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After the meal Qui-Gon sat Oban at the comm. unit and showed him how to access the Temple directory. He pointed out where their quarters were located and also the location of the dinning halls and exercise rooms and how to use the index. Oban had no difficulty with the system so Qui-Gon went on to demonstrate the suite's environmental control panel. He also gave the youth a personal reader and a box to hold wafers as well as showing him how to access the Temple library and how to download data.

As Oban was looking a little overwhelmed Qui-Gon told him to take off his outer tunics. "We haven't had time to really meditate since we arrived." When they were kneeling beside each other he added, "I'd like you to focus on your memories of being with other children. Concentrate on what you feel... what you sense. Just let the impressions wash over you."

With some initial trepidation Oban settled into his trance, calming his mind and releasing his anxiety. He let his thoughts float as he began to recall, allowing the disconnected images to surface at random.

Qui-Gon emerged from his trance to see that Oban was still meditating so he quietly set about preparing for bed. He was reading, sipping hot cha when a sigh indicated that Oban was leaving his trance.

Oban raised his head and stretched his shoulders, his eyes searching immediately for his master.

"The water has just boiled if you would care for cha, Obi." The Jedi was pleased to see that the young man looked relaxed and at peace.

"Yes, Master." Oban nodded and disappeared into the kitchen. When he returned, he took in his master's appearance.

"Should I take my bath now, Master?" At his master's nod of approval he headed for the bathroom and carefully closed the door.

When Oban emerged from his bath, his master was standing before the window staring out over the vast city. Oban drank in the sight of him. The older man was wearing only sleeping pants, his long hair flowing over his broad shoulders, hair and skin silvered in the moonlight. Oban shivered and ducked into the padawan room.

He dropped the towel and pulled on the sleeping pants that had been sent up along with the rest of his new clothes. He looked down at the narrow bed then set his shoulders and returned to the main room.

Qui-Gon could hear the soft sounds of Oban moving from room to room. He resolutely turned his thoughts away from the image of a warm, damp young man wandering around his rooms. His mind was so busy forcing itself away from Oban that he had no warning when a sleek body leaned against his back and strong hands slid around to caress his chest. Qui-Gon froze as he felt Oban press a kiss between his shoulder blades. "Obi?"

Oban let one hand explore his master's throat and shoulder while the other moved purposefully down to dip inside the waistband and tease the delicate skin of his master's belly. "Master." Oban purred as he rubbed his cheek against his master's back.

As desire shot through him, Qui-Gon turned to face Oban retrieving the questing hand as it slithered across his hipbone. Wrapping his arms around the young man, he kissed the bright hair.

"No, Obi."

"Why not, Master?"

Qui-Gon took Oban's face between his hands, "It isn't right."

Oban pressed his body forward and rubbed against his master. "I don't understand. You want me." His hand settled on his master's groin, squeezing gently as he felt the flesh harden under his touch. He turned his head and kissed the hand that was curved around his jaw. "Who would be hurt?"

Placing his hands on Oban's shoulders, Qui-Gon pushed him away. "Obi, when you remember you may not want me."

Oban squirmed forward in an effort to touch his master. "But I do want you now," he said reasonably. "And they will not take away the memories I have." He placed his hands on his master's chest, rubbing a thumb over one nipple and said confidently, "I *will* still want you, Master."

Qui-Gon gave up. He simply couldn't find any more reasons to reject the radiant young man who was gazing up at him with such need, his clear eyes full of trust and hope. Gathering the ex-slave in his arms Qui-Gon held him, letting his fingers learn the elegant sweep of Oban's spine, the soft skin and firm muscle. He buried one hand in Oban's hair to tilt his head back. Qui-Gon looked down and smiled at the shining eyes that were staring up at him. He bent and pressed his lips to Oban's forehead, then gently nipped at his nose before moving to lick along the sensitive lips.

Feeling as though he was going to swoon with sensation, Oban let his head settle back into his master's hand. He could feel a thumb nudge against one ear and long fingers curl around his skull to slide along his jaw. The knowledge that his head was engulfed in that gentle grasp sent an erotic thrill through him. He angled further back and a gasping sob parted his lips to allow his master's tongue to enter and caress him. Warm skin shifted under his grasping hands as he returned the kiss, sending his tongue to duel with the tender invader.

They parted and Qui-Gon felt his every nerve tingle at the heavy-lidded gaze that was devouring him. He heard Oban murmur something unintelligible and felt a gentle pressure at the hollow in his throat. Qui-Gon could feel the happiness and desire that permeated the young man. He swallowed as Oban's mouth moved from collarbone to nipple, sharp teeth grazing and holding before lips settled over the nub of flesh. His hands were roaming over Oban's head and across his shoulders, trying to pull him back for another kiss when Oban suddenly dipped lower and Qui-Gon was shocked by the wet line of a tongue licking down his ribs. He gasped, "Obi."

Oban felt muscle quiver under his mouth and redoubled his efforts. He wanted to return something to this man who had given him so much but most of all he wanted his master to feel pleasure and he wanted to know that it was he who had given it to him. The soft growl of his name brought his head up to see his master's head leaning back against the window, blue eyes heavy with passion.

"Yes, Master." Oban breathed against the taut abdomen. He slid his fingers into the waistband and drew the sleeping pants down exposing angled hipbones, pale skin and the dusky column of flesh that was his goal. The phallus was gently curved against the flat belly. Oban held his master's eyes as he licked his lips and leaned in to place a avid kiss against the shaft. His hands pushed the soft fabric of the pants down past thighs and calves then returned to hold narrow hips. He ran his thumbs slowly back and forth basking in the reactions he was eliciting.

Qui-Gon's whole existence contracted to the sight of the glorious young man who was slowly shredding his control with the touch of strong hands and a mouth that dealt in rapture. Through it all an ecstatic glow filled his mind and united him with the joy that overwhelmed his lover. He felt sensation gather and blossom then he was overcome by his climax and felt his legs crumple under him.

Oban was lost in the bliss of giving pleasure. For the first time he used his talents gladly, teasing and licking and sucking until he took the big cock deep into his throat and swallowed. His master's seed spilled into him and he wrapped his arms around the older man as he slid downwards. He sat holding his master, his face pressed to the Jedi's neck while they caught their breath. When he felt himself circled by his master's arms he snuggled closer and breathed, "My Master."

The orgasm had shaken Qui-Gon to his core. Not so much the physical release, though that had been exquisite, but the profound sense of connection he felt with Oban. He held the young man, his cheek resting on the tawny head. Oban was lying against him, they legs tangled together. He felt the gentle nudge of an erection as Oban shifted slightly in his arms. With a smile Qui-Gon moved one hand downward only to be stopped when Oban seized the hand and drew it to his lips.

"You don't have to, Master."

Qui-Gon copied the gesture and kissed Oban's hand. "But I want to." He placed Oban's hand on his knee and returned to run a teasing finger along the hard penis, gathering the drops of liquid at the tip and wrapping his fingers around the shaft. Oban melted even closer and buried his face into Qui-Gon's neck gasping and moaning as he was skilfully brought to climax.

A husky voice whispering, "My Obi," brought Oban's face up to stare at his master. Aware of the astonishment in the other man Qui-Gon smiled mischievously as he lifted his fingers to his mouth and delicately licked at the semen that covered them. He licked a second finger then offered his hand to Oban.

There was a moment of utter amazement as Oban watched his master, then he shivered and lapped at the offered hand. He ran his tongue languidly up each long finger and was starting on the palm when the hand was pulled away. He shot an glare at his master.

Qui-Gon laughed at the disapproval in Oban's eyes. "If you keep that up we will never get any sleep." He groped behind him and found his sleeping pants, wadding them together he carefully wiped Oban clean. "Bed, young man. You have to see Master Schal in the morning."

Oban rose to his feet and dipped his head, "Yes, Master."

Qui-Gon watched him cross to the padawan's room, shoulders hunched slightly, radiating disappointment and resignation even through his tightest shields. "Obi."

He turned, "Yes, Master."

"Wrong room."

The shields thinned and a shy smile lit his face. Qui-Gon reached Oban as he hesitated at the door to the main bedroom. He stood behind the younger man and wrapped his arms around his waist. "Obi, the padawan room is always there for you. Don't feel you have to join me." One hand rose to lay a finger on Oban's lips. "Yes, I do want you with me. But I need you to know that you don't have to be here unless you want to be. I won't throw you out if you don't want to sleep with me ... or do anything else for that matter."

Oban moved forward and turned to face his master. He raised solemn eyes and said firmly, "I want to be with you."

Wondering whether he had made terrible mistake, Qui-Gon nodded. "That's settled then. Bed."

Schal smiled at the two men. "I wanted to tell you both about the test results. There is nothing physically wrong with Oban, though there are some oddities in his scan. I believe that the inhibitor collar may be responsible for those. Qui-Gon, you told me that the people of Gatharn are not Force sensitive?"

"No, and neither were the Traders that I had contact with."

"Oban, do you know if any of the Traders were Force sensitive?" Schal asked.

Oban shook his head. "I don't think so. I have never encountered anyone who 'felt' like my Master, or you, Master Schal."

The healer nodded, "I think we can assume that they are not. In that case I don't think they were the ones who fitted the collar." He smiled at the surprise on both the other's faces. "Most of the changes to the connections in Oban's brain appear to have been made in a systematic fashion. I don't believe a device would have caused those patterns. There are other slight alterations that are random and *those* I believe were a side effect of the collar."

Qui-Gon asked, "Can you heal them?"

Nodding, Master Schal said, "I believe so, at least enough to restore normal patterns."

Both masters could feel the relief and trepidation that filled Oban. Qui-Gon placed his hand over Oban's. "Things will be fine, Obi."

Schal agreed, "He's right, Oban. I believe that we will be able to restore the bulk of your memories. I don't think they are lost, merely inaccessible." He turned to Qui-Gon, "Now I need to speak to Oban, if you would care to wait."

"I wish to speak to the training master, but that won't take long." He smiled at Oban, "I'll be waiting when you finish."

Qui-Gon left the office and headed for the training rooms. He found Vasin Beel, the master in charge of training, and arranged for a private room to be made available. To avoid unwanted curiosity he had it booked under Master Beel's name. Then he went back to his rooms to fetch the collar and dropped it off at the labs on his way beck to wait for Oban.

A little more than an hour later Schal called Qui-Gon into the office and asked Oban to wait. Qui-Gon saw that Oban was looking rather pale and he smiled reassuringly.

"That is a very resilient young man." Schal observed as Qui-Gon sat opposite him.

Qui-Gon nodded, "Yes, I can only imagine what his life must have been."

The healer tapped his finger on the pile of data wafers. "I believe we are dealing with three interconnected problems. Firstly, the effects of the collar; secondly, the unskilled actions of a Force user; and thirdly... I think that trauma has exacerbated the problem. I think they tried to suppress his knowledge that he was a Force user and a Jedi but their techniques were heavy handed and it interfered with all of his memory prior to that time."

"But you can help him?"

"I think so. I started with a preliminary probe today. The interference with the brain patterns is neither chemical nor physical. The pathways just seem to be..." Schal searched for the correct term.

"Re-routed?"

The healer threw Qui-Gon a surprised look. "That's it exactly."

Qui-Gon explained. "I asked about his memories after I removed the collar. It seemed he was being led away from certain memories ... if that makes any sense."

"Did you try to do anything about it?"

"No. I did consider trying to remove his block about masturbation but I decided that I might do more harm than good. Force healing has never been my strong point."

Schal sat back in his chair is arms cross over his chest. "I don't know, you seem to do all right in the field, Qui-Gon. But you were probably right in this case. I have to say it's a mess. I don't think we will be able to restore everything. It won't be a case of fixing something and having it all come back, we will need to trace each damaged pathway."

"And what about the trauma aspect?"

"Have you noticed that his early memories with the Traders are missing too?" The healer's smile turned grim, "That seems to be after the collar went on. Either the Force user did his dirty work after Oban was in the harem, which seems unlikely, or some of the loss is trauma induced. In that case he will probably never recover it."

