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Wall

by Ms. Nawilla (ms_nawilla@hotmail.com)

Category: Angst, AU
Summary: Good fences make good neighbors. Good soundproofing would help too.
Feedback: would be most appreciated at ms_nawilla@hotmail.com
Series: Like I need another one? Actually, a sequel in the works, because so many requested one, even from those who did not like the story. Come to think of it, I’ve never had anyone request a sequel from me for a story they didn’t like before.
Rating: NC-17
Archive: M-A. If anyone else wants it, please email at ms_nawilla@hotmail.com.
Acknowledgements: Big thanks to Ceria, my beta and cheerleader. Note that I didn’t take all of her suggestions because I have a big head (and I also opted for ambiguity. It’s an AU after all.) Thanks also to Becca for reading through an earlier draft and guessing who the players were, and to Hikaru for again reminding me that I wanted this archived. Finally, thanks to all the people who wrote back with their feedback. It was most appreciated, not only because you answered my question as to who you thought the players were and whether you liked the fic, but also why you did or did not like it. Very helpful and interesting.

The song quoted at the beginning of the story is "Sunrise" from the album "Home" by the band Simply Red. (For those older and/or geekier members of the list, this is the song on currently on adult contemporary stations that you keep thinking is "I Can’t Go For That" but isn’t. Well, it sort of is.
If you’re old enough to know the song, you know what I mean.) This fic was inspired by some of the recent fic on the list, and a really bad mood I was in. Fic makes me feel better. Sort of. I guess.

Warnings: No, not exactly a humor fic. Yes, I have an obsession with 80's music.

Wandering through life will love come home to you
And the love you want forever, will they be true to you? —"Sunrise," Mick Hucknall, Daryl Hall, John Oates and Sara Allen

It had started just before the twenty-second hour. At first it had been nothing unexpected or indiscreet. The whir of a pack unsealing. A creak of bedsprings. Running water. A rustle of clothing. Low conversation as sleeping arrangements and fresher times were negotiated. Everyday sounds of life as the just arrived diplomats settled into their room.

And then there had been the click of the lamp turning off and the sounds had become anything but discreet.

First had come the giggle, a giggle that taken out of context would have likely been attributed to a child much younger than the well-built nineteen year old in the next room. In fact, he had thought for a moment that there had been some change or mistake, and that a different negotiation team had been sent. For a moment he had thought that perhaps his efforts had not been entirely wasted. That perhaps there was hope he could still be successful here.

But then that strangely unmistakable chuckle had answered the almost timid giggle, the sound of content amusement ripping through him like a knife.

For a fleeting moment his mind had struggled to deny the obvious, concocting an image in his mind of the two Jedi on the other side of the wall, tucked into twin beds and laughing over some event or other during the day. It was camaraderie, nothing more. The youth probably saw his master as a father figure. An image that still hurt of course, but a bearable one.

Besides, his fantasy was safe. Surely Jedi knew how thin these walls were.

The bedsprings creaked suddenly and the youth let out a squeal that collapsed into delighted laughter.

Apparently they didn’t know. Or didn’t care.

Glaring at the chrono, he grabbed his other pillow and jammed it against the side of his head, hoping to block his ears. Even if the Jedi didn’t care how thin the walls were in their sleeping quarters, surely a negotiator as dedicated as Qui-Gon Jinn would not let lust get in the way of duty. There was to be an introductory meeting tomorrow morning at fifth hour. Hopefully youthful hormones would soon be spent and he would be allowed to get some sleep. He was certainly planning on attending the meeting.

The master was certainly not wasting time if the sounds of the youth were anything to go by. The bashful giggling had given way to soft sighs, which still managed to somehow be audible through the wall. Their bed must have been placed directly behind his. For his part, Jinn seemed to be making no sound. Clearly his mouth was otherwise occupied.

"Oh, . . oh , yes, Master. Ahhh, . . . yes, . . oh, kiss me there again . . . . mmmmm, . . . ooh, your hair tickles, Master."

The creak of the bedsprings began to develop a slow rhythm.

"Ohhhh, . . . please don’t tease, Master, . . . ahhh, . . . ohhh,"

Another chuckle ripped through his soul.

