by Wren, Shadow, Rachael Sabotini and Lilith Sedai
This little story began as a round-robin collaboration of sorts
on #tpm. We all hope that you will enjoy it.
Wren -- wren@mindspring.com
Shadow -- erryn@eskimo.com
Rachael Sabotini -- rachael@mediafans.org
Lilith Sedai -- lilith_sedai@hotmail.com
Archive: M_A, SWAL, our homepages only
Category: angst, first-time
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: none
Spoilers: none
Summary: A miscommunication on a diplomatic mission leads to
temporary hurt feelings.
Feedback: yes, please, any comments welcome.
Disclaimer: We don't own them, George does. We're not profiting
from them, either.
Concern made Qui-Gon wade into the lake, following in his
errant Padawan's path. The water did nothing to cool Qui-Gon's
overheated skin or soothe his mind. Obi-Wan had been notably
silent and withdrawn ever since their arrival, to the point
that he had not even protested Qui-Gon leaving him behind to
meet with the Duke's councilors. The meetings had been long and
dull, and Qui-Gon had seen little of Obi-Wan since they started
-- enough, though, to know that something preyed on his mind.
It was only this morning that Qui-Gon realized what it might
be. In his first conversation with the Duke, he had had to
explain the Jedi and Obi-Wan's place as his Padawan. The word
he had used had two meanings, and Obi-Wan might have taken it
wrongly. Is that what had stopped him from calling out earlier,
when Obi-Wan had first entered the water? Or had it been the
way his skin glistened that had held his voice in his throat?
He suspected that might have been it, that and the sweet smooth
curve of his Padawan's bare bottom as he dove, followed by his
own need to wrestle his passions into place.
It was almost a game they played, this tormenting of one
another, yet neither had ever fallen. A conversation would turn
to flirtation and then one would pull back. He could not
remember when it had started, but he knew that it would end as
soon as one of them gathered the courage to cross the unwritten
line.
Force willing, it would be soon.
Qui-Gon had thought it might even happen here -- until Obi-Wan
grew too quiet and turned away. Serenity and focus had been
hard to claim after that.
Now here he was, halfway to the stone island in the midst of
the stream where Obi-Wan lay basking in the sun, and he had no
idea what he would say when he arrived. Instead of worrying, he
lived in the moment, stroking smoothly until his fingertips
touched the stone. He pulled himself up on it, lounging next to
Obi-wan's lazy, sleeping form. A drop of water fell from his
hair onto Obi-Wan's back, sliding down the curve of his ass and
onto the warm stone. A tremor, then, as Obi-Wan's muscles
reacted, protesting the disturbance of his slumber.
He watched the play of sinuous muscle, and for a moment, forgot
why he had sought out his Padawan, the mind giving way to the
body's desire.
Beauty itself lay before him.
Pulling himself back, Qui-Gon tried to dry his hand by sliding
it across his own chest, then let it hover gently over the
small of Obi-Wan's back. He stared at the image a moment, the
way his large hand shadowed his Padawan's skin, then let it
rest, gently, softly against that warmth.
"Obi-Wan," he called, his voice rumbling in the air. A sharp
flutter of wings nearby led to a burst of brilliant color as a
sleeping bird took flight, startled by his voice. Qui-Gon
watched it wing its way upward, then felt Obi-Wan tremble to
wakefulness under his hand.
Obi-Wan rolled over and smiled at him, his mind still
dream-befuddled from the look in his half-lidded eyes.
"Qui-Gon?" he asked, stretching and pressing his body up
against Qui-Gon's hand. "I thought you had meetings...."
His voice drifted, and Qui-Gon realized his hand was no longer
pressed against Obi-Wan's back. In haste, he pulled his hand
away, disconcerted by his thoughts and by the situation. "The
rest of today's talks have been postponed. I came to see how
you were."
Obi-Wan gazed at Qui-Gon out of faintly shadowed eyes. "Not
sure," he ventured at last.
