FEEDBACK: Dearly loved and appreciated -
Dev_Aki_Jediknight@yahoo.com
ARCHIVE: M_A only please and thank you!
WARNING: None beyond the m/m content, but you were anticipating
that, yes?
DISCLAIMER: See Dev. See Dev write a slashy story. See Dev tell
the big bad lawyers that no copyright infringement was
intended. See Dev concur that the Jedi and their world belongs
to George Lucas. See Dev cry.
SUMMARY: A cultural ritual sparks a catharsis between our boys.
NOTES: Much thanks go to Amy, Suze, Deb and especially Van -
all of whom I owe so much to.
Crimson light flooded into small room high on the upper levels
of the Embassy. Flickering waves of color danced with wild
motions across the walls and along the floor. Yellows and
oranges reflected off the sparse furnishings giving an
iridescent glow in every corner of the room. Everywhere except
for the long shadow cast by the young Jedi occupant. Unmoving,
save for the slight rise and fall of his deep breaths, he stood
staring out through the transparasteel windows, hands tucked
into the sleeves of his cloak, watching the massive bonfire
that illuminated the capital city of Horince.
It was the sixth night of the locals' polytheistic celebration;
a different deity honored each night. This eve brought the
Night of K'Amar - Goddess of Lovers and Choices. A Night of No
Consequences, as deemed by local tradition. The annual
religious celebration coincided with the recent joining of two
formally opposing factions. The final treaties had been signed
only hours before and, in commemoration, the night's
celebration began with the lighting of this grand fire, a
symbol of burning away all past transgressions and rejoicing in
the light of a new era. Touted as being the most superb gala
anyone on the planet would ever see, the newly combined
government spared no expense. Lavish decorations cluttered the
streets, gifts for every citizen arrived in gaudy packages,
delivered to each doorstep. Utter joy sang through the spirits
of Horince natives. The night promised extravagance, opulence,
and unbounded behavior.
Qui-Gon Jinn had come to watch the fire from the quarters
allocated to himself and his apprentice for the duration of the
negotiations and was greatly surprised to find the room
occupied. Obi-Wan didn't even respond when he entered the room,
only continued to peer forward, seemingly transfixed by the
flames that licked the sky and colored the world.
"Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon slowly approached his apprentice, stopping
just behind the younger man's shoulder. Obi-Wan turned slightly
and smiled up at him before directing his gaze back towards the
distant fire. Qui-Gon's brow furrowed as he considered his
apprentice's unforeseen presence. Since arriving planetside,
the pair had only spoken to each other in regards to the
business that had brought them to Horince in the first place.
Though, what words did pass between them socially during this
trying month indicated Obi-Wan's distinct interest in the
upcoming festivals and native traditions. Qui-Gon had not
expected to see the young man anywhere near the Embassy this
night.
"I didn't anticipate finding you in our quarters, Padawan."
Obi-Wan nodded and looked down to the floor, but didn't
respond. After a moment, he lifted his chin, sniffing the air,
the scent of distant smoke overpowering the Embassy's
filtration system. He returned his focused stare out at dying
blaze in center of the city.
"A night of no consequences," Obi-Wan mused, his voice a bare
whisper to Qui-Gon's ears. "It's a fascinating social
tradition."
The comment redirected Qui-Gon's thoughts to his own
contemplation about the evenings events. Chuckling, he moved to
stand at Obi-Wan's side, joining him in watching the view.
"Yes, it forever intrigues me, the stories beings tell
themselves."
"Master?" Obi-Wan inquired, looking up at Qui-Gon, his brow
quirking, creasing the skin of his forehead. Qui-Gon's mouth
curled in a small grin as he tucked his hands into the sleeves
of his cloak, mimicking his apprentice's stance. He peered out
the window at the red-gold painted sky. The distant roar of a
party gaining momentum somewhere within the Embassy, reached
his ears. Drawing a deep breath, Qui-Gon's nose twitched at the
acidic tang of smoke, before he spoke.
"So often the truths we cling to are the stories we tell
ourselves. The fiction we take as fact to make life more
bearable."
Obi-Wan looked away, staring into the darkened recesses of the
room. The distant reflective expression on his face went
unnoticed by Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan again directed his gaze out the
window, his robes rustling, a soft whisper of a sound, as he
stepped forward.
"Because there is no such thing as 'no consequences'," he
added.
