Series/Sequel: A sequel to "A Place of Silence" and "Sanctuary
and Sacrifice", which are archived on my homepage. Third in the
"Devotion" series.
Category: angst, h/c, drama, A/U
Rating: NC-17 for disturbing and dark themes, eroticism and
smut
Summary: Finally getting to the coping/comfort parts...
Archive: My homepage, M_A and The Nesting Place only; all
others ask first please. Especially since I may end up
rewriting the entire thing.
Disclaimer: Lucas owns 'em. I use 'em. Lots.
Authors' Notes: The series officially has a name: Devotion.
Thanks for the suggestion and the ever-present support,
Alyosha! Thanks also to Kaly for helping me get back on track,
and to Kirby Crow for the writer's clinic - you tried, Kirby.
(g) No beta on the finished piece, because I got very tired of
tweaking it, so please excuse mistakes.
Feedback: Yes please. It's the feedback that has kept me
motivated to write the stories in this series, especially when
they're as hard to finish as this one was.
Qui-Gon woke from a deep sleep with a sudden feeling of
agitation passing through him like the cold burn of frozen
metal. He rolled out of bed, glancing to the side. Obi-Wan's
bed was empty, the sheets still pulled tightly as they'd been
when Qui-Gon fell asleep. He ground the heels of his hands into
his aching eyes, casting outward with the Force for Obi-Wan.
The subtle tickling at the base of his skull told him Obi-Wan
was nearby; Qui-Gon knew exactly where to find him. He kicked
on a pair of sleep pants, yanking them over his hips with
sleepy carelessness, and ran a hand through his wildly
disheveled hair as he moved from the bedroom into the living
area.
Soft ruby embers flickered in the small fireplace, remnants of
an unnecessary fire from the evening before. Obi-Wan's eyes
were still sensitive, and he preferred firelight to the harsh
glare of the power sources in their residence. In the evenings,
the two men sat together, cosseted by the warmth and comfort of
the flames, often passing several hours without a word. It was
a companionable silence, but one Qui-Gon was troubled by -
especially since Obi-Wan had stopped sleeping.
Such a fine line, between pushing and offering, between the end
of his own need and the beginning of Obi-Wan's. He felt
impatience creeping up on him, catching him off guard at the
strangest times. Often, he saw his own frustration mirrored in
Obi-Wan's frowning irritation, caught the brief flash of
accusation in Obi-Wan's eyes when he studied the younger man
too closely. Still, he felt compelled to watch over Obi-Wan
with a sort of desperate, relentless fear. His close
observation of Obi-Wan's every action faded into exhausted
oblivion in the night, leaving the younger Jedi alone with his
thoughts.
Rough, knobby carpet prickled under Qui-Gon's feet as he moved
across the room. He'd come upon Obi-Wan in this position in
front of the shuttered window many other mornings. Obi-Wan
faced the closed portal, looking into nothingness. It was the
young Jedi's favorite place to be. He'd taken up residence
inside the darkness.
"Obi-Wan. Have you had any sleep?" Qui-Gon's voice gritted like
gravel on pavement as his throat adjusted to making sound. His
hand reached down, and he cupped the younger man's chin,
turning the face up to his inspection.
"No," Obi-Wan replied, looking up at the sleepy man towering
over him. Amusement flashed across his features. "You haven't
had enough."
"I don't need much," Qui-Gon replied, dismissing the notion of
his own well-being with a wave of his hand.
"Good thing, because you aren't getting any to speak of. You're
hovering over me, my Master." There was warmth and affection
attached to the title, one Obi-Wan simply refused to stop using
despite Qui-Gon's status among the Jedi. Qui-Gon had given in
as well and now called Obi-Wan by his proper title, one which
still carried connotations of deep feeling for both of them.
Qui-Gon did not reply. Instead, he reached for the lever to
open the shutters.
"No," Obi-Wan said, his tone suddenly hard, edged with fear. A
spike of apprehension stabbed out through the Force, and
Qui-Gon froze where he was, slowly lowering his arm. "Not
now...not now," Obi-Wan muttered, the short outburst of emotion
curdling back into the sour pool of repressed emotion inside
the young Jedi.