Qui-Gon nodded absently, preoccupied by the sheen of water
where his hand had unconsciously trailed close to his Padawan's
navel. He lay back, shading his eyes from the brilliant sun
with one arm, stretching out his legs.
The image had already burned itself into Qui-Gon's mind. Behind
his shuttered eyes, he traced the lines of Obi-Wan's body, felt
the softness of his skin and the hardness of bone; he was
already half-erect. "It's nice here," he murmured, his arm over
his eyes, keeping himself away from his Padawan's body. A good
place to talk, he thought.
"Yes," Obi-Wan replied noncommittally. Qui-Gon felt him sit up
and turn toward him, looking at him.
Qui-Gon could feel the intensity of his gaze sweeping up and
down his body; he had followed Obi-Wan's lead and chosen to
swim naked. Obi-Wan was taking advantage of Qui-Gon's covered
eyes. Looking, yes, but silent, too silent by half. Qui-Gon
shifted his legs, conscious of the effect his evident arousal
was having on the younger man, hoping that Obi-Wan
would...what?
Well, start the conversation, of course.
"You'll sunburn," Obi-Wan warned him abruptly and scrambled
away.
Uncovering his eyes, Qui-Gon watched as Obi-Wan pulled a
water-proof pouch out from a crevice in the rock, then closed
his eyes again and lay back. Soon, a cool trail of droplets
traced its way down the center of his chest to his belly,
hesitated at his navel, then trickled very slowly lower.
Qui-Gon sighed deeply, unmoving, as gentle hands massaged the
oil over his body.
Qui-Gon almost groaned as Obi-Wan's nimble fingers worked out
the knots in his calves. Three days of endless negotiations,
difficult grounding katas performed in the few spare moments he
had without proper warm-up...he should know better. But even
the diplomats had tired of the ceaseless bickering and demanded
some rest, granting him the chance to be here with his padawan.
Now all he need do was find an opening to talk about what
Obi-Wan was feeling.
Just as soon as he finished this massage...
"Turn over." Qui-Gon opened his eyes and did as he'd been told,
wondering if this time the flirtation would turn to something
else. But how could it when he still didn't know what had
disturbed Obi-Wan so? Care for the mind, the heart, and the
body, he reminded himself. But contrary to traditional Jedi
teaching, Qui-Gone believed in putting the heart first.
"Here." Obi-Wan poured a palmful of oil and rubbed it into his
skin.
Qui-Gon's words still hurt, but they were just words. Obi-Wan
was very aware of the warm skin under his hand as he rubbed the
oil in, slowly working his way down his master's back to his
ass. The freedom to touch like this was something out of his
deepest dreams, and he wanted to treasure the moment.
For several months now he had harbored the idea that something
more was growing between them, something other than the
training bond. But when he overheard Qui-Gon's introduction of
him to the people of Gallish, he had been stunned to learn that
Qui-Gon still thought him a child.
Blushing, he let the pain of that moment flow through him. He
had been glad that Qui-Gon had had little time for him these
past few days; it had given him time to look inside himself and
come to accept that his master still felt that way.
Yet his master still teased him, flirted with him here on this
rock. He made no mention of the tension between them; perhaps
Qui-Gon didn't know? It seemed unlikely, but perhaps -- perhaps
his master wasn't as aware of Obi-Wan's thoughts as he'd always
believed. Maybe there was simply too much distance to cross
between them.
He took a deep breath and relaxed. Live in the moment, my young
Padawan. Good advice when the moment looked to be all he would
ever have.
Taking more oil into his hand, Obi-Wan slowly worked his way
down the corded thighs. His eyes followed the path of his hand
over the crisp hair, taut muscles, and tanning skin. Qui-Gon
sighed softly under his attention, seeming to savor each touch
of his callused fingers. Pouring a little more oil into his
palm, Obi-Wan put the bottle down and rubbed his hands
together, shifted slightly, and began to work at the tight
calves with both hands. He swallowed, seeing his Master like
this, naked, trusting....It was a vision. A dream... and he
wanted it to never end.
