Master Apprentice Archive Poison Quick search:

Archiving: DPS and MA please
Rating: NC-17
Category: a Dead Padawans Society fic, Angst
Pairing: Obi/Qui
Summary: Unrequited love leads to bad hygiene.
Disclaimer: George Lucas owns the world, I own this bad draft.
Warning: Character Death, public humiliation, suicide.
Note: This is a back draft for a little story I never managed to complete. Sickleweed is the very special person who helped me with this idea. Although I didn't end up writing the ideal story for this, I thought it would be amusing to share. Thank you Sickleweed! Hope all is well with you!
Feedback: Please!!! Please!!! For the sake of Halloween! Come and tell me that ending is getting really old. *g*

The bathroom lights threw an elongated shadow along the hallway. Wet feet padded past, slowed down, then walked back. In the big mirror, his reflection loomed, glowing in the dusk. All creamy skin and gilded nipples, smiling amorously back, a peerless piece of work. And the force clung to him like musk, beading the water on his chest and wrapping him in violet halos.
Obi-Wan's own hand looked odd as it rose to touch the unearthly image and he was startled by how cold it felt. Obi-wan shifted, and his hip jutted out teasingly, had he always posed so?

"Mmm." his master moaned in the bathroom.

"Yes Master," Obi-Wan frowned at himself for leaving his Master along in the bathroom. Quickly he grabbed a fresh towel out of the cupboard and returned to Qui-Gon's side.

Qui-Gon was wallowing naked under a thick lick of scented oils, his head rested on the ceramic lip of the bathtub, long dark hair hung in tangles.

"You awake master?" Obi-wan murmured quietly into Qui-Gon's ear.

"Yes Padawan, I am ready for you now," smiling Qui-Gon rolled his cheek into Obi-wan's hand.  "This is always my favourite part of the day."

Obeying the unspoken command, Obi-wan reached for the cream on the side table, spread it over Qui-Gon's mouth and carefully shaved him, trimming and redefining his master's fine regard. Obi-wan's movements were so small and light, that Qui-Gon soon closed his eyes and breathed slow and deeply. This was *Obi-wan's* favourite part of the nightly cleansing ritual. Guiltily, but unable to stop himself, he let his glance sneak over his master's body. How fine it looked, baked dark by
sun and weather. The thick limbs and lumbering height was so peculiarly contained in the white tub, that Obi-wan felt an urge to jump into it and ravage the great masses of flesh.

Qui-Gon's eyes snapped open as he sensed the pang of lust. Icy blue gazes chilled Obi-wan to the bone.

"Padawan," Qui-Gon's voice was ever so soft but also undeniably cold. "I believe this is enough for tonight."

Biting his lips, Obi-wan let go of the razor and retrieved a towel. Qui-Gon stood up from the water, and he had to look away deliberately from the reddened chest and darkened nipples, forcing himself not to think of his master's body. Qui-Gon hastily gathered the towel about his waist and Obi-wan watched with a sinking feeling as long shapely legs took his master
away.

"Good night Padawan, clean up and sleep," Qui-Gon left him the simple instructions and headed to his own room, killing Obi-wan with the final rejection of the sound of a lock snapping on his bedroom door and on their bond.

Quickly, before it got any colder, Obi-wan stripped and stepped into his master's used water. As the warmth came to embrace his shivering body, Obi-wan brought his head under, opening his mouth to let his master's used liquid fill him, he wept quietly there. Just the silent droning of his heart in this suspended world, Obi-wan hoped never to resurface again as the slow
building pain in his oxygen starved chest almost  drowned out the hollow feeling there.

The smile froze on his best friend's face.

"I'm sorry Obi-wan," Bant started an awkward smile. "I didn't hear you properly."

".I have feeling for." Obi-wan croaked again, his fingers trembling as he tore bits off the napkin in his hand.

"NO!" Bant interrupted him. ".I did *not* hear you, okay? Obi-wan."

She sounded as if the wind was knocked out of her by a moral rage.

"What did you expect me to do? Tell you this was normal? Don't cry, everyone's looking at us now!" Bant impatiently pushed more napkins into his hand. "Shhhhh! Or I'll leave right now." Obi-wan quietened at the threat, he drew his shoulders painfully back and looked up at the mon calamarian with muted grief.

"Let me explain, Bant, please hear me out, no one else will," Obi-wan pleaded, in spite of the horror of his confession, Bant found she could not resist her friend's seaweed coloured eyes expressing dire need.

