Archive: Yes to M_A, The Nesting Place, SWAL, QJEB
Category: A/U, Action/Adventure
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Q/O
Summary: What lengths will Ben go to in order to get the
antidote he needs?
Disclaimer: Don't own them, George Lucas does. If I did they
would have had a much happier ending! The planet name as well
as the general idea of the Arena and the Games are borrowed
from Simon R. Green's Deathstalker series - no copyright
infringement intended as no money is being made off of this.
Feedback: Yes please, it's addictive!
Author's Notes: Many, many thanks to my wonder-betas: Holly,
Tracy, and Heather, and thanks as well to everyone who wrote to
tell me they liked "In the Arena". See? Threats and begging do
work!
"Sar Jai Gonn, allow me to present my Champion, Ben Ken'ba."
Sea-change eyes met those of the deepest cerulean and held,
both gazes measuring, weighing, revealing nothing of the
thoughts in each man's mind.
"Sar Gonn." The words were offered with a bow though Ben's eyes
never left the stranger's. He was big, almost as large as
Malanese had been, and while he was dressed in the latest
fashions of the court there was an aura about him that told the
fighter that this man could be dangerous if he so chose. Brown
hair threaded with silver hung to his shoulders, brushing his
midnight blue cloak and framing a strong, handsome face. The
sprinkling of grey in the other man's mustache and beard, as
well as the fine lines around his eyes set his age at around
forty-five - a prime specimen without a doubt. The only
questions that remained were who was he and what did he have
that the Bitch wanted?
"Champion Ken'ba." Although nothing in the younger man's
expression or demeanor gave evidence to his scrutiny, Qui-Gon
nevertheless felt a push at his mind, one that he easily
deflected, the untutored probe sliding over his shields like
water flowing around a boulder. "I am grateful that your
injuries did not prevent you from attending the festivities."
Something flickered back of the fighter's eyes at that and one
corner of his mouth lifted in a caustic grin. "I would never
miss the opportunity to attend one of Elini's gatherings. They
always prove to be highly amusing."
The Empress's brown eyes thinned to baleful slits at the
familiarity of the address. Plainly if tonight did not knock
some of the arrogance from Ken'ba's attitude she would have to
take other measures. "I will leave the two of you to your
conversation. Do enjoy yourselves." Accepting their bows and
salutations, the woman swept away, her string of courtiers
following in her wake like scavengers shadowing a predator in
the hope of a meal.
"Care for a drink?"
Ben procured another stim-stick and placed it between his lips,
then offered one to the other man. At his refusal, the champion
shrugged, shifting the small rectangle to the corner of his
mouth so that he could speak. " Forgive me if I must decline. I
have an aversion to partaking in any of the Empress's
refreshments."
Qui-Gon's brow furrowed, his eyebrows raised in partially
feigned surprise. He would have thought the fighter would have
gladly enjoyed all the privileges that came with his position.
But then there seemed to be quite a bit about the younger man
that was not what it seemed to be. "No need to apologize,
everyone has their own preferences in these things. Tell me
then, where do you prefer to go when you enjoy a meal or a
drink?"
Folding his arms over his chest, his expression impassive,
Ken'ba's blue-green eyes flicked over the taller man's body.
"There is no need for this dancing around, Sar Gonn. You have
something I need, and you know it. What I want to know is what
you require in exchange for it."
"Why don't you tell me what you are willing to do to get it."
He really didn't mean to bait the other man, but some inner
voice kept prodding Qui-Gon in this course of action.
"What's the point in that?" Ben asked dryly. "What I want has
no bearing on this, what I need does."
"Humor me then. I'm curious to know how much value you place on
this object."
Ben laughed at that, the harsh exhalation causing an uneasy
ripple to run through those guests nearest to their position.
"I suppose you could say at this point in time I value it more
than my life, not that I believe that to be worth much any
longer. If you're interested in finding out just how much I
believe that to be, come with me. There's something I have to
do before we get down to the specifics of your payment."
