Moonlit Pools

by Lilith Sedai (lilith_sedai@hotmail.com)

Archive: M_A
Category: PWP
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: None
Spoilers: None
Summary: Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan seek relief from the heat of a desert planet.
Feedback: Yes, please, any comments welcome.
Acknowledgments: I can't remember...
Disclaimer: George, Episode II sucked. Take writing lessons. It's not fair that you own these people and make a profit off them-- which, by the way, I do not.

The rains had come to Q'tar with swift violence, sinking into the desert sands, leaving treacherous quagmires lurking along the caravan routes, and the air was humid, retaining the sullen heat of the blazing desert noon long after sunset. The natives of the N'kari desert knew better than to travel during the brief wet season, congregating at oases and waiting out the month of storms. Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi had miscalculated the timing of their journey and their mission could not be completed until the weather changed, heat and evaporation firming the sands sufficiently for them to travel safely.

Waiting at the oasis several days' journey from their final destination, both Jedi found themselves at loose ends while waiting to continue on their mission. It was unpleasant to be stranded and unable to pursue the greater focus of their duty; rain did not necessarily mean mitigation of the oppressive desert heat. They had been told that there would be swarms of biting flies when the rains passed, a pestilence of insects bred upon the flesh of unfortunate beasts drowned in the downpour. But that was in the remote future, and for now there was little to do but sit inside their borrowed sandstone hut and try not to grow impatient with one another during the heat of the day.

Obi-Wan fared slightly better than Qui-Gon as the days passed. On the verge of manhood, he was still not wholly restrained by adult decorum and spent part of each day and many evenings sporting with the dark-eyed, tan-skinned young people that had congregated with their parents in the oasis. The company mellowed him considerably, diverting his mind from the ever-present stifling heat and the frustrating delay.

An anomaly with his pale reddish hair and light eyes, Obi-Wan was a subject of great interest and curiosity among the Q'tar. His looks and good nature had won him many friends. That was part of the problem that chafed at Qui-Gon. The parents of the youths who opened their hearts unreservedly to Obi-Wan remained sullenly closed to Qui-Gon, wary of the reputation he wore like a mantle: Jedi Master.

It did not precisely trouble Qui-Gon that Obi-Wan made friends so readily. What disturbed him was his own solitude, Obi-Wan's frequent absence from his side. However, calm reflection revealed that Obi-Wan's preference for his new friends over his old master was natural and to be expected.

The Jedi padawan's sudden, joyful chatter interrupted Qui-Gon's morose thoughts as the young man bent to enter the hut and came to his side. "Master, I've been asked to come to the pools. Sarin and Irialdi would like to learn to swim, but there's no one who knows how who's free to teach them." Obi-Wan looked sweaty but enthusiastic. In spite of the heat and the relative undress of his companions, who lingered outdoors waiting for him, he wore his full Jedi regalia, minus only the cloak.

It was the proper mode of dress for a padawan, if an uncomfortable one given the local weather. A less dutiful apprentice might have shirked propriety without permission or whined for his master's indulgence, but Obi-Wan had kept the layers of his garments on without complaint, in accepting imitation of Qui-Gon's own formality and poise. Qui-Gon felt a pang of remorse for neglecting to give Obi-Wan permission to change out of the uncomfortable clothes long ago.

"You are welcome to accompany us, Master." Obi-Wan's sweating face looked earnest and sincere when Qui-Gon raised his head to look; he surveyed his padawan without expression. It would feel good to swim, but Qui-Gon himself would be unwelcome and out of place among the young men and women at the pools. Doubtless the offer had been extended as a merely rhetorical kindness.

"Swim safely." Qui-Gon carefully chose words as neutral as his expression. When Obi-Wan was gone, he would strip out of his stifling, sweat-grimed tunics and bathe himself in the basin of water Obi-Wan had fetched for them earlier from the drinking wells. At least now there was water in plenty, there was no need to conserve.

Obi-Wan hesitated for a long moment, eyes searching his master's face, then bowed and fled the sweltering stone dwelling on feet that nearly danced with anticipation. Qui-Gon stared after him moodily. Sarin and Irialdi were frequent companions of Obi-Wan's, both female. The Q'tar had few of the modesty taboos that were common to desert cultures; Qui-Gon had seen men and women alike succumb to the pressure of the heat and publicly strip to swim or bathe, uncaring of whose eyes might follow their bodies. No wonder Obi-Wan was so eager to share the girls' company at the pools tonight.

