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(continued from part 9)

Skulking around the edges of the gala had taken its toll on Bail Organa. He hated these obsequious displays of wealth by elected officials. Public funds represent the public trust. Was he the only being who balked at the cost of the new Chancellor’s self-congratulatory event?

That wasn’t really fair. The Chancellor himself had been against it, but his supporters pushed it through; perhaps they thought it would somehow make up for the suffering of the Naboo during the recent crisis. The only trouble with that line of reasoning was that the Chancellor himself was the only Naboo present, unless you counted a couple of drunken Gungans. Queen Amidala had been too busy supervising the business of restoring Naboo to attend, and that was as it should be.

Bail himself wished he could be back on Alderaan right now. Things had been simpler for him there, where he had been a scion of the royal family, but still largely out of the public eye. Politics was a game that wearied him, and forced him to be careful with his private life. It had been too much for Jase.

Remembering Jase cracked the last of his resolve, and he approached the bar. He requested a double serving of their most expensive Corellian brandy and quaffed it at a gulp. His father had been pleased with Bail’s nomination for Supreme Chancellor after the vote of no confidence in Valorum, but had only managed a few weak words of encouragement when he had not won the vote. There was no satisfying the man.

There was little satisfaction of any sort in Senator Bail Organa’s life, these days. Accomplishing even insignificant things was a challenge in the Galactic Senate, and there was nothing else of importance to ease his frustrations. Soon, a marriage would be arranged for him, since he’d shown no interest in finding a wife for himself. To wait much longer would be almost as scandalous as going public with the true nature of his desires. His perversions.

“You must end this perverse association,” his father had insisted, referring to his friendship with Jase. Alderaan was not as accepting about such things as Coruscant, especially not in its leaders. Jase refused to understand that. He had been careless enough with their secret that Bail’s father found out.

Bail believed he’d done it on purpose, to force him to choose. Well, he hadn’t chosen Jase, and he told himself he didn’t regret it. He couldn’t allow himself to be manipulated that way. When he recovered from the shock of losing his lover, he decided that relationships of a romantic nature were not worth the risk.

He took another shot of the brandy and asked for a pack of Chagrian stimsticks as he handed his empty glass back across the bar. He bought them occasionally, so why not have some when they were offered to him gratis? It would hardly bankrupt the Senate if he indulged himself a bit.

In search of a deserted balcony where he could smoke them, he passed by the Kenobi fellow again. His steps slowed a little; he couldn’t help himself. The young courtesan resembled Jase, but in a way that was difficult to define. Jase was taller, his hair paler, eyes darker. Yet Kenobi had that spark, that strength of personality that made him stand out. People had always noticed Jase first, even in the company of Prince Bail. Memories of their time together brought a wistful smile to his face, but he couldn’t forget that it had ended bitterly. Jase was light-years away, making a life for himself back on Alderaan. If you could call trying to organize a persecuted fringe culture a life.

Kenobi nodded his recognition as Bail passed. Bail had left the man rather hastily after learning his profession, but what else could he do? He could not be seen loitering about in public with a man in the flesh trade. It would get back to his father, or worse. Still, Kenobi was very attractive.

Bail forced himself to look away and keep moving. Soon he found the perfect place to smoke. The balcony he chose was dark and small, with a comparatively unimpressive view. The back of a deserted senatorial office building was good enough for a stimstick, even an expensive one.

The package had a lighter on its side. He selected one and lit it, inhaling deeply. Oddly enough, the stimstick relaxed him, untangling the knots inside his head that even he barely understood. It was good. He tried to make smoke rings when he exhaled, with some success.

“Impressive,” said a cultured voice behind him. “I thought that was usually done with a pipe.”

“It is easier with a pipe,” Bail snorted. He turned to see who had joined him.

It was Kenobi. He turned back to the darkened offices across the way, trying to disguise his shock. Bail wanted the courtesan’s company, yet he knew he shouldn’t, for many reasons. Perhaps he was only being friendly.

“Could you teach me?” Kenobi leaned against the rail beside him. Not too close.

“Sure.” Bail shook the pack in Kenobi’s direction, offering. He took one and lit it with the careful, sensual grace his profession no doubt required. It thrilled him to have the courtesan so close, but he couldn’t let this continue. “Do I look like a man who needs to pay for intimate companionship?”

Kenobi laughed, a musical, careless sound. “How very direct of you.”

“Don’t be evasive.” Bail smiled despite himself. He had to admit he enjoyed the attention of such a handsome young man. “Answer the question.”

Kenobi took a drag off his stimstick and blew the smoke off to the side. He tilted his head and smiled, giving Bail a long, appraising look. “You would never have to pay for sex, I think.”

“Then why would I need the services of someone like you?”

“Pardon my saying so, Senator, but people like you never pay for the company of people like me.” Oh, gods. That smile.

