Feedback: Yes, yes, yes! Remember, your compliments are the
only thing we starving artists get paid.
Spoilers: Only if you don't know who these guys are.
Disclaimer: Not only do I not make money off of these guys, I
don't have any money to give if anyone sues me, so just letting
you know that the Mighty Lucas owns these guys and not me.
Author's note: To give credit where credit is due, Kirby Crow
made a brief reference in the story "Stepping to Jonah" about
Midsummer on Alderaan, which gave me the idea for this story. I
also need to thank my faithful Padawan, D'Angel, for betaing
this for me.
The last dying rays of the setting sun faded, leaving the glade
cloaked in shades of indigo and violet and the processional
began. First, two young men carrying long staff's, the swinging
censor hanging from them each leaked white billowing clouds of
incense. To Obi-Wan Kenobi, walking directly behind them with
his master, the scent was rich and mysterious, heavy with
exotic spices.
All went to their designated places, circling the high stone
dais in the center, the altar.
Obi-Wan gaze flickered around the circle, at the shadowed faces
around him. Everyone was wearing long cloaks, similar to ones
that Jedi wore, with the hoods pulled forward, half-obscuring
their faces. At the signal from the High Priest, everyone,
including the two Jedi, lowered their hoods and then removed
the cloaks completely, exposing themselves to the Gods Qui-Gon
had explained to him earlier. Even in his light Jedi clothing
the circle was heated, surrounded by high bonfires, sacred
fires of the Goddess.
Midsummer was an important ceremony on Alderaan, Qui-Gon had
told him, and it was a great honor to be chosen as
representatives to witness the rite. A fertility rite performed
for the Gods of Alderaan, to ensure a good growing season.
So caught up in this thoughts was Obi-Wan that when the drums
began he flinched in surprise. A hand curved over his shoulder,
holding him steady.
"Easy, Padawan," Qui-Gon murmured, "The ceremony is beginning."
The heavy thud of the drums, low and menacing, vibrated around
the circle. A sole person walked in from the dark, still
wearing a cloak. The person walked up to the altar and stood
before it. The high priest lowered the person's hood and
revealed a young woman, hair entwined with flowers.
"That is the chosen maiden. She is to be the All-Mother
tonight, a representative of the Goddess. She is to be the
fertile ground." The words whispered so close to his ear made
Obi-Wan shiver. His master did not seem to notice as he didn't
move back, but stayed, leaning close. "And now comes the chosen
of the God, the Year King, who will spill his seed on the
fertile ground."
True to his Master's word another figure entered the circle,
this time the High Priestess lowered the hood. The young man
took the maiden's hands in his own and they locked eyes, gazing
at each other. The circle was silent but for the beat of the
drums.
And then the rhythm in the drums changed, subtly, and at that
sign each chosen one lifted their hands to the cloak of the
other, pushing it back and off so that they both stood naked
before the circle, exposed in the flickering firelight.
"They each must be naked before the Gods." Hot breath against
his ear, and then, much to his surprise, a soft tongue, gently
tracing the lines and whorls of his ear before dipping inside.
Obi-Wan closed his eyes before he remembered he was supposed to
be witnessing. He watched as the Maiden was lifted onto the
altar, watched her lie back and spread her slim legs with no
modesty or shame. He watched this even as he felt his Master's
hands slide from his shoulders and down his sides. The mouth
that had been teasing his ear gently bit its way downward,
Qui-Gon's beard lightly abrading the tender flesh of the
younger man's neck.
He sucked in a sharp breath and his Master's hands paused at
his hips, waiting as the Year King joined his bride on the
altar, accepting the embrace of her thighs and her sacrifice.
At the very moment the God claimed the Goddess, as Obi-Wan
watched him press inside the young woman and end her virginity,
a large hand slipped inside the waistband of his loose pants,
circling his own erection. The maiden cried out at the entry
and Obi-Wan was forced to stifle his own cry as that hand
squeezed, moving slowly up and down. The other arm circled his
waist pulling him back against a body larger than his own and
even through several layers of cloth he could feel an answering
hardness press against his back.
He watched the pair coupling on the altar, the thrusts of the
Year King mirrored by the hand surrounding his cock and the
hips behind him. Obi-Wan arched into that hand, which tightened
and released rhythmically, pausing to swirl the thumb over the
leaking tip. Looking around the circle through narrowed eyes,
Obi-Wan saw that the others were similarly engaged. Moan's and
cries rose through the circle, only to be drown out by the
increasing rhythm of the drums.
The beat increased, pounding in Obi-Wan's ears and it seemed to
him that his heart throbbed to the same rhythm. Eyes focused on
the altar, mind focused on his body, Obi-Wan stood helpless in
the grip of overwhelming sensation.
The Year King's thrusts increased with the swelling of the
drums, his hands were gripping the Maiden's hip's and she had
wrapped her legs around his, arching into each deep lunge. The
hand surrounding his cock responded as well, moving faster,
gripping harder and Obi-Wan could feel his climax approach. The
arm around his waist tightened.
"Wait," a voice he barely recognized gasped into his ear.
"Wait, wait, wait," Each word was punctuated by a thrust of the
hips, a tightening of the hand and Obi-Wan struggled to do as
he had been asked, holding his orgasm at bay.
The bodies glistening with sweat on the dais, their moans and
the cries of the others mingling with the throbbing of the
drum, the fires, heat, the heady sensuous tang of sweat and
incense. The world was in a blur and then everything was still,
silent, as the figures on the Altar froze. And then they both
screamed, shrieking their rapture to the skies as their orgasm
swept over the group.
Racked with pleasure it was all Obi-Wan could do to keep his
feet as he came, that large warm hand milking every drop of
semen from his body even as its owner shuddered behind Obi-Wan
in his own ecstasy. Obi-Wan dimly felt warm wetness on both the
front of his pants and the back of his shirt, soaking into the
cloth and he couldn't have cared less. He sank back into the
shaky embrace of his Master, even as the couple on the dais and
the people around them subsided as well.
Still panting, Obi-Wan twisted his head to look at his Master,
a thousand questions shining in his eyes. The other man smiled
faintly before leaning forward to brush his lips gently over
his Padawan's. His beard tickling the younger man's bare cheeks
and he giggled softly, helplessly.
Qui-Gon took advantage of the laugh, let his tongue explore the
velvety softness lining Obi-Wan's mouth before he pulled back
to look again in those eyes, now glazed with pleasure and
arousal, the questions dimmed. The others were stirring and he
pulled back.
"Time to end the Rite, Padawan." And he felt a darkening, a
loss from the younger man. "Not to worry," he whispered,
squeezing Obi-Wan tighter for a moment before releasing him
totally. "Perhaps later tonight we shall perform our own Rite.
It is, after all, Midsummer." Qui-Gon allowed the younger man
to feel his arousal, his love, and basked in the sweet emotions
returned to him before turning to follow the processional out,
the Rite completed and fertility returned to the land.
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