"I thought you liked my teasing."

The youth was breathless, panting. Another creak, this one different, and it took him a moment to realize the young man had latched onto the headboard. No wonder they had seemed so loud, he was practically head to head with the boy behind the plaster. Clamping a pillow to each ear, he rolled over to the other side of a bed that was suddenly far too small. No matter that he had wondered how he could possibly keep warm in a bed so large when he had settled into his room three weeks ago.

"I do like your teasing, Master," the lad insisted, the sounds of his squirming supporting his argument. "But . . but I thought you wanted me to relax!"

The boy had a point. He certainly didn’t sound relaxed.

Jinn chuckled again and he clamped the pillows down harder, wondering for a moment if this would damage his hearing.

"Maybe this will relax you."

"AAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!"

He only hoped it would. Hearing loss was looking like a good option.

Jinn must have had some concern for others, because the boy immediately quieted his enthusiasm to a softer tone. Not that he still couldn’t hear every lustful, passion-soaked word.

"Yes, yes, oh please, Master, please! Yes, oh, like that, yes, oh yes, please, more with your tongue, oh yes, please. Oh, oh, yes, you know I love that, yes . ."

The bedsprings, which had quieted their creaking somewhat, suddenly protested loudly, then began singing in wild rhythm to whatever Jinn was doing to the boy. A boy whose erotic chanting was getting steadily louder.

"Yes! Yes! Yes! Suck me! Suck me harder! YES! YES! MASTER! MASTER! OH! OH! OH! OH, MASTER, I’M COMING! I’M COMING! I’M COMING!" The youth’s voice trailed off into softening moans of pleasure amidst the rustling sheets. Dryly, he wondered why the boy had thought he needed to announce his climax. It wasn’t as if Jinn, not to mention the rest of the compound, didn’t know about it.

"Oh, Master," the boy said weakly, his voice half-muffled as if he were talking into his pillow. "That was wonderful."

The sound of skin on skin. The smack of a kiss.

"I’m glad you thought so, Padawan. Why don’t you catch your breath and I’ll get us cleaned up a bit." He heard the youth giggle again, far less innocently this time, as Jinn rose and went off to the fresher to wash up.

As far as he knew, Jinn had always cleaned up after lovemaking. Perhaps the man enjoyed playing a nurturing, caretaking role with his lovers.

Then again, perhaps he simply preferred to not have to wake suddenly to some emergency still smelling of sex.

Distantly, he could hear running water over the youth’s occasional sighs and squirms. After a few moments, the water turned off, Jinn returned to the bed, and he presumed clean up had commenced when the sounds of soft laughter punctuated by kisses began emanating from the next room. After several minutes of this, not to mention more sighs and spring creaks, the light clicked off and Jinn settled back on the bed.

He shut his eyes, settling his body, mind and bedding for sleep once more.

It was about time.

He had almost drifted off to sleep when it started again.

As before, it started innocently enough. A groan of springs as someone moved. Whispered voices. And then more creaks as both of them moved.

"If you are certain you’re relaxed, lay on that. Yes, right there."

He pulled himself up to lean on his elbows and glared at the wall behind him. They were going at it again?

Another giggle. "Like this? Very flattering position, Master." He could almost see Jinn open his mouth in reprimand. "I was only kidding, Master."

He heard the light smack just before the boy squeaked in shock. Before the boy could protest, his master spoke, his voice low and deep, and likely right near his ear. It was certainly right next to the wall.

"I know you were only kidding, and that’s good." The man was purring. Jinn was actually purring. "After all, Padawan, sex should also be fun."

The youth laughed outright at this. "Does this mean you’re going to kiss my ass, Master? That would be fun."

He lowered his head to bed and covered his face in the pillow. It was one thing to keep him awake, but why did he have to be kept awake by this?

Another chuckle, deeper this time, but further away as Jinn rummaged for something next to the bed. "I’m sure it would be fun for you, Padawan. You would appreciate the irony, no doubt. But I think the evening’s plan will be enjoyable enough for you."

"Oh, yeah." The mattress made small intermittent sounds as if the boy were wiggling in anticipation. "So what do I do first?"

