Master Apprentice
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(continued from part 2)
Xanatos made his way through the corridors of the Temple, determined to get some answers. He knew Qui-Gon had returned at some point in the night, but his former master had yet to contact him. He had been called before the Council, which would not have been unusual if the Jedi Master been on a mission. But returning from a bit of leave time on Iptura? Gods, that man couldn't stay out of trouble.
He hoped that he had not been the cause of Qui-Gon's difficulty, unlikely as it seemed. Knight T'Crion had just been given a rather odd mission by the Council, and he wondered if somehow the two were related. Not that it really mattered if they were. Xanatos did not deceive himself- -- he knew full well that it was a convenient excuse to seek out his former master. The duties of Knighthood still filled him with a thrill of accomplishment, even pride, though they did make what little private life he had somewhat complicated. He would be leaving in the morning, but he wanted to speak to Qui-Gon before he left, despite the nagging suspicion that Master Jinn was avoiding him.
Master Jinn had been with the Council much of the day, and Xanatos had just set out to look for him when Master Yoda himself had called the young Knight to the Council Chamber. He hadn't gotten out until after latemeal, and decided to try to catch Qui-Gon in his rooms. The old lion wasn't going to avoid him that easily.
The door opened almost as soon as he chimed, revealing a tired and strangely distressed-looking Jedi Master. His face was pale beneath the neatly-trimmed beard, and his shoulders seemed to slump under some unusual burden.
"What the Hells happened to you?" Xanatos asked without preamble.
"Good to see you as well, Padawan," Qui-Gon said with a wry twist to his lips. "Please come in -- I do so hate to be harassed in the halls."
"Seriously, Qui, you look awful." Xanatos stepped inside and rested a hand on his former Master's shoulder. "I thought you went to Iptura to ... rest."
"You can describe a visit to the Saurid tanks many different ways, I imagine, but let me assure you that 'restful' is not one of them." Qui-Gon sat unceremoniously in his usual reading chair in the common room, and Xanatos barely stopped himself from sitting on the floor by his feet, just as he so often had as a padawan. Chuckling to himself, he took a seat on the opposite chair. A raised eyebrow directed at his former master indicated his curiosity, but no further details were forthcoming.
"Well? How did it go?"
"Xan, I -- That part of the trip went fairly as expected, I think." Qui-Gon sighed, seeming to sink in on himself as he spoke. That was not what Xanatos had been hoping for. Qui-Gon had been less and less there of late, as if life held no real interest for him beyond his duty, and Xanatos would have done anything to see his master's joy restored. He had once hoped to be the source of that joy, in fact. Best not to dwell on that.
"Well, then, what is it that had the entire Council's tunics in a twist? Do you have any idea how rare it is for a Jedi to be debriefed for almost an entire Council session upon returning from a vacation?"
Qui-Gon looked at him with no sign of the humor Xanatos had been hoping for. Honestly, he looked very troubled. Xanatos sat forward and placed a hand on his master's arm.
"Gods, Qui-Gon, just tell me what's bothering you. I'll help if I can."
Qui-Gon sighed, patted Xanatos' hand, and stood up.
"Very well, Xan. They were upset because I bought a contract."
"A contract?" Xan cocked one eyebrow upwards, knowing something stunning was coming, but entirely unable to guess what it was.
"For a ... pleasure worker."
Xanatos was not sure what he had expected to hear, but that wasn't it. His open jaw hung slack as he pondered what that had to do with anything.
"Um, Qui ... isn't that why most people go to Iptura? So you went to try a Saurid and contracted some other professional while you were there. I know you have issues with prostitution, but that's no reason to -- "
"You don't understand, Xan. I didn't visit a pleasure worker, I bought one."
Xanatos looked at his former master for a moment, frowning as he processed that information. He stood to face his master, almost equaling his height and certainly meeting his eyes. Then he laughed -- a deep, rumbling that felt good as it vibrated through his body.
"You bought a Saurid?" Without giving Qui-Gon a chance to speak, Xanatos continued. "No wonder Master Windu looked so upset -- I thought maybe he was having bowel problems again, but this! Where is it? You couldn't keep it in here, surely ... "
He pressed the door controls to the room that had been his bedroom as a padawan. The door slid open to reveal a young man sitting on the bed. Not sitting, exactly. Lounging. His arms were propped behind him, holding his bare torso at an angle, hips canted forward. The fellow wore sleep pants that were obviously too large for him, though the lower portion had been ripped off untidily, leaving threads hanging. Legs crossed at the knee, he swung the top leg, a slipper hanging from his great toe like an afterthought.