Qui-Gon met Schal's eyes, "That could be a blessing."

"In a way. Unfortunately that sort of memory loss has a nasty habit of resulting in flash backs and nightmares, not to mention unexpected changes in behaviour patterns."

"So where do we go from here?"

"The first thing is to get those pathways cleared. There will have to be some fairly deep probing. I'd like you to be there for that."

"Of course." Qui-Gon nodded. "Is there anything I should be doing?"

"Keep doing whatever it is you are doing. He trusts you. You are giving him a firm base."

Qui-Gon nodded again, then said slowly, "Would it be damaging for us to have a sexual relationship?"

A smile lit the healers eyes but his expression remained unmoved. "He wants that?"

"Yes. He is quite persistent."

At that Schal did smile. "I can see no reason why it should cause problems as long as you both want it."

"It won't reinforce his dependence?"

Schal shrugged, "Possibly. But you need to remember that he is already devoted to you. Given his recent history I think that the emotional consequences could be harder for you to deal with than for Oban."

"I had considered that."

"I know you, Qui-Gon Jinn. You are afraid of taking advantage of Oban and you are justifiably concerned that a sexual relationship will harm his recovery. What would harm him is for you to have a sexual relationship with him now and break it off when he regains his memories. You need to be very sure that you can follow through. He is extremely vulnerable and he has connected strongly with you. It is vital that you be there for him. He needs *you* more than he needs the sex. If you become lovers you had better be prepared for the long haul, this is not someone you can have casual sex with."

Schal shook his head, "Not that you are the casual sex type, Qui-Gon. But this is an unusual case. Oban is sexually experienced but has no experience at all in emotional matters. Don't start anything that you can't finish, and by that I mean that you need to be there for him for as long as he needs you. You can't just walk away if it becomes too much. That is a big ask for anyone. And there are no guarantees. You may have to let him go," the healer said gently. "He may need to make a complete break."

Qui-Gon rubbed his fingers along the side of his nose. "I know. I had considered most of that but it helps to have it stated in black and white."

Schal smiled warmly, "It is not so different from any relationship really, you just need to remember that Oban is more vulnerable than most. Don't get involved out of pity. He's not stupid, he *would* figure it out."

"No, he's not stupid at all." Standing Qui-Gon nodded, "Thank you Master Schal. I gave the collar to the lab by the way."

"Good. I'll see you both tomorrow morning."

As they left the healer's office Qui-Gon could feel the curiosity seeping from Oban. He looked at the silent figure beside him. "How do you feel, Obi?"

"All right, I think, Master." Oban sounded subdued. They walked in silence for a while then he asked, "May I see the initiates quarters, Master?"

Slightly surprised, Qui-Gon said, "Certainly. We could go there now if you like." The quiet figure beside him nodded so he headed for the elevators. Once inside Qui-Gon raised the hood of his robe and indicated that Oban should do likewise. Puzzled but compliant Oban obeyed and when they emerged from the elevator they made their way through the labyrinth of the Temple, two anonymous Jedi going about their silent business.

It was time for noonmeal and the initiates quarters were deserted as Qui-Gon slowly led Oban through the class rooms and the common rooms and finally into the dormitories. Oban stood at the entrance of each room and devoured it with his eyes. Qui-Gon could sense the young man drawing further into himself and tightly closing his shields. When they reached the third dormitory a faint gasp escaped his companion and the master asked gently, "What is it, Obi?"

Oban took several steps into the room then stopped, shoulders tense, his voice shaking as he said, "I know this place."

He waved a hand vaguely at the door. "I felt it out there too, but here..." He took another step, then turned to his master. "I really was a Jedi?"

Qui-Gon's heart went out to the young man, his forlorn tone and frightened eyes pulling the master to him. He put an arm around Oban's shoulder and pulled him into a hug. "Yes, Obi, I think you were." He kept a supportive hand on Oban's shoulder. "What do you remember?"

There was silence as Oban slowly walked further into the room, his master a comforting presence at his side. Coming to a halt before the second last bed he reached out a hand to touch the covers. "You can see the Council Chambers from here."

Qui-Gon sat on the little bed drawing Oban with him. He turned to look up through the narrow windows that ran along the top of the wall opposite and sure enough, there was the domed cap of the central spire.

Once they were back in their quarters Qui-Gon sat Oban on the sofa and went to search the kitchen. He came back carrying a platter of bread and cheese and set it on the low table, disappearing again to return with juice and cookies. He was concerned by the bewildered expression in the young man's eyes. Handing a glass to Oban he asked, "What is it, Obi?"

A frown drew Oban's eyebrows together and he took a gulp of the juice before he said hesitantly, "There are ... things ... in my head."

"What sort of things?"

"Faces ... sounds ... things ... " His shook his head to clear it.

Qui-Gon reached out to him, "May I see?" he asked gently.

With a shaky nod Oban grabbed his master's hand holding it against his chest.

The Jedi put his glass down and placed his free hand on Oban's head, rubbing his fingertips lightly over the temple. "Relax, Obi. Let me see." Oban's shields tumbled and Qui-Gon was swamped by a kaleidoscope of images and sensations. He saw the Temple creche; saw it flooded with the morning sun, lit by the glow of nightlights, filled with the chatter of children; he saw the Coruscant skyline from a dozen vantage points around the Temple; he saw the faces of hundreds of people, mostly Jedi, many he knew and others who where strange to him; he saw images of childish sparing matches; heard scraps of conversations; and there were smells and sounds and images that flitted by so quickly he could make little sense of them.

It seemed that Oban's memories were returning but they where coming in disjointed pieces with nothing to connect them and there was still no sense of self. Nothing to tell Oban that he had been Obi-Wan.

Qui-Gon gathered the disconnected fragments and bundled them together in a loose collection so that they were not skittering wildly around the young man's mind. Then he calmed and soothed Oban, reassuring him of his affection and bolstering his self esteem.

Qui-Gon sat back and looked at the lad. His hand was still clasped tightly to Oban's breast, and Qui-Gon placed his other hand over it and held it firmly. "Better?"

Oban took a shuddering breath, a smile curled his lips as he shyly reached back into his master's mind to offer a wave of gratitude and love. "Thank you, master."

"You are very welcome, Obi. It's bound to be confusing at first, but at least the memories are coming back." He brushed his lips across Oban's cheek and said, "Master Yoda has asked to see me this afternoon. I have assembled some lesson wafers. Why don't you look through them while I am gone?"

Qui-Gon's meeting with Master Yoda allayed many of his concerns. Although he knew Yoda had read both his own and Master Schal's reports, Qui-Gon recounted his meeting with Oban and their trip back to Coruscant. He talked about the young man's submissive demeanour and his expectation that they would have sex as well as his curious innocence and his odd flashes of memory.

Yoda watched him carefully as he detailed the past twelve days. The ancient master was silent as Qui-Gon poured out his anxiety and his affection for his new charge. When he had finished Qui-Gon finally looked at Yoda. The love and support in the wise old eyes eased much of the tension Qui-Gon had been unaware he was carrying. There was a knowing gleam that told Qui-Gon that his master understood what had been left unspoken, but all Yoda said was, "Great promise he showed. Visit after dinner I will."

As he walked back to his rooms Qui-Gon smiled fondly at his master's unqualified support and understanding. Palming open his door Qui-Gon checked the state of Oban's emotions. He was pleased to sense peace and happiness and complete concentration.

He smiled as he saw that Oban was running through his own exercise routine. The young man was dressed in Qui-Gon's old training pants and was glowing in the filtered sunlight as he flexed and stretched.

The master was withdrawing from the mental contact when he felt another presence in the suite. His eyes went to the little storage room. The door was ajar and he stalked across the common room and threw it open. There was the sound of movement and a flare of alarm as shields slipped in panic. Two young padawans froze as Qui-Gon grabbed them with the Force.

Qui-Gon stopped and stared into the tiny room. Though it was now used as a storage space it had been designed to allow provisions to be delivered to the suite and had a door that gave access to the corridor. The exterior door should have been sealed but now it stood open as one of the padawans reached for the handle.

"What the hell are you doing in my rooms?"

The padawans flinched at the tone of the master's voice. Their eyes swivelled to each other then back to the towering man before them. "We were curious."

"Curious?" Qui-Gon's voice had lowered slightly but the underlying growl did nothing to calm the two teenagers. "What was so intriguing it made breaking into my rooms necessary?"

The padawans looked uneasily from each other to the irate master before them.

"Well?" Qui-Gon growled.

"The slave," one of the boys muttered, "We wanted to see the pleasure slave."

Qui-Gon closed his eyes as he ruthlessly suppressed his fury. With a flick he slammed the exterior door and sealed it, then he released the Force holding the boys and snapped, "Come with me." He led them into the main room. "What are your names?"

The padawans stammered their reply, wary eyes fixed on the incensed master.

Qui-Gon stared down at them with an expression of disgust. "You will go directly to your masters and you will tell them precisely what you have done. I expect a formal apology both to myself and to my guest." His voice took on a muted roar, "Now get out of here." He watched as the boys fled the room, breathing deeply to settle his wrath.

Turning he was shocked to see Oban folded into a submissive crouch on the floor and to hear the elegant voice murmur, "Forgive me, Master."

When his master left Oban had flicked through the wafers. There was so much for him to learn, so much that piqued his interest. He found the first math wafer and worked his way through it. When he had finished he picked up the second then laid it down again. He had done no exercise today. He went to the padawan's room, *his* room, and stripped off his clothes. He looked at his new training gear then turned and pulled on the training pants his master had given him, winding the soft cord around his waist to hold them secure.

In the main room there was a wide space that they had used for meditation. Oban rolled up the rug and pushed a chair and a low table out of the way, then he began the routine of exercises that he had developed for himself. He fell easily into the movement, allowing his body to find its rhythms and his mind to soar. He was almost at the end of the routine when he felt his master delicately touch his mind and he shyly opened his shields and welcomed the warm caress.

He was beginning the final forms as the door opened and was happily anticipating their greeting when he felt his master's attention shift. The young man's concentration was broken. Curious, he followed the direction of his master's thoughts. There was a presence, more than one, in the little room beside his master's bedroom.

Oban had turned his attention back to his exercises when he was jolted by a wave of anger radiating from his master. He stumbled to a halt and looked nervously at the now open door. Though he could not see into the room he could sense the consternation coming from the interlopers and the displeasure radiating from his master. The door opened further and his master emerged trailed by two young teenagers dressed in Jedi robes.

The anger pouring from his master overwhelmed Oban. He heard the disgust and rage in the normally soft voice and was filled with panic. Suddenly he was back in the harem and the person who held his fate in their hands was angry. Not registering the words he only heard the door slide shut as the padawans left.

He was alone with his master and his master was angry.

Oban responded in the way that had served him in the past, he sank to his knees and lowered his eyes. He felt the other man turn to face him and he touched his forehead to the polished wood. "Forgive me, Master."

Qui-Gon was stunned to immobility. "What are you doing?" The youth trembled and curled tighter in on himself. Realising that he had spoken more harshly than he had intended Qui-Gon said softly, "Obi, please get up."

The young man seemed to withdrew even further. His surface shields were open and his mind was radiating repentance and submission, there was no thought but to appease his master. A pale, slender hand slid forward and he repeated, "Forgive me."

His eyes dark with pain, Qui-Gon knelt and stroked Oban's hair. An ache burning in his throat he whispered, "Oh, sweetheart," beneath his breath. He lifted the beseeching hand and kissed it, then bent to kiss the nape of Oban's neck. Worried, he gently rubbed the young man's shoulder. Oban had asked for forgiveness but his posture screamed *Don't hurt me!*.

Kneeling, Qui-Gon gathered Oban into his lap, "You are not at fault, Obi. There is nothing to forgive. Those padawans invaded your privacy, they are the ones at fault."

