Feedback: this starving author craves it more than food
Spoilers: Some for the "Jedi Apprentice" books, foreshadowing
for "The Phantom Menace" and a wee bit for "A New Hope"
Timeline: About a year prior to "The Phantom Menace", about two
hours after the events of "Symbiont Circle"
Summary: The ceremony continues. . .and walls crumble
Disclaimers: I don't own 'em. Lucas does and he makes reams of
money on them. I don't. I just take 'em out for a joyride now
and then.
Thanks: To BethLynn and Alexa for general sweetness and ego
stroking.
**********
" And behold, I am with you always,
until the end of time"
Mark, 28, 20
***********
Sitting in a plush, red chair, Qui-Gon looked at the position
of the three moons of Coruscant outside his suite's window and
knew it was time. His thoughts went to Obi-Wan, and he sensed
his Padawan already going through the same ritualistic steps
that he was about to follow.
He poured the red contents of his "borrowed" vial into his
glass of water and consumed it in one long drink. The cold
water took on a metallic taste as it rushed down his throat,
and Qui-Gon could feel it enter his stomach like a lead weight.
The ceremony was now nearing its ultimate completion.
Obi-Wan's vial was not "borrowed" of course. It was his
ceremony, after all. Qui-Gon, on the other hand, was not
supposed to be going through this final stage. He was not
supposed to have his Padawan's midichlorians racing through his
body. As Master, Qui-Gon was supposed to let his Padawan go
through the final stage in isolation, extending only thoughts
of support to his Padawan.
Qui-Gon's elbows rested on his knees and he lowered his head to
his hands, raking his fingers through his hair. He felt. . .
unnerved. Never before had he heard of a Master experiencing
both the Sacrificing and the Receiving in the same ceremony,
and he was unaware of how this would affect him. Perhaps this
uneasiness was a direct result. He closed his eyes, entwining
his fingers together as they tangled in his long hair.
He stayed like that for a long moment, trying to understand. .
. letting the Force soothe him.
Releasing his head from his confining fingers, Qui-Gon closed
his eyes and let his head fall back and rest on the back of the
chair, stretching out his long legs. He felt an. . .ache, a
longing. An unfulfilled emptiness.
//Obi-Wan//
His Padawan's name drifted through his consciousness and he
sensed Obi-Wan's thoughts with him. Qui-Gon rolled his head
imperceptibly against the back of the chair. He sensed. .
.nervousness in his Padawan. But he sensed a longing for
fulfillment as well; a craving to be one with his Master.
Qui-Gon felt a corner of his mouth crook upward in a knowing
grin. They agreed there as well, as he yearned for a joining
with his Padawan.
And so he would have it. So very shortly now...
Qui-Gon felt the liquid preparing his body for what was to
come. As the Metastis liquid coursed through him, it left a
purified feeling in its wake. Every pore of his skin seemed to
breathe. He would be ready, body and spirit, for the
transformation.
Qui-Gon sighed deeply and raised his left arm to his head,
resting it across his weary eyes. How long would it be before
he was called before the Council?
//Doesn't matter. I did what was right//
He had rebelled yet again but Qui-Gon's resolve remained
unwavering. He had done the right thing in accepting his
Padawan's midichlorians. It had been the guidance of the Force,
after years of meditation that had led him to that fateful
decision.
This night, Qui-Gon's essence would be joined with Obi-Wan's;
seared together for all eternity. It would alter them on every
level. They would be one in the Force.
Qui-Gon shivered, letting the Force soothe his nerves. He would
keep his faith in the guidance of the Force now and until his
dying breath.
His thoughts drifted back, remembering the fateful day he'd
realized that his Padawan meant more to him than he'd ever
wanted him to.
They'd been on Epiphara nearly four years ago, both of them
swimming in the breathtakingly clear Labarik Sea. A furious
contest between them to see which could swim faster ended when
Qui-Gon just edged out Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan had laughingly declared
that Qui-Gon had used his powers to propel himself through the
chest-deep water.
