Storms III: Floods

by Kass (kassxf@aol.com)

Categories: Q/O, Angst, Action/Adventure

Rating: NC-17

Summary: A flash flood nearly costs Obi-Wan his life.

Third story in the "Storms" series, following "Lightning" and "Snows"

They were in the mountains on the northern hemisphere of Kwalhara. More precisely, Obi-Wan thought, negotiating a gully that led up the slope, they were in the foothills of the mountains of the northern hemisphere of Kwalhara.

These mountains were old, worn down by the ages, and he himself would hardly have called them mountains, but mountains they were, if only because they extended into the bedrock of the planet's crust.

It would have been a lot more interesting to explore them if he weren't tired and dirty and parched. This part of the world was suffering something of a drought; while traveling on foot, as was custom, to the capital, they'd only carried water enough for drinking, and he was so dusty that he itched.

There were clouds gathering overhead, though, that promised rain. He looked hopefully up at them and scrambled after Qui-Gon, who had reached the top of the hill and was looking thoughtfully up at the sky. "I don't like this weather," he murmured, when Obi-Wan caught up to him.

"Why not?" Obi-Wan extended his senses, felt no danger.

"We need to find shelter," Qui-Gon told him, a smile flickering. "This is flood country, especially if the rains hit as hard as I expect they will."

"Where are we going to find shelter?" Obi-Wan sighed, shifted his pack. "I suppose we could set the tent up on high ground."

"I'd rather something a little more solid, but we may have to do exactly that. Which means we need to speed our pace a bit, before it starts." Another quick smile.

Obi-Wan nodded, sighing inwardly. His legs were not quite as long as his master's, and speeding the pace meant keeping up with Qui-Gon's stride. He could do it; it just meant he was going to be one tired and sore Padawan when they stopped. Nodding, he fell into step with his master, stretching out his legs to keep up.

By the time they'd crossed the next ridge, his muscles were sore and he was beginning to feel somewhat put upon; the clouds had grown thicker, covered the sky now, and were darkening.

He kept his complaints to himself, sensing Qui-Gon's increasing worry, but couldn't repress the rising annoyance. "Master, I've got to rest," he finally told Qui-Gon, a little breathless, after the ascent of another hill.

Qui-Gon looked at him, frowned, glanced at the sky. "We should not," he began, then looked back at Obi-Wan. "Very well, but only briefly, Obi-Wan. This storm is coming in too quickly to spare much time."

He sank down to his heels, winced, and carefully slid the pack off his back. Rummaging in the top, he found a packet of high energy food cubes, chewed one.

"Drink some water, Obi-Wan, it is better to have it inside than out, it will increase your strength and endurance." Qui-Gon was still watching the sky, his tone was absent.

He sighed, obeyed, and had to admit that it did help; he rose feeling a little better, pack or no. "It doesn't look like it's moving that fast," he told his master, watching the clouds shift.

"But there's a wind building," Qui-Gon answered. "Can you feel it?"

He tried to extend, had to admit defeat. "No, I'm sorry, Master, I can't."

Quick, reassuring smile, and it was hard to be irritable at that. "You will." A brief shoulder clasp and they set off again.

Still at Qui-Gon's speed.

Which made him cross again the farther they went.

The sky grew darker, but by the time three hours had passed, the storm had not reached them, although there was distant thunder and lightning.

Obi-Wan had fallen behind. Not far behind, mind, but a good ten paces behind, and on their current hill, had fallen behind even more struggling to negotiate the gully that the was the easiest path upward.

Qui-Gon stopped, halfway up, turned back to regard him with concern. "Let me take the pack, Padawan."

It made him crosser. "No, I can manage. I'll be there in a moment." Shortly and he paused for a breath. "Honestly, I'll be fine, Master, just go ahead."

Faint frown. Then a nod, and Qui-Gon turned back, moved upward.