No.

"You just relax." More creaks, and then voice was close to wall once more as the youth sighed in pleasure. "Release your tensions to the Force."

Oh, no.

A deep sigh. "Yes, mmmmm, yes, Master."

"Relax." More rustling. "The first step of course is proper lubrication."

He wished the ground would swallow him up, but he suspected that even if this happened by some miracle, the two next to him would probably fall into the same chasm.

"Remember to warm the gel first with your body heat, not the Force. You want it body temperature so it is not cold, but you don’t want to scald your partner."

He glared at the ceiling, wondering which of his many sins and shortcomings he was being punished for.

Skin on skin, a soothing motion. "I’m going to touch you now, Padawan."

A gasp. "Oh!"

It was now nearly midnight. The meeting would be in just over five hours. He had assumed Jinn would not put pleasure over duty, but he had clearly misread the situation before.

This was duty. Sacred duty.

Sexuality training.

He was tempted to moan himself, in frustration. This could go on all night.

Determined to ignore the passionate activities next door, he clenched his teeth and began mentally reciting the different types of ore that would be discussed at the meeting the next morning.

"Mmmmmm, that’s nice."

"It is, isn’t it?" More creaks. Clenching his eyes shut tighter, he reviewed the temperatures required to melt each grade of chronamite ore and how much fuel this required per metric ton.

"I’m going to push my finger in now, Padawan. Tell me if it hurts, or if you want to stop."

He gave up and opted to stare at the ceiling again.

"Oh!"

"Did that hurt?"

Another gasp. "No. It just . . . it’s just . . . strange. To feel you . . . down there," the boy chuckled breathlessly. "I didn’t think my butt could feel so good, Master."

Slowly, he turned to glare accusingly at the wall. He had to teach the boy anal sex now?

Right now?

This was a major interplanetary mining summit and this was his priority?

"I’m just going to move my finger, Padawan." Skin on skin to soothe the youth. "We’ll go slow so you can get used to the feel of it."

He closed his eyes. That certainly could have come in handy long ago.

"Ooh, that’s so . . I just like it."

"Good." The bed creaked. "How about a second finger, are you ready for that?"

He curled up on his side and clamped his hands over his ears. The voices were slightly muffled.

"Um, I think so." More creaking. "Um, that um, hurts a bit, Master!" The youth’s voice rose in pitch. He winced a bit in empathy.

Jinn’s voice came close to the wall again, deep and soothing. Hushing, and whispering nonsense as he often did to hurt animals, the master moved over the youth, stroking, calming him.

He squirmed away from the wall, curling toward the center of the bed. Hands still over his ears, Jinn’s words finally became an indiscernible murmur. The youth answered some question, his voice too muffled to make out the words but his tone calm once more. More soothing words from his master, and the bed creaked.

Please, just go to sleep.

More creaking and rustling.

Please.

"Oh, oh, that’s much better this time, Master."

"Good. I’m just going to move my fingers to spread the lubricant, and when you get used to this, we’ll see about finding your prostate."

He made it sound as if they would be looking for his apprentice’s boots, not one of the most sensitive glands in the human male.

"Oh, . . ohhh." The youth chuckled suddenly. "I know I sound silly, Master, but, oooooohh," he trailed off, before cracking up again. "It’s just so . . . so good. You told me it would be, but, ohhh, . . . oh, could you do that again?"

He tried not to grit his teeth at the trite commentary. The boy would sound a lot less silly if he weren’t so damn loud.

"Of course. And you don’t sound silly." Another chuckle at the enthusiasm of youth.

Another deep moan of appreciation.

In the distance the chrono-chimes announced midnight.

Please, just finish him up and go to sleep.

"Hey!" The youth protested suddenly.

"Impatient, are we?"

"You stopped," the boy accused.

He looked to the wall, hopeful.

"I paused. If you had been paying attention, you would remember that I told you lubrication is the most important factor here. And it’s time for more, no matter that you would rather continue as we were going."

There was a silence as the student considered his teacher’s words and a small hope died.

"I’m sorry, Master for my impatience. But it didn’t hurt. It seems slippery enough to me, and it’s my butt."