Not meeting his master's eyes, Oban said, "They did it because of me."

Qui-Gon lightly touched Oban's mind and flinched from what he saw... fragmented images of Trade lords radiating anger ... of slaves scattering ... of those not moving fast enough being kicked or beaten ... or being dragged to a couch and casually raped. The Jedi felt his gorge rise.

Battling to keep his voice and demeanour calm, Qui-Gin tried to reassure and soothe Oban, "No, Obi. What they did was unkind and unworthy of a Jedi, even a junior padawan. And they were motivated by prurient curiosity. It was *not* your fault." He took both Oban's hands and drew him to his feet. Pushing the ex-slave gently to the sofa, he kissed his forehead and said, "Wait here."

Oban watched as his master headed into the bathroom. He had felt the other man's revulsion at his memories and the instantaneous flood of comfort but he knew that his master was still angry. He curled his arms around himself and waited for the outward signs, for the shouting and cursing, for the sound of things being hurled about. All he could hear were the soft sounds of his master moving around the bathroom and the soothing rush of running water.

The lack of any outward signs of anger worried Oban. He knew how to deal with shouting and how to deflect physical mistreatment but he had no idea what to expect from the Jedi. He seemed calm but Oban could feel his roiling emotion.

Rocking back and forth he waited. When his master called for him Oban stood obediently and walked across the room. His eyes widened to see his master standing naked beside the big bath tub, hand outstretched in invitation. Oban stood in the doorway, body quivering with tension. Eyes wide and wary, he swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. It was going to be sex then.

He turned his head and surreptitiously wiped away the tear that stole down his cheek. Then he began the familiar process of shutting himself away. In the past it had allowed him to endure the unendurable ... this time it would allow him to pretend this wasn't happening ... to keep the gentle, sensual lover separate from the man who was doing this. He would rather it had been a beating.

Qui-Gon watched the emotions playing over Oban's face. The young man looked defeated, and scared. In all the time since he had led Oban from the Gatharn banqueting hall the young man had never been afraid of him. The Jedi breathed deeply and focussed on releasing as much of his anger as he could. Then he stepped into the tub, settling into the hot, relaxing water. "Would you like to join me, Obi?"

Oban stared at the tall man before him, desire and trust battling with fear. His master was leaning against the end of the tub, his long hair tied into tail which trailed over the edge almost touching the floor. There was a sweet, calming aroma into the air. Oban shivered and took a timid step forward, then he saw the gentle question in the indigo eyes and moved more surely. Shedding his clothes, Oban stood for a moment looking down at the long, powerful body.

"Join me," Qui-Gon repeated. He took Oban's hand and urged him forward smiling as the young man stepped into the water. Thwarting an attempt to sit at the other end of the tub, Qui- Gon manoeuvred Oban so he was leaning back against him. The young body was rigid in his arms but he felt some of Oban's anxiety fade as he pulled the young man back against his chest and grazed gentle lips over Oban's temple. He smiled as he felt Oban relax a little into his embrace.

Wrapping his arms around the young man, Qui-Gon said carefully, "You never need to apologise for someone else's wrongdoing, Obi. You will never punish be punished for something someone else did. And no matter how angry I am I will never ... *never* ... treat you the way the Traders did."

"No, Master."

"You don't believe me do you?" Qui-Gon rested his cheek on Oban's head. "I was furious with those boys but did you see me hit them or threaten them?"

Oban played his memories back, paying attention to details that he hadn't noticed in his fear. His master had sounded angry, his voice had snapped and growled but he hadn't shouted and he hadn't touched either of the boys. "No, Master," he dipped his head.

Qui-Gon closed his eyes in exasperation. "Obi, do you think I would treat them better than you because they are Jedi?" Aware that his master was disturbed Oban lied, "No, Master."

Hugging the slender body close to him, Qui-Gon kissed his temple again and teased gently, "Don't lie to me, young man. It *is* what you think. Well, I will just have to show you otherwise."

He rested his chin on Oban's shoulder. "Obi, you are not a slave anymore! You have rights. I am going to give you something else to read ... the rights and responsibilities of Jedi Initiates and Padawans." He placed a finger over Oban's lips. "Don't say that you are not a Jedi. We both know that you were once, and you are going to be again. I won't have anyone treating you without respect ... not even you, Obi."

Oban felt the sincerity behind the words but he couldn't relate them to himself. He knew that his master could sense his feelings so he opened his shields and concentrated on the joy of being held. There was a wry sense of frustration from his master and a warm flow of affection and acceptance. A soapy hand began working it's way across his shoulders and down his arms. The hand began rubbing his chest. Oban sagged back and began purring as the hand slid lower.

"Don't ever be afraid of me, Obi." Qui-Gon murmured into Oban's ear, licking around the curved edge and nipping softly. "I would never willingly hurt you." He slid his hand under the water and curled it around the young man's rising erection.

Pleasure washed through Oban as his master's hand held him. A second hand moved lower to cup and fondle as the first ran firmly along the shaft, pulling the skin back gently and teasing the sensitive, flaring head. Oban could feel his master's mouth against his skin as he pressed closer to the body behind him.

Qui-Gon shifted a little until his penis was cradled in the crease of Oban's buttocks. He nuzzled against the satin of the hair against his lips as his hands worshipped the man who was writhing and squirming in his arms. Oban's movements were producing exquisite friction on the cock that nestled against his flesh. The Jedi held back until he felt the tremors running through Oban and then he thrust slightly, the nudge of his penis adding to the sensations that were flooding the young man.

Oban tried desperately to resist his climax until he could shatter his master's control but the combination of sensations was too much for him. With a groan he arched back, tugging at his master's head to bring their mouths together for a searing kiss. He could feel his master's pleasure, sense the joy the Jedi had in giving this to him and his heart overflowed with love and gratitude.

As the strong, young body twisted in his arms Qui-Gon gathered him back into an embrace and bent to kiss him again. The nascent link between them was glowing with their shared pleasure. Qui-Gon softly touched Oban's mind as he stroked the damp hair and cheek. He smiled as he shifted under Oban, enjoying the slide of skin over slick skin. The Council might decide against allowing this man to be his padawan but they were going to have trouble denying the bond between them.

Deep in the most firmly shielded part of his thoughts Qui- Gon acknowledged that his role as ambassador and peacekeeper was going to be severely complicated, even jeopardised, if Oban was unable ... or unwilling ... to take his place at his side. He pushed the thought aside as he slid out from under the sated youth. It was unusual for a Jedi to have a non-Jedi partner, *lover ... admit it,* but not unheard of. The idea of Oban travelling with him as his 'consort' or staying at the Temple awaiting his return brought a frown to his face. Then he consoled himself with the knowledge that Yoda believed Oban would become a Jedi again.

That thought reminded him of the diminutive master's impending visit. As he dried himself Qui-Gon leaned over and brushed damp hair out of Oban's eyes. "Master Yoda wishes to meet you this evening, Obi."

Blue/grey eyes brimming with contentment smiled up at him. "Yes, Master."

Qui-Gon smiled at the easy acceptance, relieved to see that Oban's earlier fear had all but disappeared. He brushed a caress across Oban's mind as he bent to kiss him again, then turned to find his clothes. "Don't soak too long, unless you want to wait until after Master Yoda's visit before you eat."

Oban lay in the cooling water, marvelling at the wonderful and inexplicable man who was his master, while Qui-Gon fled to his bedroom and slammed the thickest shields he could manage over the turmoil in his mind.

*He thought I was going to take him in anger. Use him to vent my ire.* Qui-Gon sank his head into his hands. *And he was going to let me do it.* The Jedi master felt vaguely sick as he remembered how Oban had stood in the doorway a tear sliding down his face. He had been shaking with fright and yet his eyes were filled with devotion as he moved to the tub. Qui-Gon knew that it was going to require some serious meditation before he would be able to come to terms with his emotions about the afternoons events and realisations.

Aware that Oban would join him soon he bundled the emotions together and shoved them into the back of his mind where they wouldn't unnerve the other man.

Yoda arrived later in the evening as Qui-Gon and Oban were sitting at the desk in front of the comm unit with Qui-Gon recommending works of literature and philosophy for the younger man to download. The easy affection between the men was clear for the diminutive master to see and he shot his former padawan a quizzical glance as he greeted Oban.

At first Oban hovered close to his master and said little, but after a time he relaxed and began chatting happily.

When he was sure that the young man was at ease Yoda tapped his stick against Qui-Gon's leg and said, "Go. Meditate you should."

Qui-Gon bowed, "Yes, Master." He raised a questioning eyebrow to Oban and retreated to his bedroom when the young man nodded. Pulling the door closed behind him Qui-Gon let his thoughts clear, briefly scanning Oban only to have Yoda deliver a mental slap and a terse *no peeking*. Some hours later he was roused from his meditation by a light touch from Master Yoda and he returned to the common room to see Oban seated on the floor laughing at something the little green master had said.

Yoda gave Qui-Gon a long look and uttered a cryptic, "Hmmm. Watch your progress I shall. Late it is, leave now I must." He trotted to the door in front of Qui-Gon, pausing as he left to look up and say, "Glad I am you found him. Meant to be here he is."

Qui-Gon turned to find Oban was boiling water for cha. He watched the young man moving around the little kitchen then joined him to take the hot mug from his hand. "A great deal has happened today, Obi. How do you feel?"

There was a pause and then Oban smiled, "Tired." His mellow voice was indeed sleepy but his expression was contented and his mind calm. As they sat drinking Oban cast a wistful glance at his master, wishing he had the right, or the courage, to move into his arms.

Qui-Gon caught the glance and the longing. He opened his arms and wrapped them around Oban pulling him close as the youth nestled against him with a happy sigh.

Over the ensuing days they settled into a routine. Oban fell in with his master as a matter of course, but he found he was enjoying himself and was happier than he could ever remember being. He had accepted life in the harem and made the best of it but since leaving he had realised how bored he had been. The pleasure slaves were left alone for most of the day and their opportunities to amuse themselves were limited. They were confined to the harem complex and apart from their bedrooms and the common rooms there was only a gymnasium and a small walled garden they could use. There was also a limited collection of vids and an old stack of books, consisting mainly of romance and mild adventure stories and old court gossip sheets.

Being allowed to read was a revelation and a delight to Oban. Being encouraged to extend his knowledge and satisfy his curiosity was even better, especially when his master discussed his reading with him, explaining and expanding on what he learnt.

His sessions with Master Schal were interesting too. The healer was carefully working through his past and helping him with the unconnected memories that had emerged, linking fragments and explaining what places and events signified. Master Schal insisted that they would be able to retrieve enough of Oban's memories for him to function in the Temple if that was his choice.

But Oban still worried about his future. He wanted to stay with his master but he was intelligent enough to realise that there was no place for a pleasure slave in the Jedi's life. He wondered whether he could gain the knowledge and skills to be an assistant to his master. He knew that on Gatharn both the Traders and the Gatharns themselves had used assistants who were not slaves. Perhaps this was a way he could stay with the man who had become the centre of his world.

And he liked the Temple. After spending nine years limited to the harem, the Temple was unimaginably huge and fascinating. Although he had only seen a small part of it, it was filled with the signatures of the Force users who lived there and radiated energy and peace. Even the negative emotions he had felt in the Force here were more benign than those he experienced on Gatharn.

His relationship with his master filled Oban with both joy and trepidation. He had never known anyone like his master. Where Oban was used to being thrown curt commands the Jedi issued polite requests and asked for his opinion. Although the older man was obviously strong and a skilled warrior Oban had never seen him make a move that was other than graceful and restrained.

Even when they sparred his movements were controlled and when he connected with Oban during their exercises he always checked immediately and soothed any hurt Oban drew comfort from the fact that the older man had stopped turning away from physical intimacy. He revelled in the easy affection his master showed him throughout the day but he lived for the nights. They slept together in his master's huge bed. The big man seemed to enjoy simply holding him and Oban was happy to oblige. They came together with tender, passionate caresses and ended intertwined with Oban held close against his master. Oban had never experienced a partner who delighted in giving pleasure, who gave so much and would accept so little return.