For a moment, Qui-Gon considered what to do, what action he
could take. He looked at Obi-Wan, who seemed to be curling
further back into the chair with every passing moment. "I'm
going to market today," Qui-Gon said, by way of changing the
subject. "Will you come with me?"
"Afraid to leave me alone?" came the immediate reply.
"Afraid to be alone?" Qui-Gon responded, sparing no
thought for the taunting nature of his words.
Obi-Wan looked sharply at his Master. "Of course not."
Qui-Gon wasn't at all sure that was the case. "Padawan..."
"Go and do what you must. I'll still be here," Obi-Wan said
quietly, without emotion. He faced the covered window, staring
into space.
After a moment, Qui-Gon turned and moved away, keying the
controls to the bedroom door.
As the door slid shut between them, Obi-Wan winced. He felt
unable to control his emotions, much less his words and
actions. Rage was growing inside him, like a malignant tumor
festering in his heart, and Obi-Wan fed it a steady diet of
sleepless introspection. In the deepest part of the night, when
Qui-Gon lay sleeping, Obi-Wan gathered up his feelings and
turned them inward. He examined each stray thought and emotion
as a jeweler might gauge gemstones, seeking the flaws and
cracks before estimating their worth.
Nothing was as Obi-Wan had expected it to be since Qui-Gon had
brought him out of his personal hell -- not that he'd had a
right to expect anything at all. It was always a series of
missed signals, crossed purposes. He would reach out to touch
Qui-Gon, feeling a simple joy at his ability to take that most
basic of actions, and find his hand retreating of its own
accord, frightened by the awesome scope of his freedom. At
times, the need to be one with Qui-Gon was like a storm
swirling around him, washing away his anxiety, providing a
sense of focused power. He knew he had only to say the word,
make the motion, and the dream would become precious reality.
Then came the guilt...the inevitable shadow of degradation
passed over him, bringing with it the inability to comfort, to
offer solace to Qui-Gon. He collected the errant emotions,
torturing himself with doubts and imagined weakness. He tried
to crush down his shame, but the echo of emptiness deafened
him, driving away comprehension, until he was lost again in the
confusion. Qui-Gon's quiet acceptance only added weight to the
unbearable pressure.
Obi-Wan sighed, exhaling a shaky breath, just as Qui-Gon
emerged from the bedroom fully dressed. As Qui-Gon drew on a
cloak, Obi-Wan stood, stretching his muscles. "You'll be
cautious, of course."
Qui-Gon looked up in surprise. "There's no cause for suspicion,
Obi-Wan. The Council has, in effect, come and gone. Yoda left
us in peace."
"He did not," Obi-Wan pointed out. "He said you would speak of
it again. He didn't name the time, and he didn't agree with
your decision." Worry lay heavily against his heart, mingled
with all the other feelings churning within him.
"I'll be cautious," Qui-Gon said finally, without comment on
the validity of Obi-Wan's concerns. He took a step toward the
door, pausing there with his back still turned. "And you be
cautious also."
Obi-Wan looked at the rigid line of his Master's shoulders, and
reached for words, but his Master stepped away from the silence
and was gone.
The marketplace of Paramon bustled with activity as Qui-Gon
moved through the streets with unerring precision, locating the
few shops run by non-Force-adepts. It was almost habit now to
seek the path of least resistance, to offer the fewest choices.
He did it without conscious thought, without any last twinges
of guilt.
He stopped first at the stall of a local farmer, rapidly
evaluating the quality of the vegetables before stuffing
several in a sack. "I am welcome to these," he murmured, not
even waiting to hear the parroted reply before stalking away.
He moved with easy, sensual grace, making his way to a small
shop off the main thoroughfare, hurrying without creating the
appearance of haste. As he neared the shop, he immediately
became aware that the owner was Force-sensitive, and thus could
not be easily manipulated with mere words...but no matter.
Qui-Gon pushed the door open and stepped inside. Within
moments, he saw the item he sought. He picked up the small box
and crammed it into the sack, acutely aware of the approach of
the shopkeeper.
"That board and the pieces with it are costly!" warned the
clerk.
Qui-Gon smiled gently, and the clerk's objections came to an
end.
Obi-Wan paced the small room in a persistent pattern. Back,
forth. Stop to peek out the window in case Qui-Gon was
approaching. Pause beside the table to look at the lightsaber
he was constructing. He allowed himself small surge of pride;
the saber was well built, though not calibrated, and was a
triumph of ingenuity over the lack of spare saber parts. A
smile lit his face as he recalled his first lessons in putting
together a Jedi weapon.
