The Price Of Control

by Ruth Gifford

Archive: yes to MA Series: The Path of the Steel Rose

Rating: R

Category: pre-slash, mild kink, chan

Summary: As a young Padawan struggles with control, his dream-self discovers the combination of sex and control.

Warning: UNDERAGE!OBI-WAN Yes, Obi-Wan is 15 in this story. Like most 15-year-olds, he dreams about what's going on in his life and about sex. Like most of us, sometimes those separate things meet in a dream. No "real" sex occurs between anyone here, although Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan discuss the dream.

Disclaimer: George owns it all, except the Steel Rose. Wet dreams belong to boys and girls (only ours aren't as messy) everywhere.

Feedback: Do horny teenagers have wet dreams? That would be a "yes!"

"Control, Padawan, control," Master Qui-Gon Jinn said as his Padawan's light saber fell to the floor.

Obi-Wan Kenobi sighed, picked up his lightsaber again, and reactivated it. "Yes, Master," he said, dutifully.

"I know," Qui-Gon said, his face displaying a rare smile. "We ask you to control your body and mind, not to mention your inner connection to the Force, at an age when control over anything seems impossible to you."

Obi-Wan nodded. "Why do it now?" he asked, letting his blade go quiet again. At Qui-Gon's arched brow, he answered the unasked question. "I don't mean now, this afternoon, I mean when we're adolescents?"

"In one way or another, Obi-Wan, you've been taught about control ever since you entered the temple."

"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan replied, "and I understand laying a foundation on which to build more, it's just . . ." His voice trailed off as he tried to explain his train of thought.

Qui-Gon held up a hand. "Meditate on this; think about it this evening, and we will discuss it in the morning, all right?"

Obi-Wan nodded gratefully, and then Qui-Gon nodded. "Again," the Master said, and the air soon hummed and crackled with the sounds of 'sabers splitting the air.

Obi-Wan was kneeling on his meditation mat when Qui-Gon returned from his guest lecture spot in Master M'Bast's Advanced Philosophy class. M'Bast was a yearmate of Qui-Gon's and, whenever she could, she liked to use her old friend to shake up her favorite Senior Padawan class a little.

As a result, Qui-Gon was in a good mood when he entered his quarters. He smiled affectionately at the sight of Obi-Wan, who was no doubt meditating on control. His Padawan was still, for once, and Qui-Gon nodded approvingly at the boy's posture. Two years had seen a lot of growth, both in body, mind and spirit, and once more, Qui-Gon thanked the Force for bringing this bright light into his life. Obi-Wan might sometimes frustrate, pester, annoy, and even anger his Master, but he also made Qui-Gon feel alive and tuned to the infinite possibilities of the future. The Jedi Master smiled again and made his way quietly to the kitchen to prepare dinner.

"And so," Obi-Wan said a little later, in between lightening fast bites of food, "Bant picked up the wiggly-fish and said, 'I don't see what's so obscene about it.' Poor Needa had to try to explain," he paused to laugh, "and she couldn't. She just kept saying, 'it's like a . . . well . . . you know . . .' and turning all beet red."

"What exactly is a wiggly-fish, Obi-Wan?"

"Oh, it's this thingie, a toy. It's really for the little ones, but we were using one in the pool." Obi-Wan reached into his belt pouch and flung something blue at his Master. "Master Kiel said it would be good to learn how to catch using both our hands and the Force."

Qui-Gon caught it, juggling it ever so slightly in order to keep hold of it and looked at the thing curiously. A hollow tube of clear polymer filled with blue water, glitter and small plastic fish. As the polymer slid across his fingers, fueled by the motion of the water inside, he could instantly see--or rather feel--why a bunch of 15-year-old Humans would find the toy obscene.

"So why is it obscene?"

Obi-Wan blushed, but answered bravely. "Because it feels sort of like an erection."

Qui-Gon considered the toy again. "Not to a Callamarain."