The boy moaned again as his master apparently continued where he had left off.

"It was certainly enough to keep going as we were."

There was a distinct pause, then a sharp intake of air.

"Please, Master, I’m ready now."

"Relax, shhh, relax. Tell me if anything hurts. Calm down. I’m going to try to find your prostate now, and the feeling may be a little intense."

"I’m ready." The lad’s voice was strained with anticipation. The mattress springs creaked with his master’s movements.

"Relax, Padawan. It might take me a while to find it."

"OH SWEET FUCK! MASTER!" The youth on the other side of the wall began to pant like a bantha in heat. "Oh, oh, Master, please, oh do it again, oh, please, OH! YES! OH!"

"I take it you enjoy having your prostate massaged, Padawan?"

He edged closer to the foot of the bed, hands still clasped over his ears.

The boy moaned weakly. "Oh, yes. Oh, Master, that was . . . oh, does it feel this good when you do it with your penis?" After a moment, the youth began to scream again. "Oh, Force! Oh, keep going! Oh, more, MORE, MORE, YES, YES, YESYESYES, oh . . . oh, Master, . . oh." Overwhelmed, the young man sucked in great lungfuls of air. "Oh, Master, oh, why didn’t we do this sooner?"

Another chuckle that left both Jinn’s apprentice and his neighbor whimpering.

"Are you still hard, Padawan?"

After a moment, the youth managed an embarrassed "yes," followed by a gasp.

"Hmm, can’t imagine why." The bed creaked as the large man changed position. "And to answer your question, it does feel very good if your partner is using his penis instead of fingers, but you’ll have to experiment to figure out which one you like best. Some people prefer the greater control of fingers, but others prefer to have their hands free for . . other things."

"MASTER!"

"Mmmm, and to answer your other question, I didn’t do this sooner, because I didn’t want you to wake the neighbors."

He sat up so suddenly, a curse on his lips, that he overbalanced and slipped right off the bed. The trysting pair in the next room took no notice of the loud thump as he landed on his hip.

Apparently while it was a terrible disservice to wake the true guardians of peace and justice, it was quite alright to keep an entire building of diplomats, negotiators, executives and mining engineers from their rest.

Bastard.

The youth next door began moaning again. Loudly. Rubbing at what would be a bruise by morning, he stumbled to his feet, hissing as he stepped off the rug to the cold wood floor. For reasons unknown, the summit organizers must have put the environmentalists in charge of hospitality; the heat was off.

Not that his neighbors were likely to notice. The moans began to turn into wails. Thoroughly disgusted, he grabbed his robe, dark as deep space in the nightlight’s dim glow, and stalked off to the dining alcove, cocooning himself against the chill in the familiar garment.

Trying to ignore the screaming pleas to whatever deities Jedi apprentices currently believed in, he opened the chiller and peered inside. Juice. Fizz. Ale. Synthetic Dairy. For a moment his eyes lit on the small bottles of whiskey before he reluctantly chose the fine-filtered water.

With Jinn around he was going to have to keep his wits about him. The summit had been challenging enough before he learned that particular Jedi master was going to be watching, waiting for him to slip up.

There was no door between the alcove and the bed area, but couches and walls served to provide the illusion of distance from the passionate trysting. He could still hear the youth’s cries of newfound ecstasy, but at least it no longer seemed as if they were about to fuck right through the wall and into his room. Still nursing his water, he flicked on a datapad of environmental impact models and mineral analyses of the most hotly disputed veins, only to deactivate it a moment later, when he realized he had already memorized the material. The only preparation that had remained was the proper night’s sleep.

So much for that idea.

Now, after all his careful planning, all his efforts, all of his late nights, early mornings and hours of research, he was spending the last night before the summit opened, sitting alone in the dark, counting the orgasms of a nineteen-year-old, Force-sensitive bag of Jedi-repressed hormones while the great Qui-Gon Jinn played the boy’s passion like an instrument.

"OHH! OHH! OH FORCE! MASTER! IT’S SO GOOD! IT’S SO GOOD!"

What was this now? Four? Five? He certainly had never been that horny. Not to mention that they were Jedi. Wasn’t once enough?

