Master Apprentice
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The Stirring Flame Ceremony
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"Master, are you certain the blindfold is necessary?" Obi-Wan asked as Qui-Gon propelled him through the corridors of the Temple's nearly deserted west tower.
"Absolutely, Padawan. Mustn't give away the surprise until it’s time, must we?"
"I -- suppose not." He said nothing more, concentrating on trying to feel where they were going through the Force, but the stronger will of Qui-Gon Jinn was somehow preventing him from making proper contact with it. He sensed the difference in air pressure against his eardrums and knew that they had entered a room. Here, the hands on his shoulders stopped him. Behind him, he heard a door being closed and the distinctive click of a lock.
"Ready?" his Master asked. At Obi-Wan's nod, the blindfold was removed. The Padawan blinked in the sudden light, and it was a moment or two before he could see clearly. What he saw made him blink again, this time in confusion.
They were in a bedroom.
A very large, very opulent bedroom, the likes of which he never dreamed existed inside the normally austere Temple.
High patterned-glass windows framed two sides, draped in sheer curtains of blues and greens and tans. Along the other two walls, expensive tapestries hung on either side of large mirrors, their gold-gilded frames deeply carved. A food preparation area filled one corner, holding a small table and two simple chairs, and an open door led to a 'fresher with a huge, tile-framed tub. Plush green carpet covered the floor, making the Padawan, unused to such luxury, want to kick off his boots and sink his bare toes into it.
In the center of the room stood a heart-shaped bed, easily large enough for six or seven people. It was covered with the most beautiful bedspread he'd ever seen. Done in jewel tone swirls, it looked decadently soft.
"Like it?" a soft voice inquired from behind him.
"It's beautiful," he breathed, aware that his eyes were probably as big as saucers. "But --- what's it for?"
"For, Padawan?" Qui-Gon prowled the room, fingertips trailing over the tapestries and stirring the curtains, before he finally sat down on the bed, bouncing slightly. "Do you not know, Obi-Wan, the significance of the Stirring Flame Ceremony?"
Obi-Wan shook his head silently.
Qui-Gon rose like an unfurling vine and walked -- no, prowled -- toward his apprentice. "It's your coming-of-age celebration, Padawan."
Obi-Wan swallowed hard. "Coming of age?" he echoed uncertainly.
Qui-Gon nodded, still approaching, gliding across the carpet like some great, stalking feline, his smoldering blue eyes never leaving Obi-Wan's. "Yes. On this night, on the eve of your nineteenth naming day, you are allowed to have your first sexual encounter."
"M-m-my first . . .?"
"You are still a virgin, aren't you?"
"Of course, Master!" Obi-Wan answered, clearly shocked by the question. "My vows . . ."
Qui-Gon grinned. "Good." Obi-Wan felt his eyes grow even rounder. "Because, as your Master, I am permitted to choose your first partner."
Obi-Wan felt his breath catch in this throat, and sucked in a lung full of air desperately. "My first ---" He couldn't finish, but he didn't need to. Qui-Gon's smile widened as he stopped in front of Obi-Wan, so close that the Padawan could feel his Master's body heat. "And, who might that be?" His voice broke on the last word as his Master's large hand reached up to caress his cheek.
"Why, who better than myself, my Padawan?" Qui-Gon purred, moving a half step closer until the impressive bulge in his pants pressed against Obi-Wan's abdomen.
"No!" Obi-Wan yelped. He whirled away, reaching for the door release. Nothing happened. Behind him, he heard Qui-Gon chuckle, a low, rumbling sound that made goose bumps rise on his arms.
"You cannot escape me, my own," Qui-Gon said. He stepped up behind Obi-Wan and encircled him with his arms --- or would have, had Obi-Wan not evaded him.
"Stop, Master," the young man said, holding one hand up, palm out, as he backed away. "You can't possibly mean that you and I are -- are ---" He swallowed again, nervousness making him lose his train of thought as he stared into the deep blue orbs that filled his whole world.
"You care for me, don't you?" Qui-Gon asked, pursuing his still retreating quarry.
"O-of course, Master! But ---"
"Then, what's the problem?"
The back of Obi-Wan's knees bumped against the bed, and he scooted sideways quickly, away from it. Stop running, you coward! he told himself. Drawing his chin up, firming his gaze, he stopped. "I prefer women," he announced.
