opted for the quiet of staying in or that he had not had those last couple of drinks, but most of all, he wished he had just said no to the dare. He ran, heedless of the direction, his breath coming in short, harsh gasps as his bare feet pounded out a steady rhythm on the soft earth. He could feel the creature getting closer with each step he took and another look back showed him an empty aisle where the shadow had been.

He did not slow his steps, but looked around, frantically trying to locate the statue at the cemetery gate when he heard the sound of heavy footsteps directly beside him on the other side of the line of crypts. There was little comfort that this thing was solid and did not float when it was going to head him off! He broke the direction of his run, away from the sound of the footsteps and hid behind a large mausoleum. He stilled his breathing so he could listen but could do nothing about the sound of his heart pounding in his ears. He heard the creature stop on the other side of the tomb, panting. He tried to reach out with the Force to steady himself and control his fear, but in his current state of intoxication and panic it was elusive and danced just beyond his grasp and it had been foolish of him to leave his lightsabre in his quarters. There had been no immediate danger and he saw no reason to carry it that evening. He had not meant to stay out so late... "Pull it together, Obi. You are a Jedi Padawan, not a victim in some third rate holovid! Fear is your enemy... Calm you mind..." he berated himself.

He calmed his mind and slowed his heartbeat so the blood rushing through his ears was not deafening. He strained to listen for the creature and could not hear a sound. Perspiration beaded on his furrowed brow and his skin was getting clammy in the night air. He finally decided to peek around the edge of the sarcophagus and found himself staring directly into the face of Guedeh Baka. Its piercing indigo eyes bore into him and a claw reached out to snatch at him. Obi-Wan was quicker this time and sprang just out of its grasp, but not before it managed to snare and pull free a few strands of the beads he was wearing and with a snap they broke. Metallic beads fell to the concrete at his feet and skittered away, the light from the moons reflecting off of them, turning them into hundreds of dancing stars. A long welt rose against his creamy skin where the creature had managed to graze him, painting a line of fire down his chest.

He turned and ran again, but did not see a low-lying tomb, tripped and fell face first into the brick and mortar. He could taste the copper of blood from his split lip but surprisingly did not feel the creature pounce upon him, rending him with sharp talons. He was furious and humiliated with himself for his stupidity and thought about the shame his master would feel when it was reported to him that his Padawan, the testament to his ability to teach the way of the Jedi, had been murdered by a myth while attempting a stupid dare. He tensed and readied himself to fight when necessary, but still the creature did not attack.

He raised his head to look around and stared at the imposing grey tomb in front of him. Moisture dripped off its very surface and it was easily five metres high, and there, perched on the top of it, was the creature. It watched him like a predator might eye its next meal or a god might view the sacrifice laid out on its altar. Obi-Wan squirmed and looked around for the statue at the gate, hoping to run for it while he had the chance. It was nowhere in sight. He heard a swooping sound and knew the Guedeh Baka had left its perch. Obi-Wan watched as the shadow drew toward him. He yelped and started to scrabble for purchase on the brick under his fingers as the creature's rough hand grabbed his shoulder to throw him to his back. It straddled him and pressed in close. He tried and failed once again to access the Force. With a rough sigh, he closed his eyes and accepted his fate.

The kiss was rough, punishing and stole his breath for a moment. Obi- Wan opened his eyes wide in disbelief, but the scratching of the beak against his cheek and the worrying of the fur around the beast's surprisingly human mouth against his lower lip and chin left no doubt. Obi-Wan felt a tongue start to tease his tightly clenched lips. He started to struggle, then gasped at a rough pinch to one of his nipples and his attacker, pressing its advantage, slid its tongue into the Padawan's open mouth. He expected to taste rank decay, but was surprised at the sweetness of the lips and that the breath they shared tasted of the spices in the food he and his Master had eaten that evening.

As Obi-Wan thought about his Master, he shuddered with arousal under the expert caresses of the creature. The big, rough claws of the spectre to became Qui-Gon's large and calloused hands. It was they he felt roaming his body, scratching and tickling over his sensitive, exposed chest. The Jedi Padawan moaned as the fantasy grew and he imagined it was his Master's beard that scraped deliciously athis face and his hard body that pressed so close.

Obi-Wan, trying to clear his mind, was about to shove the creature away; when, to his shock and dismay, he instead twined his hands into the long, soft hair of the creature and he pulled it in closer. His senses dulled and a hazy dream unfolded before him. As the beast reared back a bit from plundering his mouth, Obi-Wan reached up and pulled away its hood to find a mask also fall away. It was Qui-Gon who was haloed in the moonlight, his deep indigo eyes looking down at the Padawan. Tears blurred his vision as his dream-master leaned in again for a softer, more seeking kiss. He arched and moaned into the hands that played his body like an instrument, seeking his arousal and toying with him like a prized possession. How little resemblance this phantom carried to his staid and stoic Master. This version was fierce and possessive and filled him with a branding lust that welled out of his very soul.

He gasped and moaned as that wicked mouth sought the pulse in his neck and sucked hard, the weight of the body above his pinning him to the ground as he arched and cried out, seeking release against the mirrored hardness of the older man. Too soon it was over and he felt his passion pump out between them in a rush of wet heat. He fell back against the brick and slowly let his senses dull out one by one.

When he woke the next morning he was safe in his bed at the lodgings their hosts had provided him and his Master. Bright sunlight crept across the pristine white sheets on the bed and the low throb in his head intensified. "Whatever it was they gave me to drink last night, I think the proper response from now on is no thank you," he thought. Hazy memories of his dream still danced just outside his conscious mind and caused him to shiver slightly and he felt the answering arousal.

He had desired his Master for a while now, but had no idea how to approach the sometimes aloof older man. He was pretty sure that Qui- Gon did not return the feelings and did not want to throw any unnecessary discomfort into their friendship. For now he would just have to be contented with the Qui-Gon who would visit in his dreams and hold on that memory. How lucky that last night's nightmare turned out the way it did.

Obi-Wan crawled out of the warmth of the bed and into the heavily air- conditioned room. It was only then that he noticed the unmistakeable sting of the long scratch mark on his chest.