For a man his size, he moved with surprising grace, Obi-Wan thought, a little resentful of that grace. Taller, stronger, and more graceful, and he wasn't at all sure of why Qui-Gon would have ever accepted the runt of the creche as his padawan.

Which was total nonsense, he was working himself into a mood for no purpose, without basis, and so far from true. Looking up, he saw Qui-Gon vanishing over the crest of the hill, smiled ruefully at his own bad temper and tried for a leap across the gully.

He didn't make it, quite, but he didn't fall, either. Cursing, he caught his balance and leaned against the rocks, resting a moment.

"Obi-Wan!" Sharp voice.

"I'm coming," he called and wished he had let Qui-Gon take the pack after all. Stubborn, stupid pride and he was tired, moved around the rock for a better try at the edge of the gully.

"Obi-Wan!" Footsteps and he hear gravel scattering, heard another sound he couldn't identify and paused to look up as Qui-Gon appeared at the crest of the hill and began to slide recklessly down the slope, avoiding the gully he had used to ascend. "Obi-Wan, NOW!"

He blinked in alarm, opened his mouth and saw the rushing, foaming wall of water come over the crest and scrambled for the rocks, trying vainly to force tired muscles to pull him up.

He nearly made it. And Qui-Gon came within an arm's length, his face twisted in fear, reaching out for him, but the water caught the pack, pulled it and him away from the rock, slamming him hard against the side of the gully before tumbling him over and over, pulling him under the surface until he could no longer hold his breath. Another slam against a rock and he knew no more…..

"NO!" Qui-Gon threw himself forward, desperately reaching, using the Force to augment his strength and the boy was torn from his grasp.

A moment of panic and then he knelt, focusing himself inward until he had control, until he could extend his reach with the Force, extend his senses, use every bit of training at his command to hold out his hand, as if he actually grasped Obi-Wan's, closed his fingers tightly on his Padawan's essence and pull.

It was hardly easy. The boy had been hurled some distance down, the rushing flood carrying him along and pulling him under, he felt the strain of using this much power, of channeling it; even his muscles complained, tendons strained, pulling against the Force of water. He enlisted that Force, too, coaxing it, felt sweat beading on his brow and upper lip and then, suddenly, what opposed him melted away, he felt Obi-Wan come free of the water.

Heard thunder roll above him and felt the pelting rain begin.

He ignored it, rose, skidding down the hill, wet gravel and clay making it tricky going, found his apprentice crumpled on the wet hill, his legs still caught in the edge of the flood, slowly being tugged back into the water, the pack half-torn away, but still intact. "No," he rasped and tore at the remaining strap.

No breath in Obi-Wan's body, chilled by the icy water rushing down from the mountains--but there was still a pulse. Frantically, he rolled him over, lifted him up, carrying him up the hill to a safer spot, letting some of the water run out of his lungs. Then, bending over him, he pinched Obi-Wan's nose shut, pulled his mouth open and began to breathe for him: full breath in, head turned to listen, hands compressing the ribs to urge the lungs to work. He repeated this for what seemed an eternity, and finally, thankfully, blessedly, Obi-Wan's head jerked a bit, he began to cough.

Relieved enough to be trembling, Qui-Gon rolled him on his side, let him cough up the water, let him vomit what he'd swallowed, murmuring soothing idiocies while holding him so. Exhausted, Obi-Wan sank back against him, finally, coughing still, and shivering. Trying to talk.

"Hush." He held Obi-Wan tightly, pressed his cheek to wet hair. Only then did he realize that it was raining hard, realize that shelter, and immediate shelter, was the next urgent need.

It would have to be the tent, he thought, and looked up, saw an overhang that would help provide some shelter, the rock that buttressed it would cut the wind further. He had to get Obi-Wan warmth, and quickly, too.

His legs wobbled when he stood, the consequence of what he had done to save the boy, he grimaced at his own weakness and set to work.

