Storm-Tossed: A Wet PWP, by Mercutio (mercutio@europa.com)
SUMMARY: Qui-Gon/Obi-Wan. Nudity, sexual situation. Qui-Gon and
Obi-Wan are trapped on a sinking island at the height of a
hurricane.
NOTE: Many thanks to the masterjinn@onelist.com for their ideas
and support, and to Galadriel, who watched me write it.
ARCHIVE: Please. As often as possible and wherever you like.
The wind howled.
The voice of a thousand angry animals, it demanded a response.
It demanded surrender from its prey.
A surrender it was not going to get, not today.
Obi-Wan stepped up to Qui-Gon. Both he and his padawan were
soaked to the skin by the pelting rain. They'd discarded their
heavy cloaks. Drenched with water, the robes were only
hindrances to their present task. Getting the refugees off the
tiny island before it sank was their current mission, and it
was not an easy one.
Not in the very face of a hurricane.
Obi-Wan had lost his shirt, Qui-Gon noted with some detached
part of his brain that could still think. The young man's torso
was bare, and with his short hair, he had to be losing body
heat rapidly, despite their Force powers.
When Obi-Wan leaned in close to shout in his ear instead of
contacting him mentally, Qui-Gon was sure that his padawan's
strength was faltering.
"That's the last boatload! They're on their way now!
Masterfisher Rallan says that's everyone!"
Qui-Gon found that he was also cold. He put his arms around
Obi-Wan, drawing his apprentice to him to share their body
heat. We'll need to find our ship now.
Obi-Wan nodded, and Qui-Gon pulled away. It was warmer against
Obi-Wan than it was away from him.
They'd arrived on the island in a two-person speeder. The
islanders had only sea-faring vessels. In the aftermath of so
much planetary disaster, there were few craft and helpers
available for this particular group of people. Qui-Gon and
Obi-Wan had volunteered to help the islanders.
Help them they had. Now they themselves had to get off the
island.
Running, stumbling, they made their way over a ridge, looking
down into the valley where they'd left their ship...
And it was full of water, a bay now, part of the ocean.
Obi-Wan stood there, chiseled profile staring out blankly over
the seascape below.
To anyone who didn't know him, he might have seemed solemn,
seriously considering their situation.
To Qui-Gon, who did know his padawan very well, Obi-Wan was
fighting down a silent despair. "Our vessel? Can we raise it?"
Qui-Gon again folded his arms around his padawan, clasping
him, chest against back. "No. I cannot sense it."
"Our options?"
"We can hope that the island doesn't sink," Qui-Gon said, chin
tucking into the side of Obi-Wan's face. He appreciated the
break from the wind. "Wait for rescue, or, I suppose, improve
our swimming skills."
"There will be no rescue," Obi-Wan reminded his master. "The
planetary defense system is overburdened. And swimming..."
Obi-Wan shivered, and Qui-Gon tightened his arms around him,
"would be a better option if I were not exhausted. I... am not
sure I can maintain my temperature in this wind alone much
longer, and know I would not be able to endure in the frigid
water." They were maintaining their core temperatures with the
Force, which would prevent the otherwise inevitable
hypothermia.
Qui-Gon rubbed his hands up and down Obi-Wan's arms. "We are
yet alive. While we are alive, there is hope."
"And if we are not?" Obi-Wan asked, a trace of humor coming
back into his tired voice.
"Then there is no death; there is the Force."
"I feel as though I should be meditating."
Qui-Gon chuckled. "Right now, we should concentrate on
hoarding what warmth we have left."
"Yes, master. I believe there's a shelter higher up -- it
should be safe for longer than the structures on the beach."
"The watch post?" Qui-Gon had seen it. The roofed structure
was open to the wind and the rain, as many of the structures on
this island were. But it would be better than no shelter at
all.
Obi-Wan nodded.
Breaking apart again left Qui-Gon near shivers himself. His
control was better than his padawan's, but the contrast between
the warmth generated skin-to-skin and the cold after it left
was too much.
They struggled up the line of the ridge, toward the watch
post.
Qui-Gon watched Obi-Wan's boots as they trudged through the
rocky mud, conserving his energy as much as he could.
When they reached the post, Qui-Gon nearly staggered into
Obi-Wan's back.