“I didn’t realize my station afforded me such privilege.” Perhaps his tone was a little more mocking than he intended. Bail examined the tip of his stimstick, flicking off the ash. He wouldn’t look at Kenobi. He could keep it light, an amusing hypothetical. If he didn’t look, he’d be okay. “How can you possibly make a living with such a preposterous business model?”

“I’m glad you asked.” Kenobi laughed. “Look at it rationally. You could easily get a dozen willing partners in any club on Coruscant. Title or no, you’re an attractive man. So there’s no reason to pay for anything that would be free elsewhere.”

Bail looked. Oh, gods. The smile Kenobi wore held the promise of a hundred wonderful things, any one of which would turn his father’s hair white if he knew of them.

“What you pay for, Senator, is for me to leave afterward, and say, ‘Bail who?’ if anyone asks.”

Bail’s heart was thumping so hard he was certain the other man could hear it. Before he knew what he was doing, he grabbed Kenobi and kissed him hard. He pushed the courtesan backward into the shadow of a column nearest the wall and held him there with his body. Kenobi’s lips parted for him and Bail tasted him fully. He was sweet and tart and warm, utterly delicious.

He pressed against him, one hand fisted in his golden hair, the other squeezing his backside, pressing their bodies together. Bail scraped his knuckles against the stone and didn’t notice. Kenobi was perfect. Everything he wanted, and no romantic entanglements necessary.

He broke the kiss reluctantly, but didn’t pull away, couldn’t pull away from the warm, hard body that he held. Kenobi was willing, and would ask nothing of him in return. Except for money—which would be no problem for a Prince of Alderaan. He was breathless and painfully hard.

“Poor, starving lad,” Kenobi whispered, stroking Bail’s face with the backs of his fingers. “We must be discreet, and I haven’t any place to take you.”

Bail couldn’t resist those bruised lips, and he kissed him again, pressing them both even farther into the tight space between the column and the wall. But Kenobi was right; there was simply too much risk of discovery here for them to do more than this. And Bail wanted more.

Jase’s activism, his father’s disapproval-—none of it really mattered. He could have everything he wanted—the public life for which he was bred and the private satisfactions he had denied for too long.

He pulled away, pleased by the dazed, breathless look on Kenobi’s face. He stepped back, but his body longed for the man before him.

“Listen,” Bail whispered. “You wait for me here. I’ll fly up to the side of this balcony in a blue speeder. Be ready. If someone is nearby, have your back to the railing, and I will circle until they go. Understood?”

Kenobi nodded. His face was flushed, his lips swollen.

“You look positively debauched.”

Kenobi grinned. “So do you.”

Bail kissed him again, nibbling at his lips before he pulled away and straightened his clothing. The remains of their stimsticks lay smoldering on the stones; he crushed them with his boot and forced his breathing to slow.

Running a hand through his hair, he asked, “How’s that?”

“It will do, I think,” Kenobi said. “If anyone notices, they’ll probably blame the intoxicants.”

Bail grinned, his calm façade returning as he thought of what lay ahead. He was nothing if not a man of action, especially when that action would afford him something he wanted very much.

“I’ll see you shortly.”

Bail made his way through the gala hall, greeting acquaintances as he passed, determination marking his every step.

“Senator Organa,” a familiar voice called. “Where are you rushing off to? It’s still quite early.”

“Chancellor.” Bail forced a smile. “I’ve indulged myself a bit too much, I’m afraid. Lovely party, but I am rather tired.”

“Oh, my,” Palpatine said. “Should I have someone fetch you a car?”

“No, I’ll be fine. I have a driver.”

“Really? I thought you preferred to fly yourself?” Palpatine seemed determined to be friendly and polite to a fault. Bail schooled himself to patience.

“I do, but tonight I suspected I would not be up for the return trip.” He laughed a bit at his own expense. “Congratulations once again.”

The Chancellor let him go at that. If he had seen the look that crossed the older man’s face as soon as his back was turned, it might have given him pause. As it happened, he had other things on his mind.

Perhaps his life in politics would not be as dreary as it had once seemed. He was already planning a way to have the best of both worlds, private and public. By the time the valet returned with his speeder, he was certain it would work.

The fluid sluiced over Xanatos, cleansing him of the last of the bacta. Med droids and a blue-skinned humanoid healer helped to dry his body. He lacked the strength to stand. In fact it proved difficult for him to raise his head, but he wanted to see the state of his body. He hurt all over. How could he be ready to be out of bacta?

The healer and the droids moved him to bed with soft pillows behind his head and shoulders. He saw the length of his naked body.

His condition shocked him. Pale flesh everywhere, unmarked and whole, except for the right arm which ended just above where his elbow had once been. The healer removed the breath mask from his face, and he tasted the antiseptic-laden air.