"Ohhh, oh please, Master. One more time, oh please, please, ohhhh, one more time."

Apparently not.

"Greedy, aren’t we?"

"But it’s just so good, Master, and I’ve never done this before." The youth was panting, his tone almost desperate. Jinn chuckled again and the youth moaned.

He sipped at his water and stared off into space, doing his best to ignore it and hoping it would end soon.

"Alright, Padawan. One more time, since you must be so uncomfortable with your penis so stiff like that." Rustling sounds. "Maybe if I try one more time, the . . swelling will go down."

"Yes, Master." Any further reply on the part of the youth was cut off by a sudden, loud gasp. "Ohh . . ." He was actually mewling.

"More like that?"

"YES! Like that!" The bedsprings began their song again and Jinn murmured something, too low to hear. The boy cried out in response.

"Please, . . . oh, yes . . . oh that’s nice, yes . . . yes, . . . ohhhh, ohhh, . . oh please, more, yes, morejustlikethat! Oh! Oh! Yes! Ohhh, Ohhh . ." The youth was practically sobbing. "Force, Master, please, oh, . . oh that’s it! Yes! That’s it! Oh, more, oh Force, more! Yes!"

He looked back towards his room in concern. It almost sounded as if the youth were in pain.

"Oh, Force, Master, I can’t, ohhh, I can’t hold back, oh, I can’t, ohhhh, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t—"

"Don’t hold back, Padawan."

"MASTER!" The youth’s cry degenerated into a maelstrom of thrashing, screaming ecstasy. He couldn’t tell if the terra moved, but the bed on the other side of the wall certainly did. Perhaps the wall did too. Slowly, the storm quieted.

"Are you alright, Padawan?" The question was concerned, asked between the sounds of kissing and caresses.

"Wow," came the hoarse reply after several minutes of silence. "That was . . . wow."

He crept back to his bedroom on silent feet, as if afraid the slightest noise would set his neighbors off again. He stood in the door, listening for sounds of sleep in lieu of sex.

Rustling sheets and another kiss. "I take it you’ll want to do this again sometime?"

A weak laugh. "Oh, yeah." Shifting bodies on the bed. "Do you think we can do it again tomorrow night?"

Jinn coughed suspiciously; when he spoke, he sounded rather amused. "We can do it again, but you will probably be a bit too sore for it that soon, Padawan. As wonderful as it feels, your body will need time to adjust." The master laughed outright after a moment. Under cover of that painfully joyful sound, he tossed his robe aside and settled back into bed, releasing a deep breath of relief when the mattress made no sound.

"Besides, Padawan, don’t you think you’ll need to sleep at some point?"

"Oh, I don’t know, Master," the youth sighed. "I figured I could probably just sleep during the negotiations." The boy squealed suddenly. "I was only kidding! I swear!" After a moment, his master must have stopped doing whatever had initiated the sound, because the apprentice’s breathing began to slow toward normal again. "I was only teasing, Master. And you didn’t tell me why we are here yet, anyway."

You mean beyond keeping me awake? He resisted the urge to voice his thoughts at the top of his lungs. It wasn’t as if he wanted to know the real reason.

"We’ll discuss it tomorrow, Padawan, after the early morning meeting."

With a silent sigh, he relaxed into the pillows as the chimes marked first hour. They were going to the meeting. They had to go to sleep now. The meeting was in a mere four hours.

They had to go to sleep.

His eyes drifted closed in the long-awaited silence. His mind settled into a pleasant fuzziness that came just before falling into true unconsciousness.

"Master?" A tentative whisper.

His eyes flew open. Now what?

"Yes, Padawan?"

"Do you, um, do you like to have your prostate massaged?"

He turned to glare at the wall. No. Don’t you even think about it.

Jinn’s chuckle was warm, if a bit tired. "Well, now that you know what it feels like, what do you think?"

"Well," the boy somehow managed to sound far more embarrassed to be talking about anal sex than to be engaging in it. "You probably do if you do it, but I don’t know if you are . . if you bottom your other partners or not." The youth barely got the words out.