Once he had Obi-Wan under the overhang, he went back for the boy's pack, dropped both on the rocks and began feverishly unpacking. Blankets first, then he peeled the boy out of the wet clothing and wrapped him in them, chafing cold skin feverishly. Obi-Wan roused a little, mostly to push at his hands, a whine trapped in his throat. "Hush, love, I've got to get you warm," he murmured, got more protests and swaddled more blankets around his Padawan. The tent, he had to get the tent up and the campstove on; hot tea and soup--his mind ran in circles, he took in a deep breath to quiet it. Took a moment to clear his mind. The worst was past, he reminded him self, the greatest danger now lay in illness from the water in Obi-Wan's lungs, and there were things he could do about that, drained or not.

The tent, as always, went up easily; he wedged it under the overhang as well, got the packs inside. Lifting Obi-Wan carefully, he got another whined protest, ignored it. Settled Obi-Wan in the corner farthest from the wind before sealing the tent shut against the weather.

If only, if only--if only he'd been less worried about the boy's pride and more about the possibility of flooding, he told himself grimly and powered up the small stove. It would do for heat and for cooking, and he had several packets of dried soup. Plenty of water outside, as well, he told himself; rain water on Kwalhara was as clean as one could hope for, and he was going to boil it anyway.

There was a livid bruise on Obi-Wan's forehead that bled into the hairline, too close to the temple for comfort; while waiting for the pan to fill, he stripped off wet clothes and wrapped himself in a blanket, sat down beside the boy to settle himself, to examine Obi-Wan for injuries. The bruise itself seemed only a bruise, no recurrence of the injury on Ysgare, Force be thanked; bruises everywhere, but thankfully no broken bones, and he managed to use just a tendril of energy to work what healing he could on those before turning back to the campstove.

In only a little while, he had water hot for tea, poured some of it into the pot to steep and poured the packets of soup into the rest. Lifting the boy, he coaxed him awake, gently patting a pale cheek.

"Wanna sleep," Obi-Wan told him muzzily.

"You can't, love. You need to drink some of this for me, it's good for you."

Obi-Wan coughed again, tried to turn away. "My throat hurts."

"I know, this will help it." He lifted the boy up against his chest. "Obi-Wan, you must drink."

A heartfelt sigh, but Obi-Wan obeyed, sipped only a little at first, but then drank thirstily. He stroked damp hair, held the cup, shaky again. If only, he thought again. "Better?"

"Mmmhmmm." Sinking back against his chest again, Obi-Wan sighed. "I'm sorry."

His arms tightened. "As am I, love." So nearly lost, he thought and shivered. "I should not have moved ahead of you."

"I should have moved faster." Rustily.

He found the breath for a chuckle. "Never mind, it was simply one of those inadvertent missteps for both of us." Rubbed his cheek against the damp hair. "Can you manage more tea? Are you warm enough?"

A shiver. "Mostly. More tea would be nice."

The pot was within his reach. He put the cup on the floor of the tent, refilled it, brought it back to Obi-Wan's lips. One battered hand came up to take it, he smoothed his fingertips over abraded knuckles, applying just a touch of Force to urge the tissues to heal more quickly.

Obi-Wan sighed. "You're too good to me, you should let me suffer the consequences of my own idiocies."

"This wasn't your idiocy," Qui-Gon murmured. "It was the weather's. And mine. I should never have gone ahead, I know better, we should stay together when things are chancy, watch each other's backs."

A rusty snicker. "Usually, it's you watching mine."

He smiled into Obi-Wan's hair. "Well, that's as it should be, I'm the old man. But I do count on you to watch mine, you know."

A faint sound and Obi-Wan drank again. Coughed. "How did you get me out? I'd swear I was going downstream at the speed of light."

"Not quite." His arm tightened again. "After a moment of total, blind panic, I did what I should have done immediately, I used Force."

"That explains why I'm not back at the village of Durban." Rueful note, despite the hoarseness. "

He couldn't help laughing softly. "I think so, yes."