Although Oban cherished what they had he found himself longing to give his master more, to accept him into his body, to become one with him, to experience the joy of ultimate intimacy. During their lovemaking he had several times moved to offer his body but each time his master either gently turned him back or distracted him by causing erotic havoc with his mouth and hands.

Oban was increasingly aware of a connection between them. He found that he didn't need to lower his social shields to be able to discern his master's mood or even gain a sense of his thoughts. The growing intimacy was the centre of his existence, never had he felt this sense of belonging and security. But why would a Jedi Master feel any deep attachment to a pleasure slave?

Qui-Gon was finding that the longer Oban was with him the more he enjoyed the ex-slave's company and the more certain he was that this young man was destined to be both a Jedi and an important part of his life. Fortunately for his peace of mind both Master Schal and Master Yoda seemed to be of the same opinion and even Mace was being cautiously supportive. The question that troubled him most was what Oban himself wanted. The lad was adamant that he wanted to be with Qui-Gon but he wondered whether Oban had any idea what it would mean to become a Jedi, the amount of study and effort that would be required.

Physically Oban was strong and graceful and at least as fit as any other padawan. His connection with the Force was innately powerful and he was finding the exercises in focus and control relatively easy. Academic studies were a different matter. Oban had lost nine years and no matter how gifted he was he could not replace that loss without patience and perseverance.

The major hurdle, however, was likely to be Oban's view of his own place in the universe. Qui-Gon could not see how Oban could operate as a Jedi if he continued to view himself as a pleasure slave.

Although he had overcome his initial reluctance to have sex with Oban, Qui-Gon was still uncertain. The obvious pleasure Oban felt in their joining could not quite rid the Jedi of the belief that he was using the ex-slave. Qui-Gon had always been a lover who took pleasure in giving pleasure and with Oban it had become almost a mission. To see the amazement in the crystal bright eyes and sense Oban's cautious joy, to nurture and tantalize the emerging freedom he sensed in the youth's response gave Qui-Gon a satisfaction unlike any he had known before. And the joy he found in Oban's touch was becoming addictive.

And yet he worried... worried that he was reinforcing Oban's conditioning ... worried that he was fostering Oban's dependence ... and most of all that he was using him.

On the fourth morning Master Schal did his first deep mental probe. Both Qui-Gon and Oban had been nervous about the procedure but it had turned out to be something of an anticlimax. Oban had lain on the couch in Schal's office with the healer seated behind him while Qui-Gon held his hand and carefully monitored the procedure.

Schal sought for disconnected pathways and then painstakingly either rerouted them or removed the blockage. After a time Qui-Gon lost all sense of direction in the dizzying multitude of possibilities that was Oban's mind. He continued to observe but he withdrew his attention slightly and concentrated on monitoring both the patient and the healer. Just as Qui-Gon was beginning to feel that he couldn't maintain his concentration any longer Schal gently disconnected and began to withdraw.

If Qui-Gon was tired Schal was exhausted. When he emerged from Oban's thoughts Schal almost collapsed. Reassured that Oban was in no distress, Qui-Gon moved to help Schal from the tall stool on which he had been perched and ease him into his chair. Schal's first words were for his patient. "How is he, Qui?"

Qui-Gon smiled down at the healer. "He is fine Schal. I'm more worried about you."

His voice a little stronger, Schal said, "It's just fatigue. I'll be fine when I have rested ... and eaten." He saw the question in Qui- Gon's eyes and said reassuringly. "It went well, but it is extremely tedious and painstaking work. I have made a start but that's all."

"Master?"

Qui-Gon turned to see that Oban was sitting up, looking remarkable relaxed and refreshed. "You look as though you have just woken from a nap, Obi."

Oban looked from the exhausted healer to his master. "That's how I feel. What happened?"

Schal smiled, "I have repaired some of the damage but there is a great deal left to do. If you two would care to let me get some rest I will contact you this afternoon."

Qui-Gon held his hand out to Oban. "We should leave him. I know better than to argue with Master Schal." Turning to Schal, "Do you want to see us tomorrow?"

Schal nodded, "Yes. Probably for a counselling session. I think I may need more time to recover before I do more internal work."

As they were leaving the healers wing they were joined by Mace Windu. "Ah, Qui-Gon, Oban, I'm glad I caught you. Are you going back to your quarters? I'll walk with you."

Qui-Gon gave the councillor a long, flat stare then nodded, and the three men fell into step together.

Oban was between the two Jedi, uncomfortably aware of the curious stares they were attracting. He kept his eyes lowered and edged closer to his master thankful for the familiar surge of reassurance. The Jedi were calmly discussing Temple matters but Oban could feel the wry amusement coming from his master and the curiosity from Master Windu.

Mace was watching Oban as they walked. The young man had a truly formidable Force signature and unexpectedly strong shields for someone with so little training. His demeanour was also unexpected. The councillor admitted to himself that he had some preconceptions about what a pleasure slave would be like and he certainly hadn't expected this grave and dignified young man. If Qui- Gon's assessments were accurate, and he had no reason to doubt them, there were the makings of a fine Jedi in Oban even if he never fully regained his memories.

Turning his attention back to Qui-Gon, Mace said abruptly, "I heard about your intruders. Their masters have reported to the Council. We were extremely displeased to hear that our padawans would behave in such a discourteous and unprincipled manner." He smiled wryly, "Your restraint was commendable."

Qui-Gon grimaced, "I didn't feel very restrained. I wanted to flay them."

"Understandable, but I'm glad you didn't." Mace said drily. "The boys will be disciplined and you will both be receiving a formal apology. And I understand there will be a new class on respecting the privacy of others." He paused, "I don't know if the gossips would be happier for you to be a long-lost padawan, Oban, or Master Jinn's personal pleasure slave."

Qui-Gon could sense Oban's reply. "Don't say it, Obi. What is the Council's line, Mace?"

"We have made it known that you rescued a Force user and that he is staying with you while he recovers." They had reached the Star Plaza, a busy, circular chamber where several central corridors converged. "Keep me informed of your progress, Qui-Gon. I have asked Master Stanell to contact you regarding classes."

Master Stanell was the current head of the intermediate padawan program. Surprised, Qui-Gon thanked Mace and watched for a moment as the Councillor headed off towards the Council chambers. The murmur of voices around them drew his attention back to Oban and they turned to enter the elevator.

Oban gave a small sigh of relief when they reached their quarters and the door slid shut behind them. He was a little unsettled by the session with Schal and the leisurely walk through the corridors with the Councillor had left him feeling exposed. He was startled to feel his master's hands removing his robe and reached to take it from him. "Let me, Master."

"Relax, Obi. I know you felt as though you were on display but it was Master Windu's way of showing that you have the Council's support and approval." Qui-Gon threw the robes over the back of a chair. "Are you hungry?"

"Yes, a bit. What should I get, Master?"

Qui-Gon shrugged, "Whatever you feel like. I think there is fresh bread ... you might like to heat up that soup we had last night."

He sank into a chair and let the tension seep out of his body. This morning's session had worried him more than he'd known.

Oban brought two large mugs and a plate of bread and sat on the floor in front of his master, happily leaning back to rest against the Jedi's long legs as he sipped the broth.

Qui-Gon smiled down at the young man. He could not recall ever feeling so at ease in another's company. Oban was a warm, vibrant presence that lit his body and his mind. The Jedi brushed his fingers through Oban's hair, "How do you feel, Obi?"

The youth tipped his head back and pressed a kiss into the large palm. "I feel good. I was worried about what Master Schal was going to do, but it's all right."

Rubbing the back of his hand along Oban's cheek, Qui-Gon asked, "Can you remember any more?"

Oban shook his head, "Not really, but it feels a bit less confusing." He felt his master enquiring at the edge of his thoughts and opened his shields, "See."

Qui-Gon slid delicately through the offered emotions and nodded, "He's begun to put the muddle into some sort of order." He shied away from the emerging bond between them. Not yet ready to admit that such a bond was forming and not wanting to frighten the lad he told himself to wait. Oban was watching him with a questioning stare. "I have the training room booked. Do you feel up to exercise?" Shaking his head as the young man hurried to change, Qui-Gon headed for his room and mused on the unbounded energy of youth.

When they entered the training complex Qui-Gon checked which galleries were empty and took Oban to view some of the other training sessions. The young man was fascinated by what he saw, especially a group of initiates being drilled by their teacher. Qui-Gon smiled at the intense expression that came over the young man's face. "Remind you of something?"

Oban nodded, never taking his eyes from the children, "Master Telvak. This was my favourite class."

"I think it's everyone's favourite." Qui-Gon moved to another window, "Come over here, Obi. I'd like you to see this." A senior padawan was doing 'sabre practice with her master. Oban moved to join his master and gave a small gasp. He had seen the lightsabre hilt clipped on his master's belt but thought nothing of it. Now as he watched the pair advance and retreat, their 'sabres crackling and flashing through the air he felt as though a piece of a puzzle had slid into place.

Qui-Gon felt the recognition flow through Oban, and the hunger. Then the other man's eyes dimmed and pleasure was replaced with sorrow. He put a comforting hand on Oban's shoulder, "What is it, Obi?"

"My 'sabre...I lost it." The dismay was palpable.

Qui-Gon's hand tightened, "I know." He wanted to say

*You'll build another* but he was unsure of the Council's ultimate decision. Keeping his hand firmly on Oban's shoulder he steered him to their training room.

Qui-Gon emerged from the bathroom a towel around his shoulders as he worked a comb through his long, damp hair. Oban was curled up on the sofa reading. The Jedi was once again surprised by the pleasure he felt just seeing the young man so relaxed and at home in his rooms. He mused on the companionship he had lost with his previous determination not to allow another padawan into his life. No doubt Yoda would tell him it was the Force keeping the place clear for Oban to fill. It was irritating how often Yoda was right.

He made cha for them both and went to sit beside Oban, noting that he was reading a section about lightsabres. During their afternoon training Qui-Gon had used the training staves and found, not at all to his surprise, that Oban was familiar with and skilled in the basic forms.

Oban smiled as he accepted the cha and opened his mouth to speak then changed his mind and bent his head over the reader again. Sensing the hovering question Qui-Gon said, "What do you want to know, Obi?"

Hitching his shoulder Oban replied, "It's nothing, Master."

Qui-Gon took hold of Oban's chin and turned it to face him. "You can ask me, Obi. Anything ... anytime."

Hesitantly Oban said, "Those exercises today were 'sabre drills." When his master nodded he continued, "Does that mean I will have a lightsabre?"

"I don't know. It depends on the Council, but I believe you should be allowed to continue your training as a Jedi ... if that is what you wish." Qui-Gon asked quietly, "*Is* that what you want?"

Oban's eyes flickered down to the reader in his hand and back up to his master's face. "I think so, Master. I can remember so many things now from when I was little, and they all involve the Temple and classes and other children." A frown was forming between his eyes. "But I still don't remember *me*."

Qui-Gon smoothed a finger over the frown, "It's early days, Obi. You have only just started to work with Master Schal." The hand moved to caress Oban's cheek and the young man turned to lean against his shoulder. Qui-Gon held him. "I think that you will remember who you were but even if you don't at least you do remember the life you led."

It was true. Every day Oban found himself doing and knowing things that he didn't remember learning. He relaxed against the warm, strong torso letting the reader slip from his fingers. He closed his eyes and wallowed in the comfort of being held. In a life time of physical contact he had almost never been touched with affection. He found he craved the simple comfort and reassurance that being close to his master gave him.

Qui-Gon smiled down at the tawny head resting over his heart. It constantly amazed him how trusting the ex-slave was, and how open in his emotions. His hand began moving over Oban's back, tracing shoulders and sliding firmly down the long curve of the spine. He felt Oban melt closer to him and tightened his hold, bending to press his lips into the soft hair. He could feel Oban's happiness but there was also a slight tension.