"Correct," Qui-Gon agreed and nodded, falling onto lecturer
mode as if standing before a classroom of initiates. "The
Horince society have led themselves to believe there are no
consequences for their actions on this one night. I am sure,
though, that there are many who, in the cruel light of the next
day, are left with pain over this tradition."
"But couldn't it also remove pain? A night of 'no consequences'
giving courage to take a step that the day before seemed
impossible?"
The corners of Qui-Gon's mouth curved down slightly, the
question giving hint to the young man's unexpected behavior of
this eve.
"Perhaps, but it doesn't negate the consequences of that step
the next day."
Obi-Wan nodded in response, remaining silent as Master and
Apprentice observed the bonfire growing weaker. The sky turned
deep red as the glow of unseen embers illuminated the night.
The occasional orange flame leapt into view over the planes of
roofs and through alleyways of numerous buildings.
A sharp breath of Obi-Wan's broke the amicable silence, just
before he spoke.
"Do you have any stories that you tell yourself, Master?
Fiction taken as fact?"
Qui-Gon looked at his apprentice, who still stood slightly
ahead of him, intrigued and yet a bit startled by the question.
Raising his brow, he considered the inquiry before responding.
"Well," he began, "by the nature of what they are I wouldn't
necessarily realize I was telling myself, or anyone else, a
story."
"Ah," Obi-Wan said, a quiet breath of air in which vocals could
just barely be heard.
Qui-Gon's brow dropped.
"Why, Padawan? Is there a story you believe you're telling
yourself?"
Qui-Gon moved forward to stand shoulder to shoulder with
Obi-Wan as the young man's silence stretched into an awkward
length. With a shrug, Obi-Wan finally responded.
"I suppose it isn't so much a story as a wish."
"Oh?" Qui-Gon rested back on his heels, wrapping his fingers
around his elbows and pulling his folded arms tighter to his
chest. He eagerly waited for Obi-Wan to continue, enthused at
this rare personal insight from a young man who'd taken to
being very private in the last few months.
"That the Horins are right and there really could be one night
when the consequences didn't matter and never came."
The implications of that statement were far reaching.
"I see." Qui-Gon ran the tip of this tongue across his bottom
lip, wondering if he should continue this thread. Should he
broach the question that hung oppressively between them?
Encouraged by perhaps the night's native tradition, Qui-Gon
stepped further into the offered openness, hoping that was what
Obi-Wan needed. He certainly didn't want to impose on the young
man's privacy.
"A consequence from a violation of the Code?"
"Not the written Code, no." Obi-Wan responded after a moment
filled with both tension and apprehension. Though he spoke
quickly, Qui-Gon thought his young man sounded defeated as if
he had just acquiesced on the long battle of maintaining a
difficult secret.
Qui-Gon considered this - the trust Obi-Wan laid before him
with his admission. It was a sign of closeness returning
between them after a drought of distant familiarity. Thankful
to be let inside Obi-Wan's walls again, Qui-Gon knew he could
deny his padawan nothing.
"I am your Master, Obi-Wan. That is a wish I can grant you."
"What?" Obi-Wan turned fully to face his master's profile, his
hands dropping down to hang full of tension at his side.
Qui-Gon didn't move, merely cocking his head slightly forward
as he explained himself.
"What passes between us stays between us. Nothing would need to
be reported to the Council, if that is your wish."
Obi-Wan shook his head. "Master, you don't even know what I
wish to do!" His full lower lip drooped forward as he gaped at
Qui-Gon.
"No, but I trust you. More than perhaps you realize," Qui-Gon
answered, turning to face his apprentice, his gaze echoing the
conviction of his words.
Obi-Wan stared silent before clenching his jaw and looking away
to the floor.
"It's not that simple," he mumbled.
Qui-Gon sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly with his
released breath. "No, I suppose it's not, by my own definition
of this night. But I will give you the opportunity, just the
same."
Still peering at the carpeted floor, Obi-Wan whispered his
words. "But I'm afraid I could not be satisfied by one night."
The cryptic words sent a shudder down Qui-Gon's spine. He had
never considered that Obi-Wan's distancing of late was
something to be concerned over. Apprentices often individualize
to prepare for their coming knighthood. It was Qui-Gon's own
issue at how disappointed the absence left him. Only now, he
wondered if again his blind trust caused him to miss a greater
concern.
"You're beginning to worry me," Qui-Gon grinned, trying to
laugh off his sudden unease. "Can you at least tell me the
nature of what we're discussing?"