As rapidly as the smile appeared, it vanished, extinguished by
the sudden realization that he may never wield a weapon again
in service to the Jedi. Hopelessness washed over him, leaving
him shivering. He fought for control of it, but the feeling had
risen to the surface, bursting forth like a muddy geyser,
refusing to be denied.
Obi-Wan shivered, and wrapped his arms around himself in a hug
that lacked comfort. He set his jaw so hard he heard the joints
popping and sat down at the table to complete the saber. He
picked up the small components, fitting them together, but he
found he could not concentrate. The tiny pieces swam before his
eyes, and a red haze of angry, irrational irritation clouded
his vision. He felt the rage welling up within him, bringing a
surge of adrenaline with it, one that tightened his body and
closed his mind to coherent, ordered thought. He shoved the
table aside, knocking it over, spilling the components on the
floor, which only served to heighten his anger. And finally, it
would be contained no longer.
He called the Force to him, screaming words that made no sense,
pushing the power away from him in great heaving waves,
splintering the table into fragments. He looked at the
destruction and felt something inside him snapping in two,
cleanly, like the fracture of an old bone too brittle to
survive the pressure. The Force emanated from him in halting,
surging ripples of immense magnitude, as objects in the room
rose, jerked to a halt in mid-air, and smashed against walls
and doors. The very air seemed to shimmer with the power loosed
within Obi-Wan, and still, it was not enough.
He wept in his rage, though he did not know it, could not hear
himself beyond the roaring of pure hatred in his soul. He
closed his hands on objects, heedless of their value, and
shattered them with brute strength. He moved about the room at
the center of a maelstrom, pushing the edges of chaos out
around him, unwilling to pull them back. He threw his head back
and howled, a primal cry for help, for compassion, for the
things he'd been denied and had not known how to recapture. His
legs buckled, and as suddenly as it began, it was over; he fell
to the floor, spent.
Dimly, he heard the crashing at the door as his Master came for
him. The angry weeping subsided, passing over him like the last
cells of a frenzied storm. "Obi-Wan!" He heard the fear that
lay beneath his name as it was shouted, tried to find the words
to reassure, but only choked fragments emerged, nonsensical. He
bent forward, braced against the ground, but two hands settled
on his shoulders, pulling him back from some imagined brink.
Obi-Wan could no more shut off the flow of Force power he'd
summoned than he could have controlled it to begin with, and it
buffeted them both as Qui-Gon pulled the younger man into his
arms. He shifted awkwardly, sitting down hard on the ground
amidst the debris. With his own skill, he blanketed Obi-Wan's
power, muffling the energy until it dissipated, and the body in
his arms went limp with relief.
"Master," Obi-Wan began, voice still shaking with the anger,
the darkness that welled within him, "I couldn't control it."
"Don't try, beloved. Now, finally, will you allow me to help?"
Qui-Gon pulled Obi-Wan closer, holding the younger man tightly,
and felt a nod of acquiescence against his chest.
"But don't carry me," came the command, spoken softly near
Qui-Gon's shoulder.
Qui-Gon shook his head. Ever independent, this man he loved. He
rose to one knee, lifting Obi-Wan with him, steadying him. "You
need rest, Padawan," he said firmly.
"I know," Obi-Wan admitted tiredly. He pushed himself up to a
standing position, swaying slightly as Qui-Gon rose to support
him. He raised his head with great effort. "Help me," he asked
softly.
Qui-Gon's arm went around him, steadying him, and they moved
slowly into the bedroom. Obi-Wan's steps became more sure along
the way, as if Qui-Gon's mere presence gave him strength.
Qui-Gon eased him down on the bed, divesting him of his boots
and pulling a blanket across him, and Obi-Wan made no protest.
"Did you hear me calling you?" Obi-Wan asked curiously, looking
up at Qui-Gon through the descending veil of sleep.
Qui-Gon shuddered, remembering the feeling of the Force as it
ripped through him, calling him to Obi-Wan's side. "Yes," he
answered, sitting beside Obi-Wan on the bed.