"It was always there, I was born like this and Qui-Gon, I swear Qui-Gon is my soul," he squeezed her hand hard enough to crush her cartilage bones.

"But you desire his body?!" Bant hissed with a pained breath. "We all love our masters, some more than others. I know you worship Qui-Gon, we all did, and he was just larger than life. But, you wish to subjugate him with physical acts? I don't even think it is possible!"

"Well." Obi-wan smiled wanly.

"Obi-wan!" Bant  withdrew her hands and stood up abruptly. "This is not funny, oh, I wish.I never knew you."

With that she shot him one last look of hurt feelings and left the dining hall. Obi-wan sat blankly at the table and mused with increasing detachment at the sense of betrayal Bant and sent across their link as she left.

Qui-Gon used to love gardening in the nude. When he first took on Obi-wan as a Padawan at the age of thirteen, he allowed the boy to follow to him in this activity. In a secluded corner of the temple, Qui-Gon would laughingly instruct his Padawan to strip. Obi-wan was shy at first, shielding his privates, even protectively hiding his nipples from his master. Qui-Gon would bellow with humour as he watched the boy twist awkwardly in his grasp, as he felt his Padawan all over to check his muscle tone. Sometimes, to encourage the child, he would teasingly touch his arm and say "My, Padawan you have lovely strong arms!" or his upper thigh and comment "Oh Obi-wan, that's a good leg you have there!".

When Obi-wan blushed with embarrassment at the difference between his genitals and his master's, Qui-Gon would kindly kneel down and kiss the boy's somewhat flat nose and tell him his master would love him regardless.

"In time, the force would change that," Qui-Gon grinned. "When I am old, you will be in your prime, my young apprentice."

Despite the warmth behind these words, they struck terror into Obi-wan's young heart. Clutching onto his master's knees, rubbing his face somewhat near the large sex, Obi-wan would beg Qui-Gon not to say that, to deny it
and expel the notion from the universe with his awesome masterly powers.

Qui-Gon sent waves of affection and reassurance through their bond, although somewhat shocked by the depth of the boy's attachment. Peeling the boy off him, he'd set Obi-wan to work on picking ripe fruit off his plants, smiling to himself as Obi-wan battled his urge to eat the sweet smelling things and placed them into the storage basket for cooking with later. He himself bent
down to weed the garden beds, the fertile soil gave the unwanted pests extra incentive to grow deep and complex root systems. He caught his young padawan giggling with amusement at the battle and decided to put a show on for him.
Cursing the weeds melodramatically, threatening them with the wrath of his lightsaber, Qui-Gon would thrust out his behind, his back bent and heaving as he pulled on them.

"Oh help me Obi-wan Kenobi," he'd call for his apprentice rolling on the grass in hysterics.

Scrambling to his feet, Obi-wan rubbed his aching stomach and wrapped his arms about Qui-Gon's great hips and of course, soon as his hands made contact with Qui-Gon's skin, the weed came out of the ground with miraculous ease.

"Master and apprentice," Qui-Gon would always say after the laughter died down. "Now and forever."

The line brought butterflies into Obi-wan's tummy. And when Qui-Gon bent down to weed some more, Obi-wan stared at his master's behind and felt incredibly hot. His little penis jumped up at the sight of the wide rumps, Obi-wan bit his lips and pushed down the urge to.well he wasn't sure what, but something about going up to his master's behind. Back then, there wasn't
enough of a training bond for Qui-Gon to detect these feelings.

When Qui-Gon left to wash the mud off himself in the temple stream, Obi-wan would take the precious half hour and lay down on the patch of land his master had just cleared, then remembering with a red face the images that had excited him, he milked himself mercilessly. The semen spilled onto the ground and slithered to nourish and mark their piece of land.

Mace Windu looked at Qui-Gon with shock.

"And you are certain your Padawan's feels for you are of a sexual nature?" he asked the other master, careful to keep his stern statement from shattering with disappointment.

Qui-Gon looked down into his teacup, heaved a sigh then finally look up and nodded.

"Yes," his voice was broken. Another long silence, Qui-Gon slumped further, and slowly placed his teacup on the glass table between him and his old friend. He had chosen to confide in the councillor because Mace was the only man he could think of that had enough fortitude of ethics to look at the situation unbiasedly and determine whether it should be reported to the council. The council, oh force, Qui-Gon did not care for his own name but he cared deeply for his beloved apprentice. Obi-wan was the light of his life, and he had treasured the boy.perhaps too much. To think that he himself had inflicted this incurable disease on his Padawan tore his control to shreds. Qui-Gon buried his face in his hands, too ashamed to have his emotions seen as a low sob emitted form him.