The fellow looked up at Xanatos and smiled a sly smile, seeming to sense the knight's shock. Xanatos took in the picture before him in silence. The young man was beautiful from the flashing red-gold of his hair to the self-assured sway of the slipper hanging so precariously from his toe. Large eyes regarded him knowingly, even as the younger man smiled. The whore, for it was obvious what the boy was, licked his lips as he took in the details of Xanatos' appearance. The young Knight suppressed a shiver at the look the boy gave him, sensual, predatory and unfriendly as it was.
Qui-Gon's deep, resonant voice broke the strange spell -- a mixture of confusion, jealousy and lust -- that held the knight in thrall.
"Knight T'Crion, meet Obi-Wan Kenobi."
Moving nothing but his hand, Xanatos triggered the mechanism that slid the door shut. He didn't turn to face Qui-Gon until it had closed completely.
"You have managed to shock me, Master," Xanatos quipped, carefully shielding his conflicted emotions. "Though Master Windu has risen in my estimation -- I'd have thought a stunt like this would have him calling for your head."
Qui-Gon sighed, turning back to the common room. "The boy is a witness to a possible smuggling ring, Xan. He may need to testify before the Senate -- the Council agreed with me on that score, at least."
"But, Qui-Gon, why is he here? The Temple is no place to house informants or witnesses or whatever he is!"
Qui-Gon returned to his seat in the common room, and Xanatos followed, more than a little irritated by his former master's reticence. Still, he knew better than to let too much of his agitation show.
"We left Iptura under unusual circumstances, and Kenobi told the Council he only agreed to testify under duress. Eventually he was honest with them, but not until they made it clear they sensed his desire to vilify me at the expense of the truth. Any fool could see that he's afraid, and perhaps not the most reliable witness."
"If he lied so easily to the Council, I'd say that is an understatement," Xanatos said. "But why is he here with you?"
"Master Yoda assigned me as his keeper while he is here. 'Brought him here, you did. Your problem now, he is!'"
Qui-Gon's perfect imitation of Yoda's voice never failed to make Xanatos chuckle, at least until now. "So now the indomitable Master Jinn is left to babysit a whore. Why don't they just detain him?"
"He has not broken any laws at the moment, and he's helping us voluntarily right now." Qui-Gon looked wearily into Xanatos' eyes. "Padawan, the Force led me to him. He will help us put an end to illegal traffic in Kleranom venom, I know it. He's merely afraid of the unknown, but that will pass as he grows accustomed to life here."
"He shouldn't be here long enough to grow accustomed to Temple life, Qui." Xanatos fixed his gaze on his former master, and let out a long sigh. "This is one pathetic lifeform that you can't just release into the Temple gardens."
"I'm going to speak with Chancellor Vallorum. Kenobi is extremely Force-sensitive -- with a little time and training I'm sure he could be a useful addition to the Senate diplomatic corps, or possibly-"
"You can't rescue a sentient who does not want to be rescued, Master."
"Perhaps so, Xan. Perhaps so." Qui-Gon stood slowly as if every bone in his body ached, and Xanatos suddenly felt badly that he had been the one to administer a dose of reality, no matter how much his master had needed it. "I'm very tired now, Padawan. Could you meet me for noon meal tomorrow?"
"No, Master," Xanatos answered with a sigh. "I leave for the Outer Rim at first light. Seems I'm being sent to investigate the possible smuggling of fertile Kleranoms into Republic space." Qui-Gon looked surprised at the news, and Xanatos couldn't help but laugh, winking at his former master. "It's an undercover assignment -- I'll be posing as a professional smuggler with a ship for hire. I'll start with a few of the occupied systems near Kleran, and work my way around until I find something useful. Should be fun."
They moved to the door, but Qui-Gon stopped him with a hand on his shoulder before he could leave. "Be careful, Xan." His master's smile was thin and somehow wistful. "I don't like to think of you going out there without someone to watch your back."