“Knight T’Crion,” she said. “I’m Healer Phol. You have been in bacta for three days. Do you remember how you got here?”

His throat was dry. He swallowed a few times before he found his voice.

“Qui-Gon.”

“Yes. Master Jinn brought you here. You were hurt very badly, but the majority of your injuries have healed. How do you feel?”

“Hurts.”

Her brow creased. “Where do you feel pain?”

“All over. Skin. Inside.” His throat constricted, forcing him to stop. He felt the sting of tears in his eyes.

“You were given regulated stimulants while you were held captive,” she said. “They seem to have affected your sensitivity. It will return to normal, but it might take some time.”

Her tone was a little too gentle, too compassionate. It made him angry. He was a Knight, damn it! He could face this without coddling. He nodded and looked away, pressing his lips into a thin, hard line.

“We need to attach some preliminary prosthetic nodes to your nerve and muscle tissue in this arm before the site heals completely. I’ll give you a local anesthetic to control any discomfort this may cause.”

She was all business now. Xanatos relaxed a little. A sheet and a blanket were laid over his body, and he winced. He knew the linen was soft, but it seemed abrasive to his sensitized flesh.

The healer noticed. “We can give you a topical anesthetic, if you like.”

Xanatos nodded. A med droid lifted the blankets and sprayed a cool mist over his skin. It dried almost immediately, and he felt the strange numbing sensation take effect. He barely felt the covers touch him as they were replaced. He didn’t feel the hypo when the healer numbed the stump of his right arm. A droid began probing it with cybernetic filaments.

The healer stood over him until he looked up at her.

“Master Jinn is waiting to see you,” she said. “Shall I show him in while the droid finishes?”

Xanatos glanced over at his arm. He could see only glimpses of the red, exposed flesh at the end of his stump, where the droid worked steadily.

“No,” he shook his head emphatically. “When it’s done.”

He pulled the linen over himself with his left hand, drawing them up to his chin. The anesthetic made it feel almost dead, like he was moving someone else’s limb, covering someone else’s body.

The healer nodded, tight-lipped. Thank the gods there was no more sympathy.

The procedure was over quickly. When the healer and the droids withdrew, Xanatos flung the edge of his blanket over his right shoulder to conceal the stump.

Qui-Gon entered the room, moving fluidly to the left side of the bed and taking his hand gently.

“Padawan.” The deep tones of his former master’s voice comforted him more than he would have thought possible. “Good to have you back.”

Xanatos tried to smile, tried to look up into Qui-Gon’s face, but as soon as he did, his vision swam with tears. He began to weep openly, great wrenching sobs, and he hated himself for his weakness.

Qui-Gon leaned in and held him close, letting him cry but gently soothing him, stroking his hair and back. “It’s all right now, Xan. You’ve been very brave, but it’s all right to let it out now.”

He let himself be comforted by that familiar touch, that familiar voice. Soon his sobbing ended, but he did not believe he would ever be all right again.

When Bail came close to the balcony, he saw that Kenobi was ready and alone. The courtesan opened the passenger door and jumped in quickly. Bail was glad he had opted for a covered speeder with polarized windows. No one could see them, once they were both inside.

“Nice ride.” The sultry tones of Kenobi’s voice made Bail grow hard again.

“Thank you.” Bail glanced at his passenger. “I can’t take you to my place, either. I hope you understand.”

Kenobi grinned in that worldly, knowing way of his. “What did you have in mind?”

“There’s a set of rooms my family owns not far from here. It’s unoccupied at the moment. It has private parking and a covered entry.”

“Sounds very discreet,” Kenobi said. “And expensive.”

“It is,” Bail answered. He approached the building, circling to the private speeder bay.

He landed his speeder smoothly, steady hands giving the lie to his inner turmoil. Now that he was actually here, the reality of what he was about to do struck him. He wouldn’t turn back now, though. The risks had been taken; now he would reap the rewards. Bail let his guest lead the way to the suite’s entrance; he enjoyed watching him walk, all confidence and smooth, rolling strides.

He was on Kenobi before the door had fully opened, pushing him through, pressing him against the wall of the darkened room. Kenobi was warm and hard against him, all spicy, masculine scent and moist, hungry lips. Bail pulled away, barely keeping himself under control. He didn’t want this to be over too soon.

“There’s a bed in there, I think.” His voice sounded strange to him, husky with need. Large windows allowed enough light from the city beyond for him to see where they were going, but Kenobi stopped him.

He pulled Bail to the wall, turning him to lean his back against it. The courtesan caressed the length of him with his body. Kissing and nibbling along Bail’s throat to his ear, he whispered, “Who needs a bed?”

“It’s been so long,” Bail moaned, thinking he could come in his trousers any moment. “I want this to last.”