Qui-Gon unbuckled his belt with a sigh, tossing it in the direction of his sleep couch. It fell short, thumping to the floor, but he felt too drained to retrieve it. Instead, he peeled away his sweat-heavy stoles and parted his unpleasantly sticky tunics, anticipating relief from the heat-- and found none, not even as he shouldered the tunics off his body. The house was as hot as a baking oven. The only relief to be had was outside.

Qui-Gon threw his tunics after his belt and kicked off his heavy, sweat-slimy boots before slipping outdoors bare-chested, immediately feeling the gentle caress of a sultry evening breeze stirring the humid air. It was a slight relief, but far better than remaining indoors.

The laughter of children and young adults echoed through the quiet streets. Qui-Gon supposed that the older men and women were all indoors, pursuing their own private amusements, to which he had not been invited because the adults were intimidated by Jedi and mistrustful of outsiders. Perhaps they were bathing, drinking cool water or tea, or merely remaining still to combat the heat. He could find none abroad in the streets at any rate, the oasis curiously empty as he moved through the stark avenues. The squat, square stone buildings loomed pale and silent against the star-sprinkled sky, lightly caressed by the fringed leaves of date-palms.

He found himself following the silvery sound of merriment toward the pools, terraced depressions where water was gathered during the rains to be saved for livestock. After the day's torrential rains they were full and cool, a magnet to any sane person in the vicinity. At least, they acted as a magnet to Qui-Gon. They drew him just as the sound of one laugh drew him, a light tenor mingling with soprano giggles.

Qui-Gon's feet tracked that sound automatically, the street easily visible before him in the light of the rising desert moons. Two of them had crept over the horizon, one cobalt blue and the other a wide, soft white. Together they washed the landscape in a gentle, eerie illumination that left few shadows.

Qui-Gon hugged what darkness he could find, vaguely discomforted by the absence of adults and by a sense of guilt at following Obi-Wan in secret after refusing the invitation to accompany him. The Jedi Master sighed. He'd been keeping a number of things hidden from his padawan since Obi-Wan approached manhood; this evening's indiscretion was merely the latest manifestation of his imprudent emotions. He stopped at last in the dim area cast by the walls of two neighboring houses and leaned against the cooler of the two walls there, the one that had been angled to absorb the least of the day's sunshine.

From his hidden vantage, he could see the young people at play. Most avoided the deeper pools, unable to swim, but Obi-Wan and his friends had chosen the largest of the basins. Obi-Wan was treading water in its center, looking up at the terrace to where the girls stood and watched him, laughing softly, their sweet dark curves burnished by the moonlight.

"You will have to carry me into the water," one of them vowed in her lilting accent, dipping her chin, and Qui-Gon could infer the flirtatious look on her face from the tone of her voice and the posture of her body. "I'm afraid to come in alone." Obi-Wan responded with amusement, his voice too distorted by the echo of water and tiled terrace for Qui-Gon to make out his words. Then his padawan swam toward the edge and drew himself up, pale strong young body gleaming in the light.

Qui-Gon suddenly missed his sleeves, though there was no one to hide his hands from as his fingers curled up against his palms. Obi-Wan rose like a nymph from the pool, exposing himself to the avid gaze of the girls, and reached out his arms in invitation. The bolder of the two stepped forward and he led her down toward the water's edge. She tittered and resisted. The other girl drummed her toes impatiently, awaiting her turn.

Obi-Wan remained at the edge of the water, coaxing his flirtatious friend to follow, and then caught her up in his arms swiftly, inadvertently turning toward the alcove that held Qui-Gon. The Jedi Master watched from the shadows as his padawan carried the slim, squealing girl down into the water, step by step, and she clutched at his neck dramatically.

After a few minutes spent trying to persuade her to lie back in the water and float, Obi-Wan gave up, settling her on a step where water came up to her navel, and went back up for the second girl. This one came into his arms immediately, purring flattery at him so loudly that Qui-Gon could hear every word from where he stood, and he released a sharp explosion of breath, scuffing his feet impatiently in the sand as Obi-Wan repeated his journey down into the pool.