Digging his fingers into the tight muscles, Obi-Wan nearly
smiled at the groan he caused. "You should be more careful," he
said with a hint of scolding in the words. He could see the
tension slowly leaving, days of accumulated stress seeping
away, the big body relaxing. This was a gift he could still
give, it seemed, though anything else might be out of reach. He
would accept what was his place to offer.
Qui-Gon rumbled his assent. "I should. And I should be grateful
that my Padawan takes such care of me...." Obi-Wan's mind
snapped back into focus, and he felt some of his own tension
return. His hands trembled for a moment, then continued the
massage. "I try, Master," he murmured softly.
Qui-Gon's brow furrowed, feeling Obi-Wan's hesitation. The
heart, the mind, the body, he reminded himself. Not everything
can be communicated with words. "Perhaps it is time I returned
the favor." He rolled slowly onto his side, reaching for the
oil. "Lie down, Padawan."
Shifting away, Obi-Wan returned to his earlier position. He lay
face down. Qui-Gon watched him, sinking into deep empathy with
the young man. Obi-Wan would be feeling the sun-warmed rock
pressing into his body as he pillowed his head on his folded
arms. He was tensing. His eyes stared at the sun reflecting off
the water. Qui-Gon felt his apprentice shiver at the first
touch, sensed him ruthlessly closing off his earlier feelings.
Qui-Gon oiled his hands and began at the shoulders, kneading at
the knotted muscles under smooth, tanned skin. He could feel
Obi-Wan tremble beneath his fingers and silently cursed himself
for a fool. Into each touch, he put as much care and concern
for Obi-Wan as he could find within himself, using the Force to
send those waves of love, respect, and trust to caress his
padawan's soul. If he could ease some of the hurt like this, so
be it. The time to talk would come when it was right.
Obi-Wan was making a concentrated effort to relax, but it was
hard for him. Qui-Gon soothed him gently, wordless images of
their time together rising in his mind, ripping through the
Force to calm Obi-Wan's mind. He let his Padawan know that the
hands that worked their way down his body belonged to a man he
could and did trust with his life, if he needed to. The
projected thought filtered into Obi-Wan's mind slowly; Qui-Gon
could feel his tensions easing, and he sighed in unison with
the younger man.
Qui-Gon continued working the oil slowly down Obi-Wan's back,
relaxing the muscles under his hands as he went. As the tension
left the younger man's body, he felt a tightness around his
heart ease. "Have you come here daily, Obi-Wan?"
Obi-Wan hissed at a knot, then sighed. "I try to. It's quiet
here." He let his eyes close as he spoke.
"And beautiful. You have exquisite taste, my Padawan." He
stroked slowly around the abused muscle, using just a touch of
the Force to draw its pain away. As Obi-Wan relaxed fully he
shifted sensuously on the sun-warmed rock. Desire coiled in
Qui-Gon's belly at the sight.
"Yes. It is beautiful." Pulling an arm out from under his
cheek, Obi-Wan draped it over the rock to dip his fingers into
the cool water. "I wanted to bring you here. To show you. To
share it."
Qui-Gon dropped his voice nearly to a whisper. "Why haven't
you?" He reached out to Obi-Wan, traced an eyebrow softly with
his index finger. "Did you think I would not come?"
Obi-Wan shivered slightly at the touch and clenched his hand in
the water, the pain from Qui-Gon's words welling up in his
eyes. He breathed deeply and released it, staring across the
water. He opened his hand as a fish swam up inquiringly. "I
have tried several times."
Had he? The thought started him, that he would not notice his
Padawan reaching out to him, Obi-Wan appealing to him in pain?
This morning...the morning's conversation had been brief,
Qui-Gon forestalling Obi-Wan's questions abruptly. He had
needed to leave, attend the morning session, but perhaps he had
been harsher than necessary, pushing his own feelings aside.
