Master Apprentice
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V
His mouth was dry and his hands were shaking as he stayed in the bath to finish drying and attend to his oils and lotions. For the first time in at least three years, his actions frightened him. Obi-Wan forced his mind to go blank once more and managed to finish his toilette quickly. He reached for his evening robe and knotted the wide sash loosely, tying it in the front rather than the back.
It was irrational for him to be so scared and lost: he'd been trained for this for most of his life. He knew what he made for, then why was he shaking so he could barely run the comb through his hair? Another sensitive, and trained enough to be able to mindspeak. It made him feel more vulnerable than the breadth of those large hands on his body, on his neck, his lower back. Shivering, he glanced at his reflection in the single, small glass near the doorway.
He raised one hand to his cheek. Was this really his own reflection? He was so pale, his eyes heavily circled and burning too brightly. The spring green robe made them look like a pair of transparent oceans. He took a deep breath and leaned forward to pinch some colour into his cheeks: all the cosmetics were in another case and he refused to be shown to his Master at a disadvantage twice in one day. He just wished he didn't look so small and scared.
When he padded barefoot to stand near the fire, his Master was sprawled in one of the big chairs, his head lolling.
"Master?" Obi-Wan whispered.
"Master?" a little louder.
He bit his lip nervously.
"Master!" Oh no, not that yelp again. Obi-Wan gulped and ducked his head. When he dared to raise his eyelids, those eyes were fastened on him again.
The firelight gleamed silver in his beard, in the wings of the mane that shadowed his face. He reached forward and pulled the boy to stand, imprisoned, between his legs.
"Tha' was good."
Obi-Wan's eyes sought the floor, but it was impossible. The way his Master held him, he could only look down into those blue eyes.
They were gazing at him, speculating. "You're shakin', lad. I'm not gonna cut your throat, y'know. " A deep rumble of a laugh. "Damn, boy, you cost far too much!"
He was pulled onto his Master's lap in a flurry of silk. It made him feel absolutely helpless and he forced himself to lean into the embrace, leaning his head against the bearded neck. The huge arms tightened around him briefly.
Then he was lifted and carried to the bed. Surprisingly, his Master laid him down very gently.
"C'mon. I'm bloody exhausted."
Obi-Wan struggled rather gracelessly to his knees to pull the coverlet back, thankful that his Master never noticed. He simply slid between the sheets and pulled Obi-Wan close again.
"Lose that." his fingers plucked at the silken robe.
Once Obi-Wan shrugged out of the robe, he was pulled down into the sheets roughly. The sheets...oh ghods, that pheromone treatment! He fully expected to see his Master lose himself in some kind of brutal, mindless rut, but the strong arms simply held him, pressing their bodies together. Then the big hands relaxed.
Obi-Wan held still, held his breath.
At first, the touches were very gentle, mere whispers of fingertips against his flesh. He raised his arms to wind them around his Master's neck, and his mouth was claimed in a fierce kiss. Suddenly one hand was twisted in his hair, pulling his head closer. Obi-Wan sobbed a little, and the hand eased its grip. The boy's lips parted, trembling and allowed the exploration of his mouth, responding automatically to the tongue against his own. "Remember your training..." He let himself melt into the kiss, pulling on years of training to make himself use his muscles as they were meant to be used. His Master's tongue swirling around his upper palate, he wound one leg up to cross the powerful thighs, felt himself lifted up to perch on the flat stomach.
The Master had one hand around his waist, the other running crosswise over his chest, pausing to circle one of those hypersensitive nipples. It peaked immediately, making Obi-Wan shudder against the fingers. He was making soft, needing sounds as his Master grasped both nipples firmly, then harder, and harder until pleasure bordered on agony and he arched backwards.
"So sensitive," his Master murmured low, reaching down to lift the slender legs further apart, his fingers stealing a quick caress of the boy's now-hard cock. Obi-Wan wriggled against them, feeling the press of his Master's erection against his ass. Swaying into the moment, his hands moved down over the broad chest, teasing and light, then reached behind him to stroke the twin creases between thigh and groin. His Master's moan was gratifying, and he ducked down to kiss the lips buried in that silvery beard. He was surer of himself now, and it made it easier to respond to the hands that stroked him, running calloused palms over his silky skin. His lips were sucked into another kiss as one roughened finger slid down between his cheeks to touch gently at the sweet-oiled opening.
Obi-Wan froze. Only for a moment, but he felt himself blushing in the midst of the kiss at such a lapse. His Master continued to slowly finger and circle the tender skin, making him squirm and rock his hips involuntarily. The other hand reached between their bodies to grasp his cock and he twitched as though shocked.
