Summary: obi-wan recieves a surprise after the funeral
Warnings: death story - duh :)
Notes: thanks to wolfling for a greatbeta and tpo everyone on
irc, 'specially nickky, and critter and heidi, allof whom have
been very supportive of me during what might be the worst week
- two weeks? - of my life. it could get worse, let's hope to
hell it doesn't.
Everyone else had left.
The flames had died down, after burning steadily for hours.
Finally tiring of standing, Obi-Wan, newly made Jedi knight,
sat on the bottom of the steps and rested his chin in both
hands, staring into the curling wisps of smoke as they floated
to the top of the pavilion to dissipate, taking the last of his
Master's essence with them.
He had sent Anakin to bed earlier, surprised and relieved when
the handmaiden Padme -which is who she was, when she wasn't the
Queen - had come to get him, promising to see him cared for.
It was a necessary peace that he sought. Losing his Master so
suddenly, so painfully, had thrown his world into a tailspin.
He had been what and where he wanted to be, and now he was
someone else and somewhere else in his life and he hadn't had
time to lay the past to rest.
Not that it could be done so quickly, but he had to make a
start.
A scuffle of leather on stone, and some one cleared his throat
behind him.
Turning his head, he half-stood, not wanting to appear
disrespectful to Qui-Gon, sitting so casually at his pyre.
At the top of the steps was the Queen's Captain of the Guards,
his hands in front of him, holding something small and dark.
"I'm not sure what to call you." The man offered a half-smile.
"You are a Jedi now, right?"
"I am."
He answered, pain welling in him as he admitted it. He was a
Jedi, and Qui-Gon had not been there when he received the honor
that was as much his Master's achievement as his own.
"Just Obi-Wan will do." Standing all the way he took a couple
of steps up to meet the man.
Hesitantly the Captain proffered the item he was carrying.
"Your Master left this with the Queen the night before we
landed on Naboo. He requested a court favor; that it be given
to you if he - died, and returned to him if he did not."
"Really?" Taken aback, Obi-Wan did not reach for what he held.
A small box, perhaps six inches wide and eight long, several
deep, it was carved from wood, darkened by years.
"The Queen was honored by the request. She knows how seldom a
Jedi invokes that right."
"I've never heard of it being done."
Any Jedi could request a personal favor from a ruler, and that
ruler was bound by tradition to do whatever they could to
fulfill it, within the limits of their powers.
Of course, Jedi did not ask for things outside of the Code.
For Qui-Gon to have asked this, it must have been terribly
important to him.
Extending his hands, Obi-Wan accepted the box, schooling his
expression to neutral.
"The Queen has given orders that you are to be left alone here
as long as you wish." The Captain said softly as he turned to
go.
"Thank you." The young Jedi said, aware that his voice was
shaking. "I will thank your mistress myself later."
"She said to tell you that it is not necessary. You have
already made a great sacrifice for our people. If there was
more we could give you, we would."
He paused, turning his head to look back at the young man, who
was watching him steadily, hands holding the box lightly.
"Queen Amidala also said to tell you that if there is anything
you want, you have only to ask."
Feeling his throat close, Obi-Wan could only nod, although he
wanted to scream. There was nothing he wanted. Nothing anyone
could do for him or give to him that would make up for what he
had lost.
But being rude to this man, who was going out of his way to
fulfill his duties with kindness, would serve no purpose.
The box was heavy in his hands though he could tell
objectively that it did not weigh so much.
With an aching heart he resumed his seat, this time with the
box resting on his thighs and leaning back slightly to watch
the last of the smoke as it climbed in a graceful spiral.
Breathing deeply, opening himself to the Force around him,
trying, without admitting it to himself, to feel some remnant
of his Master in it, he waited until it was completely gone and
the embers merely glowed softly, providing little light and no
warmth.
Finally, feeling that the rest of the planet had gone to
sleep, although he knew that wasn't the case, he turned his
attention to the box, setting it squarely on his drawn-up knees
and running his fingers over the top.
It was familiar in a vague way. Just another of the little
bits and pieces his Master had kept on the shelves of his
quarters. Obi-Wan had never seen it moved or opened and only
recognized it because he'd been made to dust those shelves -
using no more than the Force - more than once, as an exercise.
The idea that it might have been more important to his Master
than he'd realized made him sad, thinking that there had been
so much still to learn. They had been together for nearly
fifteen years, and some of it...
Inhaling deeply to get past the lump in his throat, Obi-Wan
resolutely turned his thoughts away from that path and stilled
his hands on the box.
With another deep breath he opened it.
And blinked, vision blurring, staring at the first thing he
saw.
His fingers trembled, though he denied it, as he lifted the
curled piece of ribbon, faded and worn, perhaps by fingers
rubbing it?
Just as they had that night....
Closing his eyes, he let the memory fill him, carried away by
the power and beauty of it.
"An important night for you, Obi-Wan." His Master's voice had
been gentle and teasing, standing before him, his large hands
brushing imaginary wrinkles from his Padawan's white ceremonial
tunic.
"Yes, Master." Answering obediently, the younger man hoped
that his nervousness did not show. He kept his hands clasped
behind his back while Qui-Gon pinned a length of ribbon, light
blue and feathery at the ends, to his collar. It was the
traditional color for boys, girls wore a green on this night,
signifying their connection with the land and birth.
After a minimal amount of fussing Qui-Gon stepped back, his
hands still on Obi-Wan's shoulders, clasping lightly.
"It felt like this night would never arrive, didn't it?" He
was smiling warmly. "I remember waiting, it seemed like the
days actually went by more slowly the closer I got.
"Were you nervous, Master?" Obi-Wan ventured the question
hesitantly. His Master seldom spoke of the past, because of the
other apprentice he had taught, the one Obi-Wan had never
mentioned.
"Terrified. But I was also very, very excited." Giving his
shoulders a squeeze, Qui-Gon released him and turned to gather
their cloaks. "We don't want to be late, Padawan."
Following down the corridor, Obi-Wan reflected on the night to
come. He had been looking forward to it for a long time,
years, really. Most apprentices did. Aside from being chosen by
a Jedi to be trained, this was the most important day in his
life so far.
When Qui-Gon had picked him there had been a ceremony. He had
watched with round eyes as his Master had cut a lock of his own
hair and then shivered when Qui-Gon's fingers tickled his neck,
cleverly braiding it to Obi-Wan's hair until the two were one,
inseparable.
That sensation had stayed with him in the intervening years,
occasionally sneaking up and catching him unawares, the feel of
Qui-Gon's skin on his, the warmth of his body close.
He and his Master parted at the door of the great room,
Obi-Wan to join the others taking part in this year's ceremony
and Qui-Gon to accept a drink from the host and join the small
group of Masters and Jedi gathered to watch the proceedings.
The academy great room was well named, for it stretched the
length of breadth of the building, large enough to hold four
Council Cambers.
And any number of Apprentices, Padawans, and Jedi, when the
occasion called for it.
Tonight there were several hundred, including support staff
and family for some, who all pressed closer as the group of
young people was herded onto the stage, where they milled for a
moment before settling, like the good Jedi they would one day
be, raised in patience.
To some it might have seemed that the ceremony itself was
anticlimactic, after the days of cleansing and preparation for
it. Obi-Wan was the third of three humans being presented
tonight, and waiting was hard for him. But he saw his Master,
standing a little to the right of the main crowd, his arms
folded, hands tucked into his sleeves, watching him with quiet,
glowing pride, and it gave him the strength to continue
waiting.
Then it was his turn, and he was at the front of the stage,
the headmistress of the academy, Master Shelargh, putting her
hand on his shoulder.
"Gathered beings.... again we present one of our own, who has
reached his age of maturity with the dignity and grace we love
to see in our young ones."
There were ritual words that would be spoken over the group as
a whole, but she always found something to say about them all
individually as well.
He stood tall and proud, listening to her, his eyes on
Qui-Gon, who watched him with the same intensity.
Did his Master know what he planned?
Did he know that Obi-Wan had been planning it almost since he
was old enough to understand this ceremony?
Trained as an apprentice nearly since birth, self-control had
been stressed in his upbringing.
It was made clear to apprentices as soon they hit puberty,
whenever that happened for their particular race, that they
were expected to control the new urges sexual maturity brought
right along with all others, and abstain from acting upon them.
The reward came later, when they reached the age of maturity
for their race, which, in the case of humans, was usually
twenty-one, depending on the planet of origin and the amount of
contact between the apprentice and birth family.
Having passed his twenty-first birthday two months ago,
Obi-Wan was included in this year's ceremony at his Master's
recommendation.
Snapping his attention back to the headmistress, he was
embarrassed to realize that he had been lost in his thoughts
and hadn't noticed that the ceremony was ending.
With her hands raised, golden robes flowing, she waved a
charbox that oozed scented smoke, blessing them in the manner
of her people.
"The path before you is long and hard, but now you walk it as
adults, with the rights and responsibilities reserved for
such."
There was a hushed murmured echo of her final words that
filled the great room, quietly voiced by hundreds.
"May the Force be with you in your choice."
Then it was over. Apprentices, newly-made adults, filed off
the stage, some smiling, some looking nervous. Obi-Wan thought
that he must be one of the latter.
Many had people waiting for them, some had people who had been
waiting for years, for them to achieve this honor before
engaging in a physical relationship.
Stepping off the stage he paused, looking around while others
passed him.