"I know," Obi-Wan replied, giggling a little. This conversation was one of the more silly ones he'd ever had with his master. "I had to explain the whole thing to Needa. Then everyone started teasing me for knowing so much about Calamarainian sex. Well, except Bant, who just said, in that sort of really slow serious voice she uses sometimes, that I'll ace Sexuality when we get to it."

Obi-Wan bent his head over his plate and started shoveling more food into his mouth, hoping his Master would let the whole thing go. He felt like an idiot for even mentioning the incident, even though it had been pretty funny watching Qui-Gon consider the wiggly-fish with his usual intensity.

"Don't eat so fast," Qui-Gon admonished absently.

"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan replied automatically, and slowed down.

"Were you thinking about the locker room conversation when we were sparring later?" Qui-Gon asked.

Obi-Wan tilted his head slightly and thought, finishing a mouthful of bread. "Not exactly," he finally answered. "But it was sort of buzzing in the way back of my head, like a joke you want to tell someone or a piece of music you can't get rid of." He smiled. "I have to learn how to quiet the buzzing, don't I, Master?"

"Exactly." Qui-Gon gestured with his fork. "Most of the time, the Force is quiet, Obi-Wan. It can't make itself heard over things like buzzing and," he paused looking at the object beside his plate, "wiggly-fish."

"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan replied.

Thankfully that was the end of the wiggly-fish discussion. Obi-Wan managed to snag the damned thing while he cleared the table after dinner. The two Jedi settled into their usual evening routine, with Obi-Wan sprawled on the floor preparing for the next day's classes and Qui-Gon reading quietly in his chair, looking up now and then to answer a question. The Master noticed that Obi-Wan seemed to be trying to remain still, and guessed that his apprentice was trying to quiet his physical "buzzing" in order to concentrate. I suppose, he thought, even a wiggly-fish has its place in the process of training a Jedi, regardless of how obscene that thing is. He wondered, with the spark of mischief Obi-Wan had brought back into his life, if he could get a hold of one and sneak it into M'Bast's desk drawer. Or Mace's bed, maybe. He chuckled slightly, remembering the antics the three of them had gotten up to at Obi-Wan's age.

"Master?" Obi-Wan looked up at him.

"Just an old memory Padawan. "How about tea, sugar biscuits and bed?"

"OK. I just need about five minutes more on this equation . . ."

Something light brushes his skin, a touch like a silk scarf trailing across his bare chest. It tickles a little and he tries to try to bat it away, only to discover that his hands are bound above his head. Of course they are, he thinks, not questioning the rightness of it all, where else should they be?

Another touch trails across his skin, this one firmer, like a hand. Fingers swirl across his skin, teasing already tight nipples and inducing a low moan from him. The fingers slide down each side of him, caressing, tickling a little, making him twist slightly, helpless and hungry. Then more silk, gliding along his flanks, and there is no fear, just the wonder of being bound to this bed and touched like this.

Nerve after nerve lights in the night, as the silk and the fingers travel over his body until he can see himself as a dazzling network of light and Force energy, glowing as blue/white as the heart of his lightsaber. And now he knows, he can do one of two things, control it, or let it control him.

He abandons any thought of control, knowing, somehow, that right now this is the right thing to do. As he surrenders to the sensations, the touches, and the light, they center in on him swirling like a galaxy, evoking a feeling in him that can hardly be compared to his own clumsy attempts at self-pleasure. It drives him, rolls over him, flows through him like the Living Force, and all of a sudden, he does control it.

It, this feeling, needs him as much as he needs it and as he relaxes even further, the swirls of feeling meet at his center and explode into hot blue flame. As he cries out in ecstasy, he sees something, a symbol of some kind at the center of the flame and then he is falling back into the diamond studded darkness of sleep.