"Your mouth," his Master growled and he returned himself to the exploring tongue and lips that threatened to devour him. The finger slipped just inside him but he was so lost in the kiss that he barely registered it, until it pushed in deeper and he whimpered, his tongue trembling against his Master's.
Deeper still and his breath was catching in his chest as it pushed far past his own cleansing ritual or anything else he'd ever felt. The Master's other hand pulled at his cock again and his face was buried in the wire of his beard. He relaxed against the invasion, willing his hips back until it stroked at him and he jerked in ecstasy, breaking away with a gasp. His Master's eyes were nearly black in the flickering light, and he smiled.
"Shhhh..." He was pulled back down, his head cradled against the hollow of his Master's throat as that finger stroked him again, deep, deep inside and his whole body shuddered. One finger became two, then more, then something else as he was lifted upright, riding the wave of passion that was overwhelming him.
He reached one hand behind him, feeling where his Master had penetrated him, his other hand braced against the headboard. His Master's hips were moving beneath him and he ground down into the rhythm, nearly cross-eyed every time he pushed back against a stroke. His own cock was imprisoned in that broad hand and he was alternately pushed back into the invading erection and forward to the pulling fingers. His head fell back and he simply rode his Master in a spiral of sensation.
Obi-Wan's hips slid back and forth, his eyes rolling back in his head. Then, white light exploded in his mind and he exploded with it. The orgasm took him by surprise and, even as he bucked forward into his Master's hand, he bit back any sound, horrified at his lack of control. But the big body beneath him continued to pump at him and his altered sensitivity did not allow for more thought. His hips continued their grinding against the pool of dampness seeping between their bodies when he felt his Master stiffen and arch beneath him. He regained enough sense to remember his internal controls and tightened the muscles around the big cock spearing him.
His Master grabbed his arms so hard he winced and thrust furiously into him. Obi-Wan gasped at the hot flood spouting into his body. With a low moan, he sank forward against his Master's heaving chest and trembled there, panting. He could feel the slow seep from his insides, felt as though his muscles had turned to ch'all mush and he nestled his head against his Master's shoulder with a sigh. It was over.
For a long time, he was simply held against his Master's chest, then was gently rolled onto his side.
//Not too bad, little one?//
Obi-Wan cuddled closer, stretching one arm across him. //Not bad at all.//
"Not at all." he whispered as he slipped into warm oblivion.
VI
Obi-Wan drifted up from sleep, felt the covers being pulled back and rolled with a groan into the pillows. They were yanked from under him.
//C'mon boy. Wake up.//
Obi-Wan sat up, startled at that deep voice within his mind.
His Master was sitting by the fireplace, calming peeling a piece of fruit. Beneath the beard, his lips twitched at the boy's obvious discomfort.
"How did..?"
The Master laughed softly. "If anyone should know tha', you should. Now get up. It's almost mid-hour, y'know."
Obi-Wan hopped out of the bed, stretching. He still felt entirely disoriented and a little sore. Methodically, he replaced the bedclothes properly, then collected his bath things.
More laughter. " I can see you're gonna dry up the spring! "
He paused, confused, and turned obediently back to the fireplace.
"No, no. Go on! You'll need t' get cleaned up."
Obi-Wan felt himself flushing and fairly fled to the bath.
He tried to gather his thoughts as he bathed, wincing a little when he lowered himself into the tub. Force, but the man was enormous! Looking down, he was shocked to realize that there were very distinct oval bruises ringing both his arms, just above the elbow. Fingermarks. His Master's marks, along with the wretched black and purple welts where Zath had pinched him. Not one day, and he was already being damaged. He restrained the urge to throw the soap across the room and settled for furiously scrubbing his hair. All throughout his ablutions, he found himself becoming increasingly angry at himself for all the tears yesterday. Force, what a fool he must have looked! Well, he wasn't exhausted from hours of travel now and he took a deep breath, trying to centre himself.
//All right, Obi,// he thought. //What are the facts here? Your Master is a complete savage. The household thinks of you as a ten-credit whore. Worst of all, your Master is not only Force-sensitive. He's been trained.//
"Ugh!" he yanked hard at a snarl with the comb. How in Force was he going to handle all this? It was a Jedi's place to use their Force abilities to please their Masters. It's what they were prized for, that extra-normal control of mind and body.
//How in Sith hells did he get any training? It's ridiculous! I couldn't 't ever even begin to imagine him as a Jedi!//
Obi-Wan giggled at the thought of his big Master wound in a seryth-silk robe .
"Very flatterin'"
Obi-Wan's head snapped up and he stared, open-mouthed at his Master.