"Then it's not too late for us," Obi-Wan said, reaching out a
hand to clasp Qui-Gon's larger one. His eyes closed, and
slumber embraced him before he could see the infinite sadness
drifting across Qui-Gon's face.
The mid-morning sun of Messemer Prime burned down on the open
streets and passageways of the city, driving the cloaked man
back out of the bright daylight. He melted unobtrusively into
the shaded areas near the side of the residence he was
watching. When all was quiet within that small place, and the
massive disturbance in the Force had ceased, he brought a small
comlink out from the folds of his robes and activated a signal.
"What have you to report?" came the strident voice, tinny from
the funneling effects of the distant relays bringing the
signal.
"Kenobi recovers, but slowly," said the tall figure. "He has
made the breakthrough the healers predicted. It would be less
dangerous to take him now."
"And Master Jinn?"
The hooded figure hesitated. "Master Jinn..."
"Tell me, you must." The voice seemed resigned, almost weary.
"He incapacitated a man this day, Master Yoda, and I
am...unable to provide a reason why he would have found such an
action necessary."
"No more time can we waste." Yoda's voice turned sharp once
more. "Set things in motion, I must. Let him do no harm, Master
Quoalo."
The transmission terminated with a squeak, and the Jedi Master
once more faded into the shadows.
Lengthening purple shadows crept over the quiet garden, cooling
it as night approached on the city-world of Coruscant. The
splashing of a small fountain nearby went unheeded by the three
Jedi Masters walking slowly through the quiet place of
meditation.
"I never thought it would come to this," Master Windu said
slowly, tucking his hands into the folds of his robe. "Not
Qui-Gon."
"Sentiment matters not," Yoda reminded Windu sadly. "Saved, he
may yet be, as may the boy. Harming others...this, we cannot
tolerate."
"If we separate them now-" Ki-Adi-Mundi began, but Windu cut
him off.
"The healers gave their approval, Ki. Master Quoalo reported
seeing signs that the breakthrough had begun, the purging of
rage through the Force."
"Know what happened to that boy, we do not," Yoda said softly.
"No, but what we know of the slaver system...well, one can well
imagine what he endured. And now to separate them..." Windu
shook his head.
Yoda looked up at Windu. "Surprised am I, Mace Windu. Think you
to excuse Qui-Gon's behavior?"
"No, Master Yoda. I simply...wish there was another way."
"As do I," Ki-Adi-Mundi agreed. Yoda nodded, and the three fell
silent once again.
"You cheated," Obi-Wan accused, eyes twinkling in the
firelight. "I don't believe it."
"I took advantage of your lapse in concentration," Qui-Gon
answered, defending himself even as a small chuckle erupted.
His former student looked torn between laughter and
indignation. Qui-Gon was pleased to see happiness lighting
Obi-Wan's eyes, if only for a brief moment. "You know better
than to become distracted during a game of quetta, Obi-Wan." He
shifted in his position on the floor in front of the fire,
sitting across from Obi-Wan, and waited for him to reset the
board.
"It's unfair," the younger man grumbled, putting the jeweled
pieces back into their places on the tiered surfaces. The
crackling firelight caught the multicolored glass, casting
sparkling flashes of ruby, violet and emerald on the walls.
"You've always been much better at this game than I have." As
he set the last scarlet-hued piece into its space, it slipped
between his fingers and went crashing to the floor. Instantly,
his eyes flickered up to see if Qui-Gon was watching, and found
the dark blue gaze riveted to him. Obi-Wan's jaw tightened
fractionally as he scooped the piece up. He closed his fist
around it to hide the tremors in his hand.
Qui-Gon sighed at the rigid set of Obi-Wan's shoulders. "The
healer said you would benefit from having your wrists
massaged," Qui-Gon reminded him, careful to stop short of
making the words a suggestion, almost bursting to make it a
request. He refrained from staring at the scars on those
slender wrists, still ugly and raw after almost a month out of
captivity, burned into the flesh by tight ropes and manacles.
The nerves continued to heal...but slowly.
Obi-Wan looked searchingly at Qui-Gon. For the briefest of
moments, his face reflected a kind of frank speculation, as
though he were measuring Qui-Gon's intentions. "Where's the
salve?" he asked finally, setting down the game piece and
resting his forearm on his bent knee.