"Ah," Qui-Gon said, looking surprised. But, at least he halted. He reached up to rub his bearded chin, glancing down at the floor. Then, he looked up, his eyes deep pools of indigo blue. "Women are nice," he said, his voice lowered seductively. He was moving forward again, but more slowly this time as Obi-Wan once again began to retreat. "But, there is one thing a woman can't give you."
Obi-Wan backed into a wall and stopped, unable to look away from those eyes. "Oh?" he said at last, having trouble finding the breath for it. "And what would that be?"
Qui-Gon took a single step nearer. "A nice ---" Another step. "--- long ---" And, another. " --- hard ---" One more step, so close now that their toes touched. "--- cock ---" He leaned forward, pressing Obi-Wan against the wall, one hand on either side of the younger man's shoulders. "--- pounding you into ecstasy."
"Oh!" Obi-Wan exclaimed, his voice soft and breathless. He stared at the face bending over him, at the full lips, the dilated eyes, and swallowed hard again. "And, what if I don't want that?"
Qui-Gon stopped, neither moving closer or withdrawing. He shrugged. "I won't force you, of course," he said, his voice heavy with passion. He leaned lower, pressing his mouth to the shell of Obi-Wan's ear. Finally, he whispered, "But, I have all night to persuade you." One hand snaked down to rub across Obi-Wan's groin.
The Padawan ducked, spinning away. "All night?" he yelped.
Qui-Gon didn't follow, merely grinned at his Padawan's nervousness. "Yes. The door is designed so that, once it is closed, it will only open again at eighth hour."
Obi-Wan gulped. "Oh." He glanced around again, wiping his damp palms on the bottom of his tunic. "If it's all right, Master, I think I'd like to meditate."
Qui-Gon smiled. "Of course, my own." He turned toward the kitchen. "Meanwhile, I will fix us some dinner and prepare for the ceremony."
Thankful for the respite, Obi-Wan sank to his knees on the deep carpeting and tried to slow his breathing. His pulse was pounding in his ears, and the strange heat in his lower body, centered around his groin, was distracting. Relieved that Qui-Gon's overshadowing Force presence had lessened, he closed his eyes and let his mind drift where it would.
How would it feel, he found himself wondering, to kiss his Master? The beard would be scratchy and unpleasant, obviously, and Qui-Gon's large, crooked nose, although becoming, would undoubtedly get in the way. No, he decided, that was definitely not something he would want to experience.
He thought about his Master's big hands, rough with calluses, touching him. Not in the way they normally did, guiding him and correcting his position, but in a sexual way. He wondered how the man would look naked, and immediately blushed at the thought.
Don't be stupid, Kenobi, he told himself. You've seen Qui-Gon naked before. They had showered together on occasion, by necessity, and he had seen his Master dressing or undressing. Somehow, it wasn't the same. Though he'd seen that body, he'd never really _looked_ before.
The chest was mostly smooth, as he remembered, with very little hair, and the muscles well defined. The waist was trim and fit, the legs lean. As for the rest --
He had always tried not to look, but he knew that Qui-Gon was well endowed. _Very_ well endowed, actually. A shiver ran up Obi-Wan's spine at the thought of what that organ, which he had only seen in a flaccid state, would look like engorged. How big would it be? He shuddered, squeezing his eyes a little more tightly shut as if to cut off the vision forming behind them.
What is wrong with me? he wondered with a gasp. I shouldn't be thinking these things! Even so, he couldn't stop his mind from wandering into forbidden territory. Had Qui-Gon ever thought about him this way, wondering how his hands would feel, how large his manhood would be?
Probably, he realized with a start. Obviously, Qui-Gon had thought about him in a sexual fashion, or he wouldn't have presumed to be his first lover. Was his Master in love with him? He let himself remember their last mission, how controlling Qui-Gon had been when the Senator's daughter had sought out Obi-Wan's company.
No, not controlling.
Jealous.
Obi-Wan let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. Jealousy. It was quite a concept. But, there had been other times, he realized, over the past year or so, when he had caught his Master watching while he joked with his friends, while Garen or Bant or another Padawan laughed and flirted with him. Yes, Qui-Gon had watched, his blue eyes never missing a touch or a teasing caress.
And, he suddenly realized with startling clarity, he had often found his Master watching him a bit too intently, times when Qui-Gon's guiding hands had lingered a moment or two longer than was strictly necessary.