The Jedi rested his cheek against Oban's head and asked softly, "What is it? What's wrong, Obi?"

At the soft words Oban tensed briefly, then relaxed again and shook his head, running his hand across his master's chest.

"Tell me." Qui-Gon felt Oban's shields firm. "Please, Obi. How can I help if I don't know what it is?" He tilted Oban's face so he could look into his eyes.

Oban felt his face flushing. "It's nothing really. I was just wondering." He tried to look down but his master's fingers held him firmly.

"What were you wondering?" Qui-Gon was gently insistent.

"Why don't you ... " suddenly Oban found that he couldn't finish the sentence, couldn't ask *Why don't you fuck me?*.

Couldn't say those words to the concerned, gentle man holding him. Qui-Gon looked into Oban's wide eyes, wondering what was bothering him when the other man dropped his shields. The image of Oban spread out on Qui-Gon's bed and the older man leaning over him and slowly sinking into his body shocked the Jedi to stillness. His body reacted, his heart began to pound and he was instantly hard. Oban felt his master's response. Pleased, he placed his hand over his master's cock. "You want to. Why don't you do it?" He leaned forward to kiss him.

Qui-Gon shivered and returned Oban's kiss. "I didn't want to do anything that you didn't want."

Oban took his master's hand and placed it over his own hardness. "I want."

"Ah..." Qui-Gon gasped and his hand cupped Oban's erection as the young man's hand slid inside his trousers and curled around hard flesh. "Will you do something for me first?"

Oban was engrossed in the feel of satiny skin beneath his fingers but he nodded, "Anything."

Qui-Gon gently disengaged the questing hand and stood up. "Anything? That is a very dangerous offer, Obi. What if I want to do something you don't like?"

Oban was raised to his feet and led towards the main bedroom. Unable to resist the temptation to touch his master he ran his hand down the long, elegant sweep of the Jedi's spine. "You won't do anything to hurt me," he said confidently as he was swept into his master's embrace.

"I'll certainly try not to, but that's not what I asked." He hugged Oban close. "Obi, you must tell me if there is anything that you don't like. I only want to give you pleasure... make you feel good... I don't want you to let me do anything that doesn't feel good." He kissed Oban. "There are lots of ways to make love, if we don't like one way we can find another."

Oban met his master's serious gaze. He didn't really understand what he was being asked, he was certain that this man would never do anything to hurt or humiliate him so what was his master talking about? Pushing the loose tunic off his master's shoulder he nodded, "Yes, Master."

Qui-Gon sighed. Oban didn't have the faintest idea what he was saying. He had no concept of seeking his own pleasure or refusing his partner. Shifting his arms to allow his tunic to be removed Qui-Gon began to undo the laces at Oban's waist, sliding his hand under the fabric to caress smooth, supple skin.

When they were naked Qui-Gon lay back on the bed pulling Oban on top of him. The young man wriggled, enjoying the slide of skin on skin and hissing as their cocks bumped and slid together. Qui-Gon ran his hand down Oban's back and let them rest on the young man's buttocks, kneading gently and holding their groins firmly pressed together. Oban's head fell forward until his forehead was inches from Qui-Gon's mouth. The Jedi lifted his head and began licking and kissing across eyebrows and down the straight nose.

Oban shifted so that he could meet his master's mouth and they rolled until they were side by side, mouths locked together and legs entwined. Qui-Gon insinuated his hand between their bodies and cupped Oban's cock, pressing and rubbing gently as the younger man writhed against him. When he could feel the erotic pressure building Qui-Gon shifted onto his back again, lifting Oban so he lay between his thighs.

His breath coming in ragged pants Oban looked down into his master's eyes. The big man was simply lying there, his hands running softly over Oban's arms and shoulders and his eyes alight with affection and desire. When he made no move, Oban's gaze became questioning.

Qui-Gon whispered, "What do you want to do, Obi? I'm here for you. I want you. Take what you want."

Oban shivered at the promise in the soft, husky voice. His master was stretched out beneath him, the long, powerful body sprawled across the dark bedcovers. Oban pushed himself up until he was kneeling between his master's spread thighs. The sight filled him with lust and gratitude. This was *his* master, deep in the privacy of his heart he added *his lover*, and he was offering himself to Oban. The ex-slave began to raise above his master and stopped when the Jedi widened his legs further and bent his knees.

Seeing the shock in Oban's eyes Qui-Gon smiled as he reached for the little bottle of oil beside the bed. He poured the thick liquid into his hands and reached down to take hold of Oban's penis. The young man gasped and his hips thrust involuntarily into Qui- Gon's ministering hands. "Give me your hand, Obi," Qui-Gon murmured.

In a daze Oban offered his hand and felt the slippery oil pool in his palm. He looked down at his master, a question in his eyes. "Do it, Obi." Qui-Gon ordered quietly.

The soft growl sent Oban spinning. His master was still running long fingers over his cock and with his other hand he was urging Oban's hand between his legs. Oban couldn't take his eyes from the glorious sight of his master's head shifting restlessly on the pillow his gaze filled with need and trust. Sinking into the midnight eyes Oban let his hand glide over his master's erection, gently cupping his balls then tentatively moving to the exposed opening.

"It is all right, Obi. I want you to do this." Qui-Gon reassured Oban, moved by the hesitant touch and the diffident query he sensed from the other man. He felt the gentle fingers slide over and around their goal and he sighed, "Please."

Oban had done this before, but not often and not with anyone remotely like his master. He was overwhelmed by the trust and the sheer sensuality of this man laying himself open for him. He monitored the emotions coming from his master, sensing the delight as his fingers found their way inside and began to carefully stroke and probe. *More* ... he felt the plea in the Force even as his master was lifting his hips.

Qui-Gon let all his desire and pleasure flow into the Force and into the tentative bond between them. Oban was touching him with such gentle, bashful hands, and his face was eloquent of such need and gratitude that Qui-Gon found his heart overflowing and his eyes filling with tears. Oban was watching him closely, judging when and how to move, trying to sense his master's desires. The care the youth was taking touched Qui-Gon and fuelled his desire. He angled his hips in invitation and gently guided Oban's phallus downwards. "I want you," Qui-Gon murmured reaching up to caress Oban's cheek. Then he tilted his hips and added, "Inside me, now."

All his training and experience urged Oban to wait until he had instigated his master's orgasm but the touch of the older man's hands was shredding his control. Sensual words combined with a wave of lust pushed him over the edge and he leaned forward pressing carefully through the ring of muscle. His master's hands reached for his shoulders and drew him down to be thoroughly kissed. Buried deep in the heat of the strong body beneath him, his master's hands alternately soothing and exciting, Oban moaned into his master's mouth.

Waiting while his body adjusted to the unfamiliar fullness Qui- Gon nibbled and licked at the young man's lips, and then delved inside to explore Oban's mouth. Feeling the tension quivering through Oban, Qui-Gon began to move his hips, using the leverage of his bent legs to make small thrusting motions, encouraging his lover to pick up the pace. "More."

That was it. His master's enthusiasm triggered his own and Oban began to move. As he submerged himself in the sensation he could hear his master's deep, soft voice encouraging and pleading. The pleasure, both physical and emotional, spiralled and he locked eyes with his master, gasping and sobbing as he slammed home into the welcoming, beloved body.

Qui-Gon tried to hold back as the flood of pleasure washed through him. He wanted to watch, to enjoy the beauty of the young man as he was overcome by his climax. The Jedi saw Oban's eyes turn smoky with lust and felt the electric touch on his prostate, then Oban went rigid shuddering as he poured his seed deep inside his master. Qui-Gon gathered Oban to him as the young man collapsed onto his chest. His own, still hard, cock was crushed between their bellies and the pressure triggered his own orgasm.

The warm gush of his master's climax filled Oban with satisfaction and he kissed then nuzzled into the join between shoulder and neck. After a moment he slithered down and began to lap at the semen splashed on his master's body. A hand rested on his head and then urged him back up for another kiss.

The kiss tasted of Oban and of sex. It was a wonderful mixture. Qui-Gon whispered, "Thank you." The cooling semen was sticky on both of them so Qui-Gon copied Oban and slid down to clean the young man's stomach. As his tongue licked downward he saw that Oban's penis was coming back to life. With a grin he returned to kiss Oban and murmur "Ah ... youth," as his hand closed around the renewed erection and began to move.

"Master ... " Oban gasped then his master's mouth settled over his and all he could do was feel.

This time Qui-Gon was able to watch, undistracted, as Oban's orgasm overtook him. The handsome young face grew taut with pleasure, then his eyes opened and found Qui-Gon's and his whole body shuddered and flexed as the storm ripped through him. Qui-Gon gathered Oban close, his arms wrapped around the other man and his lips against his temple. "Thank you, Obi ... thank you."

Oban didn't understand why he was being thanked but he could feel his master's emotions, warmth and gratitude and pleasure, flowing into the Force and all directed at him. Tears filled his eyes and he pressed closer. "Master. *My* Master."

"Yours, Obi," Qui-Gon agreed.

Oban woke before dawn. It was dark, but the faint light from buildings and the ever present aircars filled the bedroom with a pale silver radiance. He had fallen asleep wrapped in his master's long arms but during the night they had separated a little. Oban woke with his back curled against the Jedi's side. He shifted slightly, turning to look at the man who lay sleeping beside him.

His master was lying on his back, one arm flung out to drape over the side of the bed, the other bent up with the hand under the pillow Oban's head rested on. A sheet twisted around narrow hips partially exposing the Jedi's body. His master's skin, pale from being hidden under the Jedi robes, glowed softly in the predawn light.

Oban moved closer, careful not to wake the other man. He ghosted his hand over the broad expanse of chest. His master's long hair was unbound and flowed across his shoulders, a cape of bronze silk shot with fine silver threads. Oban delicately nosed through the strands, relishing the sensuous feel and the fresh, spicy scent.

He froze as his master moved but the other man only shifted in his sleep, reaching for Oban and drawing him close again. Oban sank into the embrace, half lying on his master's chest, one leg flung over the Jedi's longer limbs. Even in his sleep his master exuded calm and strength. Oban lay his brow against the Jedi's skin breathing in the essence of him. He wondered how he had survived without this warmth. He *would* be a padawan again, the companion and lover of Master Qui-Gon Jinn ... and if they wouldn't let him be a Jedi then he would remain his slave. After all he had been given to the Jedi, they were meant to be together.

Oban rubbed his cheek against his master's shoulder, feeling the smooth, soft expanse of skin and the hard swell of muscle. He ran his lips over a network of faint scars that snaked down the Jedi's neck and crossed his breast. His eyes closed, he felt the Force vibrant between them and relaxed into its warmth. Last night he had been gifted with joy and acceptance. This man, this warrior, this Jedi Master had made the gift of his body ... and more ... the gift of his trust and his care. Oban relived the moment when he sank into the tight heat, poised over the beautiful hard body, drowning in eyes that spoke of joy and need. He had felt as though he was flying, held secure in the Force and the aura that was Qui-Gon Jinn.

He let his fingers skim over his master's skin, barely touching, sensing the heat and the essence of the man. When he reached a nipple he let his fingertips play, enjoying the change in texture. His breath caught as his master sighed and leaned into his touch. His finger stroked one nipple and then moved to the other.

Oban made a decision. He propped himself on an elbow and replaced his fingers with his mouth. Licking and biting gently he began to suckle, a happy sigh sending cool air over wet skin as his master's hand settled on his hip.

Qui-Gon woke to bliss. A warm mouth was ravishing his nipple while silky hair brushed across his chest. "Obi," he sighed. The lithe body wriggled a little closer. Qui-Gon began to move and was held still by determined hands.

Oban placed his palms on his master's chest, pushing the bigger man gently back on the pillows. "No, Master." He pressed an quick kiss on his master's sternum, then raised his head to meet the other man's eyes briefly worried by his bold impulse. But his master was watching him with a lazy sensuality that sent shivers through Oban and strengthened his determination. "Don't move." Holding the intense blue eyes he moved to straddle his master's hips and with a shy, sly smile bent to continue his examination of the body beneath him.