The master seemed much more at ease with the subject, but then he had been down this road at least once before. "I do sometimes. You probably know from class that many men who engage in anal sex prefer one position or the other, but sex among Jedi tends to be much more variable. More bisexuality, more interspecies mating. More of a tendency to play both roles in an encounter. I myself have found that I enjoy both giving pleasure through massage or sodomy, and receiving it by the same means."

Would this damn lesson never end?

"You said I would have to experiment, but which do you prefer, Master? The, um, the finger massage or, or sodomy?"

"I would have thought you would be worn out by now, Padawan."

So would I.

A deep sigh. "Alright. Well, to be honest, it really depends on the size of—"

"Master!"

Jinn paused a moment, probably to glare. "The size of the bed, Padawan."

"Oh. Sorry."

"An understandable mistake. As I said, it depends on the size of the available bed. I’m too tall to rut in a small bed and too old to do it on the floor. Massage tends to be a bit more adaptable to less accommodating quarters."

"Because people can do it on the floor?" the youth asked, giggling at the mental image.

"Well, more because I can do it on the floor, though I prefer a rug. Or in the shower." The youth began to giggle again. "Or in a closet, or an escape pod, or bent over the arm of an overstuffed chair, or the edge of a bed too short for intercourse." He must have given the boy a look because the young man laughed outright. "Of course you’re young, thin and limber enough to actually have sex in all of these places and positions. I’m too big and stiff to fit."

The bed creaked and suddenly Jinn gasped.

"I don’t know, Master. You certainly might be too big, but I don’t think you’re too stiff. Yet."

"I thought, errm, I thought you were going to sleep, Padawan."

He sat up, staring at the wall in shock. They couldn’t be going at it again.

The bed creaked more deliberately, skin moved on skin and Jinn gasped again. His breath began to come a little faster as he spoke. "We have, ha, a meeting in the morning."

The youth sighed. "I know, Master. It’s just . . ." The master let out a low moan. "It’s just that I can’t stop thinking about how good it felt . . ." He could almost hear the boy blush. "And, . . and I really want to make you feel that good too."

He shrank away from the wall. Please, go to sleep. Please.

"This isn’t meant to be an, ohhh, an obligation, Padawan. Oh, that is nice, you’re getting very good with your tongue, but I want you to, oooh, to listen to me now." Rustling sheets. "Listen to me, Padawan. You know that while these encounters between us are part of your training and are supposed to bring us closer, I care for you deeply already. I don’t want you to feel as if you have to pay me back for showing you how good your body can feel."

‘I care for you deeply already.’ He didn’t know why he had come back to bed. The pillow talk was harder to take than the sex.

There was some shifting on the bed. Jinn began to breathe heavily just before an odd sound, like a slurp.

"I don’t want to pay you back, Master. I, . . I want to share. I want to learn to be a lover who knows how to give pleasure too." More skin on skin and Jinn began to moan. "I’m sorry, Master, but it’s important. I want to know how to love my partner back."

There was a long silence. Neither of them moved. He held his breath, hoping Jinn would end it.

"Alright."

No. He stared at the wall, stunned. It was one thing to have to hear the youth moaning and screaming, but to have to hear Qui-Gon too?

"Attending the meeting tomorrow is not crucial to our mission here. And you are right, this is important. You want to learn how to share, and it is my responsibility to ensure you know how to please your partner without causing pain."

No. Before he knew what he was doing, he had slipped out of the bed and started backing away from the wall, nearly tripping on his fallen robe in the process. Please, not that.

"Let me go wash up a bit to prepare. You set up the pillows as we had them before, but give me an extra one." A rustling scuffle, followed by the sound of energetic kisses. Jinn laughed and one or both of them got out of the bed. "And don’t look so worried, Padawan. I’ve done this many times before. You won’t hurt me."

Shaking, he backed further away. No. He could hear water running in the refresher next door, and the boy adjusting the bed linens. He backed into the far wall with a start, then turned and hurried across the sitting room to his own fresher and closed the door on them. It was as far away from their bed as he could get without leaving his suite.

Get a grip!

He latched onto the basin with both hands, willing them to stop shaking, and deliberately slowed his breathing. This wasn’t anything he hadn’t heard before. There wasn’t anything he could do to stop it.