There was more to it than that, Xanatos was almost certain. Perhaps the tenderness in Qui-Gon's deep blue eyes was not entirely that of a mentor for his protégé, after all. Xanatos smiled, placing a hand on his former master's shoulder and giving it a light squeeze.
"I have some mission data to go over, so I'll leave you to your rest."
"May the Force be with you, Xan."
Xanatos smiled at the gentleness of Qui-Gon's voice; perhaps he wasn't hopeless after all. "And also with you, Master."
He stepped into the hall, hearing the door slide shut behind him.
"You're going to need it." He couldn't help but smile; his master was always a sucker for a hard-luck case. The vague unease he had felt upon seeing how attractive this particular hard luck case happened to be had left him as soon as Qui-Gon had touched his shoulder. Obviously, his former master still cared for him a great deal. Xanatos understood him too well; he would realize what they had shared was worth bending the Code a bit.
Xanatos smiled when he reached his quarters in the Knight's wing -- a silver sash had been closed in the door. That could only mean that Padawan Chun had let himself in again. Xanatos chided himself for being so free with his access code, but the white-haired young humanoid was pleasant enough company. He palmed the door open and entered.
"What took you so long?" Bruck smirked from a palette of cushions on the floor. He was naked, a vision in silver and bronze. "I was about to start without you."
"Impudent pup!" Xanatos couldn't help but chuckle -- the young man was so sure of himself. "I have a mission to prepare for, you know."
"I ... just had to see you." Did he actually seem hurt?
"What's the matter, Bruck? Did your first choice for the evening turn you down?" Xanatos threw his robe aside casually, but made no other move to disrobe and join the younger man on the impromptu love nest.
"You haven't heard?" The Padawan's voice trembled as he spoke.
"I assume if I had heard whatever-it-is, you wouldn't have asked that question." He was annoyed at the young man, but his tone had softened. He tried to remind himself what it had been like for him as a padawan when he had taken his first Knight as a lover. He supposed he should be gentler with the boy's feelings. "I'm sorry, Bruck. I've had a trying day, but that isn't your fault."
Bruck nodded solemnly and held out his hand. He had something hidden in his fist, but he didn't say anything. His pale eyes glistened with emotion, but his shields were up.
"What is it?" Xanatos asked, his former reserve melting into a gentler tone. The boy was upset; why hadn't he seen it before?
Bruck opened his fingers and a thin silver rope dangled from his hand, glistening in the dim light.
"Your braid," Xanatos gasped, awe evident in his voice. "You've been Knighted!" He knelt by Bruck and hugged him; he was warm and pliant but unsmiling, showing none of the joy or pride Xanatos would have expected. "What's wrong?"
"They gave it to me, because Master Leem is dead." The tears broke free as young Knight Chun's shields crumbled, and nothing was left of his Jedi reserve. "He died before my eyes, killed by a Sith."
Xanatos saw the young face twist with grief before he tightened his embrace. Not knowing what to say, touch was the only comfort he could offer. He let Bruck cry in his arms until the worst of the tears had passed, and the young man regained some control. "I killed it, Xan. I killed it and I was glad. Glad! And they Knighted me for it."
The words were laced with bitterness and pain that hurt Xanatos to hear. He soothed the boy with soft, cooing words, now completely abashed for his coldness earlier. "It's alright. It'll be alright." He stroked a hand down the warm back and found himself returning the soft, hungry kisses of a young man lost in his grief.
"He's in love with you."
Qui-Gon started at the unexpected sound of a voice behind him. Kenobi was going to be his shadow for a while, but that didn't mean he had to tolerate the imp's incessant needling. "I thought you had turned in for the night."
"What, and miss the show?" Kenobi stalked over to Qui-Gon's favorite chair and sprawled across it, obviously pleased to flaunt how he looked in Qui-Gon's old sleep pants, ill-fitting as they were. "Was he your lover?"
The Jedi Master refused to take the bait. "I'll get you some clothing from Temple supplies, so you won't have to trouble yourself with modifying my seconds."
"Don't you like it?" Kenobi trailed a hand across his flat stomach to an exposed hip bone. "I think the low-waisted look is quite fetching on me."
"You won't have any need to look 'fetching' while you are here, Kenobi." Qui-Gon glanced at the haphazard, uneven edges of the leggings where the young man had shortened them. "What did you cut them with, a table knife?"