“It will.” He could feel Kenobi’s breath on his ear, and he turned his face to take the mouth again. While they kissed, Kenobi opened Bail’s clothing without removing it. Warm hands slipped over his bare chest and up to his throat to loosen his cravat.

Kenobi ended the kiss, leaving Bail panting, wanting more. Broken, mewling sounds almost like sobs came from him as Kenobi licked and nipped his way down his torso.

“Please,” he begged in a broken whisper. “Please.”

The courtesan was on his knees in front of him now, lowering his leggings and small clothes. With no preamble, he began to suck.

With a shout of pleasure, Bail began to thrust. He was lost. There was nothing in the whole of existence except the hands on his ass and the mouth on his cock.

His knees buckled when he came. Jerking convulsively, he slid down the wall to the floor. Kenobi followed him, gently sucking and licking until he was utterly spent.

When he had caught his breath, he looked up at Kenobi. The man sat on the floor, leaning over him with a pleased, smug expression.

“I thought you said it would last.”

“Who said it’s over?” Kenobi leaned in and kissed him again, long and slow.

Much to Bail’s surprise, Kenobi was right. It wasn’t over. “This time, I do want a bed.”

“As you wish,” Kenobi whispered. His voice was like a caress, coming from that thoroughly debauched mouth.

“I don’t think I have any …” He hadn’t thought of that. He hadn’t had any use for barriers or lubricants in a very long time, so he didn’t carry any. The rooms were furnished and kept supplied with toiletries and the like, so that unexpected guests of the Organa family could be quartered there, but it was unlikely they’d be that well-stocked.

“I believe I’m moderately prepared.” Kenobi reached into a pouch at his belt and pulled out a barrier and a small ampoule of lubricant.

“So, you were expecting to find employment at the gala.” Bail’s tone was wry, not exactly mocking.

“Not exactly,” Kenobi said, looking a bit wistful. “But I had hopes.”

“I’m scandalized.” Bail caught a look on his companion’s face, something bordering on disappointment. “Were you hoping for someone in particular?”

Kenobi smiled again, this time with a very promising look of sensual cunning. “Let’s not bring others into this, shall we? Or I will be forced to ask who this ‘Jase’ person is.”

A chill ran over Bail’s body. He must’ve shouted his old lover’s name when he climaxed; Kenobi was teasing him. He sat up and pulled his clothing closed. “Let’s take this to the bedroom.”

Bail found his way easily in the dim light, not waiting to see if Kenobi followed. He turned the lights on at a low setting and looked around the room for whatever was available. Nothing but a few toiletries in the ‘fresher and some towels. He took off the rest of his clothes and laid them carefully aside. He didn’t want to appear rumpled when he returned to his own rooms.

The bed was freshly made -- the building had a droid cleaning service. He lay down, and saw Kenobi standing in the doorway.

“I’m sorry,” the courtesan began. “I never should have-“

“Think nothing of it.” Bail patted the bed beside him. As Kenobi approached, Bail realized how much he liked the man’s loose, relaxed movements, the roll of his hips when he walked. “On second thought, I feel a bit underdressed. Why don’t you strip for me?”

The broad smile returned to Kenobi’s face as he disrobed. His movements became slow and sensuous, eyes closed and lips parted as he let the fine fabrics caress him as they fell. Bail could tell he was proud of his body. That was okay—he had every right to be. When he was bare from head to toe, Bail stood and walked around him, admiring his taut muscle and fine skin.

“Gorgeous,” he whispered. “You certainly have the gifts one would expect of your profession.”

“One tries one’s best.” Kenobi’s sly grin had returned. He moved close enough to kiss Bail’s lips, but Bail had other ideas.

He took Kenobi’s jaw in one hand and turned his face to the side so he could plunder the pale flesh of his neck. The other arm wrapped around his waist, pulling him close. His skin tasted as clean and good as it smelled. Bail pushed him over on the bed, noting with satisfaction how the courtesan’s unsatisfied cock bobbed against his leg.

“Where’s that barrier?” He was ready again, and he didn’t want to wait.

Kenobi reached over the side of the bed and found the packet in his discarded clothing. He didn’t find the oil.

“Do you really need it?” Bail asked.

Kenobi smirked and tore open the barrier packet with his teeth. “I’ll take care of everything.”

To Bail’s surprise, he put the barrier in his mouth. His lips opened a bit, and Bail saw that he held the barrier between his lips and teeth, sucking the tip of it in, and then sticking out a plasticine-coated tongue. Kenobi theatrically raised his hands and clasped them behind his back. Bail couldn’t help laughing when the golden head descended toward his groin.

The barrier felt warm and wet as Kenobi slipped it on him, using only his lips and tongue. It felt good, but not as good as his mouth had before. Still, he moaned at the loss of suction when Kenobi pulled back.

“You’re just a bundle of talents, aren’t you?”

Kenobi grinned, his lips looking more lusciously bruised and swollen than Bail would have expected. “I could teach you how, if you like.”