"I'll get it," Qui-Gon offered, rising easily from his spot on
the floor and moving to his bedroom to retrieve the small jar
of balm the healers had left for Obi-Wan. Once there, he
stopped to wrestle down the demons of desire and control. This
was another of the many steps Obi-Wan would take toward his
healing, and Qui-Gon had no wish to derail the process by
making a false move. He snatched the cobalt blue jar from the
shelf near Obi-Wan's bed and padded back into the common room.
Obi-Wan was pushing up his sleeves, but stopped short when he
saw Qui-Gon standing there, watching. For a very long time,
their eyes caught and held, creating the sense of suspended
time in the darkened room. Qui-Gon started moving again, and as
he seated himself across from Obi-Wan, the younger man lifted
the game board and set it aside, his movements slow and
cautious.
As Qui-Gon uncapped the small jar, the pleasingly heady scent
of calia flowers wafted through the room. Obi-Wan extended his
left arm, bared to the elbow. Qui-Gon scooped up a generous
amount of salve and rubbed it between his palms to warm it
before reaching out to take the injured wrist in his hand .
"Wait," Obi-Wan said suddenly, jerking away. He tensed for a
moment, then quickly untied the folds of his tunic and yanked
it over his head, freeing his arms of the large, loose sleeves.
"If you're going to do it, then do it," he said, the lines of
his face hardening grimly as the warmth from the fire touched
the half-healed injuries on his torso.
Qui-Gon took a quick breath. This was the first time Obi-Wan
had willingly allowed him to see the injuries for any length of
time outside the bath since the day they'd arrived on Messemer
Prime. Another small step. He took Obi-Wan's left hand in his,
spreading out the young Jedi's fingers with feathering strokes
to the clenched fist. He overturned the hand, palm downward,
and touched the center of Obi-Wan's palm, drawing that touch
down the underside of the hand. Obi-Wan shivered slightly, but
remained very still. Qui-Gon drew his thumbs up the back of the
hand, slowly, halting at the wrist and rubbing there a moment,
fingers winding around the sensitive skin, aided by the
slippery salve. Around, to the sides, across the top...Qui-Gon
repeated the pattern several times, soothing the angry welt
with cool reassurance.
Obi-Wan stared at the hands caressing his own. The hypnotic
motion of that touch was both comforting and erotic, in ways
that reached down deep to a core of desire he had refused to
open, fearing that he would be consumed in the intensity of it
once the way was clear. Too many demons of memory circled the
place inside him that wanted his Master's hands everywhere, on
him, inside him. Still, he watched, feeling the hitching of his
breath as it caught under his ribs, shallow and fast.
"Obi-Wan..." Qui-Gon's hands slid up the younger man's arm, and
Qui-Gon held him just above the elbow as he stroked down in a
curving, swirling motion, his fingers enclosing the entire
forearm. He stopped at Obi-Wan's wrist to rub gently over the
burns once again, watching the young man's breath come faster,
his body begin to tense and twitch. Qui-Gon released him slowly
and gently tipped Obi-Wan's chin up with a finger, watching his
eyes. "Shall I stop?"
"I..." Horribly conflicted, Obi-Wan hesitated. There was
something wild in his eyes, darkening them as echoes and
shadows drifted there.
Qui-Gon asked him softly, "Would it help to talk of what
happened?"
"What could I say that you don't know?" Obi-Wan said, in a
voice that was a ghost of his usual cultured bravado, on the
fringe of a whispered scream. "That I fought with everything I
had in me not to let them take me? That they took me anyway? At
first, I imagined you coming for me, freeing me, every time
they violated me. But it never stopped, it
never...stopped...and I thought you might not find me..."
"Tell me," Qui-Gon urged, understanding that there was more,
much more -- emotions ready to find the same freedom as the
body that contained them.
Obi-Wan held his hands out in front of him; they glistened with
a soft sheen from the salve. Quietly, he continued, "I tried to
kill them because it brought me pleasure. It was all I had to
distract me...thinking about killing...inventing ways to kill
them...I could taste it. It was in my blood. I planned it. I
wished for it. I reveled in hating them." Obi-Wan finally
looked at Qui-Gon, and there was something so cold in his eyes
that Qui-Gon could not look away. "Every time they fucked me,
they pushed me farther away from you. I knew I could never wipe
that away. A Jedi doesn't give in to hate, but I enjoyed mine,
and I knew it meant I could never be with you. So I decided to
die." He laughed then, a grimace trying to turn to a smile on
his face. "Then you came, and freed me, and I had hope
again...only to learn you have traveled the same path...that
..even if I had wanted the life of a Jedi again, I could never
be a part of it if my path was with you..." The rictus of a
smile vanished, the laugh choked off by irony and bitter pain.