Kenobi leaned over the arm of the chair, smiling wickedly up at the Jedi Master. "Why, no -- I bit a hole in the fabric and ripped from there." The young man seemed inordinately proud of his accomplishment.
"How clever of you," said Qui-Gon, tonelessly.
"It was easy -- the cloth is worn very thin." Kenobi rubbed his hand suggestively up his thigh. "Quite comfortable."
Qui-Gon smiled diplomatically and tipped his head, acknowledging Kenobi's words and excusing himself with one economical gesture. He had almost made the safety of his sleeping room when the young man's angry voice stopped him in his tracks.
"Don't think I didn't know what you were doing out here, old man! Resetting the door locks so I can't leave without your authorization, changing security codes on the com, hiding sharp objects! I'm not a prisoner here!"
"No, but your behavior has been erratic. I took those precautions at the request of the Council, for your protection."
Kenobi stood up from the chair and walked forcefully to the room Qui-Gon always thought of as the Padawan's room. "I don't need anyone's protection! I am not a child!"
"Then perhaps you should stop acting like one."
Qui-Gon took perverse pleasure in the effect his words and their calm, Jedi-like delivery had upon his irate guest. Kenobi's mouth shut with a snap, and he glared at the Jedi Master. Qui-Gon knew the real reasons for the young man's anger, but if Kenobi refused to be honest about it, there was little he could do.
Kenobi drew a fist back as if to slam it into the controls, but he stopped himself at the last second, using no more force than was necessary to close the door. Qui-Gon couldn't help but smile. The boy was learning already.
"A Jedi Knight investigating Kleran! You have been clumsier than I thought." The deep, silky whisper of the Sith's voice sent a shiver through Orima Durante. He knew the man was most dangerous when he seemed most calm. "Are you certain of this?"
"Yes. The information I received is detailed. It should be simple enough to intercept the spy."
"Then do so."
"I shall." Durante bowed and left. Knowing when one had been dismissed was a skill he had never needed to be taught. He allowed himself a snarl of a smile, realizing that was surely one of the reasons he had lasted so long in Sidious' service.
His movements were strong, dark robes swirling around him, eddies in the wake of his purpose. He'd lost a hand in this endeavor, but he had a chance for revenge. Soon, he would have a Jedi at his mercy, and that Jedi would pay for the transgressions of them all.
Xanatos woke alone in his bed, but sounds from the main room of his quarters indicated that Knight Chun was still about. Bruck had never been much of a cuddler, and he rarely loitered in Xanatos’ quarters after a tryst. Rubbing his face roughly, Xanatos found he vaguely remembered covering a sleeping Bruck with his outer robe before retiring to his own bed for real sleep. Had the new Knight actually slept on the sitting room floor?
The chrono reminded him of his early flight, but there was still time. The few things he would need were already packed—-there was not much to do. He had read up on his mission details and background while Bruck dozed beside him on the floor, still but somehow unquiet in his rest. Their relationship had never been one of tender feeling and Xanatos was baffled by the vulnerable new Knight that now lived inside Bruck Chun’s flawless bronze skin.
He dressed quietly and went into his sitting room. Bruck looked up from the comm as he entered. The young man was dressed and groomed to the perfect image of a Jedi. The pale eyes that regarded him were as cool and passionless as glacial ice splitting off into the sea.
Xanatos felt a bone deep thrill of relief at the sight of Bruck sitting casually at his comm unit, as if he had every right to be there. The needy boy that had wept in Xanatos’ arms the night before seemed nothing more than a dream. “Make yourself at home, Knight Chun,” Xanatos remarked. “No need to be shy.”
Bruck merely blinked in that haughty way he had, with a hint of a smile dimpling his cheek. “Just confirming my appointment with the mind healers.”
I am an idiot, Xanatos thought, hiding his sudden flush of embarrassment. Hadn’t Bruck mentioned that the Council had required him to pass some sort of mental examination because of the way his training bond had been severed?
Still, Xanatos found it hard to treat Bruck with the sensitivity the situation required. He nodded and turned to the kitchen, aware that Bruck had turned off the comm and followed him.