Bail chuckled and shook his head. He wouldn’t need to know any tricks like that. He had no lover to impress with his prowess.

Kenobi leaned in for a kiss, and Bail thought he could eat the man alive. Kenobi made him feel wild, half-crazed with lust. Free.

Bail pulled away from the kiss, suddenly so hard he ached. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so aroused that it hurt. “Get on your knees – I can’t wait any longer.”

Kenobi moaned, watching him through eyes heavy-lidded with arousal until he turned his back and leaned over on his elbows, presenting his backside. Bail inched his way forward between Kenobi’s legs, taking a few seconds to admire the lines of his back, the firm flesh of his buttocks. But he couldn’t wait.

Unwelcome memories of Jase flashed through his mind-—how the man had whined when Bail had rushed, or wanted to try something new. But none of that was at issue, here. Jase was long gone from his life, and he suspected that Kenobi would give Bail anything he was likely to want, as long as he could pay.

He tried to ease in slowly, but once the head of his cock was past the tight ring of muscle, he couldn’t hold back. Gods, it was so good, so tight. The sounds Kenobi made as he thrust were pure heaven. He pressed his chest against the other man’s back, grabbing hold of his hair to lift his head.

“That’s good, isn’t it?” He whispered in that pale, perfect ear.

“Y-yes!” Kenobi was gasping with each thrust of Bail’s hips, lurching forward.

“Tell me how much you like it.” Bail was breathless, but Kenobi heard.

“So good,” Kenobi groaned. “So hard…”

Bail pulled Kenobi’s hair and thrust harder. A startled yelp escaped the courtesan’s lips. “Tell me more.”

“I love your cock…feels so good,” Kenobi gasped, louder this time. “Give me more, harder! I want it harder… yes! YES!” Kenobi writhed beneath him, slick with sweat, hand pumping his own hard cock. Bail let his weight fall on the other man’s back as he climaxed, causing them both to collapse on the bed.

After a moment, he pulled out and rolled onto his back, still catching his breath. The barrier clung uncomfortably to his softening penis, and the sweat on his body made him cold. Kenobi propped his head on one hand and grinned over at him. His lips were still swollen, and his hair was askew and damp with sweat. The kohl around his eyes had run.

Bail felt suddenly sick inside, ashamed. He rolled off the bed and went to the ‘fresher. Avoiding the sight of his reflection, he removed the barrier. It was streaked with traces of Kenobi’s blood. Bail threw it in the ‘cycler and retched after it. This was disgusting. He was disgusting. He’d hurt Kenobi, but that wasn’t the worst of it. The worst part was, he didn’t care. It had been so good – he’d do it again. No wonder Jase had left. Bail had become a monster—-a grotesque, unnatural thing, driven by unnatural lusts.

He washed himself with a damp rag and splashed water on his face. He rinsed the rag with warm water and brought it to Kenobi. The man took it from him with a wry smile and began his own cursory ablutions. “Something wrong?”

Bail lit a stimstick and lay back on his side of the bed. After taking a long drag, he said, “I hurt you.”

Kenobi chucked. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

“But I hurt you.”

Kenobi tossed the rag through the open ‘fresher door, and then leaned over and took the stimstick from Bail’s fingers. He put it to his lips and drew the smoke in deeply.

“It’s not as if I didn’t enjoy it.” He handed the stim back. “You needn’t worry about it.”

“What about your other customers?”

Kenobi blinked. “What about them?”

“Do you have any others on Coruscant, yet?” Bail looked in Kenobi’s eyes, wondering, briefly, what his life must be like.

“I have a few contacts, but no place to entertain them, yet. I’m a guest of the Temple until after the hearing.” Kenobi smiled slyly. “But I won’t tell you about the others, just as I won’t tell the others about you. Understand?”

Bail nodded, and took another pull of the stimstick. He didn’t really want to know, anyway. His next words came from nowhere, and he later wondered what had possessed him to speak of such things with a prostitute.

“Jase is the one who made me this way.”

Kenobi frowned. “What way?”

“You know.” He gestured toward Kenobi with one flapping hand. “Deviant. Like you.”

Kenobi said nothing for a moment. When Bail glanced in his direction, what he saw surprised him. Kenobi’s brows were raised, and his face was turning red. His lips were pressed into a tight line and little snorting noises escaped him. He was trying very hard to hold back laughter.

“What?” Bail said, not bothering to hide his annoyance. “You think this kind of thing is normal?”

Kenobi’s whole face seemed to twitch for a second, and then he burst out in braying laughter. Tears glistened in his eyes from the force of it. Bail couldn’t help it; he began to giggle, too.

“I-I’m sorry,” Kenobi choked out. “I thought for a moment you were serious.”