The small, nondescript speeder angled out of the main flyway,
cruising onto a less traveled thoroughfare. The buildings that
loomed around it were shabby but clean, the neighborhood on the
lower end of the riches scale but not yet fallen into the
morass of the slums.
The single question the gladiator had asked once they were
alone was in regard to what his guest was doing on Golgatha.
Qui-Gon's answer had apparently satisfied his curiosity as he
hadn't said a word for the rest of the trip, his concentration
seemingly on piloting the craft toward its destination.
"I take it this is why you told me to change," Qui-Gon
ventured, eyeing the tidy but run-down stone facades as they
slid past, moving deeper into the warren of twisting streets.
He was now dressed in a version of his normal garments - boots,
trousers and a tunic; all in natural tones rather than the rich
colors his borrowed persona garbed himself in.
Ben gave a noncommittal grunt and veered down another side
street, easing the speeder into a slot outside an unassuming
shop. The fighter still wore leather, but the cut was both less
formal and less revealing, while the color was a dusky gray.
The silver and crystal trappings were gone, replaced with more
functional versions of the accessories they had represented -
only the rings and earring remained the same.
Qui-Gon had counted at least five weapons visible on the other
man's person and he was sure that there were at least that many
more located in hidden sites on the fighter's body. You have
done some foolhardy things in your life, the Jedi told
himself ruefully as he opened his mind up to the Force,
searching for a sense of danger regarding the situation or
location. But this certainly ranks near the top of the
list.
In all reality this was far outside his jurisdiction as a
representative of the Council and Chancellor Valorum, but he
had to find out more about Ben Ken'ba. Dark, but not of the
Dark Side. Trained in the Jedi arts, but with a control that
was surpassed by even the lowest level Padawan. Strong in the
Force - hells, what he wouldn't give to be able to get a
midichlorian count on the younger man.
"Stay here." Without a backward glance, Ben stepped from the
speeder to the street and entered the shop.
"Like hell I will," Qui-Gon muttered, flowing out of the
vehicle close on the other man's trail, intent on finding out
what this visit was about.
"Are you an idiot or do you just have a problem following
orders?" The question was asked as the fighter reached the
doorway, before he signaled the portal open.
"I have been accused of both during my lifetime," the Jedi
answered affably, making it clear from his stance that he
wasn't going back to the transport without a struggle - one he
doubted the younger man could win.
Ben raked a hand through his hair over the white streak at his
right temple and growled out a curse. "Just stay out of the
way, Sar Trade Representative. These people have been through
enough."
The older man almost asked what Ben meant by that last comment,
but refrained, guessing correctly that he wouldn't receive an
answer. Nodding silently, he followed the fighter into the
shop. Food stuffs and a variety of ready-to-wear garments
seemed to make up most of the stock - what there was of it.
A tall, gangly man moved out of the shadows in the back of the
single room, blocking their path. "They don't want to see you
or your friend, Ken'ba," he spat, glaring at the visitors with
disdain-filled eyes.
"They may not want to see me, but they will." Ben's answer was
voiced in a soft, compelling tone and the self-appointed
guard's stance wavered.
"They will . . ." His voice trailed off uncertainly, as if he
was fighting an inner battle with his good sense.
"You have my thanks." Inclining his head to the still befuddled
man, Ben stepped past him, moving up the narrow staircase,
Qui-Gon trailing doggedly at his heels.
The situation was becoming more mysterious by the second,
something that would have had the Jedi seething in frustration
if he had allowed himself the luxury. Another blatant use of
the Force, another revelation of Jedi training, and still he
had no better understanding of who the younger man was than the
first time he has seen him.
The knock on the door was answered by a portly, middle-aged man
who wore his years with much less grace than the Jedi Master
did. His expression flattened when he saw the fighter,
expressing his anger, but he stepped aside to allow the two men
to enter.
The shop-keeper's wife had no such restraint, however, and the
palm of her hand connected solidly with Ben's cheek in
precisely the same spot the Empress' had landed earlier that
evening. "How dare you show your face here? If not for you this
would never have happened!"