Obi-Wan looked back at his master, the small folds of his
perplexed expression seemed deeper from the increasing shadows
in the room - the fire in the distance was all but out. He
appeared to be holding his breath as he considered perhaps a
multitude of possibilities. Qui-Gon had always trained his
apprentice to be thorough.
"All right," Obi-Wan said finally. "But we never speak of it
again, correct?"
"Yes, never again. I promise," Qui-Gon agreed, his own
expression a growing reflection of the tension in his
apprentice's.
Obi-Wan took a step closer to his master, their chests almost
touching. Qui-Gon watched each movement, each flex of muscle as
he tried to hide his apprehension at the unknown act about to
occur. All that anxiety washed away as the young man peered up
into his eyes, the intimate connection comforting and reminding
of his true trust in Obi-Wan. So lost in the vision of two
blue-green pools before him, Qui-Gon hardly noticed the soft
touch to his cheek, brushing the short hairs of his beard in
awkward directions. His naivete finally stepped aside to
realization when the brushing fingers cupped around the back of
his neck and insistently pulled him forward.
He wasn't quick enough to stop the sharp intake of shocked
breath before it was audible. The beautiful eyes before him
widened and their color faded, shifting in alarm. The pressure
on Qui-Gon's neck reduced instantly and soon his vision filled
with reddish-brown hair as Obi-Wan turned away. Qui-Gon heard
murmured words of apology, but they didn't register - nothing
did. Instinct took over and brought him back in speed with the
plummeting moment before it was too late. He spoke as he
realized how tight a grip he had on Obi-Wan's arm, holding him
still near.
"No consequences," Qui-Gon stated quickly. "You just startled
me, Obi-Wan, don't stop."
He slid his hand to Obi-Wan's wrist and replaced the young
man's hand to the back of his neck. Lost again when the smoky
eyes came back to his view, Qui-Gon didn't wait for the
insistent pressure to coax him down to the trembling lips
before him. He could feel nothing more beyond the mouth that
crushed against his. He drew a breath filled with the scent and
taste of Obi-Wan, a heady concoction that he never before knew
existed. As Obi-Wan's lips parted in silent invitation, Qui-Gon
let his tongue ease forward into a furnace of sweltering fire
and velvety flesh. It wasn't until his fingers touched hot skin
that Qui-Gon realized he'd been pushing inside his apprentice's
tunics and Obi-Wan into his. The rough pads of well-trained
fingers caressed his skin and slid around his body, gripping
his back and pulling him closer to a physique he'd trained and
healed and examined detachedly hundreds of times. Again he
studied it, searching for gasps of reaction, only not as
indication of injury or pain, but of pleasure and desire and as
triggers to a thousand swirling emotions too many to catalogue.
They were moving, stumbling forward as Obi-Wan led them into
the next room - into Qui-Gon's quarters. Not that he saw
anything change, his eyes filled only with the sight of pale
muscle and youthful flesh, dusted with fine hairs and pink
scars. Those scars he knew wholly, the rest was a feast before
him to be devoured as he never allowed consideration of before.
Qui-Gon removed his arms from Obi-Wan just long enough to lose
the already half-removed tunics fully, then he scooped the
young man back into him arms and up onto the bed. He sunk down
into the mattress next to him and stared in awe, trying for a
moment to comprehend what was happening. Obi-Wan hardly let the
pause for thought occur. He wrapped his arms around his neck
and drew him down again, latching his lips to sweat slicked
skin and moaning as Qui-Gon let his full weight bear down
against the writhing body.
Words did not pass between them, actions alone told the story
of their night. The bed was encircled with divested clothing,
quilts and blankets pushed out of their way. Qui-Gon never let
a chance to worship pass him by. His hands traveled the length
and breadth of Obi-Wan, teasing and caressing every inch of
skin and sinew. Moans and gasps filled the small room, duets of
passion, as the pair moved against each other, heightening the
sensations and peaking arousal. Obi-Wan brought his legs around
to hook over the backs of Qui-Gon's thighs, arching up into the
slow ministration of groin against groin. The maddening pace
undeterred by wordless pleas spilt forth from the padawan's
gasping mouth and clouded mind. The tension that built took
over all coherent thought from the two, swirling around inside
them and taunting over-sensitized flesh. Groans of completion
overwhelmed the erotic motet of their cries, a climax of body,
mind, and vocalized music.