Bail shook his head, still chuckling. “I was. I mean, kind of.” He took a last drag of his stimstick and put it out. “My father threatened to have me sent to a behavior modification clinic when he found out about Jase.”

Kenobi’s expression sobered instantly. “They do that? On Alderaan?”

“That surprises you.” Bail turned on his side to face Kenobi. He was almost as interesting at that moment as when they were having sex. Bail could see the thoughts of a bright, active mind flitting past behind those eyes.

“But Alderaan is a developed, prosperous world! Its people are intelligent and educated, from what I have seen. How could they be so backward and barbaric about sexual freedoms?”

It was Bail’s turn to laugh. “Now you really do remind me of Jase.”

Kenobi made a noncommittal noise, but grinned at him.

“You really don’t think there is anything unnatural about what we just did?” Bail asked.

Kenobi thought for a moment before answering. “There are people in the galaxy who can do things they believe to be wrong and evil, every single day of their lives. I’m not one of them. If I can spend some time with a handsome fellow like you—bring a smile to his face, have a little fun—I don’t see how that will bring down the fabric of society.”

“But surely it can’t always be enjoyable for you.”

“A courtesan must be careful when choosing patrons. The companionship of some isn’t always pleasant—-present company excepted, of course.”

“Of course.” Bail grinned, despite himself. “But they can’t all be as wonderful as I am, surely.”

“I told you I won’t tell you about other patrons.” Kenobi wagged his finger at Bail, smiling broadly. “But to your question—-exchange does not take place unless it is mutually beneficial. If a patron’s company became so unpleasant that it was no longer worth the benefit I derive from it-—or vice versa-—then the association would end. It’s a basic economic principle.”

“Which brings us to the subject of payment, I suppose.” Bail had been thinking about this even before their time had begun. “I have a proposal for you.”

Kenobi smiled, but held up a finger to interject something. “I should tell you that I am not in a position to entertain offers of exclusive contracts.”

Bail chuckled. “Good, because that wasn’t what I had in mind.” Perhaps he had thought of it, but he couldn’t afford to be the only customer of a known courtesan-—the risk of exposure would be too high. “I was going to suggest that I provide housing for you.”

Kenobi’s brows raised in surprise, but he said nothing.

“This place, I mean.” Bail looked around the spacious master suite. “I think it could suit your needs. Private entry for clients wishing to avoid the public eye, nice location in an exclusive part of the capital. Also, I think the rent on it is more than triple the regulated minimum for a courtesan’s services-—though surely your company would be a bargain at any price. I can make certain the money trail is not traceable back to me, though one of my family’s holding companies would be your landlord.”

Kenobi looked around the room appraisingly, then walked out of the master suite and turned on the lights to explore the rest of the rooms. He wandered back in, looking thoughtful.

“I could throw in a one-time bonus for first month’s living expenses, if you like.” Bail watched as a broad smile spread across Kenobi’s face.

“Senator Organa, I believe you have retained for yourself the services of one certified courtesan.”

“Good. Now come here.”

Bruck watched Coruscant through the viewscreen as it grew nearer, wanting very much to be out of the tiny cockpit and walking among other beings. He hated space travel in a way he could not quite define. It seemed to him that he had not felt that way before he’d been to Lentrebi Prime.

Lentrebi Prime. The very thought of the place filled him with a strange wistfulness. Soft grasses and rich earth beneath his feet, wind in his hair and the yellow suns to warm his face-—every fiber of him longed for it. He was thirsty, too.

It was not difficult to disengage the hyperspace ring at the designated orbital coordinates, but he disliked the vibrations it spread through this fragile metal shell that humans called a personal transport. It wasn’t that he had a problem with metal, per se, but something about having it all stuck together in great masses discomfited him. He wondered if they had changed his Master’s old quarters at the Temple. Sticking his toes in that familiar soil would be deeply comforting after the long hyperspace journey.

But, first things first.

Clearance to land was granted quickly, more quickly than he had expected, considering that he had not informed the Temple when he left Lentrebi Prime. If they had known he was coming, the Council would have been assembled and waiting to debrief him. He would have been forced to make them wait, which was no way to begin a negotiation in which one had little leverage.

At least this way, he had a slight advantage. He doubted he would have been that canny before the fusion. Crafty old creatures, were Lentrebi. Now some part of him was like them. He knew things without knowing for certain how he knew them; he could see things coming, sometimes. Or things past. Not as well as Lehanna-ma or any Lentrebi sapling, he was sure, but it hardly mattered. Knowing didn’t change what he needed. The path he longed to follow was still the same.

All his foresight really gave him was time to visit the Healer’s Dome before the questions started. He did not expect Xanatos to see him, but he had to go. Hope, it seemed, would never desert him, now. No matter what he knew or thought he knew of what lay ahead.