"I know ya' ve been taught some kind of shieldin'. You might wanna brush up on it."
"But how do you know---?" Obi-Wan asked flatly.
He stood up, still dripping and the Master grabbed one of the big towels and began drying him off.
"Just do wha' I tell ya t'do, boy. Now get yer ass in gear. We've a long afternoon ahead of us."
There were clothes laid on the table by the fire for him: a knee-length tunic of some heavy green material, a plain white one for underneath, white leggings and knee-high boots. Obi-Wan turned to his Master, one eyebrow cocked.
"Just put 'em on. We're gonna see how far you've gotten."
Cryptic reply. //Gotten with what?// he thought. //And does he have to dress me like a damned peasant!//
A sharp slap to his backside as he bent over to pull on the leggings made him yelp.
"Keep a civil tongue in yer head if yer not gonna shield your thoughts. "
Simmering with resentment, Obi-Wan finished getting dressed and dutifully fell in behind his Master, down the stairs and through the Hall. His Master stopped to whistle and four big animals, probably some canine species, ran to his side. He fondled their big ears absently.
"Hungry?"
Obi-Wan shook his head. His stomach was in too much of a knot to think of eating. The Master strode to the enormous doors and Obi-Wan waited for the servants to rush to open them. They were well over twenty feet high and bolted twice, high above his own head.
With a wave of his hand, Master Qui-Gon drew the bolts and pushed the doors back. The sunlight outside was blinding and Obi-Wan blinked against its glare like an owl for a moment.
"C'mon. Stop dawd'lin."
Obi-Wan had to run to catch up as his Master crossed the yard, following a rough-hewn slate path to a large circular area, smoothed with sand. It was shielded from the sunlight by the deepening shadows of the building. Obi-Wan eyed it curiously. It looked similar to the ribboned rings where he had been taught the intricate kata-dances, but much larger. The air was crisp and clean, a hint of spring in it.
His Master had stripped off his outer tunic and stretched hugely.
"Start with the first kata. The way they trained ya."
Obediently, Obi-Wan took of the green tunic and centred himself in the sand ring. Slowly, he began the first liquid moves of the dance, his body relaxing into the Force with his mind. He speeded up, his arms and legs in unison, then diverging, the steps so reinforced in his mind that he was one with them. He ended this simple dance with a Force-leap backwards, then stopped.
Master Qui-Gon was standing with his arms crossed, shaking his head. He heaved a sigh.
"What level are you at?"
"Sixth form perfectly. I had begun the seventh before-"
"Show me." The was distinct disapproval in his Master's expression and it made Obi-Wan nervous. He struggled through the difficult sixth kata, missing more than a few of the intricate acrobatics, but managed to make it to the final leap.
"Ghods above, what a travesty!" Qui-Gon muttered under his breath. He took a deep breath and waved Obi-Wan aside.
"All right. I'm gonna show you how it should be done."
Obi-Wan's eyes were enormous as he backed out of the ring. He bit his lip, flushing with shame. He knew that piece, but he also knew his performance had been shoddy. And he was doubly confused as to how his huge barbarian of a Master could know these delicate and Force-driven dances.
Qui-Gon moved into the centre of the circle, closing his eyes briefly. When they opened, they were glassy as he sank his mind deeply into the Force. Then he began the first moves of the sixth kata. But oh how different they looked! His body moved with incredible grace, sliding from one set of moves to another with effortless fluidity.
Then, they changed. Obi-Wan stared as his Master's body twisted and arced in movements that were clearly different from what he had learned and were definitely not dance steps. There was a subdued aggression in them, a dangerous quality that was as subtle as it was beautiful to behold. Obi-Wan found himself holding his breath until his Master made the last, incredible leap and landed on one knee, his left arm extended outward, his right crossing his chest, palms outward, fingers flexed.
It was spellbinding.
Slowly, Qui-Gon's eyes opened and he stood up.
"That is the sixth kata. Not tha' mincing shite they taught you."
VII
Obi-Wan let his head fall back under the water and sighed in delight. Another grueling workout and his muscles felt like over-stretched elastic bands. He rolled over lazily in the water and began to absently soap himself. //What a difference!!// he thought with a smirk. No one at the Temple would ever have believed the things he was doing here on this Force-forsaken outworld.
He winced as he rubbed down his calves. They were tight from the effort of practising the seventh kata. Not the modern dance, but the ancient warrior's kata. Another grin and a little giggle escaped his lips. He'd bet that most of the Temple padawans at Coruscant didn't even know what the katas were originally. And, oh Force, they were so much harder than the dances!