Twined together in a maze of tangled limbs and torsos, Qui-Gon
stroked the sweat damp hair of his apprentice. He watched as
the sated young man drifted off to sleep, murmuring his name
like one would revere a god. He let his finger graze the shell
of his ear before sliding down the length of his braid. With
braid in hand, Qui-Gon shifted enough to tuck Obi-Wan's head
under his chin and draw the man even tighter into the circle of
his arms before joining his Obi-Wan in contented slumber.
The unfamiliar sensation of another's breathing brought Obi-Wan
up from the deep reaches of sleep. He swam up from
unconsciousness at first confused and then realization hit him.
He pulled away from Qui-Gon enough to take in the view of his
sleep-slackened face. Such a sight as he'd never seen before -
peaceful and serene as in meditation, and yet, not the same.
Drawing his hand up from the confines of their closely pressed
bodies, Obi-Wan let his fingers dance over Qui-Gon's features.
His beard (much softer than he'd guess), his crooked nose,
strong chin, beautiful lips… if he could only see his
eyes this close again, that brilliant blue seemed to continue
on forever. But that would mean waking him and breaking the
spell. This gift of a night couldn't be ruined for anything.
He'd almost missed it, backing down on his long devised plan to
use the Horin's culture to his advantage. Yet, Qui-Gon had
asked all the right questions and before Obi-Wan hardly
realized it, he found himself crushed against his master. His
obstinate, aggravating, strong, beautiful master - together
breaching a longstanding tenet of Master/Padawan relations.
No consequences. He only hoped it was true.
Moving in slow intervals in carefully chosen directions,
Obi-Wan untangled himself from Qui-Gon's body, reverently
laying each limb into as comfortable a position as he could
find. The last entanglement was of Qui-Gon's fingers wrapped
possessively around his braid. Obi-Wan followed out the line of
discarded clothing into the common room, gathering his own
pieces and taking them into his quarters to dump on the floor.
He then strode, still nude, back into Qui-Gon's room,
collecting his clothing and folding them to lie on a chair.
Pulling a wrinkled sheet up from the end of the bed, Obi-Wan
covered his master, stepping back to watch the thin fabric
float down and settle like snow over the terrain of Qui-Gon's
body. His breathing even quickened as he envied the sheet that
clung to that body as he had only moments before, but never
again. Not allowing himself to become melancholy, Obi-Wan came
close one last time to place a kiss on his beloved's forehead.
He let his lips linger, sealing the memory of this night and
then turned to leave, not looking back, a smile splitting wide
his face.
Brilliant light flooded Obi-Wan's vision with red-orange. At
first he thought that the bonfire was ablaze again, but then he
realized it was the rising sun piercing though his eyelids. A
blinding ray slipped though the shades not fully pulled close.
With a groan, Obi-Wan raised his arm across the bridge of his
nose, protecting his vulnerable eyes and rolled away from the
light.
*"...the cruel light of the next day..."*, Qui-Gon's words from
the night before echoed in Obi-Wan's head. It was not just a
metaphor. Obi-Wan sat up, the bed clothes wrapped around his
middle, constricting his movements. As he stretched a recently
familiar scent wafted into his nostrils and awakened his mind.
Sharply, he looked around expecting to find Qui-Gon near, but
he was very much alone. Realization reminded him that he was
unwashed from the events the night before. He seriously
considered never washing again. Smiling, he let his hand caress
his belly, feeling the dried flecks of ejaculate dusting off
with his touch. No, he'd had his night, it was all he would be
getting, he needed to keep moving. With a sigh, Obi-Wan pushed
off the covers and crossed the room to the refresher.
The 'fresher sonics brought him keenly into reality. He had to
prepare for the trip back to Courscant today and he knew
Qui-Gon preferred leaving as close to middle hour as possible.
That didn't leave much time. Dressed quickly, Obi-Wan paused
before entering the common room and truly beginning his day. He
wondered what awaited him on the other side. If nothing else,
Obi-Wan trusted Qui-Gon implicitly. He knew he was safe. He
only wished he knew from what.
As the door whooshed open, Obi-Wan found that the chamber
caretakers had already come and gone, leaving food for the
morning. The place-settings sat untouched on the quaint table
and chairs in the corner of the room. He walked up to the table
and picked at the food. A berry, a petite cake, a drink of some
local juice went down his gullet, before an unexpected knot of
tension stifled his appetite. He could sense his master
approaching the door of the common room.