There was darkness gathering around Xanatos, Bruck could feel it. Maybe others could feel it, too, but Bruck could not depend on that. Whatever Light he had in him, he would share with his sometime lover, even if it cost him everything. How could he do less, for one he loved?

Perhaps it would be enough, perhaps not. He had resources now that even most Jedi did not. That would help. He had lost most of what others would recognize as his humanity. That would hinder.

The only thing he knew for certain was that he must try.

Senator Bail Organa found it difficult to fly. He couldn’t stop looking at his passenger. The lights of Coruscant played across his face in profile, which Bail found immensely appealing. His time with Kenobi had been all too brief and so intensely pleasurable that his cock ached from the unaccustomed use. Yet, he still wanted more.

“Thank you for this,” Bail said, breaking the silence between them. “You have no idea how much I needed it.”

“Oh, I do have some idea.” Kenobi smiled at him. He couldn’t help but smile back. Kenobi was so gorgeous sitting there, Bail didn’t want it to be over. He found a quiet place to settle the airspeeder.

Kenobi glanced over at him, stifling a yawn. “Where is this? Do you want me to get a transport from here?”

“No, I said I’d take you back to the Temple, and I will. Just not yet.” Bail slid closer to the courtesan, keeping eye contact. He didn’t want there to be any mistaking his intentions.

“You really are insatiable.” Kenobi grinned broadly. Reaching for the fastenings of Bail’s trousers, he slid off the seat.

Bail let Kenobi expose his hardening flesh and begin his expert ministrations, but soon pulled away. “Stop. Sit next to me. I-I want to kiss you.”

“As you wish, Senator.”

He tasted so good. Bail kissed him gently at first, though his embrace soon became more passionate. He opened Kenobi’s clothes and ran his hands over the firm flesh. Kenobi returned his kisses eagerly, allowing him access to whatever bit of flesh he sought. When Bail lowered his leggings and lifted Kenobi’s knees, the courtesan pulled back.

“We don’t have any more barriers.”

Bail moved just enough of their clothing aside to give him access with Kenobi’s knees over his shoulders. “So? I trust that you’re clean.”

“That’s not the point. There are rules I have to follow to keep my license.” Kenobi tried to wriggle away, but Bail was already questing for entry.

“I won’t tell anybody,” he whispered as his cock found its way to Kenobi’s entrance.

“Wait! Please, Bail, I-“ The courtesan’s entreaty ended in a wordless cry as Bail slid home. He thought he had never felt anything so good, so hot and tight. He pressed forward to capture Kenobi’s mouth as he thrust into him. The courtesan didn’t resist the kisses, and if his enthusiasm was lacking, Bail didn’t notice.

He was sure he had never experienced anything so wonderful in his life, even with Jase. With Kenobi it could be all about the pleasure, all about the warm, pliant lips and the tight hole. The sweet little gasping sounds the man made were like music in his ear.

Thanks to their earlier activities, it took Bail a little longer to climax, but he found it well worth the wait. He came with a shout, thrusting Kenobi down into the seat and further against the door.

“Oh, gods,” he gasped. “That was amazing.” When he pulled away, he jerked Kenobi’s leggings back into place to catch any mess. He hadn’t thought to bring a towel. “You are so good.” Bail looked at his passenger, wishing he didn’t have to leave him with the Jedi for another ten. “I doubt I’ll be able to think of anything else until you can come live in those rooms.”

Kenobi glanced up and gave him a weak smile as he fiddled with his clothing. Bail could tell he was regretting the separation, too. He could barely look Bail in the eye. “I’ll be looking forward to it,” he said softly.

When they made it to the Temple, Kenobi directed him to the balcony of the rooms where he was staying.

“It will spare you the risk of being seen, and spare me a walk.”

“Anything for you.” Bail smiled at him. Were there tears in his eyes? “Don’t worry. It won’t be long. I’ll have the rooms ready for you.”

Kenobi nodded as he stepped out onto the balcony. He held himself very straight as he passed through the door. Bail flew off with a smile on his face, thinking about the future.

Qui-Gon moved in a daze of private thoughts, even before he had left his former Padawan’s room. He scarcely looked up as he passed into the hall outside the med bay.

“Hello, Master Jinn.”

Qui-Gon managed to keep his face from showing the surprise he felt when the cloaked Knight waiting in the med bay spoke to him. He nodded a greeting and turned to go.

“You don’t know me?” The Knight dropped his hood. Qui-Gon gasped.

“Bruck?” The humanoid before him did strongly resemble Knight Chun, but the differences stood out. For one, this man was at least as tall as Qui-Gon. Then there was the hair. A mass of unruly white hair spilled to the man’s shoulders; Bruck’s had been just out of a Padawan cut, and as fine and straight as spider silk.

“I have changed, I know.” Qui-Gon thought he could see sadness in those pale, intelligent eyes. “This was the price of living.”