More tea went down, most of the cup, and then Obi-Wan sighed. "I can't manage any more, Qui-Gon."

He took the cup, set it aside. "You can't go back to sleep, love, you've a nasty bruise on your head, I want you to stay awake for a while."

Another sigh. "Hells."

"Are you warm enough?" Remembering the chill of flesh, remembering that limp form, unbreathing, in his arms, he nevertheless resisted the urge to add another blanket until Obi-Wan answered.

There was a moment of silence, and then, "I'd be a great deal warmer if you were in here with me." Tentative.

He laughed outright. "You'll be fine, I can tell. Very well, we cannot have you chilled." Deftly, he unwrapped the swaddling, got into it, and rewrapped them both, cradling Obi-Wan's compact body against his own. "There."

Obi-Wan all but purred, bruises or battering notwithstanding. "Oh, that's good."

He stroked skin that was warming, thankfully. "It's better than good." Heartfelt. Remembering that chill still made him shudder inwardly.

"I love you." Very small voice.

"I love you," he murmured and nuzzled the soft hair. "Before all the gods of every planet we've ever seen, beloved, I do." He smiled a little. "I loved you as a child and I love you as a man."

An almost wriggle that brought their bodies even closer together and Obi-Wan turned, put his face against Qui-Gon's shoulder. "Did you? When I was a child, I mean."

He frowned faintly. "Of course." Tugged gently at the braid, still growing out. "I would not have chosen you as Padawan if I had not cared about you, Obi-Wan."

"I was hardly an attractive child." Drowsily.

Too drowsily. He smacked Obi-Wan's cheek very lightly. "Don't go to sleep, love."

"I'm not." Indignant. "I'm just getting comfortable."

"And you were not an unattractive child."

"I was sullen, I know that. I heard it often enough."

"You were quiet, not sullen. Indrawn." Qui-Gon frowned again, remembering the subdued eight year old he had taken into his care. "Quenched."

"Quenched?" Startled tone.

"Yes," he said firmly. "Quenched."

Obi-Wan leaned up abruptly, frowned at him. "What do you mean?"

"It was a few months before I could get you to laugh." Qui-Gon touched the lifted chin. "You were described to me as willful and difficult, but when I chose you, you spent months so anxious to please I could scarcely coax a smile out of you."

Obi-Wan blinked at him. "I don't remember that, exactly. I remember wanting to do things right, of course. I knew how lucky I was."

"And you had nightmares," Qui-Gon added, rubbing his thumb on the cleft in Obi-Wan's chin. "And you didn't want me to know. Oh, the lengths I went to, pretending I didn't."

Obi-Wan blushed suddenly, put his head down. "Those nightmares--I thought it was such a babyish thing, having bad dreams."

"You were only eight." Mildly. He smiled, thinking back. "They stopped after a while, after I took you to Master Yoda, do you remember?"

"Of course, I was terrified. The eldest Jedi on the council, my knees were wobbling. I thought I'd done something awful." A brief snicker. "And all he wanted to do was ask me about my nightmares. I was so relieved."

Qui-Gon chuckled. "You were, I remember, eyes as big as saucers. I took you swimming after, Yoda's suggestion, good exercise and the outing would distract you. What the hell did I know about children, I was grateful for his wisdom."

"You taught me to dive." Wryly. "I didn't do so well today."

"In a full spate flash flood," Qui-Gon reminded him and smacked his cheek lightly again. "Please, spare me."

Another snicker.

They lay in comfortable silence for a few moments before he remembered the soup. "You need to try and eat a little, love."

"I'm not hungry. And I'm warm enough." Reasonable tone. "You should eat, though, Qui-Gon, you're the one who did all the work." A nuzzle.

He had to acknowledge the wisdom of that. "I will if you will." Slyly.

A groan. "You're merciless."

"Always."

With some laughter and shifting, Qui-Gon emerged from the blankets, checked the soup and dipped out two mugs full. Then, sitting cross-legged, he held one out as Obi-Wan dutifully sat up.