Qui-Gon was several yards away, watching the crowd. Music had
begun playing and several couples were dancing, as the mood
struck them.
Granted a moment to observe his Master unawares, Obi-Wan tried
to see him through new eyes, the eyes of an adult - but he saw
what he had always seen; the man who had raised him, comforted
him, cleaned his wounds and dried his tears.
The strong arms that had shielded him when he was in danger,
had held him when he was hurt and had pushed him away when he
needed to go out on his own.
They had always been the same, those arms, that man, those
eyes that smiled at him or frowned at him but always loved him.
The past wasn't important, except that it had brought him to
this present.
Turning, Qui-Gon greeted another Master that Obi-Wan vaguely
recognized, and as he smiled and exchanged handclasps with him
and Obi-Wan took another minute of introspection before taking
that next step into his future.
When he had told Master Qui-Gon that he wanted to participate
in this ceremony, not long after his twentieth birthday, he had
expected his master to tease him a little, or to try to
discover who his choice would be. Not that it was required, but
most of the participants would celebrate this night by taking a
lover for the first time. It was traditional, the reward for
their years of good behavior.
Perhaps his Master suspected and had not asked because of it?
Or, more likely, he had been politely giving his Padawan some
privacy to make this very important decision.
It had never occurred to Obi-Wan that Qui-Gon would refuse
him. For a Padawan to choose his master - or her master - was
rare, but not unheard of. If it did not lead to a lifetime
commitment, as he wanted, then at the very least it would add a
new level to their bond, and he would have a memory to
treasure.
Taking a deep breath, he stepped forward, into the crowd,
which seemed to part around him, and watched as the master
Qui-Gon spoke to touched his Master's shoulder. Qui-Gon turned,
looking mildly startled, and then his eyes opened wide and he
faced Obi-Wan with a glimmer of hope shining in them that
warmed the younger man's heart.
"Master." Obi-Wan started, and then he faltered, his voice
failing him. Overwhelmed by the moment, he could only stare,
eyes pleading, hands at his sides.
The third man took his hand from Qui-Gon's shoulder and
stepped away, ducking his head a little, smiling a little.
"Yes, Padawan?" Qui-Gon spoke firmly, as if he were
overcompensating, trying to keep a quiver from his voice,
something the student had heard before.
"Master, I -" Stunned, Obi-Wan found that, now that the moment
was here, he couldn't say the words, though he had practiced
them aloud many times.
Both hands going to his shoulder, he fumbled with the pin of
the ribbon, nerves getting the better of him, and then
Qui-Gon's hands were covering his, holding them, pressing them
down, stilling the movement.
"Obi-Wan." He said his name so tenderly, with such emotion.
"Are you certain? You do not want someone - younger?"
That tiny bit of vulnerability in his Master's voice tipped
the balance. Hands steady, Obi-Wan freed the pin and offered
the ribbon to his master with both hands.
"My first night as an adult, and I want to spend it with you."
he answered firmly. They weren't the ritual words, but they
were his words and close enough.
Enclosing the smaller hands in his own larger ones, Qui-Gon
closed his eyes just long enough to take a deep breath, and
then opened them as he answered.
"I am honored, Obi-Wan Kenobi, to spend First Night
with you."
Turning his hands over, Obi-Wan watched as his Master pinned
it to his own shoulder; smiling softly, Qui-Gon ran his fingers
down the length of it and he shivered, reaching for him.
"I thought you might say no."
"Never, Padawan." catching his hands in his own, Qui-Gon
pulled him a step closer.
Knowing that Qui-Gon was a private man, reserved even in small
company, Obi-Wan didn't try to kiss him. Instead he took that
last step forward and laid his head on the broad shoulder with
a sigh, smiling, smelling his Master as he was hugged close.
There was a smattering of applause around them and Qui-Gon
chuckled, his mouth close to Obi-Wan's ear.
"I think they approve."
"As long as you're happy." The apprentice answered, sliding
his own arms around the lean waist and hugging back, feeling
Qui-Gon begin to sway with the music.
Happiness had never been so tangible.
The sounds of the room quieted as people paired off, sometimes
in groups of more than two, depending, and the music was soft,
friends and family taking their own partners to dance, the
evening settling to its purpose.
They stayed for a while, dancing in slow motion, scarcely
moving, Obi-Wan letting Qui-Gon determine their motion. Then,
at last, his Master pulled away, and his eyes were wet and he
was smiling.
"I had no idea." he shrugged, tilting his head. "How long have
you planned it to be this way?"
"Since the first time I saw you?" Obi-Wan replied playfully,
then sobered and gave a straight answer. "I do not know. I
thought about it, and there was no question, just a certainty
that felt like the Force itself. It was always supposed to be
you."
"Then we should go." Tugging at his hands, Qui-Gon brought
them to his mouth and kissed the backs of them in turn.
Obi-Wan gasped, the beard tickled and he felt like he could
fly.
"Yes." He gasped, suddenly having trouble getting enough air
into his lungs.
Without fanfare they left the great room, and made their way
to Obi-Wan's quarters.
Qui-Gon's rooms were bigger, of course, but this was Obi-Wan's
night and he had made hopeful preparations, and his Master
allowed himself to be led, looking bemused.
Opening the door, Obi-Wan paused before stepping inside.
"I wanted you to know - if you had rejected me, I would have
come back here alone tonight. There would have been no other."
Gently pushing him into the room, Qui-Gon shut the door behind
them and looked around.
The sleeping couch was covered in blankets and furs and
pillows. There was a tray of fruit kept cold with a freezer
pack and a bottle of wine.
And a scattering of small candles, an archaic but romantic
touch.
"And will there ever be an other?" He asked, his voice low and
hoarse, pulling Obi-Wan into his arms, a little roughly.
"Never." Thrilled to say the words, to make that vow, the
younger man returned the embrace, just as rough. They kissed,
mouths meeting at first with pressure and then with tenderness,
then hunger took over.
"Never- " He gasped again as Qui-Gon scooped him into his arms
and carried him over to the couch. He could feel his Master
using the Force to bolster his own strength, to carry him with
such ease, and it made him quiver inside.
Laid down, he propped his head up and watched, eyes wide, as
Qui-Gon undressed, leaving his clothing on the floor where it
fell, little piles of crumpled fabric leading to the bed until
he stood beside it and Obi-Wan reached for him.
"Patience, Padawan." Qui-Gon teased, fingers running lightly
over the thin white tunic, making him shiver again.
"Yes, Master." He gasped. It was becoming harder and harder to
breathe, and there was a fire burning in him, he wanted out of
these clothes and against that body.
As if sensing his need Qui-Gon did not tease, but undressed
him reverently, each new bit of flesh revealed kissed or
stroked or suckled, until Obi-Wan was nude and writhing,
Qui-Gon hovering over him, kissing him deeply, encouraging the
younger man to drink him down.
"What do you want?" The whisper broke through Obi-Wan's haze
and he stopped his movement, panting, staring up at Qui-Gon,
seeing the blackness of his Master's eyes nearly obscuring the
blue.
"Everything." He answered, moving against him, pulling him yet
closer. "You, Master."
Qui-Gon's hands came up and framed his face, holding it
tightly, making him meet the darkened blue eyes.
"I will give you anything you desire, Obi-Wan. But you must
use my name, at least this night."
"Master?" Not understanding, Obi-Wan fought to regain control
of his body, which was overwhelming his thoughts.
"Say my name, Obi-Wan, Just my name."
The words were breathed over his lips and his Master called on
the Force to hold them both still, suspended in this moment.
Closing his eyes and breathing a sigh, Obi-Wan obeyed.
"Qui-Gon Jinn."
The man dropped his head and sucked hotly at the pulse that
pounded in the young man's neck and the next words were a moan.
"Qui-Gon. Love me..."
"Always, Obi-Wan. As long as I live..."
There was kissing, and Qui-Gon tasted every inch on his
apprentice's shivering, shuddering body. When he pulled away
some time later, Obi-Wan's throbbing member falling from his
lips to pulse hungrily on his flat stomach, the younger man
reached for him and turned to his side at the same time,
wrapping his Master's arms around him and pushing back into his
groin insistently.
"Yesss...." Qui-Gon muttered darkly, hands kneading,
caressing, one finger trailing down the dark crack that
beckoned. "What we both want."
Entry was achieved in measured increments, Qui-Gon petting him
and whispering in his ear as he convinced his unaccustomed body
to adapt to this intrusion. Words of praise and devotion that
helped as much as the Force did in letting him take that part
of his Master into himself.
"So beautiful. Such a part of myself. I had feared this day
would never come, Obi-Wan, and yearned for it. You had the
courage to come to me when I could not come to you and I will
thank you for the rest of our days, I will worship you for the
rest of our lives together..."
"Part of you, am I." Obi-Wan heard himself whisper back, when
Qui-Gon's stomach was pressed close to his back, the older man
wrapping himself around the younger as far as he could reach,
surrounding, supporting him.
"Part of me, you are. And I you." The words were gulped,
hungry for air.
He gave Obi-Wan plenty of time to become used to the sensation
of being filled, but after a while even a Jedi Master had to
move, and he did, at first sliding only an inch or two at a
time, but then, as Obi-Wan groaned and pushed back into it,
moving more, and faster.
The pleasure built in the Force and spilled over into them and
soon there was a rhythm and Qui-Gon was pressing his forehead
to the back of Obi-Wan's neck, gasping out his name with each
deep thrust, and the arm around Obi-Wan's waist tightened while
the other hand slid lower to pull at his erection, a touch
rough in passion.