"We're here," Obi-Wan said, stepping under the dubious shelter
of the half-torn off roof. They had not yet seen the full force
of the storm; when they did, it was likely that the structure
would disintegrate completely.
The floor of the watch post was only slightly less wet than
the ground outside. The building looked like it might come down
at any moment.
Qui-Gon sighed and accepted it. He sat down on the floor.
"Come here, Obi-Wan."
His padawan accepted the instruction with less than his usual
grace, and together they found a uncomfortable balance on the
floor, lying entangled together.
Qui-Gon was conscious of Obi-Wan's wet hair against his neck,
the soft exhale of his apprentice's breath against the exposed
skin of his chest.
He focussed. His life energy was still a warm furnace within
him. Obi-Wan's was not. He reached out with the Force,
strengthening Obi-Wan.
"No. Don't, master." Obi-Wan threw up shields. "Don't. You
need that for yourself."
He withdrew. The concentration needed to work around those
shields would sap his strength further. Qui-Gon could not do
that. It would help neither of them.
"Obi-Wan..."
"No, master."
The rain drove harder, and the winds, if anything, seemed to
pick up. They had evacuated the island just in time. Just in
time for everyone but them.
It was quite possible that the hurricane would kill them
before the island's sinking had a chance to do so.
And his padawan only grew colder. Being out of the full fury
of the storm helped, as did lying next to Qui-Gon. But he could
still feel the continued drain of heat from Obi-Wan's body.
"This is not working," Qui-Gon muttered against his padawan's
hair.
"Master?" Obi-Wan asked, coming out of a light doze.
That Obi-Wan could doze in this cold only worried Qui-Gon
more. "You must stay awake. And alive."
Obi-Wan closed his eyes. His voice was heavy and slurred.
"Might as well die in my sleep as awake. Least this way... my
last memory'll be of you holding me."
Qui-Gon wanted to shake him. Wanted to wake him and ground him
to the living world somehow. Obi-Wan might live forever in the
Force, but Qui-Gon could not bear the thought of his padawan
dying before himself. Not when there might still be something
he could do to prevent it.
His hands stroked down Obi-Wan's sides to his wet trousers.
The clinging material was doing nothing to warm his apprentice.
He stripped the clothes from Obi-Wan's body as quickly as he
could, then his own, too, sheltering his padawan against
himself.
It was not that much warmer.
Even half-unconscious, his padawan was still maintaining his
shields.
The only option left was to get through those -- without
harming Obi-Wan -- and share his own life energy. Somehow.
There was one way he could think of, but it would not work
with Obi-Wan half asleep.
Qui-Gon rolled over, placing Obi-Wan under him, taking the
sting of the rain against his own back, protecting the younger
man. He had to get Obi-Wan's blood circulating. Had to keep
Obi-Wan from falling into a more permanent sleep, and rouse him
enough to be aware of his intentions.
He started chafing Obi-Wan's flesh, from his face down to his
feet, bringing as much blood -- and warmth with it -- into the
skin as he could.
As he made his way back down Obi-Wan's naked body for the
second time, he was rewarded with the sound of Obi-Wan's voice.
"What are you doing?"
"Trying to keep you from dying, love."
"L-love? When have I ever been your love?"
"For longer than you know," he whispered. Then lowered his
head, placing his lips against Obi-Wan's cold ones and lightly
pushed his padawan's lips apart, feeling inside with his
tongue.
Obi-Wan breathed out, mouth opening more widely. "W-why..."
Qui-Gon pulled back for a moment, "Do not worry about why. Do
not worry. Merely feel."
Obi-Wan acquiesced easily, all too easily, pliantly allowing
himself to be drawn into an embrace -- and his shields came
down.
Having compromised his ethics with nothing more than a kiss,
Qui-Gon was in Obi-Wan's mind immediately, and swiftly began
sending healing energy through Obi-Wan's body, telling it to
maintain its own temperature despite the rain and the cold.
And in that embrace, mental as well as physical, he felt
Obi-Wan's love for him, almost tangible between them. Sadness
swept over him, and Qui-Gon forced himself to concentrate. This
was Obi-Wan's life here...
...and his own if he wanted to be honest with himself. His
life with this man. The core of the person that was Obi-Wan was
not threatened. He would become a part of the Force should he
die. But Qui-Gon would have lost a companion, someone whom he
was finding more and more difficult to think of living without
as the years moved inexorably on. He'd put it off, thinking
knighthood to still be a time away.