The swimming lessons proceeded haltingly with Obi-Wan persisting in his good-natured attempts to teach. From Qui-Gon's vantage, they seemed designed mostly to let him keep his hands on the girls. The three of them enjoyed their youth unselfconsciously, sharing the cool of the water and the soft radiance of the night; Obi-Wan admired the girls openly. He let them press their breasts and trim hips up against his body, let them all slide against one other frequently as they played in the deliciously cool water.

Qui-Gon's lips thinned. He pondered returning to his sweltering hut and awaiting his padawan's return there; truly he should. He had no business spying on Obi-Wan like this. There was not even the pretense that he was here to preserve his padawan's safety. No, he was... watching Obi-Wan. Watching him, admiring him, longing to touch him. Feeling his discontent increasing, Qui-Gon shifted his feet and continued to observe the young luscious girls who touched his apprentice so freely and were touched in return.

He withdrew deeper into the shadows, turning his unworthy emotions over critically. He'd known, of course, that Obi-Wan was growing up, becoming a beautiful young man with a mature, taut, desirable body and a find mind and spirit, well worthy of inspiring love and devotion. He had noticed in spite of himself, noticed because it was his duty to be aware and to teach, to nurture and protect. He had not, however, allowed himself to admit how deeply his emotions ran until this night.

Qui-Gon watched with growing envy as Obi-Wan persuaded one of the girls to release him and supported her in the water with the Force; the sight made his jealousy grow beyond reasonable levels. He had taught this thing to Obi-Wan, and this was how his padawan used it? The fine manipulation of the power of the universe, used frivolously to court a native girl who would be left behind in days? He set his jaw. He would need to meditate to purge his anger. It was unworthy of a Jedi Master, particularly since it resulted from coveting his own padawan.

And yet he could not go, could not leave. He was caught, held helplessly in place by the sight of Obi-Wan's slender bare shoulders. Transfixed by the pale curved flash of his buttocks as he dove to retrieve coins the girls tossed for him, by the casual, tantalizing sway of his genitals as he climbed the terrace alone...

Qui-Gon blinked, realizing that the young Q'tari were dispersing; even Obi-Wan's girls had climbed to the edge of their pool. They kissed him one by one, long and slow and sweet, speaking to him in low persuasive voices, tugging lightly at his arms and shoulders with their graceful hands, but he shook his head, smiling, and watched them fondly as they joined hands and slipped away toward their homes.

It was late; the moons had risen and begun to descend. Time for rest, but Obi-Wan did not move to leave the pools, turning and walking back down into the stilling water, where he lay on his back and floated, gazing up at the twin moons.

A nearby lamra beast, perhaps disturbed by the movement in the streets as the young people dispersed, grunted in its stall. Its booming snarl was unnaturally loud in the suddenly quiet night. Spurred by the sudden noise and the broken peace, Qui-Gon stepped forward, only meaning to move until his angle of vision encompassed the entire surface of the pool where his padawan floated. Instead, his feet kept moving, scuffing quietly through the sand until he stood on the lip of the upper ring of the terrace, looking down at his padawan's floating body.

Obi-Wan gazed serenely up into the moonlight, bluish-pale ripples eclipsing his limbs where they sank beneath the surface. The slim hollow of his belly breached the water, dark navel filled with gleaming wetness. His short hair lay plastered back, his braid floating in a lazy sinuous curve next to his shoulder.

Qui-Gon felt his breath catch hard in his throat, his lungs unable to gather the air. His fingers clenched behind his back, twining into one another with desperate strength, clutching for something elusive-- scrabbling for restraint, for forbearance. They searched uselessly for something to cling to against the onslaught of Obi-Wan's young, slender beauty, displayed enticingly in the clear, cool water.

Obi-Wan's wet lashes blinked against his moon-silvered cheeks, and his eyes flickered to lock with Qui-Gon's. A smile curved his lips, and his hips sank, his shoulders and head emerging from the water. "I hoped you'd come," his voice echoed softly. "I've felt your eyes following me for the past hour." Obi-Wan gazed up at Qui-Gon for a long moment, serene, his expression thoughtful. "For the past year, actually."

Qui-Gon squeezed his eyes shut as though he could deny the words, locking himself inside his head in desperation, but the vision of his padawan was inside him, waiting for him, luring him. He realized he feared the understanding implied by the Obi-Wan's last comment. Still... he was reluctant to draw back as his conscience dictated he should. The Force held a portent of inevitability about this moment, of fate and fulfillment, and he wondered if Obi-Wan could also feel it.