In the three months he had been with his Master, his former life at the Temple seemed to him a wavering, half-forgotten dream. Another grin split his face as he thought of all that luggage he had dragged with him. He'd barely opened the clothing cases. What was the point of silken, trailing robes that would only get under his feet and trip him on the uneven flagstones. //Funny// he thought. //I don't miss them that much.//
He still attended to his daily ritual of cleaning and shaving, taking extra care over his hands and feet, which were developing a tendency to callouses. That wouldn't do at all, and he redoubled his efforts to retain the silky smooth skin of which he had always been so vain. But there were unmistakable rough spots on his right palm. Spots that exactly coincided with the grip on his lightsabre. He couldn't repress another snort of laughter. Him, a Temple padawan, with a weapon!! It was a totally ludicrous thought, and yet, somehow, it seemed perfectly natural.
He bent his head in concentration, working on the spots with a pumice stone.
Sometimes, over the past months, he had felt as though he were splitting into two people. There was the Obi-Wan he had always been: the perfectly trained courtesan, skilled in every elegant art. And there was a new Obi-Wan he couldn't recognize in the mirror. This Obi-Wan was a fighter, being trained to use the Force in ways his former self would never have known existed. It often made him sad to think how wasted all his early training was in this place. But his Master had little use for incense-guessing games and other such pleasant diversions. Qui-Gon was a warrior, trained and constantly training, always pushing himself and his padawan to their limits.
Obi-Wan groaned and pulled himself out of the tub. He had fifteen minutes to get ready to meet his Master down in the solarium for two hours of meditation. Swiftly, he finished up and yanked on fresh tunics and leggings . Every minute with his Master was a lesson, and some he liked better than others. He most enjoyed their sabretraining. He was less enthralled with meditating, having a bad tendency to woolgather that often earned him a sharp smack to the side of his head.
He paused, looking at the bottle of oil in his hand and closed his eyes for a moment. A slow smile touched the corners of his mouth. //MMMmmmm. That part of my old training he seems to like.// The smile became a devilish little grin and he laughed aloud to himself. Nights were like the sabretraining: exhausting, and exhilarating.
He was still grinning like a fool, his face flushed with memories when he put the bottle down and bolted out of the door.
He ran down the corridor, taking the steps two at a time. He was flying across the Hall when he crashed into Koll.
The older boy landed flat on his bottom. Obi-Wan staggered back, seeing stars.
"Oh hells, I'm sorry." He held out a hand to help Koll up. It was ignored.
Koll pulled himself to his feet with a curse.
"Yew damned brat! " he growled, then launched himself at Obi-Wan.
The blow caught him across the face and he reeled backwards. For a moment, he cowered under the fists as Koll flailed at him furiously. He grabbed Obi-Wan by the hair and pulled his head back.
"I shoul've known yew'd stand there and take it, like th' guid little whore yew are."
Another sharp slap to his face.
Something inside Obi-Wan snapped as he tasted blood where the blow had cut the inside of his mouth against his teeth. His green eyes narrowed as he let his body relax, then balled up both fists and struck Koll in the solar plexus, then lower in the stomach.
The taller boy grunted and bent double, struggling to straighten up, his fists still aimed at Obi-Wan's head. Obi-Wan dodged back, then pulled his right arm back and let it fly, catching Koll squarely in the face. He crumpled to the flagstones in a heap, half-conscious.
Obi-Wan leaned over him, his eyes glittery, blood spattering his lips.
"I told you I was sorry. Now just leave me the hell alone!"
His slender shoulders squared, he stalked out of the hall into the kitchen.
"I'd like a glass of water."
Old Mairteth turned from her root-peeling and gave a little scream. "What!!?"
"Just water. And he'll probably need some ice."
She waddled out into the Hall to fuss over Koll, wailing "Oh yew evil brat !! Yew've kilt him f'sure!"
Obi-Wan rolled his eyes and went to the pump to rinse out his mouth. Then he poked through the cold-unit and found a chunk of ice. Wrapping in a towel, he stomped back into the Hall and handed it down to Koll.
"Here."
Mairteth was still moaning and wailing, Koll was pressing the ice to a rapidly swelling eye and whining when the Master's booming roar silenced them.
"Wha' the hell is goin' on in here!!!" He glared at Obi-Wan. "You're ten minutes late." He looked down at Koll.
"And what in Force sake's happened t'you?"
Koll shook his head sullenly. "Nuthin'"
Qui-Gon looked from the fallen servant with his blackened eye to his padawan , whose lips and cheek were swollen and going purple.
"Obi-Wan?"
He took a deep breath and met his Master's blue eyes evenly.
"I hit him."
"Why?"