Bleak blue-green eyes turned winter desolate, a stark contrast
to the vivid palm-print now standing out in relief on his
cheek. "I cannot change what has happened, Sari." The
champion's tone was quiet, even diffident, shocking Qui-Gon.
"Please know that if it were possible I would. I can only offer
you some manner of compensation, and this."
The woman flinched back as Ben touched her face with his
fingertips and then her eyes went glassy.
"What have you done to her?" the shop-keeper roared, blustering
forward, prepared to defend his wife.
Ben turned and placed his hand against the older man's face in
the same manner. "Nothing that will harm her, I assure you."
His eyes narrowed as they flicked to where the trade
representative was watching, a stunned expression on his face.
Ken'ba turned resolutely, heading for the back room.
Qui-Gon was tempted to follow, but he wanted to see what
exactly Ken'ba had done to the couple before they recovered. A
quick survey of the still quiescent minds revealed that the
fighter had blunted the memories of their time as the Empress'
"guests" and had banished all memory of this visit.
Folding his arms in front of him and pondering this event, the
Jedi moved toward the inner doorway and peered inside. Ben
knelt on the bare floor in front of a young woman seated on a
narrow bed. She may have been beautiful under normal
circumstances but currently her hair was a tangled mess and her
face was blotched and swollen from blows and tears. Her hands
gripped one of the fighter's with such strength that her
fingers were white and tremors ran through her body. Her voice
was hoarse and much of what she said was unintelligible but
Qui-Gon understood enough of it to sicken him.
When he saw Ben raise his hand to touch the girl's face, the
Jedi ducked back out of the doorway and returned to his earlier
position by the still befuddled couple. He gave the fighter a
questioning look when he emerged from the room - one that
wasn't entirely for show.
A chilling glare and a curt wave were the only reply Ben gave
before he stalked from the room, down the stairs, and out of
the store. Barely giving his guest enough time to slide into
the passenger seat next to him, Ben rocketed out of the space.
They merged into the flow of traffic once again, this time
heading away from the city and toward the rural districts.
"May I ask what that was about?"
"Nothing."
"It didn't seem like nothing to me. What happened to those poor
people?"
"Nothing." This time the word was accompanied by an
instinctive push with the Force. "You needn't remember it."
The trick didn't work, but Qui-Gon decided that there was no
reason for the other man to know. Letting his eyes go blank, he
nodded. "Nothing to remember about it." That said, he stared
out the transparisteel window of the speeder, playing the
mind-wipe victim with what he thought was credible skill.
After all, I've seen the effects of them often enough to
emulate them. This thought almost caused him to chuckle,
but the Jedi reined the impulse in by thinking about the family
they had just left.
"We're here."
This said, Ben shut down the speeder and keyed the doors,
letting the cool, fragrant night air roll into the transport.
Where "here" was, Qui-Gon had no idea, though he had kept track
of the route they had taken. "Home?" he asked, unfolding
himself from the low seat and gazing around the shadowed
compound.
Lights came on automatically as they approached the arched
entry, giving the Jedi a clear view of the younger man's
scornful expression as well as the vivid bruise on his left
cheek. "A place to stay, nothing more."
"Should I take that to mean you don't consider this home or
that this abode is not it?"
They crossed the threshold and stepped inside, the heavy door
closing soundlessly behind them. A short hallway opened up into
a spacious room minimally decorated with neutral shaded
furniture but devoid of any other accessories. Ceiling high
windows lent credence to the fact that there must be a
spectacular view from them during the day, but currently all
that could be seen was the pressing blackness of the night.
Ben shrugged again and popped another stim-stick between his
lips, causing Qui-Gon to add another mark to the running tally
he had been keeping since noticing the younger man's seeming
addiction to the things. "Is a place to stay. Could be gone
tomorrow if I lose, so why call it a home?"
"Why not?" the older man parried, glancing back over his
shoulder at the fighter as he wandered around the room, trying
to get a feel of the space and the man who lived there.
Unfortunately, not much was forthcoming regarding either.