"Join me?" A gentle invitation, a silky ripple of water as Obi-Wan slid his hands through the shimmering surface. The cool sound promised relief, promised to quench the flames of heat that sweltered in Qui-Gon's skin and burned in his groin. He stepped forward involuntarily, fastening his eyes on the tiles under his feet. The moonlight caught in them, turning the white ceramic into a sparkling pale blue glaze, and he curled his toes over the lip of the top step, hesitating, on the brink. His hands went to the waistband of his leggings, hesitating there uncertainly.

He had control of his body thus far, though it was tenuous; he could feel Obi-Wan's eyes on him and knew that it was slipping quickly. The best thing, then, would be to join Obi-Wan in the water before the evidence was unmistakable. Yes. He pushed the waistband down before he could second-guess his decision, and flinched very slightly as the tiles and the water amplified Obi-Wan's low inhalation and brought it to his ears, a soft hiss of pleasure.

He had never paused to consider that Obi-Wan might desire him, as well.

Uncomfortably aware that he was flushing with both lust and embarrassment, Qui-Gon kicked away the leggings and descended the terrace, desperate to quench his body in the cool water. Obi-Wan's arms swept gently back and forth, moonlight silvering their rippled progress as his padawan drifted back to give him room. Qui-Gon stepped into the water, sighing a little with pleasure at its cool caress. He seated himself, the ripples lapping on him chest-deep.

Obi-Wan sank till his mouth was entirely covered by the water, eyes dancing with merriment as he considered his master. Qui-Gon had only an instant's warning before Obi-Wan's hand drew back and flicked forward, sending cascading droplets to patter across his left arm and shoulder. His padawan's eyes sparkled at Qui-Gon with wicked innocence, Obi-Wan's arms and legs moving before him very slowly, palely visible in the moon-shadow that lay between them in the water. Qui-Gon mustered what serenity he could and regarded Obi-Wan with his best inscrutable stare; Obi-Wan's other hand flicked and more water pattered over his right side, trickling down his arm and back with delicious chill.

Qui-Gon stared at Obi-Wan again, very slowly lifting a single brow, keeping his expressing perfectly austere. Obi-Wan's wrists flexed, both hands moving back under the cover of the water, and Qui-Gon launched himself forward before the planned attack could occur, lunging at his padawan with all his force, sending a wild wave-surge of water splashing before his body. Obi-Wan sank below the surface instantly, evasively, and Qui-Gon fell forward into the embrace of the pool, arms empty, the surface closing over his head with a swirl. He broke the surface laughing, finding Obi-Wan surfacing only a few feet away, rising from the gleaming liquid to join in his laughter.

His padawan tilted his head back, moon-pearled droplets streaming over his brow and cheeks and sparkling in the spikes of his hair. Qui- Gon caught his breath and stroked forward, drawing near... the smiling face did not retreat, eyes watching him intently. "It's about time," Obi-Wan observed insolently, still holding his ground. His eyes were amused, deep, and they burned like the desert sun when they flicked lazily over Qui-Gon. There could be no further doubt of the doubled intent of his statements; those wise, hot eyes knew far too much for Qui-Gon's comfort.

He could feel the swirl of water from his padawan's lazily moving feet and arms, currents softly curling around his body, feeding the ache deep inside him-- the water hadn't quenched his longing, hadn't extinguished the burn. It had simply driven it inward, intensifying it. The fiery heat of desire coiled in Qui-Gon's middle now, fueled by the mischievous face and the slim moonlit shoulders. Obi-Wan's lips curved and his padawan kicked hard, sending water to buffet Qui-Gon's legs; incredibly he lifted his arms and they went around his master's neck.

"Teach me to swim?" Obi-Wan's voice laughed beneath the sultry purr, inviting and teasing at once.

Qui-Gon's arms moved without volition, sliding around the boy's slender ribs, and they sank together as their mouths met.

How had he ever thought the water could cool him, quench the fire Obi-Wan kindled in him? They sank together, his long hair flowing about their faces, moonlight filtering down to wash them in soft ripples, and Qui-Gon drowned in Obi-Wan's kiss, his padawan's bare legs clasping lightly around his waist, Obi-Wan's sweet hot tongue darting into his mouth.