Qui-Gon smiled at the memory. His Padawan had been rather
vociferous and lively that day.
It was when his Padawan playfully jumped on his back, daring
him to swim as fast with the extra weight, that Qui-Gon first
felt it - an awakening of sorts.
He'd hesitated, confused and not knowing how to react to his
arousal. Unaware of what else to do, he pitched Obi-Wan forward
into the water. When his Padawan had emerged, he'd been
laughing, but upon catching one look at his Master, Obi-Wan
fell silent. His eyes bored craters into his Master, and
Qui-Gon had sensed a deep relief in his Padawan. He sensed a
growing tension, like a strap of rubber pulled to its limit,
quivering, ready to snap back.
In one quick movement, Obi-Wan's hands were wet on either side
of Qui-Gon's face, and Qui-Gon, caught in the spell of the
moment, let his hands rest on his Padawan's shoulders, pulling
him closer. Closer to a kiss.
Closer to fate.
Their mouths met in a hesitant, virginal kiss before turning
into a powerful battle of lips and mouths and tongues, each
aching for release of so much unspoken passion.
After the kiss a silence fell over them, and it was instantly
understood that this explosive collapse of resolve must not be
built upon. Nothing had been said between them, but Qui-Gon had
sensed so much in his Padawan. Fear, lust, veneration, and
frustration all mingled in Obi-Wan.
Qui-Gon had tried to quash his own feelings, attempting in
meditation to turn them over to the Force. It hadn't worked.
Trusting in the Force, Qui-Gon had accepted his feelings,
coming to an uneasy peace with them and knowing that one day
they would have their place.
Sighing, Qui-Gon remembered the day several months ago when he
came to the decision he had been contemplating for years.
When Obi-Wan had been in his mid-teens, Qui-Gon had begun
sensing Obi-Wan's feelings toward him changing. The deference,
the reverence, and the faith in his Master remained
unfaltering, but Qui-Gon had sensed a shame-tinged curiosity
growing in his Padawan. When that curiosity evolved to a quiet
lust, Qui-Gon had not been entirely surprised.
It was when Qui-Gon sensed love in his Padawan - passion for
his Master that equaled his Masters passion for him - that he
began meditating daily regarding the transformation ceremony.
Qui-Gon smiled, thinking that this had been part of his
meditations for years now, and it would be difficult
remembering guidance for the decision was no longer needed.
Rising slowly from the chair, Qui-Gon knelt, closing his eyes
and quieting his mind. He felt an urgent need for deep
meditation, and indeed it was called for after the sacrifice of
the Master's midichlorians to the Apprentice. Qui-Gon was
thoroughly drained and needed to replenish himself as much as
possible before the transformation began.
He felt the Force all around him, feeding him, providing
strength to his body and soul. He breathed deeply, slowing his
heart, preparing it for the trauma that was to come.
//Obi Wan//
He sensed his padawan preparing - meditating for the final
step.
Qui-Gon sensed Obi-Wan strong with him. He sensed his Padawan's
barely contained energy that was in direct contrast to his own
exhaustion, his own unsettled state. He sensed Obi-Wan's
intense craving to become one, and felt in harmony with him,
longing to unite on every level with his Apprentice.
Qui-Gon sensed his Padawan's thoughts. //Let me come to you
Master. After the transformation. Allow me, Master//
Qui-Gon wanted nothing more than to have his apprentice that
night, to be physically close to him, to feel the heat of his
body, impossible though he knew it was. Contact with his
Padawan was forbidden during the remainder of the night
following transformation. Obi-Wan was to meditate in isolation
through the night.
Qui-Gon sighed in frustrated acceptance. Acceptance on a
grander scheme. Slouching a bit from his ramrod-straight
meditative posture, he opened his eyes and let them glaze over
as he cursed fate.
He realized that, in the end, a physical relationship between a
Padawan and a Master could only hinder the development of the
Padawan. Too many complicated feelings came into play, and
Qui-Gon would not, under any circumstances, allow Obi-Wan to be
anything less than perfectly trained. He deserved no less, and
Qui-Gon would not subject himself to the pain of losing another
Padawan - especially this one - to the Dark Side. He sensed
great things for his Padawan, and potentially weakening his
training because of something as . . he felt his jaw set. .