"Obi-Wan." He gasped, and then grunted. "Obi-Wan. Come,
Padawan. Come for me. Give me that gift. Come."
Starting to thrash in the tight grip, feeling his Master slip
a leg over his and use it to hold him in place, Obi-Wan
shuddered and bucked. It was happening, he knew it was, though
he didn't know how he knew.
The hoarse command that his Master repeated, a whoosh of hot
air on his sweaty skin with each thrust growing harder and
deeper, pushed him to an edge he had never dreamed existed.
"Come." Qui-Gon grated, pushing himself harder, reaching for
the Force, using it to bind them tighter. "Come."
The power gathered around them and Obi-Wan swore he felt it
enter him, a sizzling bolt of need, and then Qui-Gon's hand
tightened on him and Qui-Gon's cock was thrust deep inside him
and he shuddered, and screamed, and obeyed.
He heard a short, hoarse roar and it wasn't until after he
could breath again, panting desperately, that he realized it
had come from his Master, and that he was speaking still, a
soft, concerned whisper right above Obi-Wan's ear, which made
him shiver again.
"Obi-Wan? Love, are you alright? How do you feel?"
"Like I want to do it again." He sighed, shifting in the arms
that held him. Qui-Gon's hand still cradled his softened cock
and it felt good, and safe and right, to lie in his arms that
way.
A deep chuckle greeted those words and then Qui-Gon moved
away, just enough to let himself slip free, before turning the
younger man over and pulling him close, holding him tenderly,
one hand stroking through his short hair. Raising a hand,
Obi-Wan grasped the older man's free hand and returned it to
his groin, molding the long fingers around his soft member.
Then he sighed and nuzzled his face into Qui-Gon's neck, into
the tangled, sweaty hair, and closed his eyes, blissful.
Qui-Gon's large, powerful hand held him warmly.
The chuckle came back, and lasted longer, but Qui-Gon only
shifted to pet his back instead of his head with the other
hand, and kissed his neck tenderly.
"Rest now, Padawan." He crooned, wrapping them both in a
cocoon of Force-generated softness. "When you wake up we can do
it again, if you like."
"Every day of our lives." Obi-Wan had said, realizing that he
was getting drowsy and wondering vaguely if Qui-Gon had
anything to do with it.
"Every day for the rest of our lives." Whispering the words
into the night breeze, Obi-Wan shifted, startled to realize
that he had been sitting lost in memory for an unknown length
of time. The ribbon fluttered in his fingers and he raised it
to his lips, closing his eyes.
He had never known that Qui-Gon had kept it. Never thought
about it, really.
Blinking again, he pinned it to his cloak with shaking fingers
and lifted out the piece of parchment that lay next in the box.
Padawan - though you have been more than that to me - you have
been everything to me for all of our time together - that was
what
you were first. Padawan, student, apprentice. It wasn't long
before
you became son, brother, friend, but the night you became my
lover
was the most important of my life, eclipsing even my own
ascension
to knighthood. I treasured the gift you gave me every day of
our lives
together and was blessed with the knowledge that you did as
well. To
thank you feels small and insignificant, but that is a mouth
to laugh at the sky and found himself speaking to the darkness
instead, the simple two-dimensional photo held lightly in his
hand.
"It wasn't that funny, Master, and it is cruel of you to tease
me when I can't respond in kind..." His smile was wide but his
eyes could no longer hold the tears and they began to fall,
dripping down his face as he remembered.
"Selebia Prime." The Pilot-Captain had announced as the world
they approached came into view on the screen. "Not a place I
would willingly visit - I'm glad they have that secret
technology so I don't have to actually land."
"Your assistance has been appreciated." Standing behind the
man Qui-Gon had flashed a secret smile at Obi-Wan. "Remain in
orbit until the scheduled time. We won't be able to communicate
from the planet, of course, but it will be reassuring to know
that you're here."
"Of course, Master Jinn." With a nod the man pointed to a
light on his panel that was flashing. "That means they are
ready for you. As soon as I drop the shields you will be taken.
I suggest you prepare yourselves."
"Yes, of course." Qui-Gon said, turning to Obi-Wan. "Better to
do this here than in our quarters, I think. Strip off, Padawan,
and let's begin this mission."
The matter-of-fact words made Obi-Wan groan, but he did as he
was told, removing his clothing and hanging it neatly in a
provided alcove, then standing nude beside his master, willing
his body to behave itself.
"Control, Padawan." He could tell by the twitch of Qui-Gon's
lip that he was amused, but the younger man wasn't seeing
anything funny in this situation. After several months of
grueling, demanding missions they had been scheduled to take a
leave of absence - and planned to simply spend some time
together, relaxing - and then this mission had been assigned at
the last moment. It was one that could not be turned down, as
Qui-Gon had been requested specifically, despite their
relationship.
The opportunities to explore the sexual side of their bonding
had been few and far between and Obi-Wan was a healthy young
man with a healthier sex drive - frustration was beginning to
become a problem.
"Ready." He said shortly, wishing it hadn't sounded snappish.
Qui-Gon nodded at the Pilot and they watched as he pushed the
button. A warm sensation of tingling, and then the next thing
Obi-Wan knew he was standing on a small dais in front of a
crowd of naked, greenish humanoid people.
At least a hundred of them. And the weight of their gaze was
more than physical.
Although he had been warned, actually feeling the pressure of
their minds against his shields was at once invigorating and
terrifying.
How was he supposed to protect his mind in this atmosphere?
Half-turning, he let his mind reach for his Master's and drew
it back just in time, as the first few people in the crowd
shifted and stared at him directly.
He'd read the briefing, they had discussed, but actually
experiencing it was something else entirely. To distract
himself while Qui-Gon went through a tedious and elaborate
introduction process, he mentally reviewed what he knew.
A powerfully telepathic race, the Selebians had taken a
different route with their abilities than other telepathic
races; namely, they felt everything should be out in the open
and 'inappropriate' thoughts were unacceptable.
There was no privacy and a sense of self was actively
discouraged. Mental activity was held in the highest regard and
physical was scorned.
Sex was strictly regimented, ritualized, and never
engaged in for pleasure.
The rules were very strict, which is why they were so careful
about aliens.
Because the only purpose for sex was procreation, it was
restricted to men and women of reproductive age who had been
matched by the branch of the planet-wide government that
regulated these things.
Unable to remember the name of it right offhand, Obi started
to turn to his Master, who had stopped speaking, but then
realized that he couldn't even ask with his mind.
Any miniscule break in their shields would lead to a mental
invasion he could barely imagine and was frankly terrified of
experiencing.
It had been so long since he was locked in his own head, with
only his own thoughts for company, that he felt almost dizzy
with it.
Slightly sick to his stomach, he met Qui-Gon's questioning
gaze, directed at him from the corner of a blue eye, from
behind a screen of long hair, with a tiny, firm nod.
He was fine.
He could handle it.
"We have prepared special quarters for you." The greeting
Ambassador said, gesturing that they could leave the dais.
Falling into step two steps behind his Master, Obi-Wan bowed
his head as he walked, wishing for the hod of his cloak.
Knowing his own reaction to the sight, he didn't dare look up
and see Qui-Gon's butt, but he knew it would be flexing and
firming as he walked, and just the memory of it was distracting
him from his continued efforts to shield himself.
What was he going to do when he slept? Would they have to take
turns so they could shield each other, seeking privacy in their
dreams?
Led into a large, bland building that looked more functional
than anything, they walked up several flights of stairs, which
made him think about another aspect of the Selebians.
So tightly wound into their mental lives, they were still
unwilling to give up their physical beings and so conveniences
that discouraged physical health were not allowed.
Walking was the common mode of transportation, though
long-distance transporters had been developed. Being able to
speak mentally with literally anyone on the planet made
communications devices obsolete, and long-distance foot travel
safe.
Help was never more than a thought away.
When the rare selebian ventured off-planet, it was usually as
a competitor in one of the many Republic sports competitions.
They were sought-after competitors, their skill and grace and
power much admired.
But the exposure to aliens often made them ill - too many
'wrong thoughts' and not enough mental contact to keep them
healthy.
There were several doors off a long plain hall, and their
guide opened one, gesturing at it while visibly wincing.
Qui-Gon stepped aside for Obi-Wan to enter and the minute he
stepped across the threshold he felt it - the relief.
His mind was free!
The thousands of mental voices that had been pressing upon it
were now gone.
It was such a relief that he almost staggered, but somehow
managed to keep his feet and make it to one of the two beds,
where he stretched out and closed his eyes. Which flew open a
moment later as he realized he had no sense of his Master's
presence, either.
Watching as Qui-Gon came in and closed the door, he sat up and
reached for him, wanting - needing - reassurance that this
didn't mean something was wrong between the two of them.
"No, Padawan." His Master's voice is tight and he can hear the
frustration in it. The shielding is even harder, he realized,
when you've got to talk to them.
"Of course, I'm sorry. I was just worried." He offered a
lopsided grin that silently acknowledged his own foolishness.
"To not hear you..."
"They've established a psi-shield in the room, so we can sleep
in peace. The Selebians participate in mass lucid dreamings and
we don't want to be sucked into that."
"They provide this for all alien guests?" When Qui-Gon
duplicated his pose on the other bed he felt rebuffed.
"If we're shielded..." He started, but Qui-Gon rolled to his
side and glared at him.