Quick mischievous grin. "You're very tempting, my Master."

He glanced down at his own nudity, chuckled. "You're definitely feeling better. My wanton imp returns."

Appreciative eyes over the rim of the mug, a nod as Obi-Wan sipped. "It was strange, the first time I really noticed how tempting you were. I had to go stand under the waterfall." Another mischievous grin.

"And how old were you then?" Qui-Gon arched an eyebrow at him.

Obi-Wan grimaced. "Seventeen, I think, or very close. On Hanuman."

Hanuman. Qui-Gon blinked, laughed. "You hid it very well. I thought you were smitten with Trader Elrit's daughter."

Another snicker. "I meant that you should think so, I was mortified."

"Foolish," Qui-Gon chided gently. "There was nothing to be ashamed of in your awareness of me. It was--"

"Natural, I know. That's what I told myself, but I still was mortified, I thought you'd box my ears. Or insist on getting rid of me." The mischief faded. "On good days, I leaned toward the former, on bad days I worried about the latter."

Qui-Gon studied him. "Did you think I failed to notice that you had gone from a child to a young man?" Softly. "You were indescribably lovely, even then. I was actually quite horrified with myself."

Startled look and a grin. "Truly?"

"It wasn't on Hanuman, of course, I think Carillia." He bit back a grin as Obi-Wan's eyes widened.

"My birthday..."

"Oh, yes." He sipped at his own soup, watching the memories flash in those changeable, lovely eyes. "Thank the Force you were, in fact, eighteen, or I would likely have turned myself over to Master Yoda on our return to Coruscant. I will tell you, my thoughts were definitely not what I considered appropriate."

The mischief returned. "If I'd known, then--"

"You would have sneaked into my bed, I'm sure. And I'm not sure I would have had the strength to put you out of it." He chuckled suddenly. "But matters turned out as they should, love. You were a few years older, and I knew that it was not just another way to please me."

Thoughtful nod, and then another of those grins. "What were your thought, my best beloved Master?"

"Very heated," he said and sipped again, willing himself not to blush in retrospect.

"Hmmm." Oh, there was wickedness in those eyes, he could see it coming to life. Obi-Wan drained the mug and lay down again, head pillowed on his arm. "If I have to stay awake, you should tell me."

He laughed outright. "If I tell you, you will definitely be awake." Teasing, and he leaned over, took a kiss. "Impudence," he murmured.

"But it's so interesting," Obi-Wan told him, tone of mock-complaint. "I want to know."

He laughed again, finished the cup and put them both aside. The rain drummed on the outside of their tent; he was glad of the shelter, but the sound was almost soothing. "You always want to know. I think most of what they described as willfulness in you was simple curiosity." Giving Obi-Wan a nudge, he got back into the blankets, stretched out and kissed the tip of Obi-Wan's nose. "Now, this insistence, is willful," he teased. "But since I believe you should be indulged occasionally, I will tell you some of it."

He was rewarded with kiss in return. "Only some?"

"All that I remember," he temporized. "I think it began when Marchak, the chief of the Carilli tribe, asked me if we were lovers."

Obi-Wan's eyes widened. "He what?" A snicker. "Oh, Force, that must have been a moment."

Qui-Gon grimaced, remembering. "I think I looked at you, and said, 'No, of course not, he's my apprentice, he's just a boy.' And Marchak laughed softly and said, 'No, that one is a man and ripe for the loving.' I looked at you again and I suppose my mental vision cleared, I no longer saw you as the little boy I'd chosen, I saw that you had become a man." He fell silent, remembering that moment, his sense of shock that it had happened before his very eyes, that he'd been too blind to see it. "I kept you well away from Marchak after that," he added drily.

Obi-Wan hooted. "You thought he'd go after me?"

"If he had, he would have munched you up in two bites," Qui-Gon told him and poked a rib. "There was a predator if ever I've seen one."