.trivial as a physical relationship was utterly unacceptable.
Knowing this made it no easier to deny his feelings. Qui-Gon
inhaled sharply as he remembered that not two hours ago he had
knelt before Obi-Wan, feeling the silk of his Padawan's cock
brush against his lips. Shivering violently, Qui-Gon remembered
the drops of pre-ejaculate that had fallen to his tongue, their
salt sweet flavor tasting like tears. He told himself it was
for the midichlorians alone, but he knew better, and as he had
swallowed his Padawan's life force, years' worth of pent up
longing had released in the wild palpitations of his heart
Qui-Gon groaned quietly, his tongue moistening his lips,
imagining for a moment that it was his Padawan's cock.
//Still your body// Qui-Gon's hands trembled, seeming not to
care what his mind demanded. His eyes fluttered, feeling
Obi-Wan's thoughts with him again.
//Master, allow me to come to you//
Qui-Gon silently called out to his Padawan.
//Meditate Obi-Wan. Prepare yourself. All things have their
place in time//
And it killed him to have to lie. He hoped Obi-Wan couldn't
sense it.
All Qui-Gon could sense was his Padawan's acceptance, his
nervous energy.
//Calm yourself Obi-Wan. Quiet your mind//
The physical and emotional effects of the ceremony would keep
his Padawan ebullient for weeks, and should keep Qui-Gon
drained for nearly as long.
Should. Again, Qui-Gon reminded himself that he had never
experienced a Sacrifice and a Receiving in the same ceremony
and was unaware of exactly what it would do to him.
He wondered if Obi-Wan sensed his continuing restlessness. If
he sensed his Master's feeling of something being amiss in his
soul, something being incomplete.
Unable to meditate any longer, Qui-Gon leapt from his kneeling
position, feeling a burst of unsettled energy flow through him
amidst his exhaustion. He paced to the window of his suite at
the Jedi Academy and stared out at the never-ending Coruscant
skyline. It was never truly dark here, even now in the dead of
night. The glistening lights of the unending city saw to that.
Hands clasped behind him, Qui-Gon prowled in front of the
window, feeling restless and. . .something. . .unfinished? He
turned and leaned his back against the cool glass, closing his
eyes and resting his head there.
//Obi-Wan//
His eyes snapped open.
It was beginning.
Qui-Gon's breathing became labored, his heart rate quickened,
and he demanded his eyes close as he called out to the Force to
give him strength and guidance through this.
He felt the climax of the ceremony suddenly nearing, rushing
toward him, unstoppable. Obi-Wan's midichlorians were about to
make their first passage with the Metastis fluid present
Qui-Gon's body.
Qui-Gon trembled, fully aware of the transformation about to
occur within him.
Then his chest seemingly imploded.
He inhaled sharply as he felt his Padawan's midichlorians pass
through his heart, led by the metallic rush of the Metastis
fluid. Air was sucked from his lungs and Qui-Gon's heartbeat
fluttered violently as Obi-Wan's essence consumed him. He felt
every nerve ending in his body spark and glow with its own
charge of his Padawan's life force.
Both exhilarating and lacerating, Qui-Gon doubled over, gasping
hard for air to fill his vacant lungs, unable to breathe until
the initial physical shock of metamorphosis passed.
Qui-Gon fell in a gasping heap to the floor, his body
convulsing slightly, his spirit discovering its new essence.
The Council would look at this as an abomination if they ever
found out what had transpired during the ceremony. And indeed,
how could they not sense it when they next saw him? Qui-Gon
would be severely chastised. Again. The Apprentice was to
receive the Master they would say, not the other way around.
And so it had been, but Qui-Gon, after many days of meditation,
had found no harm in receiving his padawan's midichlorians.