"You think they would not know the minute we stepped out the
door, Obi-Love?" His warm, rich voice was slightly teasing.
"You must try to keep your thoughts on our mission, until we
are safely off this planet."
Suppressing a shiver at hearing his favorite endearment, the
younger man simply nodded, and laid back on the bed.
The air was slightly chilled and he had to pull a blanket up.
In a way he regretted covering his nakedness, but it did cut
down on the possibility of becoming aroused.
It seemed that his body thought that if he were naked, and
Qui-Gon was naked, and they were in the same room together -
much less a room with a bed! - they should be joining
physically.
He was faintly relieved when his Master followed suit.
"Tell me about Timmolin, Master." The friend of his Master's
youth was now a governor on the regulatory board of Selebia and
had specifically requested Qui-Gon to negotiate this dispute.
"Does he know about us?"
"Yes. I could not come here without telling him, and embarrass
him that way. I am honored that he still requested me, and
allowed you to come as well."
"Would you have come without me?"
Sitting up again, Qui-Gon studied his apprentice until Obi-Wan
became apprehensive. Then he slid one arm beneath the blankets
and lifted them.
"Is your control up to this, Padawan?" he asked, and there was
a tremor in his voice that made Obi-Wan answer firmly.
"Yes, Master."
"I would have come without you, but my resentment would have
made me useless in the negotiations."
Qui-Gon answered while Obi-Wan climbed into bed beside him
cuddled gratefully.
"I think Timm realized this. And I think he's in a position
where he doesn't know whom he can trust. So he accepted by
requirements."
Taking a deep breath, Obi tried to release the tension that
was seeping into his body, and it worked, mostly.
"Do you need some help sleeping, Padawan?" Hearing his title
and not the endearment he craved, the younger man nodded
grudgingly. He wasn't going to be able to sleep on his own like
this.
"Sleep, then." Touching his face lightly with his fingertips,
Qui-Gon concentrated the Force to push the command through the
screen of the mechanical psi-shields. Immediately Obi-Wan felt
his eyelids grow heavy and allowed them to slip shut.
"Thank you, Master." He whispered before sleep took him,
hoping dreamily that Qui-Gon knew it was for the closeness he
offered and not the sleeping-spell.
The next four days were an agonizing exercise of control for
the Padawan. Sitting through countless meetings and debates,
trying to keep his mind shielded while still reading the ones
that discussed and debated. With Qui-Gon withdrawn from him,
alone in his own mind for the first time since they had bonded
during his First Night ceremony.
Unable to touch his Master either mentally or physically.
Unable to even look to him or at him for fear of
offending their hosts, who would read more into it than he
intended, or maybe not as much.
The third night he went to bed alone, as Qui-Gon was still out
of the room talking to his old friend. Sleep came swiftly,
sustained mental effort was more exhausting than the most
strenuous physical activity, but he woke promptly when the
older man entered the small room and sat heavily on the second
bed.
Qui-Gon dropped his head to his hands and rubbed his face
forcefully.
"What?" Propping on an elbow, Obi-Wan voiced his worry in that
single word.
"The maids." Qui-Gon said, his voice raspy.
"What about them?" He was confused.
"They reported to the comptroller of relations that we only
used one bed last night.
"You're kidding."
"It offended them and they've requested reassignment."
Straightening with an effort, Qui- Gon shrugged broad shoulders
and sat his hands in his lap.
"Master.... " Unsure of what to say, the younger man mouthed
awkward words. "I, I'm sorry."
"I should have anticipated this." His Master shook his head
and leaned over to slowly take off his boots. "I thought we
were protected in this room but I begin to see it's more of a
protection for them than it is for us."
"So I can't even sleep next to you? We could just mess up the
second bed." Unhappily grasping at straws, Obi-Wan wasn't
surprised by the headshake that negated that idea.
"I promised Tim that I wouldn't try to deceive anyone. If we
embarrass him then his position would be in danger and I can't
risk that. This planet needs him and his slightly more
enlightened views."
"Slightly." Obi-Wan grumbled, turning over and pulling the
pillow over his head so he wouldn't have to hear his Master
undress. Unfortunately his imagination was already on the
train. "Master -" He tried to keep his voice even but heard the
catch in it, not emerging from his hiding place or turning to
look at Qui-Gon. "I'm not sure I can do this. Perhaps it would
be better if you sent me back to the ship. It would surely be
easier for you."
"No." There was a warmth on his back and Obi-Wan shivered,
feeling his Master's hand stroking tenderly. "To be unable to
touch you, unable to hear your thoughts - and have you out of
sight as well? I would be doomed, beloved, frantic with worry
before an hour had passed. I know this is hard for you..."
Gingerly Obi-Wan began to turn over, relieved when he wasn't
stopped, "Harder for you than it is for me, I think, because I
have experience to fall back on..." Keeping himself covered,
the younger man stared up at his Master and tried very hard to
not ask for anything with his eyes, just wanting to look at him
without anyone watching, without being judged. "But know that
you are here because I need you to be." Qui-Gon had let his
hand slip over the smooth flesh as Obi-Wan moved and now stared
at it, slightly brown against the creamy white of Obi-Wan's
bare flesh. "I need to know you are real, beloved."
The endearment was his undoing. Obi-Wan felt his hands twitch
and then he was reaching for his Master, who leaned toward him.
The older man allowed only a touch of their lips before pulling
away.
"Thank you." Obi-Wan whispered when Qui-Gon pulled away,
tongue tasting his lips hungrily.
The only answer he received was a look of longing that warmed
him, and then Qui-Gon settled onto his bed, not to sleep, but
taking a meditation pose. Having already done his time in
meditation for the day - longer than usual, of course, in this
environment - Obi-Wan again turned away and tried to sleep.
Some time later he was still half-awake and restless, and felt
rather than heard Qui-Gon's gentle touch on his back and then
his mind, commanding him to sleep, and he accepted it
gratefully, wishing that he could return the favor.
On the morning of the fifth day it became apparent that he
should have, as Qui-Gon looked haggard and over-tired. Hiding
it well, he walked tall and spoke with his customary powerful
eloquence to the people they met, but Obi-wan could see it.
Though their shields were closed tightly to everything, he
could fee l it.
At the last meal break for the day they were sitting across
from each other at a table, by themselves, staring at their
plates, when Timm and another Selebian that Obi-Wan recognized
from the meetings. Hastily he stood, gathering his cloak in
both hands, deliberately hardening his shields, and stood
silently by while Qui-Gon greeted them properly.
Timm looked anxious - Obi-Wan wasn't sure how he had decided
that, what the clues were, but it felt right. The Force was
still there, still available to him, he just couldn't contact
it directly without opening his mind, and apparently there were
things he didn't need to be in touch with it to do. So at least
he had learned something from this painful experience.
"Master Qui-Gon." Obi-Wan had once been told - by another
Master, who had laughed as he told it - that his Master's
nickname in the academy when he was young had been 'Jinny', but
this being certainly wasn't going to use it. Timm seemed to be
having trouble speaking at all. "A question has been raised..."
Standing with his hands casually clasped as if they were in
his sleeves, eyes steady, Qui- Gon regarded his old friend
neutrally.
"About?"
"We've had reports that you and your apprentice have
flagrantly disregarded the laws of this planet and behaved in a
manner that would contaminate our world."
Now Obi-Wan remembered this man and it took everything he had
to suppress a shudder.
Rinlinthon. Comptroller Rin. The comptroller of relations, who
governed sex and reproduction.
A hard, fast glance was shot his way and he knew the man
sensed his reaction although he'd done everything he could to
hide it.
"We have not." Qui-Gon stated simply, and Obi-Wan's thought
flew against his will to the brief kiss they had shared two
nights before. That wasn't enough to break the rules, was it?
Would they be allowed that much, being aliens and here to help?
But if they embarrassed Timm that would be enough for the
Comptroller to discredit him....
"I do not believe you. You shield your minds so tightly you
must be hiding something." The Selebian said angrily. It washed
off of him in waves. They were not a people that denied
emotion, they just controlled it better than most. Emotion was
reserved for mental contact, not the rude low levels of actual
speech.
"We shield so tightly because it is not our way to share our
thoughts with others." The Jedi Master answered calmly. "When
we do allow another into our minds, it is a private and
personal experience."
"You hide behind your words."
Spreading his hands, Qui-Gon still spoke calmly, though
Obi-Wan could see the tension that made the muscles tight
across his shoulders and neck.
"I have nothing to hide, but my life is not open for your
judgement."
"Qui-Gon." Timm spoke again. "He has requested a
Verification."
The Master stood still, listening with his body.
"Without it you will be imprisoned and the negotiations will
be canceled. No Jedi will ever be allowed to set foot here
again."
Inhaling sharply, Obi-Wan forced himself to be still and not
do anything to upset the situation.
"A Verification is an extreme invasion of privacy." Qui-Gon
spoke in measured tones. "What guarantee do I have that you
will limit yourselves to our personal activities of the past
few days alone? There are secrets I keep for the Code and the
Council that I cannot share. And the Senate will not allow you
to hold us."
"If you break the laws of this planet they have no choice."
Rin snarled. "You will be properly tried and sentenced. A
Refusal of Verification carries a life sentence."
Silently Obi-Wan struggled with himself. He had to be quiet,
be still, be strong, trust in his Master. It was a tortuous
effort to not reach for Qui-Gon, for reassurance and to offer
his support in return.