“I made some of that horrible tea you favor.” Bruck moved past him and poured the tea. Xanatos watched in silence, fascinated by the young Knight’s gracefulness, as if seeing him for the first time. There was a self-assuredness about him, an unconscious economy of movement remarkable in a being his age, even among the Jedi.
He took the tea Bruck proffered and thanked him for it, grimacing at the first sip.
“You’re right--- it is horrible,” he admitted.
“And you only drink it to be a Jedi ascetic, like your master.”
There it was again--- that infuriating little smirk. If Bruck had put as much effort into his training as he had in perfecting that insufferable expression, then no wonder he’d made Knight at barely twenty-two. Xanatos reminded himself of what Chun had been through recently, forcing down his anger. “I suppose I did develop a taste for it because of Qui-Gon.”
Bruck took the other cup of tea and drank it down without pulling a face. Xanatos thought it a marvel of Jedi control--- either that or Bruck had lost the sense of taste. He set the cup down slowly, regarding it as if it held the secrets of the universe. It struck Xanatos how truly lovely the young man was.
The Coruscanti skyline outside was beginning to glow, bathing them in a rosy light that shimmered in the fine, pale hairs on Bruck’s skin. He was beautiful, no question. Bruck’s hand went unconsciously to his ear, a gesture very familiar to Xanatos, though it took him a moment to place it.
The braid. Bruck had only had the one nervous habit--- playing with his padawan braid. He’d run his thumb and forefinger down it without thinking, then tickle his lips with the brushy tip or click the bead near the end against his teeth.
But now it was gone. Bruck’s hand returned to the table, unable to scratch the phantom itch. “I have never understood this fascination you have for your former master.”
“Qui-Gon Jinn is an attractive man and a great Jedi.”
“But he was your master, Xan—he practically raised you.” Faint wrinkles appeared across Bruck’s patrician nose.
“Not all of us are blessed with masters of incompatible species.” Xanatos bit the inside of his cheek, too late to stop the barbed words from finding their mark. Bruck’s burnished gold features went ashen, though he still managed his customary smirk.
“Where there’s a will, there’s a way.” The young man arched a fine, pale brow at Xanatos. “I never had the will. For most humanoids, incest taboos are subconsciously transferred to parental figures regardless of genetic relation.”
Xanatos had been about to apologize for bringing up Master Leem in such a disrespectful way, but Bruck’s implication quashed his sympathy. He leaned forward, baring his clenched teeth in a flush of annoyance. “I find it amusing that you of all people would accuse me of perversion.”
Bruck smiled, dazzling evidence that he enjoyed Xanatos’ discomfiture. “I said no such thing.”
Xanatos felt his anger melt away before it had fully formed. Bruck knew just how to dance around his nerves, but his insouciance was simply too appealing to resist. “You thought it loudly enough.”
Bruck sighed as he poured another cup of tea. “You are free to interpret my statements of fact however you wish.” The smirk still played about his lips as he sipped more of the tea he professed to hate. “Your, ah… Jinncest is no concern of mine.”
Attractiveness of his guest not withstanding, Xanatos decided it was time to end this little visit, already the longest of its kind. Bruck had slept on the floor of his sitting room, for Sith’s sake.
Dragging out a sexual encounter to include firstmeal was simply too much of a good thing. Too much of a thing, at any rate. He emptied his own cup and stood. “Pleasant as your company is, I’m afraid I’ve enjoyed my limit this morning, Knight Chun.”
Xanatos took some satisfaction in the slight stiffening of the young man’s features as his serene Jedi façade fell into place.
“I see.” Brick primly placed his cup on the table and stood. “Just as well. I should be checking on the arrangements for my master’s pyre ceremony this evening.”
A pang of fresh guilt cramped through Xanatos’ chest. Bastard, he thought, uncertain whether he meant himself or Bruck. The new Knight turned and walked through the sitting room, toward the door. Xanatos followed.
“Bruck, I simply don’t have time to dally. A mission.”
The young man stopped, but didn’t face him. “I know.”
Xanatos sighed. “Listen. Finish your tea--- stay as long as you like.”
Bruck turned then, fixing Xanatos with eyes cool as crystal. “Don’t coddle me, Knight T’Crion.” The young man looked up at Xanatos, his face as passionless and perfect as a porcelain doll’s. “I am a Jedi Knight.”