Qui-Gon's eyes snapped open. What in the world was Obi-Wan doing in there? Beyond the obvious, of course. Qui-Gon had taught two padawans prior to Obi-Wan and knew more than he needed to about the rocky road of adolescence, but this wave of Force energy had something different about it. The energy flared; he heard a cry from his student's room, and he frowned. Getting out of bed and pulling on his robe, he left his own room quickly and stood near Obi-Wan's door, sending a faint tendril of the Force through to see if the boy was all right. He seemed to be sleeping, and so Qui-Gon gently opened the door.

Obi-Wan was indeed sleeping, curled on his side; his covers shoved aside. Qui-Gon caught the faint smell of sex and sighed gently, shutting the door again.

I'm getting too old for this, he thought as he headed back to bed. Just my luck to have a padawan who is loud in more ways than one. He wrapped a faint Force shield around Obi-Wan's room and headed back to bed. Hopefully once he starts bringing lovers home he won't be as loud as Sha-Var was. As he settled back into bed, he wondered a little about the Force echoes of Obi-Wan's climax. Sha-Var had also had problems controlling the Force during sex until she'd been trained by one of the Healer/Counselors.

Qui-Gon smiled. Well, it had all worked out; Sha-Var was forever getting assignments that called for her to pose as a wealthy courtesan, a role she played with a great deal of flare. Even in ordinary missions, she seemed to have a knack for finding discreet perfect lovers, something she often mentioned in her breezy, charming letters to her former Master. Obi-Wan had the potential to be as beautiful as Sha-Var had turned out to be, perhaps, he'd be another charmer too.

"Ewwww," Obi-Wan muttered as he woke up. "Not again." He blushed; even though he knew than this was a perfectly normal occurrence in an adolescent Human male, it was still pretty gross. He wrinkled his nose and sat up. It was only as he pulled off his sleep pants that he remembered the nuances of the dream. Standing naked by his bed, he carefully reviewed everything he remembered. He'd never been told not to analyze wet dreams and this one seemed to be rather out of the ordinary.

He thought about it all through his shower and while he got dressed and remade his bed. He got nowhere. Why would dreaming about being restrained be so powerful? He knew that some people liked that sort of thing, and maybe that was all it was, his mind toying around with various forms of pleasure. But there had to be more to it than that; there had been real Force energy involved in the dream. And that symbol he'd seen, what was that? He sketched it onto his dataslate, and then headed for the main room.

Qui-Gon was in the shower now, and Obi-Wan made sure that the Aristiallian tea would be brewed just the way his Master liked it. He also poured his own Malai juice and, as the shower stopped, finished setting breakfast out on the table. True to their morning schedule, Qui-Gon appeared, already dressed for the day, just as everything was ready. They greeted one another and tended to all the tiny domestic business of breakfast, and then, just as Obi-Wan had gathered his courage to bring his dream up, his Master spoke.

"Did you dream last night Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon's voice was as calm as usual, but Obi-Wan felt himself blushing anyway.

"Uh . . . yes, Master. Um, you could tell?"

"Padawan, I think it's time for another section of The Talk."

Even as he felt his neck get hot, Obi-Wan had to smile. Qui-Gon referred to any discussion they each wanted to avoid as The Talk. It wasn't even always about sex; they'd had one about who slept on the floor on missions with poor accommodations. Strangely reassured that his Master was as uncomfortable with this as he was, Obi-Wan nodded.

"Yes, Master."

"You projected so much last night that you woke me up," Qui-Gon said. He held a hand up. "Do not apologize; you know I'm a light sleeper."

"But I need to learn to shield myself even when I'm asleep?" Obi-Wan asked, although he already knew the answer.

"Yes. It's actually quite easy, and there are benefits later on when you want to be discreet when you're not asleep."

Obi-Wan's quick glance toward his bedroom door spoke volumes and Qui-Gon smiled gently. "Master Sha-Var did a fair amount of . . . entertaining during her later years as a Padawan. As I told her, I want you to feel that this is your home as well as mine."