Clasping his hands again, Qui-Gon tilted his head slightly to
the side.
"I will submit myself to Verification, with an agreement that
I will be probed no further than the past five days."
Instantly Rim smiled, an unpleasant expression not just
because of the multitude of teeth his mouth held.
"Good. The two of you will follow me now."
"I submit myself." Qui-Gon repeated. "I am responsible for the
actions of my apprentice and so you do not need him."
Pausing, Rin turned.
"I have read your customs and records, Jedi. He passed his
manhood ceremony over a year ago in your terms. He is
considered an adult in your society. He will submit to
Verification or suffer the same consequences you would."
"Yes." Obi-Wan spoke quickly, not wanting Qui-Gon to make this
decision for him or go through this alone. "With the same
stipulation."
"We go." Timm looked distinctly unhappy, and Qui-Gon wasn't
looking at him at all.
The department of procreation had a Verification Chamber -
there were two large stones in it that looked for all the world
like altars, but with heavy webbed straps attached. Obi-Wan
shuddered at seeing them but lie down obediently and breathed
carefully as he was strapped down. It was a terrifying
sensation, more so because he was blindfolded and couldn't even
see his Master. Feeling smothered and claustrophobic, he
couldn't restrain a gasp of fear after they had been left lying
for some minutes.
"Master?" Hating the way his voice shook, muffled by the heavy
cloth over his head, he had to have that small reassurance,
that Qui-Gon was still there, alive and well...
"I am here, Padawan. Breathe deeply. Center yourself in the
moment....
As Qui-Gon talked him into a semblance of calm he became aware
of other sounds. The room was filling, he could tell by the way
the air pressure changed. Eventually he could breathe again and
Qui-Gon's soothing voice trailed off.
"I am sorry, Master." He whispered, not sure if it would be
heard.
"You have done nothing wrong, Padawan." Qui-Gon's voice
throbbed with certainty.
"We begin." Timm's voice, very close. Then a hand touched
Obi-Wan, on his thigh, cool and smooth. "Open your minds, do
not fight it..."
It was a massive effort, and once again Obi-Wan found himself
fighting for air. It felt like his body was imploding under the
pressure of these minds.
They filled his head, surrounded it and there was a real,
physical sensation to this attack. Whether or not he had agreed
to it, they had been coerced, manipulated by the Comptroller of
procreation, and this was not being done of his free will. No
matter how hard he tried he couldn't make his mind relax and
accept them easily.
"Master..." A moan fell from his lips as thoughts were pulled
from him, thoughts and memories and desires. Fears and worries
and wants.
Like taffy, they were painfully drawn from his mind, it felt
like they oozed from his eyes and nose and mouth and ears and
he gagged and choked on the sensation.
"Obi-Wan!" Qui-Gon's voice shook with his own effort, but
snapped through the air between them, hitting him, stinging
like a whip. "Breathe!"
With a great whooping gasp he sucked in air, and then found
that it helped, to concentrate on the mechanics of filling and
emptying his lungs, distracted him on the reason for the
necessity.
Each memory was visible to him, like watching a holoshow, for
nanoseconds before it was gone, and he mourned each one in
passing, wondering if they were still there, somewhere, or if
they had been taken for good.
The previous five days passed in a flash and then, suddenly,
he was seeing himself and his master, as they had been before
they came here - that last night on the transport ship.
They had made love hungrily, fiercely, knowing it would be the
last time for weeks to come. On his back, on his stomach, he
had given himself to Qui-Gon twice, making his Master weak with
pleasure and celebrating his ability to do so with charming
arrogance as the Jedi had collapsed beside him, protesting
weakly and laughing softly.
That memory stretched...and then slammed back to him, to be
followed by all of the others, each one hitting him as if it
had physical presence, hitting his head so hard it rocked back
and forth helplessly.
He was dizzy, and nauseous and heard himself whimper, but cut
it off with an effort. It wasn't something Jedi do.
After what seemed like eons of pain it was over, and he
slumped on the table, only the restraints holding him there,
not hearing the hiss of hydraulics as they were removed.
Suddenly without support he began to slide to the floor,
finding that he had no muscle control, but then he was caught
in strong arms and held against a strong body and he breathed a
sigh of near-silent relief as warmth enfolded him.
"Qui-Gon."
"I've got you, Padawan." His Master murmured. That was all the
apprentice needed to hear. Closing his eyes, he let his body
remember how to breathe on its own and slipped into a quieter
place where his head didn't pound so much, not event thinking
about what the Selebians wold make of this embrace.
"Obi-Wan. Padawan. Wake up, let me see your eyes." A gentle
hand, roughened with calluses, stroked his forehead, spreading
warmth and love. "Wake up, my love, and look at me. Obi..."
Blinking, surprised o find himself back in their room, he
immediately covered his eyes with his hands. "Ow - the light
burns..." "I know, I know, the pressure of the Verification
bruised your mind. I think you've got a minor case of retina
burn." A cool, soothing cloth was placed over his eyes after
Qui-Gon gently pried his hands off. "It should be healed in a
day or two."
"Master..." He didn't know what to say. "What did they do? It
feels like they actually ripped out pieces of my brain!"
"I wasn't aware that the process worked like that, but
essentially they did. They gave them all back, of course, but
we were in no way prepared for that."
Hearing the lingering weariness in that voice Obi-Wan reached
for Qui-Gon, grabbing a sleeve, and tried to pull him to the
bed, but he resisted.
"We passed the Verification, but the rules haven't changed.
There is nothing I would like more at this moment that to hold
you - but I cannot." So saying, he pulled his arm from the
apprentice's grasp and Obi-Wan felt him move away. "Lie back
and rest your eyes. It's okay to go to sleep again if you want
to."
"Will you be here?" Trying to sound strong, he just barely
made coping.
"I won't leave you alone."
"Are you okay?" Feeling guilty that he had yet to ask, Obi-Wan
turned his head toward the sounds his Master was making as he
got ready for bed.
"I have a headache the size of a Ton-Ton." There was a deep
chuckle that made Obi-Wan feel better despite himself. "I
didn't fight as long as you did, so that seems to be the only
side effect in my case."
Now that he thought about it, his head hurt, too.
"Nothing you can do for it?"
"The damage isn't real, Obi-Love. It's psychosomatic. The pain
is real enough, but there's nothing that we can heal. It would
take a telepathic mind-healer to fix it."
"So it's all in our heads." Sighing, he pondered that. "I
think we should have been better warned. What were they looking
for anyway?"
"My best guess?" The other couch sqooshed a little as Qui-Gon
laid down.
"Anything they could find. It was intended to embarrass us
with a loss of control, embarrass Jedi overall."
Silently agreeing, Obi-Wan was quiet, waiting to see if his
Master wished to rest or continue speaking. The next words
answered that question for him.
"I am sorry, Padawan, but I must rest to ease this pain. I
suggest you do the same, and we will talk in the morning."
"Yes, Master." Lying back again, he curled in on himself,
feeling very lonely and small. A small warmth at his back made
him shift, and, sensing it, he realized that Qui-Gon was
comforting him as much as he dared, using the Force to tenderly
stroke his back with warmth, an effort that surely was not
helping his own headache, and the apprentice sent himself to
sleep quickly, not wanting to linger and enjoy the unique
caress if it was hurting his Master.
From: "saraid" <saraid@wf.net>
The next day they were wakened by a knock on the door. Groggy,
eyes still smarting, watering when opened more than a slit,
Obi-Wan watched his Master answer it.
Timm came in and he looked moderately more happy than usual,
though that was hard to judge. Realizing that it was painful
for him to enter the psi-shielded room, the apprentice tried to
return the courtesy by getting up. It took an effort, and a
little push from the Force - he thougd. He sounded awkward, without the
instant backup of his mental powers. "No one ever responded to
a Verification that badly before."
"How many non-telepaths have you performed it on?" Qui-Gon
asked and Obi-wan had to resist this time. He wanted to hold
his Master, and be held. It was painful, to stand away from him
like this.
The Selebian noticed the movement and gave him an expression
that equivalent of a human smile. Because of the telepathy
facial expression was rare among these people and Obi-Wan found
that he wanted to stare, but instead he returned it almost
shyly.
"Very few." Timm admitted, then he spoke to Obi himself. "You
do not have to restrain yourself so firmly in my presence. The
Verification proved that you have exerted maximum effort to
control your desires. In truth, many were impressed at your
level of control in the face of such an overwhelming biological
imperative."
Looking from Timm to his Master, unsure what his response
should be, the apprentice couldn't act.
Qui-Gon was studying Timm with warily.
"Did the Verification board decide anything else?"
Emanating absolute waves of contentment and friendship, the
Selebian answered slowly.
"There would have been a decision made yesterday, after the
Verification, but there was some conflict about the proper
response. Because we have had so little experience with aliens,
everyone was startled by the strength of your emotional
connection, and the importance of the physical relationship to
it. We've decided -" he held up one hand when Qui-Gon would
have spoken, "- that although it is a poorly designed system by
our standards, it is as powerful in its own way as our racial
connection - to a lesser degree."
"So you've decided we're not making this up out of purient
interest." The Jedi master nodded, and Obi-Wan just kept
looking from one to the other. He thought he understood what
they were saying, but it sounded too easy.
"So we can act normal again?" He said it hopefully.
Shaking his head, Timm directed his answer to Qui-Gon.