Koll stood up. "I hit 'im first." His one good eye met Obi-Wan's w ith a twisted grin. Obi-Wan grinned back at him.
Qui-Gon bit back a laugh and schooled his features to a glower.
"I won't have fightin' in the hall. If you two have t'fight each other, do it outside." he muttered, turning away. "Now get into the solarium, you !" He grabbed Obi-Wan by the arm and gave him a push.
Two hours of meditation were expanded to four, with a lecture on the uses and abuses of aggressive actions.
VIII
Obi-Wan ran lightly up the broad steps and down one of the corridors, leaving Ara patiently hiding her eyes and counting by the fireplace. She was small, but annoyingly clever at this game and it wasn't easy to find a good hiding spot that she wouldn't discover.
He ran up another flight of steps, down another hall, and found himself on a floor he had never seen. The corridor was narrower up here: Obi-Wan realized he must be in the east tower, for the hallway circled inner rooms, winding upwards in a slow incline. Curious now, and only half-mindful of Ara's game, he poked his head into empty chambers covered in dust and disused furnishings.
His Master had never forbidden him access to the towers. But he had not encouraged it either. Tactfully, Obi-Wan had refrained from exploring them . After all, his Master deserved some privacy in his own palace. He was often curious and, once or twice, was sorely tempted to sneak around them. His innate sense of decorum kept him from giving in to the temptation. Odd that he should find himself here in the midst of a child's game.
As he followed the rising hallway, he glanced down into the courtyard from one of the slitted windows cut in the stone walls. The afternoon sun seeped through just enough to illuminate the worn carpet and damp-stained walls. Obi-Wan paused, leaning his head against the angled window. //Sith hells, I never thought I would get used to being so--so---soggy!//
It certainly rained enough here. More than enough. His Master never seemed to notice, training in the sand circle in pouring rain as easily as in sunlight. Obi-Wan giggled to himself. //I wonder if he does it at night, too, in the moonlight?// The thought made him flush a little. //No, I don 't think so. He's not out there at night that I know.//
He flushed a little darker and wrapped his arms around himself, his young face raised to the slender streak of golden light. It caught like spangles in the red of his hair, his lashes.
Suddenly, he turned his head to stare up the corridor. Voices, very low coming from a chamber above him.
Cautiously, he crept up the corridor until he was at the doorway of the high Tower room. Light streamed in here from the glass-domed roof. Warily, he crouched down by the door.
"So what are we do to, Qui? If it's as you say--" an unfamiliar voice, deep and velvety.
"Do? Yer mad, Mace. We canna let this keep goin' on. It's criminal." his Master's voice, low and urgent.
"He's gained so much in three months. His abilities are exceptional. I canna risk it anymore. Those mucky bastards are takin' the best of 'em and turning them into damned whores."
Obi-Wan felt the heat rising in his face. Is that what his Master thought of him? He was gnawing on his lip, his throat beginning to close.
The other voice was soft and amused. "Well, you don't seem to mind those talents much."
A harsh laugh. "Damn, no. He's bloody amazing in bed. I hope to make him as effective in a killin' ground."
The other's voice grew thoughtful. "Why would they do that? Take all that ability and only focus it in one place."
A loud thump: his Master's fist hitting the table. His voice moved to and fro and Obi-Wan knew he was pacing. He often did when he was agitated.
"Who bloody knows! Whoremasters! That's what the Temple has become. Pimps! It's a sin, Mace. A thrice-damned sin."
Qui-Gon's voice sank to a vicious whisper. "They're controlling the best of 'em by making them toys. I wilna have it anymore. We've gotta stop his somehow. They're takin' them young. Obi was only two when the Finders ' claimed him."
Obi-Wan hugged his knees, his ears so pricked he thought they must be pointed. He stole a look into the sunlit chamber.
His Master was, indeed, pacing back and forth like a caged lion. The man he was talking to sat at a large table. He was tall, and dark and dressed quite simply in a blue robe. His eyes looked kind.
"So how can we stop it, Qui? We have no power. Hells, if they know about us at all, they will simply brand us as rogues."
Qui-Gon wheeled around, his face masklike, blue eyes blazing. "Rogues indeed! As if their pathetic rules count for shite!"
"Calm down, Jinn! You're letting your anger take control." The dark man's voice was so soft and calm.
Qui-Gon inhaled deeply, his head thrown back.
From where Obi-Wan huddled in the doorway, his Master's face, illumined by the deepening gold of the sunlight was unbearably harsh. Every line was thrown into relief, his eyes closed and circled.
"All right. If it's rogues they want, then rogues we will be. What's the treasury situation, Mace? I know I put a hell of a dent in it when I bought the boy."