Held still by Oban's tentative eroticism as much as the pressure of his hands, Qui-Gon lifted his own hand to caress Oban's chest. The young man took Qui-Gon's big hand in his smaller one and kissed the fingers before placing them on the bed. Qui-Gon watched as the ex-slave's hands ran over his body, felt the devotion and the gratitude. He was fascinated by the gentle resolve on the young man's grave face. "Oh, Obi ... " he began but was hushed by a brief kiss.

"No, Master," he repeated firmly, "Let me." He ran his mouth across his master's lips, his nose, his high forehead before coming to rest against each eyelid.

Qui-Gon felt his whole body relax, his muscles lax and heavy as the warm, damp mouth pressed against his eyes. He shifted his head to meet Oban's eyes again, smiling at the clear command in their depths. A wave of determined passion made him catch his breath. The Jedi returned the emotion, running a tendril of Force over Oban's sleek flank. He smiled at the startled question in the young man's eyes and leaned back, letting his head sink into the pillow and opening himself to his lover.

Oban shivered in delight as the phantom caress slid across his flesh. He felt his master's acquiescence and savoured his aura. It was at once comforting and arousing and he bent to nuzzle into his master's long neck before sitting back and preparing his onslaught.

With a quick touch of fingers to cheekbones and lips he murmured, "Be still," and returned to the exposed line of neck, kissing and licking his way down the length of his master's torso, lingering when he reached jutting hip bones and concave stomach. A quiver rippled through the body laid out for him. Oban stopped for a moment to lay his cheek against the taut belly, running his lips over satin soft skin before continuing his survey of his master's body.

Sitting back Oban worked down his master's thighs and calves, massaging and occasionally leaning down to plant a kiss or lick or gentle bite. When he had taken each foot in his hand and fondled then, his touch just this side of tickling, he sat back. "Turn over please, Master." Holding his breath he watched the powerful body move at his request, a flick of the Jedi's head sending his hair tumbling across one shoulder as he turned his face towards Oban.

Qui-Gon was on the knife edge between bliss and frustration. He wanted to push into the questing hands but Oban wanted him still, so still he would be. Firm, tantalizing hands began to explore his back, testing muscles, tracing a lifetime of scars, resting warm against his skin as Oban's mouth followed his hands. It was almost like meditation, he was surrounded by the Force and by Oban's aura, warm and beguiling. The heat of passion was being raised slowly and with care. It drifted between them, a sparkling and fluid twining with the Force that swirled around them.

He was being touched with a reverent hunger. A soft brush over Oban's mind was met with a mental caress and a happy sigh. Qui-Gon lifted his hips into Oban's touch.

The young man murmured, "Don't move," and continued his trek, drawing his tongue down his master's spine. When he reached the end he paused softly kissing the smooth swell of buttock.

Qui-Gon sensed Oban's hesitation. With a wicked grin he sent a suggestion and chuckled softly at Oban's gasp. As he squirmed into the tightening fingers Qui-Gon grabbed the second pillow and wedged it under his hips.

Oban shifted, pressing against his master's back as he reached for the oil bottle. Suddenly he needed to be inside his master again. Last night he had been so amazed and overwhelmed that he had acted blindly, this morning he intended to savour the experience. He kissed the small of his master's back and then moved lower, pressing fleeting lips and a flickering tongue to the sensitive cleft.

With careful hands he poured the sweet oil, watching as it slithered across the Jedi's skin and spreading the viscous fluid with loving fingers. The silver of night was being replaced with the rosy gold of dawn and Oban found his eyes fixed on the gleam of oiled skin as he repeated the process with his own flesh. When he looked up he saw the burning indigo of his master's eyes devouring him.

Oban breathed, "Master," and began to fondle and probe. He heard his moans echoed by his lover and he grabbed the big hand that was reaching for him. Wanting to take this slow but burning to experience the ecstatic heat again Oban let himself be urged forward. His master's legs shifted apart. Oban took hold of narrow hips and settled between muscular thighs. "I want you, Master."

Oban's cultured voice was husky with need. Qui-Gon let out a long, shuddering sigh as his world narrowed to clever hands, the inexorable press of hard flesh and a warm wash of passion and devotion.

Qui-Gon was pressing back against him, welcoming, demanding, sensual. Oban's fingers dug into his master's hips as he threw his head back and hissed "Yes".

After separate showers and a quick breakfast, they made their way to Schal's office. The ex-slave pacing at Qui-Gon's side, hands buried in the sleeves of his robe, posture and expression solemn, eyes downcast. They were greeted by the Jedi they passed. Qui-Gon nodded in reply, pleased to note that Oban was attracting only a little mild curiosity.

As usual Qui-Gon went to wait for Oban in the little anteroom where he found Master Stanell waiting for him. The petite training master smiled up at him, and he bowed and sat opposite her. "Master Stanell, I take it you are here to talk about Oban?"

She nodded, "Yes, Mace suggested I consult with Healer Schal before I discuss the young man's education with you. I'm told Oban has not retrieved his memories?"

Qui-Gon smiled sadly, "Not all of them, no. He recalls being in the Temple but he has no memory of who he was."

Stanell nodded again, "So Schal said. The Council believes he should resume his training." She paused, "He could join the other padawans for classes but I'm inclined to think it might be better if he had individual tuition, at least until the future is decided."

Qui-Gon agreed, Oban was bound to be an object of speculation amongst the padawans, he needed to be introduced to Temple life gradually not tossed into a class with a dozen padawans years younger than him. He asked, "Will you tutor him?"

"Yes ... until I have evaluated his academic capability and needs. Then I may enlist some other teachers although I will probably continue to tutor him as well." She smiled, "I remember Obi-Wan Kenobi, you know. I sometimes take the junior philosophy class. Obi-Wan was an a charming boy ... and an outstanding student."

"He still has the charm," Qui-Gon said ruefully.

Master Stanell placed a hand on Qui-Gon's knee in brief support. "There is no reason why he shouldn't be a good student again. He is still the same person."

"It's been nine years ... and I don't think that academic studies were a major part of his life in the harem." Qui-Gon said dryly.

"Well, Schal has confidence in him, as does Master Yoda ... even Mace Windu has been won over. Let me do an assessment. I'm sure he will be able to catch up given time and work."

Qui-Gon smiled into the teacher's earnest eyes. "Thank you, Vel."

As she stood the teacher said, "Let me know when would be convenient. I have classes in the mornings but most afternoons and evenings are free." Master Stanell inclined her head, "Master Jinn," and left him to wait for Oban to finish with Master Schal.

As he waited Qui-Gon relaxed and allowed his mind to be filled with the Force. He thought over the events of the morning and the previous night. Oban's gentle possession and his tender control this morning had cleared Qui-Gon's mind of any doubt. He was meant to be with this young man, the Force sang between them and Qui-Gon's heart and soul ... not to mention his body ... craved the young man's touch. He let his anxiety go and simply rested in the Force until he sensed Oban's entry to the small room.

Oban was quiet as they returned to their quarters. Qui- Gon smiled inwardly at the young man's slightly self-conscious demeanour. He moderated his pace so that he was walking beside the younger man and could place a reassuring hand in Oban's shoulder.

As they entered their quarters Oban took his master's robe and hung it with his own. He turned to see the other man disappearing into the kitchen. Master Schal had listened to his hesitant recital of the night's events with a grave courtesy. He reassured Oban that not only would his master not have initiated the encounter last night unless he had wanted it, but that his compliance this morning was a sign of the older man's acceptance and trust. Still Oban was worried that he had overstepped his place and displeased his master.

Qui-Gon returned to find Oban standing immobile in the centre of the room. The young man's eyes glowed aquamarine in the filtered light as he met Qui-Gon's gaze with a shy smile and a faint blush. Qui-Gon put down the plates and went to him.

Taking the handsome face between his hands Qui-Gon kissed Oban's forehead then dipped to kiss his mouth. He felt Oban sigh with relief and sink into his embrace. Meeting Oban's rush of devotion with his own affection, for the first time Qui-Gon delicately reached for Oban through the nascent link.

Oban felt his master's presence intensify and deepen. The vague sense of the Jedi in his mind seemed to coalesce into a radiant glow that bathed his consciousness. The sense of connection was almost physical. Curious, Oban tried to follow the connection but was unable to maintain control and frowned as the sensation slipped away from him.

Qui-Gon sensed his frustration. With a final kiss to Oban's forehead he said, "Don't fret, Obi. Control of the Force is like control of the body. You have been away from the Temple for a long time, you're out of practice. We'll work on it."

As he helped his master set the table Oban watched the older man's face and sent out a tentative query. When his master smiled reassuringly Oban asked, "It felt different, as though there was a connection. What was it, Master?"

Qui-Gon handed Oban a plate and said, "When Force users are close a connection forms between them." It wasn't a lie but it wasn't the whole truth either.

Oban was watching him closely, head tilted and a hopeful gleam in his eyes. "Is it permanent, Master?"

Loath to twist the truth any further but unwilling to articulate his suspicions, Qui-Gon said carefully, "It can be. It depends on the nature of the relationship and the depth of the connection." He smiled, "If there is a bond forming, it is the will of the Force and will reveal itself in time."

Clearly unsatisfied, Oban obeyed the unspoken command and swallowed his questions. "Yes, Master."

Master Stanell's evaluation of Oban's academic needs and abilities resulted in evening classes being added to the ex-slave's daily routine. For the evaluation and first class Qui-Gon remained in room but Oban's initial shyness quickly dispersed and his natural charm and cheerful disposition came to the surface.

Since returning to Coruscant with Oban, Qui-Gon had been almost continually in the young man's presence. The classes with Master Stanell allowed him time to himself. When he asked Oban whether he minded being left alone with the teacher Oban had simply shaken his head. Qui-Gon took the opportunity on the third evening of visiting first Master Yoda to update him on Oban's progression, and then to visit Knights Eletha and Frensam.

His old friends greeted him warmly. Shay Eletha handed him a glass of Corellian brandy as Ti Frensam said, "Are we allowed to ask about your visitor?"

Qui-Gon sipped the fiery liquid and smiled, "There isn't much to tell really. I'm sure the gossip is much more exciting than the reality."

Shay grinned, "Isn't it always? So you didn't bring your own pleasure slave back with you?"

"Is that what they're saying?"

Shay nodded and Ti elaborated, "There are two stories doing the rounds. One is the slave thing ... the other is that you have rescued a long-lost padawan."

"Actually, it's a bit of both." And Qui-Gon proceeded to give his friends an outline of what happened.

Shay poured them all another drink, saying slowly, "Poor lad. Do you think he will ever remember?"

Qui-Gon shrugged, "Who he is? I don't know. But I do think he will remember enough to be able to rejoin us."

Ti shifted in her seat, "I saw the pair of you walking with Master Windu. He is a nice looking young man. He certainly carries himself like a Jedi."

Shay added, "But will the Council let him stay? It would take you out of the field."

"No more than if I took another initiate as padawan." Qui-Gon smiled at the interest and concern in his friend's eyes.

"I'll introduce you when he is more at ease with strangers. I don't want to overwhelm him. Apart from me, Master Stanell is the first person he's been alone with except for Schal and Yoda since we got here."

Both the knights smiled and Shay said, "We look forward to meeting him." Giving Qui-Gon a quizzical look he asked, "Do you want us to say anything? I'm sure someone saw you as you came here and there are bound to be questions."

Qui-Gon put down the empty glass, "How well you know me, Shay. If anyone asks, tell them the truth."

Ti raised her eyebrows, "About him being a slave?" Qui-Gon looked from one to the other, "It will have to come out sooner or later."

The couple looked at each other and Shay said, "I think we'll just say that you rescued him, after all it's no one else's business."