"The Verification Board now understands, but this knowledge
will take some time to spread among the populace. In a few
months the concept will have taken hold and other Jedi may not
be subjected to the same restrictions that you are. In
addition, the Travel Board has been petitioned by several
families who wish to allow their children to be tested as
Jedi."
"There are no Selebians at the Jedi Academy." Qui-Gon said.
"There never have been."
"But now there could be."
Thoughtfully Obi-Wan spoke up.
"Their mental powers could make them very strong Jedi,
Master."
"Yes, Padawan." His Master agreed, still seeming concerned. He
gazed at Timm for a long moment. "There is something more."
With no sign of nervousness to warn of it, he suggested
something that by human standards was unacceptable.
"Because of the strength of your bond, we invite you to
participate in a procreation ritual. It could be scheduled for
any time during your visit."
"We cannot 'procreate'." Qui-Gon said flatly. Again Obi-Wan
tremored with the need to touch him. Their inability to have
children had never been addressed before and he wondered, for
the first time, if this was something that his Master desired.
But he was in his fifties, surely if he had wanted them he
could have had them with a previous lover? Female Jedi of many
races sought to bear the children of their brothers-in-arms,
knowing that they would only be tied down for a year at most if
the child qualified for the academy. And the children of two
Jedi were almost guaranteed to be talented in the Force.
Then it occurred to him that Qui-Gon might actually have a
child, or more. Perhaps even as old as Obi-Wan himself, and had
simply not mentioned it.
"No, love." Quickly his Master stepped to him, putting a hand
on his shoulder to calm him. It was the only time they had
touched since that first night, with the exception of after the
Verification, when Obi-Wan had been in no condition to
appreciate it. Now his body responded almost violently, that
small touch bringing him to instant, painful arousal. With a
quiet chuckle his Master ran his eyes down his youthful form,
but didn't change the subject. "That has never been one of my
goals. You need not worry that you've taken that from me, or
that there is anyone else to challenge your place in my heart."
"I'm sorry." The younger man said softly. "Got me by
surprise."
Watching them with interest, Timm brought his hands together
in a soft slap.
"This is what we wish to experience. This depth of emotion -
it is rare for us to experience it. We ask that you share."
"Would it be anything like the Verification?" Obi-Wan asked
with trepidation. Before Timm could answer Qui-Gon did.
"No. We will not do it. You understand that this is a private
thing for us, not to be shared? We have let you invade that
privacy once already, and I won't do it again."
"Qui-Gon, are you sure?" The Selebian asked, sounding
concerned. "It would give my people something to think about."
"We've already given them something to think about." The hand
on Obi's shoulder slid to the back and his neck and massaged
lightly, drawing a sigh.
"Do you agree, Obi-Wan Kenobi?" Timm turned his attention to
the younger man as if the Master wasn't even there.
"I am an obedient Padawan." He said firmly. "If my Master says
no, then no is my answer as well."
"Timm, we have been friends for many years, despite the
differences in our cultures." Releasing Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon
stepped closer to his friend, footsteps scarcely heard even on
the stone floor, he moved so lightly. "I trusted you and came
when you called for me, and I trust you now to make your people
see that we cannot do this. There is no crime to be committed
this time, and I will react badly if any others from your
government get involved."
"Yes." Reaching out a hand, Timm patted Qui-Gon's shoulder
lightly. "I will see that they understand. The talks should
proceed now that your innocence is a matter of record."
"That would be - a good thing." Breaking into a smile, Qui-Gon
mentally teased at the edges of his Padawan's mind, which made
Obi-Wan look away quickly as his body responded. The lack of
the past few days was making him overly sensitive.
"We resume after firstmeal." With no more than that Timm left
the room, no doubt strained by the time spent in the shield.
"Well." Sounding bemused, the Jedi Master turned to his
apprentice.
"Well indeed." Obi-Wan replied, eyes avidly devouring the
tall, strong frame. His body was waking up, headache gone.
"Despite the changes in circumstance, Obi-Wan, I still do not
think it wise to indulge." Sounding disappointed himself,
Qui-Gon moved away.
"Master...." Sucking in a breath, the younger man exhaled
slowly, resigning himself to the situation.
"An embrace." Suddenly, moving faster than humanly possible,
Qui-Gon was behind him, wrapping his arms around him. "One
embrace, Obi-Love, and we must stop there."
"Thank you." Breathing the words softly, he leaned back into
the wall of warm strength that cradled him. With his hands
covering Qui-Gon's where they closed over is waist, eyes
closed, and his head on the taller man's chest, he relaxed, it
felt like, for the first time since they arrived. Dropping his
shields easily, letting all the love and lust he felt flow into
his Master's mind, receiving an equal measure in return.
If he had turned around - if he had touched that mouth with
his own, or offered his body with abandon - they would have
been lost. But this warm, safe embrace, frustrating as it was,
was everything he needed and just enough that they could handle
it without losing control.
"Just hold on." He whispered and felt Qui-Gon's arms tighten,
felt the beat of the big man's heart against his back. "Hold
onto me."
"Always." The whisper made him shiver, too close to his ear
and he decided that words were not needed here, so remained
silent.
It was possible, with the help of the force, to stay in the
same position for an incredibly long time without muscles
stiffening or cramping, but they weren't given the opportunity
to test this theory because eventually Timm came for them and
they returned to complete the negotiations in a way that would
allow them to leave.
"Finally." Dropping the last of his clothing while his Master
stepped into the cleaning stall on board the cruiser that had
brought them, Obi-Wan quickly cleaned up, a Padawan's duty,
gathering the clothing and tidying the closet-sized room. The
stall was scarcely large enough for his Master, there was no
way they would both squeeze into it. Space was sometimes
limited in space, he had learned. At least on some ships, and
this was a rather old one, though beautifully maintained. And
the Pilot-Captain had anticipated their needs and given them a
room with a large double bunk, though it didn't hold much else.
Thinking about the ship and the pilot and the mission was a
needed diversion from his Master's tall, powerful form visible
though the door of the cleaner. He didn't know what kind of
control his Master was exerting, but he didn't look at all
aroused, and Obi-Wan had been half-hard for the last four days
of the negotiations, desire flaring every time Qui-Gon touched
him or even passed close by. It had been a relief to not worry
about offending their hosts, but he had gotten tired of the
knowing looks and various facial expressions his lust had
brought to the faces of the Selebians. Half of them seemed
fascinated and the other half repelled, but they were all
willing to stare at his body, which had the fortunate side
effect of killing the whole thing.
Stepping out, skin glistening and tinged pink, Qui-Gon stepped
past him to the bedroom, swinging his body to avoid touching
him, and Obi-Wan released the breath he'd been holding,
scrambling into the cleaner himself.
Pausing in the low doorway, Qui-Gon turned back and smiled at
him, looking completely in control, his dark blue eyes laughing
gently at his apprentice.
"Take your time, Padawan." He said, a small smile lighting his
lips. "I will be waiting."
The words caused a shiver down the younger man's spine, and he
turned the cleaner on with a quick twist of his hand, meaning
to rush. But then the words settled into his head and he
thought. Maybe he wants a minute alone. This has been as hard
for him as for me, even if he does not show it the same way.
Other thoughts intruded while he slowed and scrubbed under the
radiant beams, taking the time to clean himself fully, as much
of himself as he could reach.
I want to go to him as clean as I can possibly be. This
deserves some time, and effort.
The most comforting part of it was knowing the truth had been
spoken.
He will be there when I'm done.
The room light was dimmed to about half-power, which made him
smile. Crawling onto the bed beside his Master, he propped
himself up on his elbows and watched as Qui-Gon began working
out of the light trance he'd been in. The smile widened as the
dark blue eyes opened and met his own.
"Padawan." His voice was deep and rough and Obi-Wan knew that
he'd been releasing all the constraints he'd put on himself
during their time on Selebia Prime.
"Master. Going for romance tonight, are we?" One hand gestured
at the dimness of the room.
"No." A chuckle. "An old man's vanity - perhaps you won't
notice the wrinkles if the light isn't good."
"Hmph." Scolding, Obi-Wan squirmed over his Master's body
until he could straddle him, sitting up and caressing his broad
chest. "Like I ever noticed them before."
They were both hard and ready now, dripping and throbbing and
Obi-Wan wasn't prepared to wait any longer than he already had.
Shifting again, he brought their groins together and started
moving, thrusting gently. It felt so good his eyes threatened
to roll back in his head and he couldn't restrain a moan.
Qui-Gon's hands on his hips urged him on, but when he was
close they closed tightly, stopping the movement and he
protested, wriggling.
"No, let me come, Master...I need it so badly..."
Without a word Qui-Gon called on the Force to help him and
flipped them both over easily, the landing gentle on the thin
mattress, sliding down Obi-Wan's taut body, placing sucking
kisses at random, and then taking the younger man's straining
organ deep into his throat, sucking hard. Without enough air in
his lungs to scream, all the apprentice could do was moan and
thrash as his body found relief and Qui-Gon swallowed it all
down.
Collapsing, feeling like his limbs were made of rubber,
Obi-Wan gasped, unable to move for the moment.
"Qui-Gon. Master. Please..."
As always, his Master knew what he wanted, the need to hold
him, and sprawled back up kissing his neck and face, chuckling.
"I know that wasn't enough for you, but maybe it will give me
a chance to keep up..." He teased, nudging his own heavy
hardness into Obi-Wan's thigh.