Treating him like a child.
Qui-Gon sighed. "I am sorry, my Obi-Wan. Perhaps it is past
time we talk."
"I know these negotiations are important." Obi-Wan teased the
fish for a moment before it swam away. "I did not say anything
before, because I did not wish to distract you from your work,
but Master...what you said hurt." He stared at the water, not
looking at the older man. "I know I sound young when I say
that, foolish, youthful, naive, but I thought...I thought I
meant more. It has been hard for me to accept, though I have
worked on it these past few days."
"What if I thought there was nothing for you to accept,
Obi-Wan? What I said...it should not have hurt. That it did was
my fault, my failing, not yours. Please..." He cupped his hand
under his apprentice's chin and gently turned his head. "Please
look at me."
Obi-Wan looked into his master's eyes at the gentle touch and
allowed the depth of his hurt to show. He turned slightly,
bracing himself on the rock to look without straining. "I know
that. I will do anything for you, Master. But to be brushed off
in our quarters like I'm only a servant?" He clamped his mouth
shut, pulling away to sit up. "We were alone. No one to see, no
surveillance."
"We were alone, yes. But I never called you a servant, Obi-Wan,
nor did I imply you were."
Obi-Wan looked away. "You called me 'Kashim.'"
"Kashim, yes." Qui-Gon nodded. "That is the closest I could
come to your position."
"It's the boy who shovels out the stable, Master! How could you
think that of me?"
It was as he feared. Although he knew it was inappropriate,
Qui-Gon could not still his appreciation of the irony of this
moment. He smiled, hoping Obi-Wan would understand, the mirth
bubbling out of him in a low laugh. "Oh... oh, I see."
Obi-Wan glared at him. "You see what, Master? A child
fit for taking care of the horses?"
"Obi-Wan, no. A Kashim is the most trusted person in the
Gallish household. He is the one who cares for the animals and
saddles them when the master goes to war. He cares for the
armor, the weapons, the very food his master eats." Qui-Gon
felt his cheeks redden and knew he was blushing. "Warms his
Master's bed at night." He cleared his throat. "They are nearly
inseparable."
Obi-Wan stared at him, stunned, as the implications slowly
filtered in. His face flushed, and he looked away, his voice
rueful rather than contrite. "Then it was a compliment..." He
turned back and looked into Qui-Gon's sparkling eyes, meeting
his Master's laughter with his own.
"Yes, my Padawan. A hurried one, but no less heartfelt for it."
He cocked his head thoughtfully. "Though the Duke did feel that
you were a little old for such a role. He's been trying to
interest me in taking his nephew on instead." He let the smile
in his eyes reach his lips, watching Obi-Wan's astonishment
transform itself into amusement. Irrepressible, his Obi-Wan.
Devilment personified. "You are the rock on which I rest my
cares, Obi-Wan. The center from which I move." He trailed a
thumb slowly over the young man's cheek. "All that and more."
Obi-Wan smiled, embarrassed, yet his expression warmed, and he
leaned into Qui-Gon's touch. "I think my mind must have been
otherwise occupied, Master, for me to have taken it as an
insult." He turned his face into Qui-Gon's hand and placed a
soft kiss in the center of his broad palm. "I should have
trusted you."
The whispered words caressed his hand, and Qui-Gon's breath
caught in his throat, his whole bring filled with wanting. The
banked embers of his desire flared; let it be now. He moved his
hand behind Obi-Wan's head and gently pulled him closer, softly
brushing his lips across the other man's mouth, testing his
welcome. Lips parted as Obi-Wan moved into the embrace, his
eyes closing as he leaned into he kiss.
Yes.
His kisses were slow at first; he was drunk with the intensity
of the need to make them last. His hands roamed down Obi-Wan's
back as their lips and tongues devoured one another, each touch
fanning the gently growing flame. A shudder passed through him
as Obi-Wan returned his caresses, stroking his back, kneading
the mounds of his ass, leaving his skin tingling where they
touched.