Ti nodded, "And if they ask if he's Padawan Kenobi ... " She paused, "We can't very well say you don't know. How many padawans have gone missing in the past decade, after all?"

Qui-Gon nodded, "I know, that's one of the reasons I have kept him more or less out of sight. Schal says it would be better for him to remember on his own." He sighed and rubbed his nose, "If he doesn't remember soon I think we will have to tell him, but until then it would only confuse him to be asked about someone he doesn't know. The best thing is probably to say that he is still receiving treatment from Healer Schal and leave it at that." He stood, "I'd better get back."

The two knights nodded. Then each hugged him, "It's good to see you, Qui. Perhaps we will see more of you if you have a padawan in tow."

On his way back to his quarters Qui-Gon smiled, it was good to see his friends but they were right in thinking he had ulterior motives. Gossip always flourished in the absence of facts. He hoped that Eletha and Frensam's comments would help to damp down the more lurid speculation. Somewhat to his surprise, Qui-Gon was finding himself increasingly protective of Oban. The knowledge that there was salacious and possibly damaging gossip about the lad pleased him not at all.

Oban closed the door after Master Stanell left and made himself a mug of caf. He welcomed the lessons with the teacher even though it meant that he had even less time to himself. The reading he had been doing had whetted his appetite and he found that he enjoyed having someone else to talk to. Not that he was bored with his master but it was another perspective and he found himself looking forward to future classes with other teachers.

He curled onto the sofa and considered his new life. More and more he felt at home in the Temple, and particularly in these quarters. Master Schal was alternating between counselling and sessions when they worked on repairing his memory. Oban had initially feared this process but with his master's reassuring presence and his trust of the healer he now looked forward to them.

All his training was focussed on making him ready to resume his life as a padawan. Although Oban still had no idea *who* he had been, he was increasingly sure that he *had* been a child here. Besides, if he was allowed to be a padawan he could stay with his master.

A slight frown drew his eyebrows together as he thought over the past few days. His master was supportive and affectionate, and Oban had no doubt that the older man desired him, but he was so reserved. Although he knew that he wouldn't be rejected Oban had not taken his master again, much as he had wanted to. Their lovemaking was intense and tender but his master always seemed to be restraining himself. Or perhaps it was just that he didn't feel the same hunger.

Oban wanted his master to be overwhelmed by love and need just as he was himself. He wanted the other man to be swept away by his passion, to be overcome by an irresistible desire, to shed his control. Slow, gentle sex was wonderful but Oban wanted to be taken with a wild, unrestrained passion, to be surrounded and possessed by the tall, strong body. He wanted all the intense hunger he sensed in the Jedi focussed on him and the spiral of love and lust they were generating.

He knew there was fire in the Jedi, could sense it in the touch of his hands, feel the smoulder of controlled desire in his aura, see it simmering in his deep, indigo eyes. The question was how to fan the fire to a blaze. As Oban sipped his caf his expression turned thoughtful. Oban knew his master was unwilling to hurt him and that he was still uneasy with his desire for him because of his past as a pleasure slave.

Oban found the concern for his well being deeply touching but the sexual reticence faintly absurd. He padded to the kitchen to refill his mug adding a slurp of brandy to the mixture. Settling back on the sofa he sipped at the hot liquid and meditated on the ways a pleasure slave could convince a Jedi master to shed his reserve.

Qui-Gon was greeted by the gentle, pulsing rhythm of Hryll Court music as he pushed open the door to his quarters. The main ceiling light was off and the common room was filled with the soft glow of the wall lamps. Pleased to see that Oban felt sufficiently comfortable to make himself at home Qui-Gon looked towards the sofa expecting to see the young man curled up reading. Instead he was halted mid-step by the sight of Oban highlighted against the velvet glitter of the Coruscant skyline bare chested and glistening.

Dressed only in Qui-Gon's old training pants the young man was working through a routine that combined athleticism with elegant sensuality. Qui-Gon froze, his robe forgotten in his hands. Not pausing in his movements Oban sent a caress of welcome through the Force. Qui-Gon returned the greeting as he went to hang up his robe and shed his outer tunic. The image of the youthful body danced seductively behind his eyes.

Collecting a glass of mulled cider Qui-Gon sat at his desk to check his mail and watch Oban. The routine was a cross between a workout and a dance. Oban was moving in time to the music, allowing the sensuous rhythms to dictate his tempo. The movements themselves were graceful and poised, showing the beauty of the dancer's body and highlighting his agility and control. Qui-Gon recognised elements of Jedi training in some of the movements while others had to do with carnal rather than martial skills.

Yet as provocative as the performance was it was clearly a personal routine, designed to hone Oban's balance and flexibility rather than inflame an audience. Oban's mind was relaxed and focussed on his task. Although he was aware of Qui-Gon's presence there were no flirtatious glances, no overtly seductive poses or gestures. The Jedi was rivetted, his mail forgotten, the cider cooling in his hand.

When the music stopped Oban flicked the hair out of his eyes and headed for the bathroom. His master had returned right on cue and his reaction had been everything that Oban had hoped for. *Well not quite everything*, he thought as he ran a towel over his sweaty torso, *he could have flung me onto the sofa and ravished me*. Oban grinned at his reflection. Well, it was early yet and his master's desire had been quite obvious.

Oban tossed aside the towel. He picked up a tub of lightly scented massage cream and smoothed it over his skin. Next he chose a vial of oil and spread it generously over his quiescent genitals. Smearing the oil over two fingers he reached behind to carefully anoint and prepare himself. Then he pulled the pants back up to his hips and tied the cord around them. Considering his reflection again he took his nipples between his fingers and pinched them to hard peaks while biting colour into his lips. Finally he poured more oil into his left palm and headed out to his master.

Oban padded quietly across the common room to the kitchen. He drank a glass of water then followed his master's example and heated a mug of cider. When he returned to the common room, he was pleased to see that his master had moved to the sofa.

Qui-Gon sensed Oban's return to the room and smiled at him laying aside the dataslate. "How did the lesson go, Obi?"

Oban leaned against the back of a chair, "It went well, Master. I like working with Master Stanell."

"She is a gifted teacher." Qui-Gon's eyes ran down the slender body draped casually against the tall chair. "We are lucky that she is available."

It was astonishing how alluring an old, worn pair of training pants could look. Oban had adjusted the length so they no longer needed to be rolled up at the ankle, instead they lapped over the arches of his feet and just touched the floor at his heels. The waist hadn't been altered and the pants were still held up with the cord Qui-Gon had given him for that purpose. At the moment they were resting low on Oban's hip bones giving the impression that they might slip even lower at any moment.

Oban watched his master's eyes darken and felt the shift in the tone of the other man's thoughts. He walked slowly towards the sofa holding his master's eyes as he sank to the floor between the Jedi's long legs and rested against one knee. "Will you still discuss my reading with me, Master?"

The simple question took Qui-Gon by surprise. Oban's cultured voice was light and casual but his eyes glowed with passion. Qui-Gon found himself running his fingers through the young man's soft hair, "Of course I will."

Rolling his head into the caress Oban let his shields thin. Desire was sparking between them and he leaned forward, head tilted in invitation to his master. For a moment the fingers stilled then Oban was caught between his masters hands and lifted until he was lying against the other man's chest. The moment stretched as navy eyes met smoky blue then his master was feasting on his mouth. Oban sighed in satisfaction and opened his mouth to the onslaught.

Qui-Gon was drowning in the taste of Oban as agile hands slid inside his clothing. One was fondling his chest while the other found his hardening phallus and stroked him with a slick, insistent grasp.

Oban felt strong hands grasp his waist and used the movement to settle himself astride his master. The position meant he was looking down into the other man's face. He bent to take a long, slow kiss, rubbing his lips across the spiky, soft hair of the Jedi's beard. Fumbling to untie the cord from his waist, he pushed the training pants down, wiggling and shifting as the fabric caught at his knees.

The sensation of Oban writhing in his lap made Qui-Gon gasp. His head tilted back to lie against the cushions, his eyes fixed on Oban. The young man was raised above him, his torso gleaming slightly in the soft light, his face tight with concentration. One hand was on Qui-Gon's shoulder as Oban steadied himself, the other was holding Qui-Gon's cock. Qui-Gon's gasp became a shuddering moan as Oban positioned himself and sank slowly onto him.

Oban's eyes returned to his master's. Holding the midnight gaze he lowered himself and languidly rotated his hips. He could see the shock and the pleasure ripple through the Jedi. With a murmur of contentment he settled against his master's hips, the hard bulk inside him filling him physically and emotionally. He picked up his master's hand and kissed the palm, holding it against his cheek as he began to rise and fall in a slow undulating motion.

Qui-Gon was suspended between the intense pleasure Oban was giving him and the glow of love and happiness in the expressive eyes. He sighed, "Obi," and ran his thumb over the young man's lower lip, smiling as it was caught between even, white teeth. His other hand dropped to cradle Oban's erection, the skin soft and hot in his hand. A drop of fluid pearled at the tip and Qui-Gon spread it sensuously over the silky head. Oban took the hand in his and spread what little oil was left then their joined hands returned to Oban's cock and began to stroke.

Qui-Gon pulled Oban's head closer and kissed him hard. He let himself be surrounded by Oban, the taste and the smell and the feel of him. Let himself be overcome with pleasure and began to thrust, his hips lifting the smaller man and triggering Oban's climax. The tawny head was thrown back in abandon. A keening wail rose from the elegant throat as his whole body shook and warm semen splashed between them. With a final thrust Qui-Gon groaned and came deep inside the young body slumped above him.

They stayed joined together, arms wrapped around each other, heads resting together, enjoying the aftermath. When Qui-Gon tried to move Oban protested and wriggled closer. Qui-Gon stroked the bright hair, smiling to himself at the picture they presented. Oban was naked but for the training pants that were twisted around one leg while he was still mostly clothed, his tunic and trousers merely pushed apart to allow Oban access.

With a little help from the Force Qui-Gon stood, lifting Oban with him. The young man wrapped his legs around him and they went to the bathroom. Qui-Gon had to clutch at his trousers as he moved to avoid the pair of them landing in an undignified heap on the floor. Oban was nuzzling into his neck and refused to let go when he tried to set him down. "Obi, I'd like to shower. You are more than welcome to join me but you need to let go."

Oban rejoiced at the affectionate teasing in his master's voice. With a final kiss he unwound his legs and grumbled, "Don't want to let go."

The next morning they began the day with meditation as usual. Oban settled easily into a trance and Qui-Gon smiled a little smugly at the sated contentment radiating from the young man. They were working on an intermediate focussing exercise and Qui-Gon left Oban kneeling on the mat while he checked his morning mail and prepared breakfast.

There was an invitation to dinner for them both from Eletha and Frensam, a request for a meeting with Councillors Windu and Gallia and a request from Schal for a private meeting. Qui-Gon suggested to Schal that they meet while Oban had his evening lesson with Master Stanell, then he replied to his friends and the councillors saying that he would make a time after he had spoken to the healer.

The day progressed along its usual lines. It was Schal's day for counselling Oban so Qui-Gon used the time to speak to Yoda and place an order with the commissary. As usual he was waiting when they finished. Schal called him in to confirm their appointment for the evening.

Qui-Gon raised a questioning eyebrow, "Is it anything I should worry about?"

Schal shook his head, "I just thought that you may need to speak to someone." He tapped his finger on the desk. "Qui- Gon, I know you have been giving Oban information about the history of the Jedi and the organization ... what about the people?"

"Individuals?" Qui-Gon asked. "Only in the historical and political sense."

The healer nodded, "I was wondering whether his memory might be jogged by holos of people he used to know."

Qui-Gon told the healer about the time Oban had been studying the group of young padawans, "He recognised everyone but himself."

"I think it's worth a try. You've got his training records, I'll send you his personal ones too." Schal grinned at Qui-Gon, "After all, if he's going to be your padawan you should have them anyway." He waved Qui-Gon to the door. "I'll see you this evening."