Qui-Gon had never sacrificed what was beneficial to his Padawan
in favor of his own desires. From his point of view, he still
had not, but he conceded that some - the Council in particular
- might see it that way. There was no doubt they could sense
his underlying desire for his Padawan, but then they could
sense Obi-Wan's feelings as well.
Qui-Gon had indeed felt pangs of guilt for denying Obi-Wan the
beauty of the full ceremony, but he sensed that his Padawan
could not have cared less. Indeed, all Qui-Gon ever sensed was
Obi-Wan's unending desire to please him on every level. Lately,
within the past year, this had been joined by a real need to
receive pleasure from his Master as well, much to the combined
delight and dismay of Qui-Gon.
Only Obi-Wan could do this to him.
Truly, over the years Qui-Gon had discovered that many things
were different regarding this particular Padawan. His feelings
of protectiveness, his feelings of adoration and devotion for
Obi-Wan went far beyond any he had ever felt for any other
Padawan.
//You've never desired a Padawan's kiss before either//
Qui-Gon laboriously forced such thought from his mind.
Obi-Wan was truly a physical and spiritual part of him, his
essence a part of Qui-Gon's soul forever, up until and through
the gates of death.
Finally feeling his breathing return to some semblance of
normalcy, Qui-Gon stood slowly and shuddered suddenly.
His Padawan was undergoing transformation.
Qui-Gon felt the somewhat familiar sensation of his own spirit
pulsating as its essence fused with Obi-Wan's. He closed his
eyes and sensed Obi-Wan doubled over, gasping for air,
experiencing the pain and the exhilaration. Qui-Gon sensed his
Padawan was writhing on. . . his bed. He sensed something. . .
sheets tangled around Obi-Wan's thrashing feet. He silently
reassured his Padawan that his Master was there with him.
//Calm Obi-Wan, breathe deeply. I am with you, now until the
end of time//
Qui-Gon sensed Obi-Wan with him, incapable of controlled
thought for the moment. Qui-Gon placed himself in Obi-Wan's
thoughts and remained a silent and comforting presence for him
there.
He sensed the pain slowly depart from Obi-Wan's body, leaving
his Padawan electrified. He felt his apprentice's thoughts
strong with him now, sensed his overwhelming devotion and his
wide-eyed excitement.
//Obi-Wan, still yourself. You must meditate through the night.
I shall be with you//
Qui-Gon sensed a quieting of his Padawan's mind.
//Yes Master//
So it was over.
Qui-Gon still hovered near the window, and amazingly, through
his wrenching exhaustion he still felt uneasy, restless. The
transformation did not dim it. He turned his back to the window
and went slack against it, eyeing his bed and wondering if this
unwavering restlessness would prevent the much needed
rejuvenation sleep would bring.
Qui-Gon contemplated spending the rest of the night in
meditation as well, but knew his body would not have it. Rest.
His body demanded it, and as Qui-Gon silenced his mind he felt
the Force guiding him to repose.
Opening his eyes and walking slowly to the bed, Qui-Gon tried
one last time to shake the restlessness, the inconceivable
feeling of something remaining unfinished despite his union
with his Padawan.
Unable to shake it, Qui-Gon collapsed on the bed and as he felt
slumber pulling impatiently at his eyelids, an unsettling
feeling of dread overtook him.
//Master. . . //
A fine sheen of perspiration clinging to his body, Obi-Wan
continued to lie fetal on his bed, stunned, still mildly
convulsing, and unable to think of anything other than his
adored Master.
He rolled onto his back, arms outstretched, legs still tangled
in his sheets. His ribs ached from what had felt like a massive
blow during the moment of transformation, and Obi Wan inhaled
as deeply as he could without feeling pain. He could feel his
mouth open still and felt no need to close it.
He inhaled sharply, as if breathing his first breath.
His entire body pulsed and radiated with the intensity of a
quasar.
Reborn. Utterly remade.
He was his Master. His Master was he. Somehow each was the
other, both alive in him.
The love he felt for his Master overflowed into every nook and
cranny of his soul. This man, his Master - Qui-Gon - had given
him the gift of himself. He had sacrificed a part of his soul
to his undeserving Padawan so that they might be in communion.