"Not too bad. We could use another run."
"Hmmm. Maybe that poncy little spaceport in Ceruspa would make a good target? Ya think?"
To Obi-Wan's frightened eyes, his Masters smile looked more like a shark 's.
"Fine. Plenty of vacationers, plenty of cash, jewels. It's ripe and the security is lax."
"Perfect. Wha' d'ya think we can clear outta this? You did the research."
"We could have Obi-Wan's price doubled there. Easily." Mace reached out to grab hold of Qui-Gon's arm. "You know that we'll support you. But so me of them don't approve of your methods for funding our cause."
Qui-Gon waved his hand with a careless laugh. "As if I cared. Besides, they're always grateful enough f'the money." He laughed harshly, with out humour. " Listen, Mace. We've got to do this. I wilna be responsible for not taking th' steps to prevent another like Obi becomin' a bleedin' glorified bedslave."
Obi-Wan felt his face flame scarlet. He was a padawan, not a bedslave!! Bedslaves were the failed ones, the ones who had not found sponsors. They were sold off to Coruscant's lower level brothels, or worse, were given to the Republican Guard. Those who went to the Guardhouse rarely lived more than a few months. He had never thought much about it, once he had been sponsored by Senator Palpatine. Didn't his barbarian of a Master know anything!!?
Dazed, he stood up and began the slow descent to the main corridor, his chest tight and his eyes burning with unshed tears. Bedslave!? Is that all he was to his Master? He paused, pressing one hand to his mouth to still a sob.
Most of the conversation meant nothing to him. He could not understand why Qui-Gon had bought him, and what were those "abilities" of which he had spoken? He knew he was stronger with the Force than ever, that his sense of completeness had been such joy. Joy, too, had been his in his Master's arms and at his side.
All that joy was gone now in the knowledge that, to his Master, he was nothing more than a living sex-toy. If Qui-Gon thought of him as a "glorified bedslave" why all the time with the weapons and training and meditation? Obi-Wan felt as though his throat would close up entirely and his tears would suffocate him. He leaned against the wall towards the bottom of the winding passage and struggled for some kind of control.
"Wha' the hell are yew doin' here? "
Zath was standing in the door of the lowest tower room with an armful of linens. His face was dark with anger.
Obi-Wan looked up at him sightlessly, his lips trembling.
Zath's face twisted and he shoved the linens into Obi-Wan's arms. "Carry those and follow me, brat. It's abou' time yew were useful for sumpthin' other than a fuck."
Gasping as though he'd been struck, Obi-Wan dropped the linens and simply ran down the corridor, into the Hall and out the huge doors, open to admit the summer breeze.
He kept running until he was near the banks of the large lake and curled up beneath one of the big trees, sobbing himself into a groggy half-sleep.
IX
When he roused it was already twilight. Blue shadows surrounded him where the sunlight had danced. His head was aching and he was getting chilly. Slowly, he dragged himself upright and leaned back against the rough bark, trying to make sense of that conversation.
Whoremasters? His creche-masters at the Temple? How could anyone think that? He was so exquisitely trained, knew how to discern, with such delicacy, the nuances of music, food; sight, and sound. Was he really nothing more than a bedslave with manners? The thought alone brought fresh tears to his eyes. And yet there was a small voice within him that screamed yes.
//Yes, that's what you are. Simply a toy, but trained to be presentable as well. Above a bedslave or a pleasure slave, but nothing more.//
His muscles twitched. He had missed the afternoon workout in the training ring and longed for the clash of his sabre against his Master's, that deadly and intricate dance of skill.
He stopped trying to think and stared out over the lake, watching the swift fall of evening shadows on the water. He was sick of his own self-pity, just as he was sick of the self-loathing he'd felt ever since he'd come to this horrid place. At least at the Temple he'd known what he was and had some pride in it.
"Fine. Then that's what I am." he remarked to the shadows.
"Do ya really believe that?" a quiet voice behind him made him start. He bolted upright, his slender body quivering with tension.
For a long moment, he simply stared at his Master, a wave of fury building within him.
"What does it matter? It's what you think." he retorted scornfully. The green eyes were narrowed, his lips tightened with anger.
Qui-Gon was standing easily near the path, his weight thrown onto one hip, arms crossed. His face was in shadow, but Obi-Wan could hear the infuriating smile in his voice.
"Then make me think different."
Obi-Wan stood rigidly, glaring at his Master in the dim light. The air around them fairly crackled.
He reacted without thought, catching his lightsabre and igniting it in one fluid movement, even as Qui-Gon tossed it to him and ignited his own sabre.