Obi-Wan grinned. "What makes you think I would have surrendered?"

"I was worried you might not have the choice." He kissed the warm mouth again. "And that, my love, I would have avenged, I'm afraid, in a very un-Jedi manner. At any rate, once we returned to Coruscant after that, I found myself noticing a great deal more. Including my own desire. I dreamt of teaching far more than I should have, I'm afraid." He touched Obi-Wan's cheek. "It took several months before I mastered myself, you remember, I took that assignment on Eretor and left you on Coruscant for a while under Master Yoda."

Obi-Wan's mischief had faded again. "I thought I'd done something wrong," he confessed, "That you didn't want to take me. I was afraid I'd given myself away."

Qui-Gon touched his cheek. "No, no, it was never you, love. By that time, I had seen that you were wrestling with your feelings." Faint smile. "I thought my approach with the nightmares had worked, so I kept to it on this as well; it was my own feelings and desires that were perplexing me at that point."

"What did you decide on Eretor?" Small voice again.

"Nothing, really. But I did come to peace with what I was feeling, promised myself that I would never take advantage of you." He kissed Obi-Wan's mouth gently. "That if your feelings remained the same, if you approached me, I would hopefully know for certain that I wasn't taking advantage."

He was suddenly enveloped in a living blanket, warm skin against skin. "Oh." Muffled, but he could feel relief through the link. And then felt a smile curve against his throat. "That's all right then."

He wondered what would not have been all right, and decided it didn't matter. Things had turned as they had, and he was grateful and more than happy in how they had. "Mmmhmm." Stroking the line of back, feeling the bumps of vertebrae beneath his fingertips. Silky skin, warmed now, no longer the chill of the ice melt from the mountains. Or of death. He shuddered at that thought, shifted so they lay facing each other and kissed Obi-Wan again, reaffirming life.

Flat belly, fleecy reddish-brown curls at the base, and he stroked his fingertips through them, touched the stirring shaft. Obi-Wan might have died, he told himself and shuddered again. He would not ever go ahead again, not in circumstances like today's. A young man's pride was not worth the price of that young man's life.

"I heard that," Obi-Wan murmured into his mouth.

He grinned, nipped at Obi-Wan's chin. "Good."

A sweet smile and another kiss and he felt his own mischief stirring. "I must be sure you stay awake," he murmured and began to drift small kisses over his lover's face. The corner of one eye, the line of brow, the downy lobe of an ear. Obi-Wan's beard was still scant, the stubble still soft, and there was very little on his throat, yet, he nibbled there, got a satisfying wriggle and a pleased, wordless murmur. So lovely, he thought and moved to the curve of shoulder, kissed the string of freckles down the upper arm, licked the pale skin on the inside of Obi-Wan's elbow.

The wriggling grew more pronounced, and there was something that was almost a giggle. "You're going to tease me, aren't you."

He arched an eyebrow, ducked his head to take a nipple delicately between his teeth and got a very pronounced arch of hips. Very sensitive nipples, he couldn't help but feel a sense of smug satisfaction at the expression on Obi-Wan's face. A kiss on the breastbone, and then the other nipple, and they were both pebbled hard, he blew lightly on them and they got harder.

"Always so impatient," he chided and moved down, kissed the flat belly, nipped at the rim of navel and then rolled Obi-Wan over suddenly.

Obi-Wan yelped, purred when his nape was kissed and strong fingers began stroking the taut muscles in his shoulders. "Oh."

"Oh, indeed." Qui-Gon grinned, placed a warm kiss between Obi-Wan's shoulders blades, licked the spot.

Obi-Wan craned his head around. "I thought you were going to tease me?" Mock complaint.

"Lie still or I'll tie you up." Sternly.

A startled chortle and Obi-Wan obeyed, still grinning. "Yes, Master."