Qui-Gon finally gained the presence of mind to kick for the surface when his lungs began to ache, and Obi-Wan clung to him, still kissing him, until they broke apart with a gasp. Qui-Gon's wet hair dripped into his eyes. He flipped it back instinctively, looking into the passion- dark depths of Obi-Wan's gaze, studying the younger man's kiss-stung lips with mild surprise and deep longing.

He kicked automatically, keeping them afloat, and Obi-Wan held him, trusting him, his lashes lowering as he leaned in for another taste. Qui-Gon gave it, unable to resist, unable to deny. He hardened against his padawan's belly, his shaft nudging aside its youthful twin, pushing at the soft tender flesh. Obi-Wan moaned softly, a little gasp of pleasure deep in his throat, swallowed by Qui-Gon's eager mouth. Qui-Gon slid his hands down his padawan's cool, wet back to cradle the smoothness of his hips. Obi-Wan moaned again, throatier, and pulled his head away from the kiss to nip at Qui-Gon's beard, nuzzling his face into the wet spiky flesh of his neck with a low whimper.

Suddenly desperate, Qui-Gon released one hand from his padawan's body and pulled for the edge of the pool; feeling wet tile beneath his feet at last he stood and laid Obi-Wan down on one of the broad, flat steps, his padawan's body resting in perhaps two inches of water. Obi-Wan smiled and looked up at him. His expression somehow mingled the sultry and the innocent, youthfully sweet and sensually inviting at once.

Qui-Gon groaned helplessly, lost.

Obi-Wan ran his wet hands over his body slowly, enjoying the feel of his skin, waiting quietly for his master. Qui-Gon watched him move helplessly, licking his lips as Obi-Wan's fingertips trailed across his nipples. The boy's braid undulated like a charmed snake, curling and uncurling in the gently lapping waves, moving back and forth in a sleepy, hypnotic rhythm.

The Force sang with promises of fate fulfilled; it was far too late for second thoughts or doubts.

Trembling with longing, the Jedi Master lowered himself to one knee, eyes devouring the sweet living feast set out for him, and laid his broad hard hand on his padawan's smooth belly, daring to stroke gently across the water-smooth flesh. Obi-Wan arched into his touch, purring, and Qui-Gon bent, kissing him again, tasting clear water and lust on the cool, soft lips. Obi-Wan's hand slid around his neck, tangling into his wet hair, and the droplets streaming from it cascaded down both their faces to slicken the hot slide of their kiss. Qui-Gon moved down blindly, biting at Obi-Wan's throat, and his padawan cried out, a tender, aching sound of need.

Obi-Wan raised one knee, bracing himself to angle into Qui-Gon's touch, and the Jedi Master slipped his palm up the inside of his padawan's offered thigh. He slowly bit his way down to Obi-Wan's shoulder, not caring that he might leave marks, licking up the water that had gathered and warmed in the hollow of Obi-Wan's throat. Obi-Wan's low purr of pleasure resonated through Qui-Gon, vibrating against his tongue, and he slid his hand back along the lifted thigh once more, softly slipping his palm underneath the velvet-skinned rounds of Obi- Wan's testicles, shifting them gently inside the loose skin.

Obi-Wan gave a soft gasp, parting his legs to invite more of Qui-Gon's touch. He obliged his padawan, thumb tickling lightly across the smooth perineum, circling briefly against the entrance to Obi-Wan's body. Obi-Wan gasped aloud at the brief touch, head tilting back, throat straining in a lovely arc. Qui-Gon licked tenderly at his adam's apple, soothing him with his free hand. Sliding up, he lay in the shallow water next to Obi-Wan, stroking the length of his narrow chest and belly gently, exploring the vibrant, new hardness of youthful muscle, testing the curve and angle of his hip.

So perfect. So willing. And his.

Qui-Gon dove in again, pushing Obi-Wan's mouth open forcefully, and Obi-Wan surrendered gladly, opening for him, inviting him inside. His strong hands ventured to caress Qui-Gon's shoulders, then trailed along his spine, hesitated a little shyly above his buttocks before dipping lower to smooth over the firm-muscled curves. Qui-Gon's arms tightened around him, and Obi-Wan teased daringly at the shadowed cleft, fingertips darting along its length. Qui-Gon drew back, mind hazed with lust, and he stared down into Obi-Wan's sweet, mischievous smile, body thrumming with need.