"C'mon." the low voice taunted him as they circled each other warily. "If yer so damned sensitive about it. Make me understan' who the hell you are, Obi-Wan."
His whole body launched into the air as he leapt forward, sabre flashing out. Qui-Gon parried him easily and they circled each other again, Obi-Wan searching for an opening. He lunged forward, only to be beaten back. He was trembling with a white-hot fury he had never before felt in his short life.
Again he darted forward, blue and green blades hissing, humming, clashing in a flurry of violent blows. Obi-Wan could barely see, his entire being caught up in his rage.
Just as suddenly, he exhaled and let the anger dissipate. He felt his soul centre deeply into the currents of evening air, felt the pull of the soil beneath his feet, the spiral upward to the stars. In a split second, he was one with the Force around him and he let go, giving it control.
His body twisted upward and back and he straightened, the blue blade close enough to his Master's face to singe his beard. He blinked and deactivated it, speechless.
"Good. Very good." Qui-Gon's voice was soft.
Obi-Wan stared at him in shock. "I--I--"
Qui-Gon simply cocked his head to one side. "What?"
"I -- I could have killed you."
"Ya could have."
"But--" Obi-Wan looked down, then up in confusion. It was nearly dark now and he could just see the glint of reflected light in the whites of Qui-Gon 's eyes. "I was angry."
"But ya let it go."
"Yes."
The big hand lifted his chin. "Do ya understand? Do ye know who ya are, Obi-Wan Kenobi? "
He nodded, taking a long, shuddering breath and allowing his Master to pull him close. He leaned against the broad chest, inhaling the smell of the leather, of Qui-Gon's hair. He did know now, knew that he was much more than his Temple training had made him. He was a fighter within the Force, an agent of its will. He was the sum total of all his training, all his experience. Qui-Gon's arm tightened around him.
//Ya only needed to let go to see it.//
//I did?//
There was a deep rumble of laughter in his mind.
//And get angry enough. Don't let 'em fool ya with that. Anger has it 's uses, but only when ya let it go.//
"I'm cold." Obi-Wan shifted in his Master's arms, his back pressed against the broad chest, head resting back in the hollow of Qui-Gon's shoulder. He could feel his Master's breath warm in his hair.
"Then let's go inside. We're done wi' the poor pitiful padawan routine f'today?"
Obi-Wan elbowed him in the ribs with mock violence.
"Wretch!"
Qui-Gon laughed softly and kissed the top of his head.
"Good. I was wonderin' when ye'd stop actin' the slave."
"But Master, " Obi-Wan turned again to face Qui-Gon. "I am a slave. Remember."
Qui-Gon shrugged and tapped his forehead. "Only if ya think so."
Obi-Wan shook his head, rolling his eyes. "Why can't I get a simple answer out of you?" he complained, his lips twitching into a grin.
"Yer focus determines your reality." Qui-Gon grinned back down at him.
//You are hopeless!!//
Obi-Wan took a step away and looked at his Master's silhouette against the darkening sky. Qui-Gon's long hair was tangled and stirred untidily in the breeze.
"Well, if my focus determines my reality, my focus is telling me to really clean you up!"
Qui-Gon's teeth flashed into another grin. "What?" He pulled back in mild consternation. "Clean me up how?"
Obi-Wan took his hand and began to pull him up the path to the palace. "Just come with me. I'll show you what else I was trained to do!"
X
"Owww. Tha' hurts!!" Qui-Gon sputtered as Obi-Wan pushed him back under the spring to rinse his hair out again. The comb was slowly beginning to ease through the tangles.
"I've ordered us a proper Corellian meal. Mairteth will be disgusted. " Obi-Wan worried at another knot, trying to be gentle. "All seven courses. And I'm going to show you how to eat them. Properly."
Qui-Gon grimaced as Obi-Wan worked his way through the knotted hair. "I already know how t'eat!"
"With your fingers!" he retorted. "It's been making me nauseous for months." Force, but this ease with his Master felt good! He had never felt so relaxed and so right. That single moment when he had released all his anger to the winds was a shining light, a living, growing thing inside him now. Since then, Obi-Wan knew himself to be transformed. //Wonderful, wonderful, and most wonderful.//
"Ouch. Wha' good is all that!"
"Swine. I'm going to civilize you if it kills me."
"Or me." Qui-Gon groaned.
Obi-Wan settled him on the broad seat at the edge of the tub and began to lather up his Master's face.
"What th'hell d'ya think yer doin'?" a growl from between froth-covered lips.
"Making you look like a humanoid instead of a Wookiee."