It wasn’t as if Jinn cared that he could hear them.

He looked up at his reflection in the mirror and narrowed his eyes.

It wasn’t as if Jinn cared.

Hardening his resolve, he turned on the faucet and filled the basin to wash up. If he wasn’t going to be getting any sleep tonight, he might as well get a start on tomorrow. He pulled his sleeping tunic over his head and doused his face in the ice-cold water. It was too early to shave unless he wanted a seventeenth hour shadow by midmeal, but he combed out his hair and cleaned his teeth.

There was nothing left to do. He wasn’t hungry. His clothing was laid out. His notes were arranged and his objectives mapped out. There was nothing left to distract him.

He stared at his reflection in the mirror over the basin. Every act has its consequences.

He sat down on the commode seat, and stared at his hands in his lap. This was ridiculous. He had become a prisoner in his own refresher, and it wasn’t as if anyone knew. It wasn’t as if it mattered to anyone other than himself.

His own actions had lead him to be here, had lead to this life. Every choice has its price.

Quietly, almost bonelessly, he surrendered to gravity’s pull and slid down to kneel on the cold tile floor. He closed his eyes, his head bowed. He had tried to make good choices. The best choices. But sometimes one wrong decision, so long ago rendered others moot. He just wished sometimes that he knew what those wrong decisions were. He was older now. He knew that the acts and choices of his youth had shaped those that came after. That what he chose to do closed off opportunities. That today shaped tomorrow by slicing away the impossible yet-to-bes, made so by what was now. That was the price paid for living and choosing.

But he wondered how much of the price was his own choosing, and how many of those yet-to-bes had been sliced away by others long ago. How many impossible futures had always been impossible? How much of his life was simply inevitable, was permanently etched into his being? He rubbed absently at his chest.

He still did not know.

A shiver ran through him. The suite was already cold, and sitting half naked on the smooth tile had chilled him. He reached for his tunic, pulled it over his head and dabbed at his chin, still damp from washing. Still cold, he stared at the door, debating. It wasn’t as if he were a child; he was an adult. It wasn’t as if there were wild beasts waiting on the other side of the wall to prey upon him and tear him limb from limb.

They were only two Jedi having sex. Just like hundreds, if not thousands of other Jedi across the galaxy. Not to mention all the other sentient beings who put pleasure and gratification over etiquette who were thankfully not also staying in this building.

He wanted his robe, damn it. It was freezing in here.

Decision made, he stood and strode to the door, intent on not making himself a prisoner in his own rooms. Squaring his shoulders, he stepped into the sitting room and walked toward the sleeping alcove.

He stopped dead as the deep moan reached his ears.

"Ohhhhhh."

"Is that right, Master?"

Half shrinking, half wilting, he turned away from the room, from the wall and huddled into himself, trying to block out the sound.

"Oh yes, Padawan, . . ooh!" Jinn panted heavily as the bedsprings groaned beneath him. "You found just the right spot. Ohhhhh, Force. Now, very gently, curl your fingers like I showed you before."

"Like this?"

"Mmmm. Yes. Just like that. Oh, you learn fast." The springs continued to creak. "Now that, ohhhhhhh, oh wait, let me finish." Giggling as the master regained his composure and their neighbor retreated. "That lump you feel near your f— Padawan!" More giggling. "As you’ve guessed, that lump is my prostate and it’s very sensitive."

He stumbled back into the bathroom, coming down hard to sit on the floor next to the tub.

No.

"So now that I’ve found it, now what?"

"Ooh! Oh! Oh! You keep OH! Doing things like OH! That! Oh Force, it is good. And you listen to your partner, ohhhhh, and let them tell you, oh, you let them tell you how they like to be loved."

What had he done? What choice had he made that he deserved such torment?

"I’m listening, Master. Tell me what you like."

"I like it when you curl your fingers, really slowly, YES! OH YES, LIKE THAT. Oh, oh Force, it’s been too long, Padawan. Yes, keep doing it. Ohhhhhhh, ohhh yes, don’t stop, keep going. Oh, and I like it when you rub it with YES! YES! JUST LIKE THAT! Oh, yes, keep going, oh please don’t stop, yes, just keep going just like that."