Ben gave a disgusted snort at that and spat the used dispenser
toward a small container near the sofa. "What is the point of
this Sar Gonn? We both know why you're here. We both know I'm
not going to say no."
Qui-Gon's lips parted to give voice to his protest - there was
nothing he wanted from the fighter, no matter what the other
man thought. If the drug in his possession was that necessary
to Ken'ba, he could have it. It was not the Jedi's place to
police others' customs or addictions.
In a move too quick to track, Ben was on the larger man,
pushing him back against the textured mortar of the wall.
Strong fingers tangled in free-flowing hair, drawing Qui-Gon's
head downward. Lips that had given expression to a sardonic
sneer moments before now claimed and seduced the Jedi's mouth.
Taking advantage of his momentary shock to invade and plunder
the cavern beyond, the fighter's tongue slipped past the
barrier of teeth to stroke and slide against Qui-Gon's in an
intimate, knowing exploration.
The Jedi gathered his strength and the Force to push the
younger man away, not wanting to injure him, but determined not
to give into this assault. Setting his hands on Ben's
shoulders, Qui-Gon opened his mind, preparing to plant the
suggestion that these actions stop. He sent out a slim probe,
then broadened the connection when it easily slipped past the
other man's erratic mental defenses.
What followed next was a psychic concussion the likes of which
the Jedi Master had never experienced before.
Just get it over with, at least he isn't hard on the
eyes. With that thought, Ben propelled himself toward the
older man, intent on a fast and furious bout of sex that would
render Jai Gonn open to the suggestion that it was time to
leave as soon as it was over.
Mouth locking over the trade representative's, Ben attacked the
other man's lips, demanding surrender and nothing less. There
was a moment of total acceptance, then the larger man tensed,
beginning to pull back. Growling in the back of his throat, the
fighter concentrated the way he had with the merchant family,
searching for a way into Jai Gonn's mind. An opening presented
itself and Ben struck, feeling a moment's triumph before his
mind was consumed in a flash-fire of sensation and emotion.
The contact felt as if it lasted an eternity. Both men were
suspended in the abyss of the other's consciousness, each aware
of his own existence but totally immersed in memories both
foreign and tantalizingly familiar. Connections formed and were
ripped asunder only to snap back into place the second after
dissolution. Truths were revealed and forgotten, motives
catalogued and discarded, until all that remained was the pure
essence of fire that burned at the center of the beings known
as Ben Ken'ba and Qui-Gon Jinn.
Consciousness returned with a mind-rending jolt and with it
came a rush of unrelenting lust - both bodies demanding nothing
less than a joining as complete and overwhelming as that of the
minds had been.
No longer trying to escape from the shorter man's grasp,
Qui-Gon dragged Ben closer, arching his hips into the demanding
press of fighter's body, feeling the near-frantic strength of
Ben's hands in his hair pulling them even closer together.
Something had been loosed in both of them by the brief mental
contact. Primal urges that had long been chained and repressed
were now free, their single mandate the complete and total
destruction of any remaining barriers, be they mental or
physical.
The harsh sound of tearing fabric rent the air as Ben shifted
his grasp to grip the taller man's tunic and pulled, baring the
broad planes of Qui-Gon's chest to his hungry touch. Cool air
whispered over the half-healed cut on his back as his vest was
stripped from his body and discarded, leaving his torso bare.
Hands clutched, fingers digging into skin stretched taut by
straining muscles. Teeth closed over flesh, tasting, marking,
branding sensations into synapses dangerously close to
overload. Somehow the need to move was communicated across the
nascent link and the pair shifted, stumbling through a wide
archway to the bedroom beyond. A wrong step sent a stab of pain
through both men as Ben's injured knee protested the angle at
which it was bent. Qui-Gon reacted without thinking, taking
more of the smaller man's weight. The move turned into a
controlled fall as the fighter attempted to recover his
balance, but only succeeded in causing them to collapse on the
nearby bed.