Yes, he could see it all now, though why he couldn't before was beyond him. Qui-Gon was in love with him!
Obi-Wan let his senses travel outward to locate Qui-Gon's Force presence, studying it from behind his shields. He sensed great affection and caring, of course, but there was more. Want. Need. Desire.
A shiver made Obi-Wan bite his lip. His Master desired him. And, how did he feel in return?
Qui-Gon was, obviously, the most important person in his life. His teacher, his mentor, the closest thing he had known to a father, yet not. To Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon was the rock on which he could always depend, the guide who would never steer him wrong, the one constant in the universe who would always be there. But, do I love him in return? he asked himself.
"All is ready, my Padawan," Qui-Gon's voice said from behind him. Obi-Wan turned and felt his mouth drop open in surprise.
The older Jedi had draped the small round table with a rich, velvet cloth, its simple geometric design done in burgundy, navy blue and mint green. Its fringed edge dripped with crystal beads which reflected the light from the three deep red pillar candles that graced the center of the table. Two glasses but only one plate had been set out, piled high with sliced fruits, shelled nuts, and thick chunks of fresh cheese.
It's beautiful, he wanted to say, but Qui-Gon was already holding a chair out for him, gesturing him toward it. He went silently, suddenly aware that he and his Master had skipped second meal.
"Hungry?" Qui-Gon asked, his voice a deep and resonant as he took his own seat.
"Starved," Obi-Wan admitted. He started to reach for a piece of fruit, only to have his hand brushed away. He raised his eyes to meet his Master's.
"I will feed you," Qui-Gon said with a smile. "It's part of the ritual."
"Master, I --"
"Shhh." A touch of the Force set the candle flames to dancing, twisting gently as if caught in a whirlwind. "On this," Qui-Gon began, his voice taking of a solemn tone, "the eve of your nineteenth naming day, your days as a child are behind you. As the Force stirs the candle flame, so does it stir the flame of your sensuality, sweeping you into adulthood."
He lifted a tiar nut and held it to Obi-Wan's lips. "Eat," he instructed.
Obi-Wan obeyed, closing his teeth over the tidbit, feeling them lightly graze his Master's fingers.
"There is no emotion," Qui-Gon quoted, his voice hushed and solemn, "there is peace. May your rise to adulthood be one of harmony with your body as well as with your mind."
Obi-Wan had barely swallowed the nut when Qui-Gon broke off a bite of cheese and pressed it to his mouth. "Eat," the Master repeated. The cheese was sharp, just as Obi-Wan liked it, and he took it gratefully.
"There is no passion," Qui-Gon continued, changing the familiar order of the Jedi Code, and Obi-Wan blinked in surprise. "There is serenity." He brushed a crumb off Obi-Wan's lip and offered it to the younger man on the pad of his thumb. After only a moment's hesitation, Obi-Wan let the tip of his tongue sweep it away.
He watched in amazement as his Master's pupils dilated, nearly extinguishing the blue of his eyes. When next he spoke, Qui-Gon's voice was raspy with what could only be need, the burr of his accent deeper than normal, and Obi-Wan swallowed hard, feeling his breath quicken and blood rise to his face. But, the ceremony was not finished, for now Qui-Gon was holding up a slice of kava fruit. Its rich purple juice dripped down his fingers, and Obi-Wan felt an almost overwhelming desire to lick it away.
"Eat," Qui-Gon said as he slid the tart fruit between his Padawan's lips, his fingers lingering there a few seconds too long. "There is no ignorance; there is knowledge." He leaned forward, his blue eyes flickering in the candlelight, the tip of his tongue showing between his full lips. "Know that I love you, my own, with all that I am."
The blood that had colored his cheeks suddenly rushed southward and settled in Obi-Wan's groin, firming and lifting his member, and he was hard pressed to swallow the fruit without choking on it.
"Master," he began, barely recognizing his own voice. "I --- can't ---"
"It's all right, my own," Qui-Gon said. He lifted one of the glasses, handing it to Obi-Wan. The blood red wine within swirled within its crystal prison, begging to be sampled. "A toast," the Master said, lifting his own glass and clicking it softly against Obi-Wan's. "May your first time be with someone special, whoever that may be."
They finished their meal in silence, Qui-Gon finally allowing his Padawan to feed himself now that the ceremony had apparently concluded. Finally, Qui-Gon pushed back in his chair and yawned. "It's late, my Padawan. Let's go to bed."