“You are,” Xanatos whispered, seeing the truth of it in Bruck’s confident grace. He was a Jedi--- as strong and apparently serene as any. But he was also a man, if a young one. A man both as hard and as fragile as a diamond, molded by the discipline and hardship of Jedi life. Thrust into self-sufficiency by the sudden death of his mentor. “I’d stay for the pyre if I could, but duty comes first.”
Bruck tossed his head to the side, as if some insect were buzzing in his ear.
“I have a bad feeling about this mission, Xan.” His hand rose partway to stroke his missing braid before he let it drop. “I wish you wouldn’t go.”
Xanatos managed not to laugh. He couldn’t understand his sudden importance to the young knight. “I have no choice, but that’s beside the point. There’s no need to cling to me so, Bruck. You must have a legion of lovers and friends who’ll stand by you at Master Leem’s pyre.”
“I have neither.” Bruck turned sullen, and his haughty tone returned. “I’m rather insufferable, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.”
Xanatos, despite being a veteran of some very tricky diplomatic situations, almost panicked. He really had had no idea that he was Bruck’s only lover. The boy had seemed so casual about it all, so sure of himself. Xanatos grasped Bruck’s shoulders lightly, making the young man look up at him.
“But you’re so beautiful…” Xanatos put on his best imitation of the famous Chun smirk. “Especially when you’re not talking.”
He moved to touch Bruck’s cheek, but the young man flinched away. Bruck’s smooth face twitched with emotion, though none leaked through his shields. “As beautiful as Jinn’s pet whore, or is he similarly talkative?”
“Quiet as a mouse, that one.” Xanatos forced his grip on Bruck’s arm to loosen, but he didn’t let go. “At least when I was there.” Bruck tried to pull away, but Xanatos grabbed his other arm again. “How did you know about him?”
“It’s all over the Temple!” Bruck laughed bitterly. Xanatos didn’t like the sound of it, too like the near-hysteria he’d seen in Bruck’s grief the night before. The Jedi calm was gone, replaced by a strange fire that lit Bruck’s usually cool features. “Master Leem may not have been the Jedi’s legendary renegade, but he was strong and honest and kind, and he surrendered his life to duty and the Order. I killed a Sith--- supposedly extinct for centuries--- and was Knighted at twenty-two. Yet all they can talk about is how Master Jinn came back from leave with a whore!”
The boy--- after that breathless, wet-eyed rant, Bruck seemed younger than ever--- stopped for a breath. Xanatos took advantage of the interruption, no longer caring if his grip bruised. “Jealousy is a trait unbecoming a Knight, Bruck.”
Knight Chun struggled, and Xanatos counted himself lucky that the younger man had been taken off guard. Xanatos had the advantage of height, strength and experience, but the new Knight could be a fierce fighter when he wasn’t so emotional. When Bruck kicked at him, he used the boy’s unbalanced stance to pin him against the back of an over-stuffed reading chair. Bruck couldn’t get enough leverage to land an effective kick with Xanatos pressed against him from thigh to waist, but he didn’t give up.
“You’re the one who should be jealous, you stupid fuck!” When his kicks landed against Xanatos’ boots with barely enough force to make a muted tapping sound, Bruck let his anger out by way of his mouth. “Pining like an idiot for that old man! Now he’s taken up with some mongrel off the street. Can’t you see that he doesn’t want you?”
“You’re wrong.” Xanatos held Bruck so tightly he hoped he’d squeeze the wind out of him. His right hand knotted in the longish bit of hair that had been Bruck’s knight’s lock. He tightened his hold, making sure the young man looked him eye. Xanatos had had enough of Bruck’s sharp tongue. “My Master didn’t want to break the code by forming an attachment with me. He’s been celibate since we were together.”
Bruck laughed. Not the hysterical laugh that had startled Xanatos earlier, but a laugh of pure hilarity. In a voice broken by giggles and shallow gulps for air, Bruck said, “Only you would find that comforting.”
Cold anger washed over Xanatos. He squeezed the little brat until he winced with the pain of it, but Bruck went on. “Go on your mission, then, and see how celibate he is when you get back.”