From: "saraid" <saraid@wf.net>
Without a thought the smaller man rolled in his Master's arms,
offering himself before he'd even gotten his breath back.
"Ah, love." With both hands Qui-Gon rolled him the rest of the
way to his stomach, tucking a flat cushion beneath his hips to
raise them. "Is this what you want?"
"Yes." He gasped, already hardening again. It had been so
long. Days of being taunted with his Master's naked body,
unable to even think about what he wanted it to do to him, what
he wanted to do to it... "Yes. Master, now."
The laughter was gone from Qui-Gon's voice as his slid himself
home, Obi-Wan's body now recognizing the invasion for the
loving one it was. The older man did not say anything, just
opened his shields to his apprentice so the younger man would
know and fully understand, what this meant to him. Supporting
himself over Obi-Wan on both elbows, panting harshly, eyes
closed against the vision beneath him, he shuddered silently,
fighting the desire to release himself immediately.
Realizing the battle his Master was fighting with his body,
Obi-Wan lay still, not even moving to relieve the ache he felt
as his cock swelled against the cushion. Instead, he spoke,
words that he hoped would be soothing as well as enticing.
"Master. I love you. To feel you like this, in me and
surrounding me...it makes me feel safe and protected and whole.
"
Qui-Gon's words grated out on a laugh.
"You love to torture me, don't you, Padawan?"
"No, Master. But I love to love you. If we were not Jedi I
would tie you to my bed and never release you. Keep all of your
beauty for myself. Never to share it with another soul."
Qui-Gon shuddered and groaned at that and finally began
thrusting.
"You're - the - beautiful - one." He ground out between
lunges. His large hands strayed to Obi-Wan's back and clung
there as he lowered his head, forehead pressed to his
apprentice's shoulder blade, breath hot on his tingling skin.
"Oh gods."
"So good." Obi-Wan answered desperately, ready to come again,
needing to come again. "Master..."
"Yes." With a lurch Qui-Gon grasped his hips and pulled them
both back, Obi-Wan to his knees, and slid a hand around him to
grasp his erection, holding it tightly, a tiny bit rough, the
way he always did when he was very excited. It made Obi-Wan
want to scream with pleasure, he loved it best when his
self-contained, reserved Master let all of that go and was just
one with him, with one goal in his talented mind - to drive
them both insane with joy.
Humping back into the thrusts, Qui-Gon's hand pulling at his
cock, he was lost to anything but the reality he inhabited. If
he was to live forever in a moment, this was the moment he
would choose. Qui-Gon pulled him up farther and then he was
straddling his Master's bent legs, spread across them, spread
wide and pulled back, his head falling back heavily on
Qui-Gon's shoulder, lifting and falling with the rhythm his
Master set until it all coalesced into a spark of heat that
engulfed them both at the same instant, flaring outward like a
nova.
Lying still, unable to do much more than suck air, Obi-Wan
felt another chuckle at the back of his neck and the sensation
made him squirm.
"What?" he demanded though he didn't have the air to spare.
"Anyone the least bit sensitive felt that." Rolling one last
time, Qui-Gon settled on his back, draping Obi-Wan over him,
using the Force liberally to augment his quivering muscles.
Laughing breathlessly, Obi-Wan agreed, cuddling close, holding
and being held.
"The Selebians wanted to feel it." He grinned, kissing the
chest under his cheek. "Perhaps now they have."
The two of them lay in the embrace for an untold amount of
time, until Obi-Wan shifted, trying to hide his renewed arousal
from Qui-Gon, at least for a few more minutes, but his Master
merely groaned and lifted his head to look down at him.
"I'm too old for this." He announced, smiling.
"Ah, sorry?" Obi-Wan tried to minimize it. "It's just been
several days, Master, and -"
"Hush." Pulling his up for a kiss, Qui-Gon spent a leisurely
time exploring his mouth, territory he already knew well, until
he knew it as well as he did his own, and only then did he
release him. "Come up here."
With both hands he urged Obi-Wan to straddle him, across his
chest, bringing his member within reach of Qui-Gon's open mouth
and eager tongue. When his Master's hands curved around his
hips, fingers stroking gently, urging him closer, he moaned
softly, looking down at him, the long hair splashed around
Qui-Gon's head on the light-colored bedclothes, the dark eyes
gleaming up at him.
"Come, Obi-Wan. Let me give this to you."
"Yes, Master." He grinned and then moaned again as he was
licked and suckled gently. Qui-Gon's hands worked on his hips,
caressing warmly and helping him to a rhythm. Eventually
Qui-Gon tilted his head up and shifted for better position,
bringing his legs up, opening his throat to take all of
Obi-Wan's generous length down it. By now the apprentice was
reduced to moaning and shuddering, his eyes closed, head tossed
back, the long braid of his status clinging stickily to his
shoulder and neck as his hips worked slowly, thrusting in and
out of that hot cavern that sucked at him.
Qui-Gon's mouth worked around him, sucking at him hungrily and
the tension grew in his body until it sang with need. The long
fingers that petted and directed him worked their way around
until they were stroking over the entrance to his body, which
was wet and oozing the remnants of the earlier lovemaking, hot
and sticky, providing enough lubrication for a finger to be
inserted easily, then two. Seeking inside, they made him moan
more deeply and lift higher on his knees, trying to get the
most from both sensations. His Master was too busy to speak to
him, but he could feel the waves of love rolling from the older
man into him, carried on the Force itself, saturating him with
his Master's emotions. That more than anything, more even than
the sight that met his wide-opened eyes - Qui-Gon's nostrils
flaring as he breathed around the shaft in his mouth, the tight
roll of his shoulders as he held himself up, the way his hair
tangled and got into his eyes, making him look somehow stronger
and sexier - it was the love he felt that made him let go and
come, jerking helplessly, Qui-Gon's hands supporting him as he
shuddered, lowering him gently when his muscles transformed to
water.
"Master-!" he gasped, unable to believe the strength of the
sensations that kept rolling through him.
"I've got you, love."
The words were repeated, and again, and again - full of love
and touched with humor.
"I've got you."
"You had me, too." Turning the photo - a truly ancient form if
reproduction, only practiced in a few special places now - he
studied them from every angle. Timm stood on Qui- Gon's left
and Obi-Wan to his right. The Selebian was giving his races'
version of a smile, but neither of the Jedi looked happy. The
strain of their days on that planet showed clearly on their
faces, the lines in Qui-Gon's brow pronounced.
They had made love twice more that night, his Master treating
him to another powerful release before finally managing to
revive himself, which had made him laugh with quiet delight,
and happily offer himself to Obi-Wan the second time. Obi-Wan
enjoyed being taken by his Master so much that they seldom
traded roles, but that had been one of the rare nights when the
older man's body had cooperated and gave him enough for another
round, while Obi-Wan collapsed after his fifth orgasm, so
completely wiped out that he slept a solid ten hours, which
made Qui-Gon tease him further.
Setting the photo beside the note, he stared for a moment at
the next item - a small, carefully folded packet of old cloth,
perhaps blue once, now curled at the edges and browned with
age.
His hands shook as he carefully unfolded it, a few threads
dropping free, making his eyes tear up again.
The bundle of herbs was dried and had crumbled into a mass of
green flakes piled around a few brown twigs. Lifting a pinch to
his nostrils, he sniffed it and then sneezed, the scent
bringing back a sharp, stark memory;
The only time he had ever seen his master cry.... of course,
he himself hadn't been entirely aware at the time...
"NO. No, no, no, no - I will not let this happen, this cannot
happen..." Qui-Gon's voice had rumbled painfully in his ears
and Obi-Wan tied to pull away, to hide his head from the pain
that was chasing him. It came in the form of lights and sounds
and touch...even Qui-Gon's so gentle touch made him shriek
helplessly, ashamed, in agony. And that touch was no longer so
gentle, though no less caring.
Large hands shook him, pulled his head around, the braid
tangled in thick fingers that tugged on it mercilessly.
"Obi-Wan! Look at me! Look at Me, Padawan! You must pay
attention, you must listen to me, stay here with me..."
"never leave you, Master..." The crumpled, sweating, smelly
figure, bedded on fragrant boughs cut from nearby trees,
twisted and reached for him, clever hands tightened into
scabbed claws clutching at him, leaving streaks of bright blood
on his cream-colored tunic as the scabs broke and bled anew.
"Here, Obi-Wan, drink this, please, I made it for you, it will
help..."
A cup held to his lips gave off a nauseating scent and his
throat, raw and sore, with something noxious dripping down the
back of it already, closed at the thought of swallowing
whatever Qui-Gon held. Pushing at it weakly, he closed his
mouth into a thin line and felt his lower lip crack. Thirsty,
he lapped at the blood, but again refused the cup, pushing with
all of his strength, trying to make Qui-Gon take it away.
"no, no, Master, don't make me...."
"Please, Obi-Wan, please..." Opening his eyes, surprised to
find his sight blurry, the younger man reached for his Master's
face, drawing his fingers over the features, feeling the
wetness there, the warmth. In a moment of lucidity granted by
the fever he remembered where they were and what was happening.
"Master? Am I sick?"
They had been called here to deliver a message from the
Council to the ruler of this planet, he couldn't remember the
name of it - a message too important to be carried by anything
other than a Jedi's mind. They had delivered the message but
been caught by a group of local rebels while attempting to
leave. With their ship destroyed, being chased by possibly
hundreds of armed men, they had fled on foot into the forests,
which were hot and damp and dark, the canopies of the trees
preventing light from reaching the floor, the ever-present
dampness preventing the wood from burning.