"Bed?" Obi-Wan echoed, his throat suddenly nearly too dry for speech. Frantically, he looked around for another option. He swallowed when he found no other suitable furniture in the room. "You take the bed, Master. I'll sleep on the floor."
"Nonsense. The bed is big enough for both of us."
"But, I ---"
"I insist, Padawan."
Obi-Wan sighed. "All right. But only if you promise to keep your hands to yourself."
Qui-Gon laughed. "Of course, Obi-Wan." With that, he proceeded to undress, removing each piece of clothing slowly as if he were one of those on-stage strippers. Finally, he was down to only his leggings, and he stopped, gazing at his horrified Padawan. "Would you prefer me to keep these on, Obi-Wan?" he asked.
Obi-Wan nodded rapidly, suddenly mute.
Qui-Gon smiled. He looked his Padawan up and down. "Surely you're not going to sleep fully clothed," he said. When Obi-Wan didn't answer, he continued. "At least, strip down to your leggings. You know you won't sleep well if you don't." He stepped forward, reaching. "Here. Let me help you ---"
Obi-Wan stopped him with a sharp, "No!" With slightly trembling hands, he removed his own clothes, then checked the drawstring of his pants to be certain it was secure. Luckily, the bed was huge, and he lay down near one edge, turning his back on his Master. A soft, sad sigh was the only response the older man made as he climbed under the covers.
"Good night, Obi-Wan."
"Good night, Master."
It was some time before sleep claimed him, and Obi-Wan awoke a few hours later to find his Master stroking him rhythmically on the hip. "Master," he said sleepily. "You promised to keep your hands to yourself, remember?"
A low, exotic purr answered him. "That's not my hand, Obi-Wan."
Shocked, Obi-Wan threw himself out of the bed. His feet tangled in the blankets and sent him thudding to the floor. One hand rubbing a bruised backside, he bolted to his feet and turned to glare into the amused blue eyes that were watching him.
Reaching out with one hand, he stripped away the covers, to reveal ---
His breath caught at the sight of his Master's naked body. But, it was the rampant, plum-colored erection that most drew his eyes. It was emmense. Thick and long, it reached out toward him, a few drops of pearly liquod adorning the end.
Unconsciously, Obi-Wan reached back to touch a damp spot on the hip of his leggings. He jerked his hand away just as quickly.
"Master!" he gasped, feeling his face light up with embarrassement. "I can't believe you did that!"
"That is the whole point of our being here, Padawan."
"But, I don't want you!"
"Perhaps not now," Qui-Gon said with a sultry smile. "But, you will."
"I wouldn't count on it." Obi-Wan made his way to the small cooler, favoring his throbbing hip.
"You're limping," Qui-Gon observed.
"It's nothing," the Padawan said after downing a glass of water.
Qui-Gon patted the bed. "Come here and let me see."
Obi-Wan felt his blush deepen. "It will be fine."
"I said, come here, Padawan."
Reluctantly, Obi-Wan obeyed.
"Turn around."
Obi-Wan hesitated, his face hot, but a stern look from his Master soon made him comply. Qui-Gon tugged at the waistband of his leggings.
"Drop them."
Biting his lip, Obi-Wan undid the drawstring with fumbling fingers. This is my Master, he reminded himself silently. The same man who has tended my injuries countless times over the years. This is nothing he hasn't seen before. He lowered the pants only enough, however, to reveal his ass, holding them with one hand while covering his genitals self-consciously with the other. He could feel Qui-Gon's amusement at his modesty through their link, but refused to turn and look.
"Hmmm," Qui-Gon said, and a moment later Obi-Wan flinched as a warm, callused hand settled on one butt cheek. He squeezed his eyes closed as healing heat infused the area. To his mind, it took entirely too long, but eventually the hand fell away. "All done," his Master said, right before he pressed a kiss to the firm flesh.
With a yelp, Obi-Wan skittered away. He lost his grip on his leggings, and blushed again as he had to bend to retrieve them from around his ankles, affording his Master, he was sure, a very enticing view. As he retied the drawstring, he turned to glare into the blue eyes that still danced with humor, keeping his gaze firmly averted from the muscular, fully aroused body on the bed.
Qui-Gon scooted over, patting the sheets beside him. "Come back to bed, Padawan."
It was clearly an order, and Obi-Wan wouldn't dream of disobeying it. But he pointed a warning finger at his Master. "All right. Just -- no touching. All right?"