The gentle caresses became commands, and Qui-Gon quickly
obeyed, easing Obi-Wan onto the ground beneath him. He watched
Obi-Wan's eyes, careful of pushing too much, making sure that
this was born of mutual desire. Kiss-swollen lips, eyes dilated
to pools of near-black, and a hard cock pressing into his side
all told him the body was willing.
But was the mind?
Obi-Wan's hands pulled him down, stroking him as he maneuvered
them so that he seemed to find a comfortable spot. "Don't
stop..." He whispered soft and low, his hands tangling in
Qui-Gon's hair. "Live in the moment..."
His words broke something within Qui-Gon; a rough moan of
passion escaped his lips. He lay heavily against Obi-Wan,
covering him with his body, shading his soft skin from the
harsh rays of the sun. Blood coursed through his veins like an
awakened river, pounding at his temples, driving away his
concerns. He could feel that Obi-Wan wanted this as much as he
did, the sleek caress of his shifting body driving Qui-Gon's
need higher.
He lay on his side, his legs threaded around Obi-Wan's. He
wrapped his hand around Obi-Wan's hard, leaking cock, eliciting
a groan. Obi-Wan matched the move, wrapping his hand around
Qui-Gon's cock, the sensation making Qui-Gon forget speech,
forget everything but the need for his Padawan's touch. He
froze as Obi-Wan brought his hand up over the tip, brushing it,
tantalizing, then gripped it forcefully, stroking down its
length.
Qui-Gon had no words for how good the touch felt, so he let his
body use its own language. Harsh kisses alternated with soft as
need drove them on, Obi-Wan matching him strength for strength
and thrust for thrust in expressing their need to mark what
they owned. Qui-Gon lost himself in the sensation of touching
Obi-Wan like this, bucking and thrusting and grinding out his
passion. A physical ache sang through him, the desire to claim
Obi-Wan, to fully possess him and be possessed in turn.
The image was too much, sending him spilling over the edge, his
body wrenching and jerking as he came. Obi-Wan moaned beneath
him, bucking into his hand, and despite his need to collapse,
Qui-Gon wrapped his hand tighter, stroking his lover to
completion. He swallowed Obi-Wan's final cry as he came, their
warm fluids mingling across thighs and chest, smearing them
each with the other's scent.
Obi-Wan lay panting, his chest heaving. Qui-Gon lay back and
pulled Obi-Wan onto him, letting his hands stroke through the
bottle-brush hair, sweaty and scented with river water.
Contentment and peace flowed between them, pleasure pure and
gentle as they lay there and let the rest of the day pass,
twined about one another in the warm sunlight, the sound of the
water soothing them as they alternated between dozing and
loving.
At last the brilliant light darkened, the sun moving behind the
trees on the far bank. Obi-wan sat up and rummaged around in
his pouch for the bottle of water he'd brought. He opened it
and sipped, then nudged Qui-Gon and handed him the bottle to
drink from as well.
"We should be going back."
"Yes, we should."
Neither man moved.
"If we go now, there will still be sunlight to dry us off. "
"True. And I fear that the btu-flies will be out soon. They
leave a nasty welt when they bite."
Obi-Wan looked at Qui-Gon out of the corner of his eye.
"Kashim, hmm?"
Qui-Gon ducked his head and nodded.
Obi-Wan stood, stretched and laughed. "Good. Your bed is softer
than this rock." He dove into the river, leaving Qui-Gon to
follow behind.
Thanks for the plot inspiration go to Isabeau, and the original
title ("I am Qui-Gon Jinn, and I took my Padawan on a rock")
came from "I am Qui-Gon Jinn, and I treat my Padawan like a
rock."
Many thanks to elynross, editrix rex, for betaing mid-stream
for me, and Maygra and Rosa for their support. --Rache
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