Archive: Yes to M_A and GiffStein, anywhere ask first, but I'll
probably say yes
Summary: A Master's Padawan talks dirty to him, but is it a
trick or the real thing? No name errors were made in this
story.
Notes: That damned Emu and her bunnies. I hope my cats eat them
in October. This is all her fault. Well, hers and that of a
Certain Person who talked dirty to his Mistress while she was
at work. Written at work, probably full of my usual errors.
For Mike; you'd be in trouble if I hadn't had so much fun.
I can remember when it started, that morning when he was
trying to distract me during a practice round. Trying, ha! I
should have said "succeeding" in distracting me; I fell to the
ground in the middle of a backflip.
"Master?" he said, coming up to my side, a look of worry I know
all too well on his face.
"What?" I asked, trying to preserve my Masterly
demeanor, no easy feat when one is sprawled on the ground.
"What did you say?" I kept my voice still and level; as
emotional as he can be, I knew that voice would have far more
effect than yelling.
"Uh . . . I was just trying to distract you, Master."
I said nothing.
"Um . . . I said . . . well, that you have a nice ass."
"I hadn't noticed you noticing. Do we need to have The Talk?"
We hadn't had to bother with the usual Padawan crush nonsense,
and I thought that at 18 he was a little late for it.
His face grew red and he shook his head mutely.
"So, I don't have a nice ass?"
"Uh . . . it was something I heard someone else say about you."
I nodded calmly, though part of me wanted to strangle the boy.
He knew how curious I was and I knew he would never tell me
whom had made the comment. Probably one his crowd of Padawan
friends. Most of them only had eyes for him, but a few tended
to look at me as I passed. It was an odd feeling; certainly
none of my Padawan friends had ever desired my Master.
"You realize, Padawan, that, as you are not a natural telepath,
the only person that trick will ever work with is myself."
He said nothing, looking down. It took me a moment to realize
what the problem was. I had gone through it, my friends had
gone through it; I suppose that some 775 years ago my own
Master had felt it.
My Padawan wanted to defeat me.
I hid my smile, thinking of the oh-so-clever tricks I'd tried
to defeat Master Yoda and how important it had been to my
self-pride that I succeed. I hadn't managed without a trick
until I was 4 weeks away from my Trials, and, flush with
happiness and nerves, I had touched the Living Force and fought
as never before.
"You don't need, tricks, Padawan. You're an amazing fighter and
will someday, probably quite soon, defeat me."
He sighed. "You knew?"
"Impossible as it may seem, I was a Padawan myself, once when
the world was new. And I had a master whose command of the
Force was . . . legendary."
"You're not old," he said, quick to defend me from my own joke.
I smiled, knowing he wouldn't see the irony behind the smile.
There he was, flush with youth and the glow of healthy
exercise, face beginning to show the man he would become, mind
and body vibrant with the power of the Knight he would be . . .
Oh yes, he made me feel old, and his prank had hurt me in a way
I'd sworn he'd never know.
I wanted his desire. Wanted it to match mine, wanted to
know that when, alone at night reliving his body's passion, he
was thinking of me as I thought of him. I wanted those blue
eyes to look at me with love, wanted those beautiful hands to
touch me, wanted to feel his lovely cock sliding into me . . .
I hastily blocked off that line of thought and rose to my feet.
I didn't need to give him either mental or physical evidence of
a passion I alone felt.
"Old enough to know better than to fall for that one."
"Master? Is something else wrong?" His face had fallen. "It was
a stupid idea; I should have thought first."
"You went with the moment," I said. "That's a good thing, but
sometimes you must look ahead to what the consequences of the
moment can be."
"Mindful of the future, you must be," he said.
"Padawan," I said warningly, softening my warning with a smile.
He ducked his head and his shoulders slumped. We would have to
talk about this need to defeat me, and what it would mean to
our working relationship. Two diplomats cannot have that kind
of tension between them. It would be an easy talk though; my
Padawan was intelligent enough to examine his own behavior and
motives, even if it was only after the fact.
"Showers," I said firmly. "And then we'll talk about how we can
defeat that old master of yours without referring to his ass."
He laughed then, a beautiful smile curving that lovely mouth,
and followed me into the showers. We talked about nothing as we
bathed, and I noticed him watching me as I washed my hair. No
surprise even as a youngster he'd been fascinated by my long
hair and still liked to help me braid it or pull it back.
He blinked as he saw me looking at him, gave me the strangest
look, and went back to his own washing. I was already bending
to put on clean leggings when he finished.
And then I felt the touch of his mind on mine again.
*Sista was right, you do have a nice ass.*
"Qui-Gon!" I snapped in shock and a little anger, the anger
because he didn't know how this adolescent teasing was hurting
me so deeply.
"I'm sorry Master Kenobi," he said, hunching into himself the
way he had as a youngster. "I know it's stupid and I know that
you would never even look at your Padawan as anything but a
student, and I know that I'm all huge and awkward and you're so
perfect and graceful, but don't you know how beautiful you
are?"
I stared at him, leggings in hand. Perfect and graceful?
Beautiful?
"I'm not . . ." I began.
"You are!" he replied intently. "Your eyes change color like
the skies over Galabria; your hair is like new copper etched
with silver," as he spoke, he walked closer to where I stood,
frozen, "you're lean and slim and move through the air like
something out of a tale. The Knight Who Can Fly," he added,
laughing a little hysterically.
The laugh broke my paralysis. I know my face was
expressionless, except for my narrowed eyes. I stalked up to
him, grabbed his arm, and almost slammed him against the shower
room's wall.
"Qui-Gon Jinn," I said, knowing my voice was crisp and deadly.
"Don't you ever call yourself huge and awkward." His
eyes looked down at me, dark blue and a little afraid. "Skies
above, love, you . . . you're a young Mirabal tree, rooted in
the ground and bound to the Living Force in a way I can only
dream of. Once you were awkward, but now you move with a
steadied grace that makes Mace look like a klutz."
I shook my head, almost blinking back tears. "Padawan, beloved,
Qui-Gon . . . if you'll let me, I'll *show* you how beautiful
you are." I tugged gently on his dark braid and he leaned down.
Our lips brushed and it was sweeter than anything I'd ever
felt. "I love you, one adult to another," I whispered against
those full lips.
"Oh Master . . . Obi-Wan . . . I love you too."
And the next kiss was wild and strong and the Force wrapped
around us, and it was even sweeter than the first one.
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