The rest of the night passed without incident, and Obi-Wan was surprised to find that he had overslept when finally he roused. Qui-Gon was wide awake, however, laying propped up on one elbow, his gaze locked on Obi-Wan's bare chest. At least, he had had the decency to put his leggings back on. Hurriedly, the Padawan leaped out of bed and reached for his tunic.
"It's nearly eighth hour, Master," he pointed out, glancing away from his Master and looking at the still-locked door.
The corners of Qui-Gon's mouth twitched in what might have been a smile, had not his eyes looked so disconsolate. "Yes. Eighth hour." He drew a deep breath, clearly trying to rally, as he sat up and swung his feet to the floor. "So, Padawan. I suppose you'll be glad to escape from here. Being trapped with your old Master can't have been easy."
Obi-Wan eyed him, feeling oddly guilty. "It wasn't so bad."
Qui-Gon nodded. "I'm glad." He looked up then, catching Obi-Wan's gaze. "Might I ask one favor of you before you go?"
"Certainly."
"Let me kiss you," Qui-Gon said. Seeing the startled reaction, he held up his hands. "Just a kiss, Padawan. I'll ask nothing more."
Obi-Wan drew his lower lip between his teeth, his gaze flickering from the indigo blue eyes to his Master's mouth. Finally, he nodded.
Carefully, Qui-Gon stepped up to him, his hands finding Obi-Wan's arms and gliding slowly up them, his touch tantalizingly light. They settled on his shoulders, stayed there for a moment kneading the tense muscles, before sliding up to cradle his face.
Obi-Wan felt his breath catch, his heart skip a beat, as his Master leaned over him, so close that his breath brushed warmly across Obi-Wan's skin. Here, he stopped, those incredible eyes studying the younger man's features as if memorizing them. Obi-Wan moistened his lips nervously, then watched in fascination as Qui-Gon copied the gesture, the tip of his pink tongue leaving glistening wetness on his lower lip.
"I do love you, my own," Qui-Gon said, his words a puff of sweet air that made Obi-Wan's heart beat faster and sent a flush of blood to his cheeks. Then, Qui-Gon leaned closer still, until their noses touched. Without thinking about what he was doing, Obi-Wan closed his eyes, tilting his head back, and a second later felt the softest kiss he had ever dreamed of.
It ghosted across his lips, feather light, gone a second later only to return, just as softly. He gasped as Qui-Gon briefly suckled his lower lip, then his upper, then stroked between them with the tip on his tongue. Finally, when Obi-Wan thought his heart would surely stop at the slow, delicious torture of it, their mouths merged. He opened his willingly, allowing Qui-Gon inside, reveling in the taste.
Yes. Yes, this was his Master. The mouth that was even now stealing Obi-Wan's breath away tasted of sweet spices and musk and scented tea.
His tongue was sucked inside that warm haven and suckled. Obi-Wan heard himself moan as a tingle traveled the length of his spine, setting all his nerve endings on alert and stopping somewhere in the vicinity of his groin. His penis began to swell, pressing against the confines of his leggings. He amazed himself by pressing his hips forward, rubbing his growing erection against the firmness of Qui-Gon's thigh. His hands reached up, seemingly of their own volition, and tangled in the long mane of hair that tumbled loosely around his Master's face.
He pulled the man impossibly nearer, concentrating now on the other's pleasure as he deepened the kiss, reveling in the needy moan his actions evoked. One of his hands slid down Qui-Gon's back, to the tight and tempting globes of his ass. He squeezed one firmly, pulling Qui-Gon nearer, nearer . . .
A sound behind them broke off the kiss, and they turned in each other's arms in time to see the door release and swing open. For a long moment, they simply stared at it.
"Well, you're free at last, my Padawan," Qui-Gon said softly.
"Yes. Free." Obi-Wan stepped back, disengaging, watching as Qui-Gon fought to keep the disappointment off his face. Then, with great deliberation, he stretched out one hand. Drawing on the Force, he pushed the door shut.
Qui-Gon gasped as the lock clicked into place, not to open again until eighth hour tomorrow. "What ---?" he asked, his Force presence confused and hopeful all at once. "What are you doing?"
Obi-Wan turned, his gaze locking with his Master's. "Something I should have done a long time ago." He stepped closer. Reaching up, he pulled his Master down into a smoldering kiss.
The End.