"I do not know where I went wrong with him," the dam was broken and Qui-Gon gasped great sulking cries, tears running out between his fingertips.

"It's not your fault," Mace patted him gently on the back.

Obi-wan stood up from the seat beside Qui-Gon and reached for the teacup. Muttering "it is cold, master, let me refill it for you" he excused himself and walked into the kitchen.

Standing there, by the chopping board he tried to shut out the increasing volume of his master's wailing. In order to calm himself, he took up the cold tea, and pressed his mouth to where his master's had been. Tasting Qui-Gon on the china and in the soured tea, the liquid was an elixir and immediately the flame burned in his loins once again and his master's sorrow
almost did not matter. Obi-wan took some sweet citrus out of the cooler and began to slice them, perhaps the masters would like something to eat after those exhaustive emotional displays. Of course, it was pure accident that before he managed to cut any citrus he had a gush in his neck.

"Ooops Master, I seem to have cut myself," Obi-wan managed to say when he returned to the common room with his hand on the deep gush embedded in his throat, a red necklace seared over his Adam's apple and smiled crookedly at his master who jumped up to hold him as he fell to the ground, throwing blood onto Mace Windu's formal robes.

"My blood is in you now," Qui-Gon's face looked down lovingly at him, so tender in the stinging bright light of the healer's ward. "We are now, more than ever, like father and son, my padawan."

// Yes Master // Obi-wan sent, being unable to speak with his wound that stretch from ear to ear // Speak to me more Master, I love your voice //

"I love you Obi-wan, I want you to live," Qui-Gon brushed a thumb over his cheek.

// Give me a kiss then. //

Tears of frustration welled up in Qui-Gon's eyes immediately. // Master, I am still pure, I am a virgin, it will not *taint* you //

There was never a line in the history of the Jedi that was sent across a bond with more bitterness and despair.

"Obi-wan, you're breaking my heart," Qui-Gon declared.

Mechanically, Qui-Gon stilled himself and gathered his lips into a pout. Slowly bending over Obi-wan, he squeezed his eyes shut, a deep frown of self-discipline in his forehead as their lips neared. Obi-wan found the image gross but intoxicating, Qui-Gon's smell and warmth were so close, every pore of his body shrieked with joy. Perhaps, one kiss would convince
Qui-Gon that this was right, would open his eyes to the great gathering of force about them now, shimmering with anticipation.

Their lips met and it was a limp and dull affair. The saltiness of Qui-Gon's lips did not taste like much to Obi-wan's drug numbed tongue, and Qui-Gon's desperate projection of a fantasy of kissing a female diplomat he'd had a one night stand with did not help.

// Master, thank you, but I think now I will try holding my breath and die//

The council sat in a circle around the great chambers. Obi-wan stood in the middle with his master speaking for him.

"It is so that I have failed my Padawan. I humbly request for myself the grade of dishonour and the denial of my Jedi status. But Obi-wan will be a great knight, in spite of this unfortunate incident. I ask the council the right for me to cleanse his memory and I ask you to grant him knighthood afterwards," Qui-Gon spoke clearly and serenely. "I see no other options in this matter."

Yoda closed his eyes and the chamber grew even more deathly quiet as the green master concentrated.

"Clouded the boy's future is.great danger I sense," Yoda finally said.

"If I may speak Master Yoda," Obi-wan surprised everyone. "Please, you're the wisest of us all. I plead for your council, do you truly believe in all the glory of the force that love of every kind would not surface? Do you understand that this is love?"

Obi-wan's question echoed about the room. When it died, Yoda's ears drooped forward as he answered "Understand humans I do not."

"Master! Master!! Oh Master!" Obi-wan moaned as he held Qui-Gon's foot. He was dragged along  the floor as his disgusted master retreated, but he would not let go. Fawning madly over the leather boot, Obi-wan licked fondly at its upper soles. Qui-Gon was kicking his legs to shake him off now and one boot caught him in the eye, but Obi-wan was beyond caring.

"Oh master! Qui-Gon," he reached into his pants and took out his twitching penis to wave before the petrified face. "Look, LOOK! I love you! I *love* you!!"

Licking the soil off the bottom of the boots, rubbing his cock on the grating surface of laces and jagged lace clips pleasure and humiliation was simultaneous.