Xanatos didn’t want to hear any more, and there would have been more if Xanatos had not decided to stop Bruck’s mouth with his own. Their confrontation had reached a point where they would either have to fight or fuck, and Xanatos had no doubt which he would prefer. Bruck smelled and tasted sweet, and Xanatos wanted him. Wanted him from the pale, silky hair fisted in his grip to the feet still kicking half-heartedly at the shins of Xanatos’ boots.
The kiss continued their struggle instead of ending it. Xanatos tugged at Bruck’s tunics, loosening them to allow his had inside. Bruck didn’t try to stop him, using his freed arms to pull at Xanatos’ clothing. When the kiss broke, Xanatos reached for the laces to Bruck’s leggings while the younger man nibbled at his throat.
The nibbling became more forceful, culminating in a rather hard bite at the nape of his neck. Xanatos cursed, ripped open Bruck’s leggings and flipped him around so that the young Knight was bent over the back of the chair, arms flailing. He grabbed the back of Bruck’s tunics and pulled them off past the shoulders, twisting the fabric to catch his arms. Bruck pushed up on the armrests, but he was still overbalanced and couldn’t right himself.
Xanatos tipped Bruck so that his toes barely touched the floor. He pulled down the young man’s leggings and small clothes, which caught at the boot-tops. Xanatos barely registered the sight of the sleek honeyed skin as he freed his own aching cock.
Bruck still struggled feebly, breathing fast and moaning. He didn’t tell Xanatos to stop. Not that Xanatos was sure he could. Something about Bruck made him angry and hard at the same time, but the boy’s words no longer mattered. All he could see, all he could think of was the lithe form before him.
He kept Bruck bent over the chair with the hand holding his tunics, and kneaded the young knight’s backside with the other. When Xanatos pressed two fingers into the cleft of Bruck’s ass, he found the opening still moist from the night’s activities.
“No time for a shower this morning, Bruck? How fortunate.”
“Fuck you!” Bruck wriggled again, and Xanatos found he had to tighten his grip on the twisted tunics to keep Bruck from pushing himself to his feet.
“You’d like to, wouldn’t you?” Xanatos ran his free hand down Bruck’s hip as he positioned himself. “Were you hoping I’d pledge you my eternal love, or just give you a good morning plowing?”
“Don’t flatter yourself.”
Without warning, Xanatos thrust into Bruck in one brutal lunge. The younger man screamed, writhing from the shock of it.
Xanatos winced at the painful pleasure as Bruck’s body clenched around him. He caressed along the younger man’s hip and lower back to soothe him, telling himself it was less an act of caring than a cynical attempt to still the surprisingly painful wriggling of the body beneath him.
Bruck twitched under his hand and the taut line of his back relaxed a little. Xanatos eased his hold on Bruck’s tunics, giving the younger man enough slack to rest his forearms on the seat cushion.
Bruck bowed his head, and Xanatos felt the young body under him shake with breathless sobs. Xanatos pressed himself against Bruck’s back, fascinated by the play of muscle and bone beneath the bronze skin of the younger man’s shoulders as he struggled to conceal the sound of his tears.
Xanatos kissed the satiny flesh before him, resisting the urge to bite, to mar the young Knight’s perfect skin. No, he would claim Bruck another way, sear him to the soul. Still buried as deep in the young body as he could go, Xanatos pressed moist kisses along Bruck’s neck. “Is this what you wanted?”
The question was barely a whisper, but Bruck heard him and shook his head. Xanatos began to move slowly. He didn’t pull out at all, but ground his hips against Bruck’s backside so that his cock moved inside the younger man in a slow, intimate caress. As he finished the first broad, sweeping circle, his shaft glanced across the younger man’s prostate.
Bruck let out a soft, mewling gasp that set Xanatos’ nerves on fire. It took every shred of his control not to pound his way to completion as quickly as possible. That would satisfy his lust, but it would also leave Knight Chun’s arrogance intact. He didn’t want that. He moved more quickly this time, and the probing arc of his cock hit Bruck’s prostate with more force.
Bruck cried out in mindless pleasure, and Xanatos whispered again. “Is this what you wanted?”
Bruck gasped for breath, but said nothing.
“Is this what you wanted?” Xanatos struck again, a quick, vicious pressure against the pleasure spot.
“Yes!” Bruck cried out between gasping breaths. “Please don’t stop.”