"Well," Obi-Wan looked down at his gawky self and thought of his Master's beautiful first apprentice. "I don't think I'll be doing much of that. But the dreams . . . if they stay like last night's, I'll need some sort of shielding and . . ."

"And, Padawan?"

"I need to talk to you about it, because it was really different." When Qui-Gon nodded, Obi-Wan looked down at his plate. He'd almost hoped Qui-Gon didn't want to talk about it, although the idea of his Master not wanting to talk about something was mind boggling.

"I was on this bed, a big fancy one like we sometimes get on missions. And . . . well usually I dream about someone, even if it's someone I don't know, but this time there wasn't a person. No, I guess there was but maybe they were controlling what went on from somewhere."

"Controlling?" Qui-Gon's voice was neutral. "That's an interesting way to put it."

"It's the right word. I was tied to the bed, being teased by a silk scarf and a pair, maybe more than one pair, of hands. And it went on for what felt like a long time, until I could see all the Force energy in my body, until I was surrounded by it. And I just gave up and let go, and the . . . feeling needed me, so even though I didn't fight it, I controlled it . . . and then, well . . . it was really intense, really good."

The moment, Obi-Wan's description of the dream finished, Qui-Gon stood up. "Get your lightsaber, Padawan."

"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan replied a little confused. Was Qui-Gon going to think about what he described? Did he think Obi-Wan's dreams were trivial and not worth commenting on? Had he remembered that Obi-Wan had a quantum physics exam in half an hour?

Obi-Wan decided that the answer to the last question had to be "no" because they headed toward the practice salles. Qui-Gon quickly found them a Force-shielded private room not in use. They stepped inside, Qui-Gon paused long enough to close the door, shuck his robe, and then turned on his apprentice, and attacked him full out.

Without even thinking, Obi-Wan parried, and then flipped out of the way of the next blow. The Force was all around him, clearer for having seen it last night, and instead of following Qui-Gon's usual orders to control it, he surrendered to it, letting it have its own way. Duck. Flip. Lunge. Lunge. Parry. Parry. Parry and flip. Tuck, roll and leap. Lunge. Leap and slice. Glide and thrust.

He battled Qui-Gon to a stand off; his Master fighting back in what seemed to be an increasingly desperate series of offenses, until Qui-Gon abruptly extinguished his lightsaber in surrender.

It was only when Obi-Wan extinguished his own blade in return that he felt his fatigue. He was dripping in sweat, and, now that he could afford to breathe differently, his chest was heaving as he sucked in air. None of it mattered, however, as he stared at his master in stunned surprise.

"I can't possibly have just beaten you," he said, when he could speak without gasping.

"No, but you did beat someone," Qui-Gon said, leading Obi-Wan to the monitor screen and requesting a playback of the match. "Don't watch yourself; watch me, and think about the other playbacks you've watched."

Less than a minute into the replay, Obi-Wan touched the off switch. "You were fighting like I do."

"No, I think I was fighting like you used to." Qui-Gon frowned thoughtfully. "Hmmm, we have 6 days before we leave for Aragoth IV. Padawan, you will have your next Level Trials in five days. I'll get permission from your teachers so you can train instead of going to classes. And I think I want you to train some with M'Bast, unless she's selected as your opponent. You need to work with someone a little shorter than I."

"My next Level Trials?" Obi-Wan breathed. "But Master, I'm already a level ahead of most of my yearmates."

"Doesn't matter," Qui-Gon said firmly. "Move up a Jedi does, when the Force deems him ready."

Qui-Gon's Yoda imitations were perfect and they never failed to make Obi-Wan laugh. His laughter was short lived however as he regarded his Master gravely. "And my Master deems me ready?"

"I think I said that," Qui-Gon replied equally seriously. And then, to Obi-Wan's surprise, his normally non-demonstrative Master, reached out and pulled him into a close hug, sharing his pride with his student. "My Padawan."

"Master," Obi-Wan replied, sharing his pride in having pleased his teacher.