Qui-Gon understood it all with perfect clarity. "Once again,
someone took...I took away your choice." His voice was
thick with regret.
"You have given me more than you will ever know," Obi-Wan said
softly, voice wavering slightly. "But what kind of life can we
have? You are banished. I am disgraced."
Qui-Gon was silent for a moment. Finally he spoke, slowly,
heavily. "There is no disgrace in what you have suffered,
Obi-Wan. Or in the feelings which kept you alive." He sought
Obi-Wan's eyes. "How can I say you should have pushed away the
darkness, not allowed yourself to feel it, when it was all
around you? To have endured as you did...whatever it took to
survive...none of that matters. You are alive." Qui-Gon said
the word with a kind of satisfied relief that made Obi-Wan
shiver. "Despite what you say, you never turned...never became
a part of the darkness. You never surrendered to it."
"I wanted to die, Qui-Gon. Don't you understand? I did
give in. I did. I couldn't...bear it anymore..." Obi-Wan's
words cut at Qui-Gon, who found himself riveted to each shadow
flickering over Obi-Wan's face. "And by living on, I destroyed
myself, and your future as well. They didn't do it. I did. I-"
"Stop it," Qui-Gon said raggedly. "Stop it. You destroyed
nothing. And you must have known I would never stop looking
until I found you."
"I didn't want to wait any longer," Obi-Wan said simply. "Death
was more attractive."
"If I had found you dead, I would have killed them all,"
Qui-Gon said, and there was a flash fire in his eyes as he
spoke. "But you are alive. Nothing else matters," he
repeated.
Obi-Wan stared at Qui-Gon as the fluctuating light from the
fire played across the older man's face, fascinated by and
drawn to the changes in his teacher. He reached out a hand and
touched his Master's lips with two fingers, tracing the tight
line of them. "I am alive because you gave up everything you
ever cared about, everything you ever believed, to find me." He
saw Qui-Gon begin to speak, stopped him with pressure from
those fingers. "You are not tainted by darkness, Qui-Gon Jinn.
You are my light."
Qui-Gon's heart twisted sideways as all feeling within him
became centered on the touch of Obi-Wan's hand. He'd done so
much to regret, so much which had altered his life's path
irrevocably...and Obi-Wan was offering him redemption.
"Obi-Wan..."
"You are my light," Obi-Wan repeated fervently, trailing his
fingers down across Qui-Gon's chin, across the line of his jaw,
lingering in the soft whiskers of the beard.
Qui-Gon found he was barely breathing, for fear of disturbing
that gentle touch. Obi-Wan shifted forward, eyes fastened to
his, his action breathtaking in its simple trust. And then
Obi-Wan took control, lips covering Qui-Gon's, demanding that
he yield.
Qui-Gon opened himself to the exploration, the rediscovery of
places remembered in dreams alone, as his lips were pushed
apart to make way for a questing tongue, winding and teasing.
The pressure of that warm mouth moved constantly, seeking new
angles, new points of desire. He felt himself falling as those
lips moved lower, finding the familiar sensitive spot beneath
his left ear, nose nudging his head to the side to make way for
the light nibbling of teeth.
A subdued moan rose from the throat under the attention of
those teeth, vibrating low against the pressure, and was
rewarded with another kiss, this one more exacting. Hands
touched Qui-Gon's face, cradling it, pulling him deeper into
the abyss.
Obi-Wan's hands moved into Qui-Gon's hair, stroking the length
of it with wonder, as if it were the first time. Qui-Gon's
hands rose of their own accord, seeking a lifeline. Obi-Wan
sensed the movement, and Qui-Gon's struggle to remain still. He
pulled back, releasing Qui-Gon, settling on his knees, and
caught the hands which hovered in midair. With only a small
hesitation, he guided those long fingers to his body. As they
made contact with his skin, he moved forward again, claiming
Qui-Gon's mouth, stopping only to whisper his permission.