The shift in position was fine with Ben and the pain in his
knee receded to a forgettable level as he concentrated on the
feel of the other man's body beneath him, heated satin covering
powerfully bunched muscles. Their trousers were a frustrating
impediment to completion, but one that was easily dealt with,
leaving the last remnants of their clothing in a tangled knot
of leather, fabric and boots at the foot of the bed.
"Now, damnit." Qui-Gon had no idea if he said the words aloud
or simply thought them, but somehow Ben understood the
combination plea and command. The lips feasting on his neck
were torn away and the Jedi's whole body stiffened as a hot,
hungry mouth closed over his erection.
Relaxing well-trained throat muscles, the fighter lowered his
head until his nose brushed the dark curls at the older man's
groin, each breath filling his nostrils with the scent of sweat
and arousal. Long, blunt fingers ran through his hair, cradling
his head and urging him onward. Ben complied eagerly, swirling
his tongue around the pulsing flesh as he reached for a small
container of lubricant on the bedside table and flipped it
open. The body beneath him spasmed as he pressed an oil-slick
finger past the tight circle of muscle guarding its one
unexplored entrance. An echo of bone-searing pleasure streaked
across Ben's nerves, making his cock twitch in reaction and
with a demand to be sheathed in that clinging heat.
A second finger gained entrance, drawing a hoarse groan from
Qui-Gon's constricted throat, a sound that deepened as the
other man's mouth suddenly vanished, leaving his shaft
desperate for the humid warmth it had been bathed in. Any
protest he would have made was forestalled by the sight that
greeted him as his eyes slitted open.
Ben Ken'ba knelt between his splayed legs, the beauty of his
bared body both beautiful and terrible to behold. A look of
concentration so intense that it was almost painful masked the
younger man's features and his hands worked in tandem, one
spreading a coating of oil over the length of his erection
while the other continued to stretch and stimulate the larger
man's body.
Another half-felt brush of contact and Ben's eyes snapped open,
their blue-green color lost in the inky dilation of his pupils.
"Now." The word emerged as a husked out growl that was timed
with the sudden withdrawal of his fingers.
Before the trade representative could react, his legs were
shifted to the other man's shoulders and his whole being
centered on the solid length that was slowly filling him.
There was a second of complete and utter stillness then a
frantic, almost desperate rhythm asserted itself. There was no
leading and no following, control was taken and received
without words, changing hands with the speed of a thought or
the subtle pressure of a touch.
For this fleeting, eternal moment, two entities were fused into
one. Victim and conqueror, possessor and possessed. Minds,
hearts, and souls searching for that perfect culmination. It
came far too soon, though anything longer would have resulted
in madness, bringing with it a shattering of unity and a return
to the solitude of the self.
Both physically and mentally exhausted, the two men had no
recourse other than to submit to the demands of their bodies
and succumb to the lure of oblivion, collapsing where they lay
twined together. For the moment, at peace.
Ben stood at the window, naked, eyes focused on the horizon as
the rising sun burned away the mists and cover of the night,
baring all before the brutal glare of its rays. Deeply
ingrained instincts had roused him from his slumber while the
sky had still been dark and no amount of pacing or inner debate
had been able to explain away what had occurred earlier.
Long held convictions warred with recently reopened scars,
shredding the chill distance that normally blanketed the
fighter's emotions and thoughts. A soft footfall behind him and
Ben turned, looking over his shoulder at the sleep and sex
rumpled form silhouetted in the doorway.
Jai Gonn returned the scrutiny steadily, his bearing regal
despite the fact that he too had left his clothing in the
bedroom.
Fingers closing tightly over the small glass cylinder in his
hand, Ben completed his turn and advanced on the other man, his
steps slow and measured, his expression wary. Stopping within a
half-meter of the larger man, Ken'ba tilted his head back
enough to meet his eyes and spoke. "Who in the hells are you?"
A ghost of a frown darkened Qui-Gon's eyes, then was gone,
vanished like the mist outside. "I believe I could ask you the
same question."
~end~
August 9, 1999
Hope it was it worth the wait!
Part 3 next - "Blood is Spilled". As always, feedback is
greatly appreciated at RinaSHW@aol.com.
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