"What I don't understand is why the realization came in . . . well, one of those dreams." Obi-Wan said as they relaxed in the huge whirlbath that evening.

"Having been fifteen, back before the Dawn of Time, I would assume that it was the only way the Force thought it could get your attention." Qui-Gon received a splash of water for his reply and laughed. "Brat.

"Sexuality is very hard to control, Padawan," he continued, more seriously. "Not only do you need to control your broadcasting, you need to control your physical needs. Passion can be as addictive as dream spice, and as dangerous as a live thermal detonator. Properly managed, it can be one of the greatest gifts one person can give another."

"But in my dream I let it control me."

"How did you feel, emotionally?"

Obi-Wan frowned, trying to remember the dream without remembering how it felt. This was a serious discussion and if he got an erection while naked with his Master, he'd simply die of humiliation. "That I could trust the feeling and so I didn't need to control it. And like it needed me, needed to control me in return."

Qui-Gon nodded. "Looked at on one level, there is a certain, I'd call it an aspect, of sexuality where partners play out control games and scenarios, with one partner needing control and the other needing to surrender. Your mind could simply have been working with random information you picked up somewhere."

"But you don't think so," Obi-Wan said.

"Padawan, you know that someone as grounded in the Unifying Force as yourself rarely has 'random' dreams. If you look at your dream on a more . . . analytical level, it seems to have been telling a fundamental truth."

Obi-Wan blinked. He knew that his dreams were often hazy visions of possible futures. He knew that people with his gift never remembered the details of "normal" dreams. He had even worked a little with Master Yoda, and had learned how to tell which dreams to pursue and which he could safely not worry about. But to dream something his Master called a fundemental truth . . . wasn't he a little young for that?

Qui-Gon let him mull the concept over before continuing.

"Obi-Wan, you could say the Force needs you as much as you need the Force. It lives, Obi-Wan, and we are all part of it. And yet where we can handle the loss of a cell here or a piece of hair falling off there, the Force feels the loss of every single thing that dies."

"You equate the Force and physical passion, Master?" Obi-Wan had never heard anyone make that connection before, as much as it made sense. He wondered if this was one of those heretical notions Master Windu teased Master about.

"Actually, it's an analogy that never occurred to me," Qui-Gon replied smiling a little, "at least not in this context. And yet, it has some merit to it." He shrugged slightly, a very faint smile on his face. "Something to think about for next year."

"Next year, Master?" Obi-Wan asked.

"Intermediate Jedi Philosophy, Padawan. The final paper requires an in depth look at a particular philosophical approach to the Force, either an established one, an historical one, or your own."

"Oh," Obi-Wan said, feeling less than thrilled. "Maybe if I'm lucky, right when the paper is due, I'll have another dream and the Force will deem me ready to jump up another level."

"Master M'Bast accepts late papers, Padawan. And, if you do dream so, dream quietly so your old Master can get some sleep."

The word old made Obi-Wan want to protest. In fact, he was about to, when, looking at his naked Master sitting across from him, Obi-Wan's mind started to catalog all the ways Qui-Gon wasn't old. Looking at Qui-Gon Jinn, Obi-Wan Kenobi suddenly understood two things, one minor and one major. If ever anyone defined the term "prime of life" it had to be Qui-Gon. And Obi-Wan wanted him; the love that had been that of an apprentice had, like his 'saber skills, gone up to the next level. And so his reply was uncharacteristically formal and soft.

"Yes, my Master."

The End

End note: As I did in the last one of these I should explain one of the toys mentioned. This isn't a sex toy, although it's damned obscene. The wiggly-fish is exactly as I described it, although in the stores, they're called water wigglies. The best pic I could come up with was one without the clear gel and the fish: http://www.playvisions.com/WhatsHot/Wigglies/Wigglies.html For a more erotic use of a wiggly-fish see Tem-ve's excellent "Hydromechanic 101."