"Touch me."
The last barrier between them shattered then, as Qui-Gon pulled
the younger man against him, mouths joined. There was no
resistance, no reluctance; Obi-Wan's body melded to Qui-Gon's
larger frame as though they were fused.
Qui-Gon rose to his knees, breaking contact with those
tantalizing lips, pushing Obi-Wan away slightly. He laid soft
kisses across Obi-Wan's face, quelling the confused look in
Obi-Wan's eyes, and bent his head to the task which had
preoccupied him since the moment their lips touched.
With infinite care, he traced his lips down the line of the
scar beginning at the top of Obi-Wan's collarbone, mapping it
with his tongue, erasing its horror and lending it a kind of
glory. He moved slowly on to each twisting line on Obi-Wan's
chest, marking each with exquisite tenderness.
Obi-Wan's legs refused to support his weight; he was lowered,
laid down, and still those soft caresses of his Master's mouth
moved down, neglecting no part of him. He felt limp, unable to
speak, unable to lift his arms, turned to water by Qui-Gon's
loving ministrations. Hands tugged his breeches, whisking them
off quickly. Suddenly he felt Qui-Gon pull away, and made a
small sound of distress.
Qui-Gon moved closer, kissed him, turned Obi-Wan's face toward
the intense desire blazing in the midnight blue eyes. Once
again, permission was sought.
Obi-Wan felt the answer rise up within him, and gave it
expression. "Qui-Gon," he said simply, the word almost a plea,
the name spoken with joy. His answer was met with a brief smile
and a flash of understanding.
Obi-Wan lost track of the world then, as it tipped on its side
and spun out of control. A scream began to build in his throat
as he was engulfed in wet heat, but slowly, as Qui-Gon's mouth
descended sensuously on his cock, tongue swirling and
caressing, tasting every part of him. All this pleasure, and it
was for him...He lifted a hand weakly, intending to protest,
but was sucked down again, his mind on the brink of exploding
as he was taken in fully, worked by teeth and a willing tongue.
"Please, no," Obi-Wan gasped, and Qui-Gon stopped immediately,
looking across Obi-Wan's body with concern. Obi-Wan shook his
head, frustrated, and gathered his strength. He drew Qui-Gon
up, pulling at his Master's tunic with shaking hands, eyes
pleading to be understood.
Qui-Gon stilled the frantic hands and quickly undressed, piling
his clothes and shoving them out of the way. Within moments,
Obi-Wan was on top of him, covering Qui-Gon's body with his
own, the hard length of two cocks pressed together. Qui-Gon's
guttural sound of pleasure caused a rippling shiver to cascade
down Obi-Wan's spine.
Obi-Wan rolled away for a moment, returning quickly to nudge
open Qui-Gon's long, muscular thighs. The scent of calia
flowers filled the air once again as Obi-Wan smoothed salve
across his aching cock, then pressed his fingers low into
Qui-Gon's body, finding the path quickly.
Sparks coursed through Qui-Gon's body as Obi-Wan pressed into
him with a rocking motion, filling him, offering him
completion. He closed his arms around the younger man, pressing
him deep, listening to the sounds and words of ecstasy
arriving. A hand closed around his cock, moving with a rhythm
easily remembered, and they moved together, one fluid motion,
stroking and retreating, matching like two sides of a pendulum.
Obi-Wan's back arched, his muscles locked, and with a cry he
tightened his hand, sending Qui-Gon's hips arching up into that
close embrace as they came together, a feeling of wild
surrender surrounding them, joining them, making them both
whole. Obi-Wan's head dropped onto Qui-Gon's shoulder as tiny
shivers wracked him, and Qui-Gon rolled onto his side to gather
Obi-Wan into his arms.
No words were necessary. They lay together by the fire, spent
and fulfilled, and sleep came quickly, draping them in
serenity.
Outside, as the night reached its zenith, and the darkness was
deepest, five figures cloaked in Jedi robes moved into
position, their hearts heavy, and began the vigil which would
lead them to the moment they all had come to dread.
End
8/16/99
I know, I know, another loose end...I can't resist them!...and
there will be another story in the series. Maybe two. What did
you think of this one? Sock it to me. destinaf@hotmail.com
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