But the threat of death had come sooner, and Qui-Gon would not
let it take his love.
His own body radiated heat as Qui-Gon concentrated on the
Force. Obi-Wan's was slowly beginning to respond to Qui-Gon's
mental promptings, even as Qui-Gon still laid stretched out
along his apprentice's body.
Stretched out, and growingly aware of a certain stiffness, of
Obi-Wan's growing arousal.
"Master..." Obi-Wan sighed, arms twining around Qui-Gon's
neck.
Movement was good. It sent pulses of blood through the
muscles, which Qui-Gon could feel in the intricate healing web
that he was maintaining. Movement improved Obi-Wan's condition.
Even as his padawan's movements tugged at him, demanding a
response.
He felt Obi-Wan brace his legs and then raise his hips,
grinding them as best he could against Qui-Gon's longer body.
Wantonly. Greedily, as though this were the only chance they
would ever get and Qui-Gon the dearest love he would ever know.
In the lashing of the rain, Qui-Gon thought that Obi-Wan might
well be right. If they survived the hurricane, they would never
survive the cold waters of the ocean. His reserves would not
last that long, not even only for himself.
It would only be this once, and Obi-Wan needed him
desperately....
Qui-Gon tore his shields open, baring himself to Obi-Wan,
letting his padawan see the fullness of his care and concern
and affection. Sharing all of it, letting this encounter be the
last and best thing they would ever share on this plane.
Obi-Wan's mind reached for his own, and they were together,
warm and safe and protected mentally even as their bodies
remained exposed and chilled.
Bodies mimicked minds, mating with desperate urgency, the
flesh longing to join as completely. Qui-Gon thrust into
Obi-Wan even as the younger man was struggling against his
larger body, writhing in the throes of his own violent orgasm.
Qui-Gon stiffened and came as well, crying out, even as their
minds sent up a jubilant carol. Together. Fully.
In that moment, there was no cold, no rain, only the two of
them.
But, as the pleasure drained away and bodies cooled, Qui-Gon
remembered their impossible situation. Remembered Obi-Wan's ill
health as his padawan seemed to slip away again, remaining only
as an ember in his mind.
And stayed leaning over his padawan, trying to protect him as
best he could, for as long as he could. Obi-Wan was his
responsibility and his love, and Qui-Gon would not now or ever
abandon him.
No matter what. He resigned himself to their fate, and
welcomed it, calm within the Force.
And when he felt the brush of another, different, Jedi-trained
mind against his own, he could hardly believe it.
Hello? he sent out. Who are you? Where are you?
The contact came back in emotions rather than words. A surge
of relief, replaced by determination and a wave of support.
Whoever it was was on their way. They would be rescued.
Qui-Gon let himself sag then, still cradling Obi-Wan to them.
Rescued. Safe. Alive. Blessings enough for a thousand men
rather than just two. And he rested in a half-trance,
conserving his energy, while he waited for their saviors.
When he came to himself again, hands were pulling him away
from Obi-Wan and a blanket draped around him. A warm, mostly
dry blanket.
"My thanks," he managed to say.
The knight who had rescued him smiled as she handed him into
the waiting vehicle. "You were broadcasting loud enough to be
heard halfway to Coruscant." She grabbed another length of
fabric and began roughly rubbing him down, using the Force to
encourage his own circulation. "When's the ceremony?"
Qui-Gon felt a moment's puzzlement, broken off as Obi-Wan was
lifted into the vessel. He drew his own blanket off and began
rubbing Obi-Wan dry with it, tending to him in the same way he
had been tended to, unconscious of his nudity, unconscious of
another blanket being draped around him.
All that mattered was Obi-Wan. When he had gotten his padawan
dry to his satisfaction, Qui-Gon sat down, Obi-Wan lying
against him, nearly in his arms, as he shared his own body
warmth yet again with his apprentice. His love.
Obi-Wan opened his eyes and looked at his master, lips
quirking into a tired half-smile. "Looks like there was another
possibility after all."
"Thank the Force." And Qui-Gon's chin dropped as he stared
down at his padawan, wet hair draping around Obi-Wan's face,
enclosing them in their own private world.
Oh, yes, the knight thought as the vessel took off from
the doomed island. There's going to be a bonding ceremony
all right. And about time.
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