There was an illness rampaging among the native population
here, and it seemed that he had it. People under the age of
thirty were the most susceptible and he tried to smile,
thinking that Qui- Gon was not in danger...
"You won't get sick."
"But you're sick, you're sick, oh gods, Obi-Wan, let me help
you....please take this."
"Can't." He whispered, and realized that talking hurt really
badly. And the Force was oddly quiet, not responding to his
calls at all.
"Please." Qui-Gon was crying. Suddenly Obi-Wan understood, but
it slipped away as another bout of agony tore through him.
Fresh wounds broke out over his unclothed body, weeping viscous
fluid and poisoning the flesh around them. Consciousness
dropped away, leaving him alone in a dark chasm of pain.
The next thing he knew he opened his eyes again, blinking up
through a reddish blur that might have been blood, and Qui-Gon
was rocking him tenderly, cradling him in both arms and
stroking his fiery face with one hand.
"Padawan?"
Unable to answer, he gasped and writhed, hurting inside and
out.
"Here - let me..." When Qui-Gon's lips descended on his he
accepted it even though it hurt, opened his mouth when his
Master's tongue probed between his own cracked and bleeding
lips, swallowed convulsively when his Master allowed a little
bit of liquid to dribble from his mouth to Obi-Wan's. It tasted
nasty, thick and overly-sweet, but he accepted it as a part of
the kiss, trying with weak arms to pull his Master closer.
That had gone on, he found out later, for nearly three days.
For three days his Master held him, fed him the medicine he
brewed from local plants, and soothed him as best he could
using his hands and the Force that wouldn't answer Obi-Wan.
For three days his Master had ignored his own needs, not
eating or drinking, not leaving him for more than a few minutes
at a time to hunt the plants and bring water from the stream,
using his lightsaber to heat the concoction in a metal cup that
had been in his pack when they fled, while the ones that hunted
them thrashed around them and Qui-Gon hid them with the Force.
When he had finally woken up, to stay awake for more than a
few seconds, Obi-Wan had been stiff and sore and very weak, but
miraculously alive. The combination of herbs to fight the fever
and the Force to fight the disease itself had wrought a miracle
and he had lived, eventually undamaged. But he hadn't spoken
for another day at least, his throat and mouth too sore to do
more than accept the liquids and love his Master's mouth
offered regularly.
"Master?" He could speak, at last, and there were so many
things he needed to say.
The dark blue eyes stared down at him, and he saw that Qui-Gon
knew those things, and he saw as well that his Master had
pushed himself well beyond his limits. Caked with mud and blood
and filth, his hair clubbed back starkly, tied with a bit of
vine, Qui-Gon Jinn looked as if he'd been as sick as his
Padawan.
"Are you well?" Obi-Wan asked, startled by his appearance, so
unlike his normally fastidious Master.
"I am better than I have ever been, Obi-Love." Taking a sip of
cooled, boiled water, Qui-Gon bent to kiss him, dripping it
into his mouth slowly. Closing his eyes, the younger man
swallowed gratefully, feeling it begin to ease the tortured
tissues.
"More?"
"Slowly." This time Qui-Gon used the cup, holding Obi-Wan's
head up and feeding it to him in tiny sips.
"Thank you." Lying back, catching his breath, the apprentice
clutched at his Master with one hand because to use two was too
much effort.
"I should be thanking you." Leaning over him, Qui-Gon brushed
a kiss over swollen eyelids. "For staying with me. I could not
bear to lose you, Padawan."
"I'm not going anywhere." Obi-Wan muttered, then let himself
relax slightly. There was a tearing sound and he turned his
head without lifting it to see Qui-Gon ripping a neat piece of
cloth from his inner tunic, which was the cleanest thing they
had. There were other pieces missing.
Dipping it into the cup of water, he gently cleaned Obi-Wan's
features, doing his best to not cause any pain, skipping over
the crusted scabs and scrubbing just a little bit at the dried
blood around his bruised mouth.
"Hurts." Obi-Wan muttered.
"You should be able to use the Force again now that the fever
is gone." Qui-Gon continued to clean him. "When you're stronger
we'll go to the stream to bathe."
The Force had come when he called it this time and his usual
talented control over his body with it. By the next morning he
had been feeling strong enough to eat the something scaly that
Qui-Gon killed and cooked for them, and then, carried in his
Master's strong arms, he was taken to the stream and bathed
like a baby, which, oddly enough, did not bother him at all, as
long as his Master was the only one that saw him this way.
Clumps of dried scab and hair drifted away on the cold current
and he shuddered as the water in their still pool was tainted
brown and red, thinking of what his body had been doing for
these past days and what his Master had sat and held him
through.
"I've always known you love me." He said as they lay close
together that night. Qui-Gon thought that soon someone would
come looking for them, sent by the Council, who didn't like
losing their Jedi. "But I've never seen it more clearly than I
do now."
Kissing his forehead, Qui-Gon nuzzled at a small bald spot
where hair had fallen out. His braid was safe, though, and that
made him smile as much as the caress. His arms tightened around
the younger man and his words ruffled the hair around the bald
spot.
"Would that I never have to show it to you this way again."
They had been retrieved two days later, and it had been
another four before he felt well enough to resume physical
relations. There had been an added measure of tenderness from
his Master, as if nearly losing him had made him all the more
aware of how much he loved him.
Refolding the cloth over the herbs, Obi-wan set it aside on
the stairs and then saw that there was one more thing in the
box. Another letter, this one looking like it had been written
recently.
Lifting it, he used the sleeve of his tunic to dry his eyes so
he could read it in the fading light, he saw that his hands
were shaking and hesitated.
Should he read these, his Master's last words to him, now? Or
save them for later, when he might need them more?
He would never need them more. He needed to understand.
Lifting it, he let his eyes travel over the handwriting,
remembering a dozen notes over twenty and more years - mundane,
everyday, stupid little notes written because his Master
preferred to write things down sometimes and not feed them into
a computer.
Which made his lover strangely happy. To have this in his
hands, not just a recorded message, it meant something to him.
Strange, but comforting.
Dear Padawan -
We've already covered that bit, I know. But there are
other things I have not told you, and I pray you will not
hate me when I do. This was the only way I could find to
live with the situation...although perhaps 'live' isn't the
word
I should choose. I know I have been distant, and difficult,
and, yes, more stubborn than usual these last few days. There
was a reason for that, love. I knew.
Gasping suddenly, Obi-Wan forced himself to read the sentence
again. And again. The pages crumpled in his hands as he
tightened them unhappily.
I knew. Although farseeing is not my gift, it came to me
months
ago, and I saw not my own death, but yours. It caused me such
pain that I could barely look at you for a day, and then I
realized
that I had been given two great gifts in my life. The first
was your
love, which came from you, and the second was the chance to
save
you, which came from the Fates. I could have done no less.
When the
fields cycled and I ran ahead - ran away from you - I did it
knowing
that I would be struck down. That I would die at the hands of
a Sith
apprentice. It mattered not, because you would live. I know
not now
what my last words to you will be, but as I write this letter
you sleep
in the bunk beside me on the Queen's cruiser as we approach
Naboo.
We just finished making love and you sighed my name as you
came,
and made me smile at the sheer joy in your eyes. I feel it in
your mind
as well and it gives me courage. I know that, no matter what
the future
brings, saving you is the best thing I have ever or will ever
do. Greater
than finding the boy. Greater than becoming a Master. It is
the way I
can truly prove that I love you. By giving you the life you
are meant to
have.
I know you grieve. Wherever I am know that I miss you as well.
Your life lies ahead of you, and the task of Anakin should be
enough to
keep you occupied until the pain fades. Perhaps then you will
find
another - though I am greedy and do not wish you to share your
love
and your body with anyone else, I want your happiness more
than my
own and so hope you will find someone with which to do both.
And
when your time is up, I will be waiting for you. In whatever
comes next.
Rest now, Obi-Wan Kenobi. My work is finished, but yours is
just
beginning. Listen to the Force and always - always, Obi-Wan -
remember
you are deeply loved.
Always.
The last word wavered before his eyes and Obi-Wan realized
that he was crying again. This time he let the tears come,
cursing Qui-Gon through them, hating him, for that one moment,
for making that decision for him, but then thanking him,
promising to use his gift well.
By the time the tears stopped it was dawn, and he was empty,
cleansed. The fire had burned out and there was nothing left
but a few cooling ashes. Using both hands he carefully gathered
a few and sprinkled them over the contents of the box, neatly
repacked, and then closed it tucking it into his robes, close
to his heart. He could carry it there for a day or two, until
the hurt wasn't so bad, and then he would move it to his bed,
perhaps.
Eventually it would make it to his desk, and then a shelf in
his room. If he traveled - and he would - he would not leave it
behind, ever. It was a part of his Master, and so a part of
himself, never to be left behind or forgotten.
One of the Queen's guards was waiting outside the pavilion
when he emerged, and the man kindly led him to a small bedroom,
not the one they had shared before. He slept for the first time
since the battle, to wake in time to prepare for the
celebration between the Naboo and the Gungans.
On the steps, watching the parade, Anakin beside him, looking
far too young in his new clothes and wearing the barest
beginnings of his Padawan braid, Obi-Wan felt the weight of the
box on his chest and found a smile, thinking how much Qui-Gon
would have enjoyed the noise and ceremony.
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