Obi-Wan's brow furrowed in concentration as he sawed away at the unruly mass of hair with a small scissors. The hanks of coarse, silvered hair floated away into the filter system. When he finished, he had trimmed it back to a neat, short beard. He finished with the razor under the strong chin, along the fine-planed cheeks, evening up the edges.
"Much better." He poked the hand-mirror at Qui-Gon, who quirked one eye brow at him.
"Take a look. You ARE human." he smiled.
Qui-Gon took the mirror and peered into it. He suppressed a smile. He did look better, much less like a wild man. He handed it back to Obi-Wan with a half-grin.
"This is gonna ruin me. I'm supposed t'be fright'nin.'"
Obi-Wan raised his head from his own bathing. "Then you can be frightening and neat. Why do you need to be scary?"
The damp red head bent forward again as he sluiced the water over his own soapy body. The movement was so unconscious, completely innocent and utterly sensual. Qui-Gon watched him, blue eyes beginning to burn.
"C'mere."
He leaned forward to capture the slender body, but Obi-Wan laughed and slithered out of his grasp.
"Let me finish!" he protested, but the green eyes were dancing provocatively. He turned deliberately, slowly, then glanced back over his shoulder with a grin.
"You could scrub my back." he breathed softly, the grin widening.
Qui-Gon plunged back into the tub and pulled him close, nuzzling a particularly sweet spot between Obi-Wan's throat and his shoulder.
"Ya're a tease from the bottom of hell." he murmured, lips travelling up the slim neck into the damp hair.
The boy turned in his arms, and their lips met, first softly, then with growing urgency. //No, Master. This is not the time for sweet and tender. I want you hard. Now. //
Obi-Wan's hands groped beneath the warm water, found their objective and reached lower. Qui-Gon sucked in a breath, sucked that skilled, pointed tongue into his mouth while the equally skilled hands fondled his balls, stroked him hard, the water eddying in magnifying waves around their bodies.
The Sith-spawned boy seemed to be everywhere at once, fingers grasping, pulling, pinching, petting. His tongue was a spear of moulten liquid in Qui-Gon's mouth, swirling around his teeth, beneath his own tongue. His fingers groped at one nipple, disappeared beneath the surface to grab hold of this cock, stroking upward, then diving beneath to tease the tender skin behind his balls. Qui-Gon groaned aloud into the kiss.
Obi-Wan broke away, his hands still roving under the water. "Sit on the edge of the tub." His voice was low.
"Wha?" His Master gasped, eyes glassy at his padawan's determined assault.
The green eyes were fixed on his, their expression feverish. One slim hand pushed him back to the edge and he hoisted himself up, lost in a haze. He had no wish to think, only to let Obi-Wan continue his fingering, sliding caresses.
Both hands trailed down his chest, fingers deft and silky against his nipples, then reaching behind to trace the indent just above his buttocks. Obi-Wan surged forward against him, lips soft and hot on his neck, tongue flicking out over his chest, moving lower and lower until he was captive in a prison of heat and wet.
That tongue. Oh ghods, that tongue. It was everywhere, around, below, teasing around the head of his cock, then lapping the shaft with broad strokes. And those hands never stopped moving, pinching a nipple, grasping his scrotum. Qui-Gon let his head fall back as Obi-Wan let his throat open and pulled himself closer, his hands clasped round his Master's waist.
His fingers shifted their grip to Qui-Gon's cheeks fiercely. He let the power sing through his body, constricting and relaxing the muscles in his throat in variable rhythms. His tongue teased the head, then consumed the whole feast in a frenzy of pulsing movements.
Qui-Gon's hands twisted in his wet hair. He heard the moans and permitted himself a ghost of a smile, then closed his eyes and concentrated on using every ability he had to please.
His Master was beginning to twitch, the fluid under his tongue salt sweetness. Qui-Gon groaned again, his hands tightening behind the boy's skull.
Another series of deep pulsing throbs from the hot sheathe of Obi-Wan's throat, another stroke of that tongue and Qui-Gon was yelling, yanking on the damp hair, pulling himself forward into the boy's sucking mouth. He felt as thought the top of his head was exploding as he emptied himself down that warm channel, spilling himself into its gripping, undulating curves.
For a long moment, Qui-Gon simply rocked forward, his eyes unfocused. Obi-Wan relaxed, continuing to lick and suckle the now-softening cock until he was felt his Master's pulse slowing to a less frantic pace. Then he swam backward, glittering green eyes fixed on his Master's.
"That's another thing I was trained to do." he practically purred.
Qui-Gon looked at him, panting. "Uh..."
Obi-Wan laughed and pulled himself up out of the tub. "C'mon." He bent to run wet fingertips along his Master's cheek. "The meal is coming and I have to show you how to eat Corellian clawbacks."