Obi-Wan didn't let the sound of the door opening deter him, as
he turned away from the table and began collecting the numerous
datapads and electro-books that cluttered the area, left strewn
after the final negotiation was entered as final. Swallowing
against a dry throat, Obi-Wan ignored the gaze that followed
him as he moved from chair to couch to table, stacking the
objects in his arms. He wanted to greet his master with a 'good
morning', but couldn't find enough moisture in his mouth to
speak. Finally Qui-Gon stepped away from his quarter's door and
approached the table of food. Obi-Wan then turned to watch his
master pick at the food in the same sporadic manner he had.
Qui-Gon's strong back bent over the table slightly to study the
food before him, his still damp hair dangled over his shoulder
dripping a lone droplet of water on the dark wood. Qui-Gon must
have used a moisture shower instead of sonics. Obi-Wan shut his
eyes tight, willing the distracting image - Qui-Gon, head
dipped back, water sluicing down his nude muscled form - to
leave his mind. It was going to be a difficult morning. If they
just returned to routine and normalcy, Obi-Wan could ensure
that indeed there would be no consequences for their night.
With one last quick glimpse and a grin, he turned away and
carried the pads into his room to fill their bags.
Reentering the common area, Obi-Wan caught his master's direct
gaze for the first time since the night before. He was standing
with his back to the corner table as if waiting for him to
return. Obi-Wan stopped still for that moment, witnessing the
pronounced lines on Qui-Gon's face, an expression of deep
concern crumpling his features. No. Normalcy and routine. He
turned away, looking for anything else to collect.
"Obi-Wan, we need to talk."
His mouth dry again, Obi-Wan bit the back of his tongue to
cause saliva to flood his mouth and enable him to speak.
"I've filled our bags, I can collect the rest of yours and take
them to the launch pad, if you're ready." He brushed absent
crumbs from the seats of the couch.
"Obi-Wan, I really think we should discuss..."
"No." Obi-Wan cut him off, shocked by his own quick reaction.
He turned back to meet that conflicted gaze with his own
determined one.
Qui-Gon dropped his head for a moment then raised his chin as
he began to speak again. His fingers woven together, suspended
before his chest.
"I know we said..."
Obi-Wan interrupted him again, his voice very calm.
"I believe your exact words were 'I promise.'"
Qui-Gon started as if to argue, but instead hardened his jaw
and looked away. His shoulders sagged as he turned on his heel
and walked into his room. Returning with his bags, Obi-Wan
watched his master, not moving for the luggage until he'd laid
them down. As Obi-Wan lumped a bag over his shoulder, he could
hear Qui-Gon draw breath to speak. He tensed in anticipation of
unwanted words.
"If you'd just listen..."
Obi-Wan's glare this time stopped Qui-Gon. He looked over his
unburdened shoulder, staring up at his master.
"You were right. There is no such thing as 'no
consequences'" His words were clipped with a bitter edge that
made Qui-Gon flinch. Qui-Gon stood in that spot as Obi-Wan
continued to gather all the bags. He would normally make two
trips for them all, but wrapped straps around himself and
lugged extra weight to leave as soon as possible, not wanting
to return to this room again.
"Obi-Wan."
Pausing before the door to the main hallway, Obi-Wan caught
Qui-Gon's gaze a final time. Though his words were calm and
formal, the fire in his eyes spiked.
"Master, I am going to send for our ship. I'll meet you onboard
for departure at precisely middle hour."
Without hesitation or another word from Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan
marched out into the corridor, his heels echoed sharply,
ringing in his head and drowning out the rampaging words in his
mind.
"Listen, Jedi," the pilot spit the address like a curse, "I'm
on an extremely tight schedule here and I have to leave
NOW." He tapped an oil streaked finger on the navi-board for
effect. "Our window time for clearance is ticking away."
"I'm quite aware," Obi-Wan snapped back. His jaw
clenched rhythmically, pulsing the vein at his temple over and
over again. A litany against anger buzzed though his mind at a
dizzying pace. He'd already called Qui-Gon on the comlink for
the eighteenth time with no response. The Embassy computer
reported that Qui-Gon hadn't left their allocated quarters
since returning to them the night before. This was completely
ridiculous of a Jedi Master.
"That's it, I'm going," the pilot announced, as he punched the
control panel, bringing it to life.