"You want me too!" Obi-wan screamed hoarsely at his pale master, waving his hands in the air as if reinforcing a  force suggestion. But in truth he was no longer connected to the force, hunger, starvation and anger and had taken over his connection, whilst the unsuccessful brain washing had stripped him of sanity.

"You *want* to fuck with me! You're dying to fuck me," Obi-wan bit down on the heel of the boot.

Qui-Gon thumped his head into the training room wall, repeatedly with sorrow and humiliation. And Bruck had to come and restrain Obi-wan as Bant held Qui-Gon's head in her arms before he knocked himself out. The young initiates were led out quickly via the back door as healers and knights on security duty arrived at the scene.

"Master, I am sorry," Obi-wan knelt before Qui-Gon, who sat on the couch, legs spread and smiling down weakly.

"Obi-wan," Qui-Gon reached down to re-tie his braid. "There is nothing to be sorry for. The dark side is hard to see, Padawan let us try once again, let me help you purge it."

The light went out in Obi-wan's eyes.

"Master, it is not the dark side," he said. "If you intend to take away my love for you, you might as well take all of me. Your denial has worsened the affliction. Let me explain it your way. You think of my feelings as a viper? It has injected a poison into my system? I say it has been my sustenance; it has made me who I am, everything you yet care for in me, my capacity to
love. I love you master."

"Obi-wan why do this to me?" Qui-Gon gasped. "Do you know what you ask? I can disregard the council, I can bare the scorn of the academy, I will damn myself to the Sith but I will not have you hate me for my weakness. Do you know what they are saying around the temple..."

Qui-Gon's eyes moved around the room quickly as if fingers of blame surrounded him. "They say my Padawan is weak, of mind and body. That he is strange, of habit and soul. That his beauty is an abomination of the force, that you're a powerful imbalance.you threaten the living force," Qui-Gon's voice trembled. "And this is my Padawan who excels in all his classes, lives in the force like fish in water and who I have brought up myself. That you're a whore who tumbles in men's beds, on the lowest levels of Courscant, parasites live in your intestines and your lust insatiable."

Each description sounded ever so cruel coming from the man he loved. The man for whom his innocent mind had conjured scenarios previously unimaginable.

"And you believe this?" Obi-wan tilted his face so that Qui-Gon was forced to look into his eyes, and he let the moment hold for the one word to damn him.

Obi-wan Kenobi would be a knight tomorrow. And the morrow was merely an hour away. Standing in the living room of his shared quarters, he watched the glittering morning stars. Qui-Gon was asleep in his room, through the strong training bond; Obi-wan could tell the dreams were pleasant and sweet. He saw in it his own face looking up with admiration as his braid was cut. Obi-wan smiled at the radiance of that love, though the night was so dark, dawn would come. He had done Katas all night with his master's sabre and was not exhausted. Sinking to his knees, he held the weapon in and began to meditate.

Yes, all was well in the living force, all was order and balance under the stealthy cloak of monotonous living and the wonders of domestic surroundings. Off plant, Jedi wars raged, cultures perished and ethnographies overthrown. The code ran through his head. "There is no difference, there is the force. There is no forbearance, there is the force. There is no forgiveness, there is the force. There is no affectation, there is the force." And Obi-wan knew that this was not the only thing that had rendered his mind horribly bleak for the past year. And tonight, tonight it all returned to him as he watched Qui-Gon go to bed, a guilty frown
resurfacing as he fell asleep.

Something was wrong with Qui-Gon, Obi-wan mused, taking up his master's sabre. It was heavy and warm, and lovely to caress. He lifted it to look at more clearly as the first sun of Courscant rose. Still overhead, he brought it down to his lips and kissed along its length. Taking the taste into his mouth and mind, where Qui-Gon's hands had held firm and merciless. Licking and prodding over the tiny mechanisms at the head of the sabre, sensing the moisture of his breath hum through the crystals. Obi-wan closed his lips around the large diameter, and sucked lightly. Pulling it down and reaching up with his mouth, he relaxed his throat and let the weapon protrude inside. His hands hovered with pleasure, he moaned and arched. The sun was brightening it threatened to blind him. But would it really, would it show anything? Obi-wan has learned that the darkest things hid in the light, and light was at times enveloped in duplicity. He had to free it, that is all.

// Qui-Gon // he thought as his fingered the switch, and brilliance came through his head in a flood.

THE END