He spread his hands wide, showing long, tapering fingers, and small lateral lines marking his skin in a familiar pattern that the Jedi Master couldn’t quite place.

“I still know you,” Qui-Gon said at last. “You look a little different, but well, and it is good to see you so.” He glanced over his shoulder at the door to Xanatos’ room. “He’s resting. I’m sure he will be happy to see you.”

“You are sure of no such thing, Master Jinn,” Bruck said. “Neither am I.”

“He would have been dead when we found him, if it hadn’t been for you. I will make sure he knows that.”

“Thank you, Master.” Bruck bowed his head stiffly. “Perhaps I will see you and Kenobi soon. I owe you both a great debt of gratitude.”

“I owe you much, as well.” Qui-Gon placed a hand on Bruck’s shoulder. “He asked about you, you know. When we found him.”

Bruck nodded, a sad smile twisting his lips. Qui-Gon left, hoping that Xanatos would see the young Knight. He suspected it was simply too soon. Xanatos was a proud man; Qui-Gon didn’t think he would wish a lover to see him before his cybernetic limb was in place. Still, he couldn’t say for certain.

He found his way back to his rooms half in a stupor. He couldn’t think about anything that had happened tonight—his Padawan’s brokenness, Kenobi’s quest for patrons. It was all too raw, too rife with sorrow.

He made himself some tea, and sat in the dark not drinking it. He didn’t try to sleep, or meditate. All he could do was stare at the door, willing Kenobi to come through it, imagining what he would say when he did. Could he bring himself to tell the younger man how he felt? Would it matter if he did?

He thought of his Padawan’s lover. Bruck had risked his life, using the last of his energy to locate Xanatos, and Qui-Gon knew that he loved him. Would Xanatos be able to accept that love now? Or would he shut himself off from that most precious of gifts, for the sake of his brittle pride? Qui-Gon did not have to wonder where Xanatos had learned to isolate himself.

Still, Xanatos and Bruck were both Jedi-—such bonds were allowed by the Code. But he and Kenobi…

The door to the balcony opened, startling Qui-Gon. Kenobi entered quietly, closing the door carefully behind him. Qui-Gon remained still and silent, hidden in the shadows of the darkened room, watching.

Kenobi stumbled against the wall and leaned there a moment, breathing harshly.

“Lights,” Qui-Gon said. Kenobi jumped at the sound and shaded his eyes from the light. “Are you well?”

“I-I’m fine.”

Qui-Gon stood and moved closer. Obi-Wan seemed distressed, but tried to hide it. “Why did you come in from the balcony?”

“Someone gave me a ride.” Kenobi rummaged in his belt pouch and held out the chit Qui-Gon had given him earlier. “I didn’t have to use the transport.”

When he took it from him, he noticed that Kenobi’s clothes were in disarray. He smelled of sex.

“Who?”

Kenobi turned, resting his forehead against the wall. “This is not happening,” he whispered.

“Who did this to you?” Qui-Gon’s voice was low and controlled, which surprised him. He couldn’t even put a name to what he was feeling. “Who was it?”

Kenobi took a deep breath and turned to face him. “A client,” he answered calmly. “So it is really none of your business.”

“None of my business? Until you testify, you are my business.” He was angry now; he couldn’t deny it.

“You left me at the gala so I could see to my business, and I have.” Kenobi stood at his full height, glaring up at Qui-Gon. His eyes were red, but his face was defiant and proud.

“I’m just supposed to assume this is what you planned? You come in here stumbling like…”

“Stumbling like what? Like I’ve been fucked raw? What amazing Jedi insight you have!” Kenobi raised his voice, but it cracked with emotion. “That’s exactly what happened. Are you happy?” Kenobi was angry now, but Qui-Gon’s anger evaporated when he saw the wild, wounded look in Kenobi’s eyes.

“Oh, gods, Obi-Wan.” Qui-Gon moved to hold him.

“No!” He backed away, more in control of himself, showing less hurt in his face, but Qui-Gon knew it was still there.

“Who did this?”

“It’s not what you think.”

“Don’t presume to tell me what I think.” Qui-Gon grabbed Kenobi by the shoulders and shook him. “Who?”

Kenobi shoved him away, hard. There was even a bit of Force behind it. “Guess what, Qui-Gon? You don’t get to play the jealous lover. Because you’re NOT my lover.” He brushed a bit of imaginary lint off his tunic.

Qui-Gon reached for Kenobi as if he would shake him again, but stopped himself. “Not while you’re living here. Just… don’t do this here. In front of me.” Qui-Gon swallowed. “I don’t want to see you like this again.”

“You won’t.” Kenobi lowered his eyes. “I have a set of rooms waiting for me after I testify. First month’s rent paid in full,” he sneered. “If you’ll excuse me. I need to use the ‘fresher.”

Qui-Gon stepped numbly out of his way.

On to Part 11