As they returned to their rooms Qui-Gon considered the healers suggestion. He hadn't considered it before but all of Oban's returning memories did seem to be of places and events. Although he knew the names of the other padawans in the holo Oban had not shown the slightest interest in them as individuals. And neither had he shown any interest in finding out more about other faces and names he recalled.

Over the meal Qui-Gon asked Oban, "Do you remember that holo of the group of padawans, Obi?"

"The one were I knew them all?"

Qui-Gon nodded, "Yes, do you remember anything about them?"

Oban looked surprised. "I don't know. I haven't really thought about it. Why?"

"Master Schal thought it might help you remember your own past." He smiled at the honest amazement on the young man's face. "You remember their names, perhaps you can also remember other things about them."

Oban frowned in concentration then shook his head, "I don't think so."

"Don't worry about it." Qui-Gon recommended, "Master Schal thought it might help if you read some information about your year mates and looked at more pictures."

Oban stared at his master over his glass of juice and said slowly, "You know who I am."

Qui-Gon met the question in the wide, solemn eyes and answered slowly, "Yes. I do." He reached to take Oban's hand and was relieved when the young man didn't pull away.

"Are you going to tell me, Master?" Oban's fingers curled around his master's.

The absence of reproach in Oban's voice and the trust in his eyes brought a lump to Qui-Gon's throat. "Master Schal says that if we tell you, you will never truly remember for yourself."

Oban considered that, "But I might never remember. How long will you wait?" He asked simply, "Will you ever tell me?"

Qui-Gon took a deep breath. "Of course we will, Obi."

The lack of criticism in the youth's eyes filled the Jedi with guilt.

"I suppose it is up to Master Schal, he is your healer, but if it becomes apparent that you are not going to remember then..." he broke off, horrified by the realisation of the extent to which they were manipulating Oban's life.

Dismayed by the distress in his master's eyes Oban stood and hugged the other man. Resting his cheek on his master's head he said softly, "It's all right, master. I trust you."

Qui-Gon turned in his chair. He looked up into the trusting face and said earnestly, "You *will* know who you are Obi."

Oban took his master's face between his hands and said, "My name doesn't matter. What matters is that I am with you." Sliding his arms around his master's waist he knelt and whispered, "I love you, Master."

Oban's shining head was resting on his thigh but Qui- Gon heard the faint words. He kissed the young man's soft hair and then lifted Oban to his feet pouring his affection through the Force. Although he didn't utilise their bond he could feel it quiver and strengthen between them. "You matter, Obi." He could see the question in Oban's eyes. "And so do your wishes. There will be a place for you here as long as you want it."

"But do you want me?" As soon as the words left his mouth Oban wished them back. "I'm sorry, Master. It's not my place to ask." For the first time since he had arrived at the Temple Oban felt the urge to prostrate himself before his master. Knowing his master didn't like him to abase himself Oban lowered his head.

As he saw the young body slump Qui-Gon stood and gathered Oban into a fierce embrace, "Yes, I want you, Obi."

He felt Oban return his hug, burrowing closer. After a few minutes Qui-Gon took hold of Oban's shoulders and held him at arms length. "And I want to help you to build your new life."

Oban looked into the Jedi's intense gaze and nodded. "Thank you, Master." He knew that his master did enjoy his company, that he cared for him and certainly that he desired him, but Oban didn't know where he fitted into a Jedi's life. He could not really believe that they would let him, a pleasure slave, be trained as a Jedi himself. Still it was looking increasingly as though he could remain with his master. And he knew instinctively that this man would never abandon him. He smiled and kissed the hand resting on his shoulder.

Once again Qui-Gon found himself at a loss. He could tell that Oban didn't really understand his motivations. With an inward sigh Qui-Gon wondered whether he understood them himself. He was overwhelmingly attracted to the lad, he was fond of him, cared for him and had every intention of taking him as his padawan learner, but he was still disturbed by the innocence and blind trust Oban displayed.

He ruffled his fingers through Oban's hair, "Time for some exercise."

Qui-Gon sank into the chair and sighed, "Your timing is impeccable, Schal. If we didn't have an appointment for this evening I would have called to ask for one."

The healer took in the tense line of Qui-Gon's shoulder's and the worried expression in the normally serene eyes.

"Frankly Qui-Gon, I'm surprised you haven't asked to see me before this. You are taking on a huge load, reintroducing Oban to freedom and to being a Jedi. And becoming his lover as well." Schal watched as Qui-Gon's head snapped up. "I'm not criticising. I'm just saying you are his only support and it's a very heavy burden for one man to carry. Especially when you care so much for him."

Qui-Gon stared at Schal, then he shook his head ruefully, "I should have known you would see right through me. And I'm not his only support ... he trusts you too."

"That's good to hear." Schal poured two cups of herbal tea and handed one to Qui-Gon. "Fortunately I think you're right. And the lessons with Vel Stanell will help too. We need to slowly introduce more people to him ... reintegrate him into the Temple." He smiled, "But ... this evening I want to talk about you, Master Jinn. How are you coping?"

"If you'd asked me yesterday I would have said I was coping rather well." Qui-Gon rubbed his knuckles along his jaw. "Apart from my reservations about the sexual aspects of the relationship anyway."

Schal waited for more then asked, "What changed today?"

"He asked me if I knew who he was."

"Ah." The healer sipped his tea. "And what did you say?"

"That I did. I wasn't going to lie to him."

"Did you tell him who he was?"

Qui-Gon looked into the healer's bland gaze, "No, I told him you thought it was a bad idea. That he needed to remember for himself." His voice became heavy, "Then he asked me if we were ever going to tell him."

Schal said, "And now you feel guilty."

"You could say that. I said that if we decided he was never going to remember that then we would tell him." Qui- Gon smiled sadly, "Then he said he trusted me and apologised." He turned the tea cup between his fingers. "How is he ever going to be a Jedi if he can't stand up for himself?"

The healer considered, "Well, he hasn't been here for very long. Not when you consider he has been a slave since he was thirteen. You can't expect him to change a lifetime of behaviour overnight." He tapped the side of the cup. "Think of him as a thirteen year old. Because that's what he is in terms of his emotional and social development. Slaves have no will of their own, they can make almost no decisions for themselves and they are utterly dependent on their owners. In many ways he is still a child. You noticed it yourself. The first time we spoke about him you said he was innocent." Schal held Qui-Gon's gaze, "Don't try to go too fast, this will take time and patience."

Qui-Gon nodded, "I know that intellectually, but ... it's the dependence that worries me. You say it's a heavy load for me but I worry that he is placing too much dependence on me. He needs to find his independence."

"Qui-Gon, if Oban was your new padawan, if he was thirteen years old, how would you assess his behaviour?"

Qui-Gon stared at the greenish liquid in his cup, "Well ... aside from the sexual aspect ... I suppose I would consider it fairly normal. Except that I would expect a young padawan to have plenty of friends here in the Temple. And not be so anxious for my approval or scared of my disapproval."

Schal nodded, "I should think a new padawan would be careful not to displease his master. And you would expect him to be reliant on you for information and support."

"Yes. Yes, I would." Qui-Gon agreed. "I see what you mean Schal but you heard about the intruders we had. I was furious but I didn't lose my temper. Oban expected me to punish *him*."

"Ah, well, I didn't say he was *exactly* like a young padawan. If it's any consolation Qui-Gon, I think you are doing very well so far." Schal almost grinned at the sceptical look in the other master's eyes. "Really. The very fact that he trusts you and isn't afraid of you speaks volumes."

"You don't think he is too trusting?" Qui-Gon asked.

Schal shook his head, "Of you? No."

"But he is completely open ... " Qui-Gon paused, "How does he know I can be trusted?"

Schal smiled, "The same way you know. Qui-Gon, the boy is Force sensitive, and while he hasn't had the training he would have had if he had remained here I should think being a pleasure slave would make you a pretty fair judge of character. Besides he's been with you for almost three weeks now. He's getting to know you."

The healer watched Qui-Gon digest his words. After a moment he asked carefully, "You said you still had reservations about the sexual relationship?"

Qui-Gon drained the tea and put the cup on the desk. "Yes. That's why I asked about him being too trusting. I can't shake the feeling that I'm using him."

"Are you?"

"I don't know," Qui-Gon said simply.

Schal poured more tea, "Of course you do. Tell me. Do you care for Oban?"

Qui-Gon took the tea cup and said definitely, "Yes."

"Have you forced or coerced him in any way?"

"No, But ... "

Schal held up his hand, "Does Oban ever initiate the sex?"

"He usually initiates it, but ... " Qui-Gon tried again.

"Let me finish Qui-Gon, then we'll deal with your 'buts'. Is he distressed or depressed afterwards." Schal smiled as Qui-Gon flushed faintly.

"No."

The healer asked gently, "How does he seem afterwards?"

The blush deepened. "Happy. Contented."

"And how do you feel afterwards, Qui-Gon?"

"Confused."

Schal, pressed gently, "Confused how?"

Qui-Gon sipped his tea, his eyes fixed on the fragile cup. "I feel wonderful ... warm ... sated ... but I feel guilty too."

"Why? It sounds as though Oban is clear about what he wants?"

Qui-Gon looked up at the healer. "He is. But he has been trained to provide sex for his owner, and in his eyes *I* am his owner. How can I ever be sure that his passion isn't just a trained response? A survival mechanism?"

"For heaven's sake Qui-Gon, you are one of the most powerful Force users we have, don't you think you would be able to tell? Especially since you have a bond with the lad." Schal's exasperation faded as Qui-Gon stared at him in amazement. "Really, I think you must be besotted. First you can't tell that Oban's feelings are genuine and now you are surprised that I know you have a bond. I'm a healer, Qui-Gon, and I've been inside both your minds."

Qui-Gon gave a shaky laugh and rubbed his forehead. "I don't know what I was thinking, Schal. Yes, we have a bond, but it's new and it isn't anywhere near fruition."

The healer leaned forward and glared at Qui-Gon. "You are trying to ignore it, aren't you?" He sat back. "Qui-Gon, you have dedicated your life to the Force, trust it now. Let the bond develop."

"I don't know if I'm ready to commit to that extent." Qui-Gon's voice was low and unsure.

Schal sighed, "I doubt whether you have a choice. You plan to take him as your padawan, don't you?" He watched as Qui-Gon nodded. "Then there will be a bond, and this is stronger than a training bond."

Qui-Gon nodded. "But what will happen if he discovers that he doesn't want me after the bond has formed? I won't tie him to me."

"I don't think he has a choice either, Qui-Gon. And at the moment he doesn't want one. Right now his greatest desire is to know that he has a place in your life and in your heart." Schal said gently, "You are confusing him you know?"

"Confusing him?"

Schal smiled at Qui-Gon's puzzled expression. "He knows that you care for him. He knows that you desire him. He knows that you enjoy making love with him. He can't understand why you don't initiate sex, and why you aren't more ... assertive. He is afraid that you are humouring him."

Qui-Gon snorted, "Humouring him? I'm trying not to use him and he thinks I'm humouring him."

Schal sat back and watched Qui-Gon's expression shift from indignant to bemused. "What do you expect him to think when he has to seduce you each time and you treat him as though he's made of glass. He is beginning to be afraid that *he* is using *you*."

Qui-Gon's head was in his hands. After a moment he looked up at Master Schal. "You really think that a sexual relationship between us isn't damaging to Oban?"

Resisting the urge to tell Qui-Gon that it was rather too late to ask that now, Schal said seriously, "I really think that it isn't damaging him. I've told you this before, Qui-Gon." He reminded the other master gently.

"So what do you recommend, Healer Schal?" Qui-Gon asked with a wry smile.

Schal put down his cup and leaned forward. "Qui-Gon, this young man spent nine years as a pleasure slave, nothing can change that. But he's more than that. Don't let his past ruin what you have between you. I recommend that you stop being so angst ridden about the sex. Let yourself go. Sweet and tender has its place, but so does wild and passionate. You're his lover, act like one."

On to the Next Part