Master Apprentice  Archive Not The End |
|
Rating: R
Category: Angst, Romance, PWP, Q/O
Disclaimer: This isn't the story you're looking for.
Archive: master_apprentice, QJEB, SWAL; anywhere else, just ask, I won't say no.
Series: No.
Warnings: A dead Qui-Gon has sex with Obi-Wan. If this squicks you, this is the perfect opportunity to hit "Back."
Spoilers: Yes, but you already know the story. You just don't know all of it.
Summary: BlueGhost!Qui makes an appearance (of sorts) to comfort Obi-Wan.
Feedback: Compliments are recieved with hugs and kisses and wots of wuv and are treasured forever. Criticism is appreciated. Flames are ignored.
Notes: This is the first slash thing I ever wrote. Discovered it a few days ago, polished it up, and now it's in your hands.
"Obi-Wan."
The voice came from his mind, surely nothing but memories of days past when his lover had whispered those same words just before words became unneccessary. Qui-Gon was dead, though they were bonded, most certainly voices did not continue after death?
Fingers dancing over his body...
Dead people don't touch their lovers, do they? It seemed like Obi-Wan had been so wrong, or maybe he was hallucinating?
A stronger touch....
All right, dead people most certainly don't do that.
"Qui-Gon?"
A breath against his skin, tender hands racing over his body. It felt so familiar, yet so very strange.
"Beloved? Are you there? Obi-Wan?"
The voice again, surely, surely this must be madness. Feeling a dead lover's caresses was one sign of what?
A half-gasping intake of breath and Obi-Wan forgot that anything existed except the non-existent hands, the tenderness, the beauty, the drowning sensation that always had been accompanied by his lover's kiss.
Surely dreams, hallucinations, don't kiss like lovers, do they?
Apparently they did. The familiar mouth pressed against his, the motions all too well known, like a rehearsed dance that always brings pleasure.
Eyes sliding open, not finding anyone there in the room with him, was an almost unbearable shock.
"Beloved. Don't leave me." A plea, whispered, like a prayer.
"Never, my Obi-Wan. Never." A silent answer, like a vow.
The dance continued, hands not there pressing against him, caressing everywhere, the hard-muscled legs, the strong arms, the young face, the beautiful chest, shivers following each touch...
"Qui-Gon!" A raspy breath, half-moaning.
"Was that 'Please' or 'No', I never could tell?" the voice again spoke, teasingly, all too familiar....
"Please, it's please..." Obi-Wan's voice died away as hands caressed him, everywhere now, lips touching his arousal.
And....oh, death is not the end. Death is not the end.