"Just...wait...," Obi-Wan said through tightly clenched teeth.
"There's been a complication. I thought time would take care of
it, but apparently I'll have to handle it personally. This
won't take long."
"Well, I'm going to check my union papers to see just
how long I am required to wait, Jedi!" the pilot yelled
after Obi-Wan's retreating back and wind flared robes
"You do that," Obi-Wan grumbled as he strode down the ramp into
the brightly lit Horince day.
Obi-Wan stormed into the quarters ready for verbal battle, but
he found Qui-Gon staring out across the city, transfixed with
the view. He realized that must have been how Qui-Gon found
him, reflectively watching the bonfire, the night before.
Qui-Gon didn't seem as tall as he usually appeared.
Normalcy and routine. This had to work; Obi-Wan couldn't bear
to lose his master.
"Master, our impatient captain insists that we leave now. I
don't recommend upsetting a union pilot anymore than we already
have." His voice and stance were as formal as his early days of
trying to be the perfect padawan for his imposing and
impressive master. Such simple days.
The long silence that stretched after his words made the knot
of tension return to Obi-Wan's stomach. No consequences...how
did he ever allow himself to be so delusional?
"Apparently I did have a story I was telling myself," Qui-Gon
finally said, his back still towards Obi-Wan.
The knot of tension dropped then, sending Obi-Wan's insides
plummeting downward. His proper stance folded in on itself as
he drew his fingers up to pinch the bridge of his nose. He'd
risked too much. He played with a fire as massive as that
ritual blaze and thought he could actually control it. Foolish
boy.
"Please don't," his voice small with the plea.
Qui-Gon turned around at that, looking shocked and overwhelmed.
He spread his hands and returned the plea.
"I can't not, Obi-Wan. I found something new and wonderful and
glorious last night and, I'm sorry, but I couldn't bear to
never speak of it again." Qui-Gon took a step forward and then
another one, slowly approaching a frozen Obi-Wan. He had
dropped his hand as Qui-Gon began, disbelieving what he
listened to. The words, so far beyond what he ever had hoped to
hear, struck him dumb and powerless to move. He simply watched
as Qui-Gon came closer.
"I couldn't bear to never tell you how much you mean to me, how
much I need you..." Qui-Gon stopped moving then, his steady
gaze falling out of focus as he seemed to gather the words. He
looked up and caught Obi-Wan's stare with fierce determination,
"...how much I love you. I didn't realize, not until last
night."
Again he found himself staring into the endless blue of
Qui-Gon's eyes, intimately close. Caught between tears and
laughter, Obi-Wan struggled to speak, shaking his head slightly
as Qui-Gon captured it in his broad hands.
"I broke my promise, Obi-Wan, please forgive me."
"Master, I..." Obi-Wan barely managed, his voice raspy from
lack of breath that the sight before him had stolen away.
Qui-Gon pressed his forehead down against Obi-Wan's, his eyes
closed against collecting tears. Obi-Wan felt one drop splash
low on his cheek and roll down to drip off his jaw line,
mingled in with his own.
"Say my name," Qui-Gon murmured. "You had whispered it as you
fell asleep last night and I didn't realize until this morning
how rarely I hear you say it."
"Qui-Gon."
"Yes?" the Master's voice equally as breathless and raspy from
emotion. Obi-Wan felt Qui-Gon's fingers move with his throat as
he swallowed, drudging up the ability to speak.
"I have loved you for so long..." Obi-Wan's voice cracked and
failed as emotion welled up inside him. A wave of desire
deluged forward, washing down his shields and flooding along
the training bond, strengthening it into something greater and
unbreakable - far beyond any unspoken word or code could ever
hope to achieve.
"Shhh...I know," Qui-Gon whispered, "you told me as much with
your kiss last night. I am blessed."
Qui-Gon tilted Obi-Wan's head upward and captured his mouth,
gently pressing their lips together. The sensation broke
Obi-Wan out of his shocked calm and he reached up, wrapped his
arms tight about his master's neck and pulled him forward,
crashing into him. All reserve abandoned, Qui-Gon dropped his
hands, grabbed Obi-Wan's waist and bent him backwards,
devouring him into a breathless mass. The kiss set ablaze a
hundred passions buried deep within each man, lighting their
way as brilliantly as the Force. A perfect balance of
illumination that would serve them as they continued to
encounter the consequences of Horince's Night of K'Amar.
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