"Like this?" The youth seemed stunned. "You really like it, Master?"

"Force, yes! Oh, . . oh . . oh . . harder! You won’t hurt me. Rub it harder. Yes! Yes, like that! Oh Force, Padawan, it’s like I can feel it through my whole groin, ohhhhh, ohhhh, keep going. Faster if you can. Uh, move with me. Yes, like that. Oh, harder."

"Are you going to come, Master? Am I going to make you come?"

No! He pulled himself out of his reverie of dread and scrambled to his knees. He didn’t want to hear this.

"Yes, yes, Padawan. It’s coming. It’s coming, just keep going. Please, ohhh, please rub my penis if you can, it’s so . . . I’m so hard . . I need to . . I need to come soon. Yes! Yes! Rub them both together! Yes!"

A muffled, rhythmic thumping was heard from the behind the wall, as if the cadence of their rutting had been taken up not only by the bedsprings, but the frame as well. Jinn’s loud, measured pants had become short, desperate sobs for his impending release.

"OH! OH! OH! OHH! OHH! PADA— PADA— PADA—"

Kicking the door shut, he scrabbled for the tub faucet, determined to shut out that sound.

"ANAKIN!"

The water came out in a loud rush, too late to stop it.

Shaking, tears spilling unnoticed down his face, Obi-Wan let the running water drown out the last moans and loving whispers. Collapsing back down to the floor, he curled into a fetal position, rubbing at the lonely ache in his chest.

Every act has its consequences.

Every choice has its price.

He knew that he had been unwanted. Accepted, but not chosen. Depended upon but not trusted.

Trained but not loved.

He had known that would be the price. He had known that although he was called ‘padawan,’ he had been merely a student unworthy of the title.

He knew that although they called him Jedi Kenobi, he was still unworthy. An unfinished padawan who had been knighted simply because there was no place left for him and nothing else to be done. A man who would always play catch up to his peers because they weren’t his peers, but his superiors.

A man who prayed that the small legacy of his lonely life would not be composed solely of his mistakes.

Even the Council it seemed had finally grown tired of the facade. He was accustomed to his work. He accepted that they sent him to places where the situation was so dire and hopeless that whatever he did he could not possibly make it much worse. He accepted his role as the Jedi of No Consequence. The Jedi who was sent to show the citizens that if they could not be helped, they were not merely ignored.

He looked down at his chest.

It wasn’t true. There were always consequences. There was always a price.

He must have really screwed up somewhere along the line if the Council was sending Qui-Gon Jinn after him. /To observe/ they had said. He wasn’t fooled. Master Jinn had been sent here to fix it because he was the best negotiator in the order.

Or maybe he hadn’t screwed up enough for them to notice. Maybe something had simply changed and suddenly this situation was not hopeless. Suddenly the resolution of this conflict was of consequence. Suddenly they needed a real Jedi and there was no easy way to get rid of him outright without losing face with the diplomats.

Slowly, he uncurled himself and turned off the water. The suite was silent. With care, he rose to his feet and stared at his tear-stained reflection before he washed his face again. The chrono-chimes rang third hour as he headed back to his bedroom. He settled down the meditate, wincing as Qui-Gon’s distinct snore came through the wall. Sated and serene. Sleeping.

He hoped they would send him off to some new hellhole as soon as Master Jinn and Anakin got a handle on the situation. He wouldn’t last long with nights like this.

Every act has its consequence.

Every choice has its price.

Focus on the here and now, Obi-Wan.

Not allowed to rest his body, he did his best to refresh his mind. The summit would still open in a mere two hours, regardless of his state of wakefulness. With his neighbors not in attendance, the diplomatic responsibility would still fall to him. He could not afford any more mistakes; the costs had cut too deeply already.

His solitude settled over him like a shroud. In the silent loneliness, he opened himself to the Force, letting it fill the holes deep inside him like sand, knowing that it would slowly seep away only to be refilled again and again, but would never be made whole. Never complete. Never healed, or made to grow by a loving hand or heart.

Never loved nor worthy of love.

Never good enough. But he had made his choices anyway, and so had Qui-Gon.

He was still paying the price.