Of a sudden, Qui-Gon wondered who was really in control; Obi-Wan had known of his scrutiny, had admitted as much, and had still flirted with his friends, had touched them, had moved and laughed and driven Qui-Gon half-mad with desire. Was the Jedi Master the owner or the owned? He looked down into the young man's laughing eyes, admiring the willing lips and strong masculine body, poised exquisitely on the cusp of adulthood. "You are a houri," he accused, and was surprised by the laughter and warmth in his own voice.

Obi-Wan nodded, cheeks pinkening visibly even under the desert moonlight. His embarrassment could not hide his happiness; his eyes glowed with love and delight, his mouth delicate and inviting as it stretched in a sincere smile of shy pleasure.

The Jedi Master laughed, the sound rumbling low in his throat, and dipped in for another kiss, immersing himself in his padawan's arms, letting the length of their bodies come together as he stretched out on the shelf and slipped his ankle between Obi-Wan's. His padawan melted with willingness, body pliantly admitting him, thighs sliding apart to invite Qui-Gon further into him.

Conscious of the hard shelf beneath them, Qui-Gon kept his weight off the boy's body, turning him to his side and drawing him near, hand possessive on Obi-Wan's slim buttocks. Obi-Wan slipped his hand between them and boldly clasped Qui-Gon's erection, startling him a little; their eyes met and Qui-Gon melted anew at the shy determination on his padawan's face. He smiled, one large hand drifting to enclose Obi-Wan's on him. Slowly he taught his padawan his pleasure, showing him how best to stroke. Obi-Wan trembled, eyes falling shut, wet lashes a soft smudge on his pale cheeks. He licked his lips, breathing hard, deeply aroused by the mere act of touching Qui-Gon.

Qui-Gon leaned forward, brushing his wiry beard against Obi-Wan's smooth cheek, and nipped softly at his earlobe. Sliding his hand down Obi-Wan's back, he parted the cleft gently with a seeking finger, feeling Obi-Wan tremble harder against him, his breath hitching in his chest. Qui-Gon stroked the tender, waiting pucker softly, biting and licking the earlobe he held, then wet his finger, feeling his climax drawing near as Obi-Wan squeezed and stroked and fondled him without stopping.

His padawan's breath came fast and harsh in his chest, a soft whine escaping with every exhalation, and his free hand clenched on Qui- Gon's bicep, his body tense and urgent, seeking. Qui-Gon softly parted Obi-Wan's slim legs again, pressing his finger at the entry to the tender passage, and then pushed inside, the silky water easing his entry.

Obi-Wan arched and cried out ecstatically, a shudder racking his body as Qui-Gon sought and found the small pleasure point, one broad fingertip stroking it firmly. Obi-Wan's hand dropped away from Qui-Gon's shaft as he forgot everything in the heat of the pleasure that gripped him, but his face.... So beautiful, droplets of water sparkling on his cheek, his eyes squeezed shut and his mouth open, tongue darting helplessly over his lips-- wetness that was warm surged between them and covered Qui-Gon's belly. He held Obi-Wan tightly, feeling his own body shatter with relief, moving mindlessly in pleasure against Obi-Wan's slim perfection.

Obi-Wan clutched him close, panting wildly, seeming unable to face him for a long moment, and Qui-Gon's heart trembled with a sudden terrible spike of fear, but then Obi-Wan's lips were nuzzling at his neck. "Master... master..." broken, happy syllables, and there was warm wetness on the face that touched him. Qui-Gon nuzzled and tasted the salt of tears; he drew back and Obi-Wan opened his shining eyes to him, overcome with joy.

"Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon's own cheeks were wet, and he did not care to examine the why of it too closely. Instead he stroked his padawan's cheek with his knuckle, brushing away a single perfect teardrop. Obi-Wan smiled, lips parted, and the simple gaze bound them together, rendering words unnecessary.

Qui-Gon cupped water in his palm, washing them both gently, and then followed when Obi-Wan stood on shaky legs and led him back into the pool. They lay back together in the soothing water, floating with hands and feet drifting against one another, and watched the twin moons set over the rolling dunes.

END