He smacked one buttock lightly, heard a snicker and grinned. Stroked his fingertips delicately over Obi-Wan's ribs, kissed his way down the line of Obi-Wan's back. Now where was that oil, he thought and reached with his thoughts, used a bit of Force to retrieve the bottle. Poured a small pool into his hands and let it warm before applying it to the well kissed skin of Obi-Wan's back. Long firm strokes and Obi-Wan was fairly purring with pleasure again.

He grinned, let some oil drizzle down between the shadowed cleft of buttocks. Stroked it in with one finger and felt Obi-Wan shiver in anticipation. "Don't move," he murmured.

Small, muffled whimper. He worked one finger into the tight ring of muscle, stroking it open gently, felt Obi-Wan melt for him and added another. He was hard now himself, felt the hunger to his marrow, felt desire along the link, and hunger that matched his own. Stroked his fingers in and Obi-Wan arched to meet them, making a needful sound. "Lie still," he repeated huskily.

Another sound, this time a whimper.

"Patience." Although it was hard to hold his own impatience in check. He stroked in again, again, and felt Obi-Wan shudder with the effort of obedience. Bent and kissed the small of his lover's back, and withdrew his fingers, wiped them on his abandoned shirt. More oil, this time for him, and the clasp of his own fingers was not enough, he guided himself, pressed against the oily clasp and slipped the head inside. Obi-Wan gasped, trembled, but did not move. "Oh, love," he breathed and pushed in slowly, pulled Obi-Wan's hips to meet him, hands as gentle as sensation would allow. Sinking back on his heels, he drew Obi-Wan up, back against his chest, arms wrapped around him snugly. "There." Huskily again, he was drowning in sensation, in need, and not all of it was his own.

Obi-Wan's head fell back against his shoulders, he heard a whimper. "Oh, please."

His fingers were still oily; he stroked the crumpled velvet of Obi-Wan's scrotum, felt it shiver and tighten, rubbed his palm against the rampant shaft and Obi-Wan shuddered, moved on him. "Slowly," he whispered, "Carefully." Moved his own hips, slight jut upward, and Obi-Wan groaned, pushed against his palm.

Slow movements and he kissed, nipped the side of Obi-Wan's throat. Letting the pulse of life build, movements as old as time, he felt Obi-Wan's heartbeat under the arm that held his lover against him, felt it speed. Alive, he told himself, and let his gratitude for that be felt along the link, alive and warm and sensual and real in his arms, clasping his flesh, he felt the bright spark that was Obi-Wan's spirit flare back along their bond and welcomed it, answered it with everything he had, everything he felt, all while their bodies moved together.

Sweat dripped down his chest, making both of them slick, just one more sensation added to the rest, and it was nearly overload for both of them, he could feel the spiral of ecstasy, sped his movements, his hand and his hips, moved with more purpose. //Yes, love, yes// mind to mind, and he didn't even realize it, heard an answering affirmation and Obi-Wan moved sharply, suddenly, a cry of triumph, of celebration and life, taking him up the spiral as well, until ecstasy wrenched his nerves and he cried out in his own celebration.

Slow, ragged breaths, Obi-Wan's weight against him. He kissed Obi-Wan's shoulder, licked it and tasted sweat, salt, laced the fingers of his free hand with Obi-Wan's and sighed, almost rocking them both, nuzzled the sweet skin of Obi-Wan's throat.

"I don't think I'm going to be able to stay awake now," Obi-Wan muttered, nestling back against him closer.

Hmm, making love might not have been the wisest thing to do, Qui-Gon told himself, but examined the boy again with Force enhanced senses. "I think it will be all right," he murmured finally.

He felt the trace of a smile along their bond. "Good."

Laughed softly and eased them both back down into the blankets, wrapped the both of them up. "Better?"

"Much." Sated tone, happy sigh and Obi-Wan nestled against him again. "Oh, much."

He smiled again, closed his eyes. //We watch each other's backs, love// he sent.

//...love you....//

//Beloved//

And then, with that last thought, he sank under himself. Pride was one thing; life was quite another.

end