Xanatos smiled. It was not every day he had the proud Bruck Chun begging beneath him, mewling like a felinid in heat. He pulled himself nearly free of Bruck’s tight little ass and plunged in to the root.
“Harder!” Bruck let out a sharp, keening cry. “Oh, please Xan, don’t stop…”
Knight T’Crion was happy to oblige. With Bruck’s breathless, passionate encouragement, he was soon pounding into the younger man with such force that every thrust moved the chair across the floor.
In this position, the young Knight’s erection was trapped between his body and the chair. Xanatos couldn’t reach Bruck’s cock to stroke him, but every thrust ground him into the cushion. Before he knew it, Bruck screamed in completion, bucking beneath him. The young man’s body clenched hard around him, taking his breath with the exquisite pain of it, and Xanatos spilled over the edge.
When he came back to himself a moment later, Xanatos noticed the chrono. Time was short. He hastily righted his clothing and fetched his pack from his sleep chamber.
When he passed through the sitting room on his way out, Xanatos saw Bruck struggling to right his leggings, still tangled around his boots. When the younger man stumbled, Xanatos stepped in to catch him and help straighten his clothes.
He said nothing, for there was nothing to say. He realized with a smile that there were few things as lovely as the arrogant Bruck Chun after having been fucked senseless. The young man’s knees were weak, his balance wobbly. He was truly drunk from pleasure. Xanatos warmed with pride at the sight of Bruck looking so thoroughly well-fucked.
Bruck finished retying his tunic closures and glanced up. Xanatos smiled and touched Bruck's face with the backs of his fingers. The younger man looked at him with such naked, unabashed surrender that Xanatos’ breath caught in his throat.
“I wish you wouldn’t go,” Bruck whispered. He lowered his eyes when he spoke. Xanatos knew it wasn’t a challenge, just a statement of fact from a smitten young man.
“Duty to the Order must come first,” Xanatos reminded him, but this time with no hint of reproach in his voice.
“Go, then,” Bruck whispered, still not looking him in the eye. “May the Force be with you.”
Xanatos nodded and turned to leave. His ship was scheduled to depart shortly. He palmed open the door and stopped. Turning to Bruck, he asked, “Would you mind terribly cleaning up after yourself before you go? That’s my favorite chair.”
Bruck nodded and Xanatos left.
Bruck went to the small kitchen and found a cloth. He dampened it with water and walked to Xanatos’ chair, pushed halfway across the room from its original place by their lovemaking. He wiped away every drop of his pleasure from it, turned the cloth over and gave the upholstery another swipe, just to be certain. He tried not to think of how easily every trace of him could be washed out of Knight T’Crion’s quarters. Knight T’Crion’s life.
His head hurt.
Bruck moved the chair back where it belonged, feeling the warm slickness of Xanatos’ essence dribbling out of him.
He needed to wash. First, though, he cleaned the tea things and poured out the dregs of the nasty, bitter tea. Without thinking about what he was doing, Bruck wandered into the room he had never been invited to share with Xanatos. The bed was utilitarian—-small and neatly but plainly made.
Bruck sat on the bed, then turned and curled up on his side, hugging the pillow to his chest. It smelled of Xanatos. Bruck smiled and closed his eyes.
But his head still hurt.
There was a hole in his mind. It hurt to go there, but he did anyway. Like the place where a tooth had once been, and you couldn’t keep from sticking your tongue in it, to taste the blood that clotted there.
His end of the training bond had healed over; a thin membrane of mental scar tissue separated him from the emptiness that had once held Master Leem. His presence in Bruck’s mind had always been cool and green, calm even to the last. He had been so tall and tough; Bruck had never felt safer than when he stood in his Master’s placid shadow.
That was gone now, all of it. The last stub of their connection was nothing but a throbbing pustule in his brain. His awareness skittered around the edges of it, but he always drew back. It burned. It pulsed with infection, the promise of painful and speedy madness.
Bruck wrenched his thoughts away from the bad place, and they fell upon Xanatos. Xan. Xan shouldn’t go. It was wrong for him to go. But why?
Something twisted in the throbbing heat of the severed bond, the hole. Like something turning over in its sleep, trying to get comfortable.
It hurt.
Bruck buried his face in Xanatos’ pillow, one hand tugging at the too-short hair above his ear until his scalp bled.
Continued in Part 4