Obi-Wan managed a wan smile. He too had eagerly sacrificed a
part of his soul to his rebellious Master. Wherever his Master
went, for all eternity Obi-Wan would be with him.
The Council would be furious. Obi-Wan's smile broadened as he
felt Qui-Gon's influence already imbuing him with his Master's
defiance.
//The Council wouldn't have to know//
He knew he had to rise and meditate. He knew that the dictates
demanded it, and though he did feel his Mater's defiant
influence, Obi-Wan still felt a strong desire to follow their
every word. They were a tie to the ancient past, uniting him
with legions of his fellow Jedi who went before him.
//Master. . .//
His Master was the only one he ached to unite with.
Obi-Wan drew himself from the bed and laboriously walked to the
center of the room where a thin pillow waited for him to kneel.
Falling to it with a thud, Obi-Wan closed his eyes. He felt the
Force swirling through him, his strength gradually returning.
Shoring his back up to a rigidly straight position, Obi-Wan
closed his eyes and began the hours-long meditation.
As he slipped deeper and deeper into meditative trance, Obi-Wan
felt less and less in control of himself. He seemed to be
simply pure essence, as one with the Force.
An hour passed and Obi-Wan found his meditations taking him
places he'd never been. He sensed anxiety and fear here.
He sensed death.
Battling the anxiousness and fear with the Force, Obi-Wan could
not help but feel out of control of the situation. The
anxiousness would not dissipate. The fear would not dispel.
Death hung in the air around him like the stench of burnt
flesh.
Obi-Wan fought his own fear. Had he slipped to the Dark Side?
Had it consumed him? He searched his soul, finding the pure
Force there.
The light remained.
As did death.
Seared flesh.
The boundaries that held Obi-Wan became as liquid, flowing and
cascading, ever changing. Watery images flowed around him,
images somehow familiar and definitely not at the same time.
The Jedi Temple, but not as he'd known it. One Padawan.
Familiar and not. Each image melted away swiftly as if pulled
down a waterfall. Another Padawan, more familiar and his face
changing, twisting, and Obi-Wan felt pain.
Then Obi-Wan confronted the blurred, misty image of himself,
pulled down with the cascade of images.
He was at last alone within the boundaries, Death hanging heavy
over everything.
Burnt flesh.
Seared flesh.
//MASTER!//
Obi-Wan made out the blurred form of his Master lying on the
ground, gasping and retching for air, struggling to stand, and
collapsing back down.
//Get to him! Run! Now! MASTER!//
Obi-Wan couldn't move. Indeed he couldn't even sense his body
with him. Desperation flowed through him - aching desperation
to sacrifice himself so that his Master might. . .
Then a child. With his Master. A boy, young about eight years
old. His Master clung to him.
The boy reached around into his satchel while smiling sweetly
at his Master.
The boy was pulling something from his satchel, looking at him
now while cradling the head of his Master.
The red blade of a lightsaber shot out toward Obi-Wan, never
ceasing its expansion. It extended further and further and when
Obi-Wan turned to escape its pursuit. . .
It all disappeared.
Except his Master, quivering and shaking and physically
unreachable. Obi-Wan sensed - could it be - fear in his Master?
This had to be a dream.
Of course.
A dream. He had entered his Master's dream. The transformation,
the oneness, the deep meditation. It all made perfect,
beautiful sense and Obi-Wan was moved beyond measure.
He must calm his Master and called to him in his thoughts.
//Master, I am here with you. I shall always be with you. Do
not be afraid//
Anxiety. Pain. His Master was barely recognizable through his
fear. Obi-Wan would not stand for it.
//Master, as long as I can draw a breath, you shall be safe. I
shall lay down my life. . .Master, feel the Force in you. Let
it give you strength//
Obi-Wan fell deeper into meditation, and with a colossal
effort, he began drawing his Master's fear into himself,
turning it over to the Force.
//I will not allow fear to consume you//
Finally, his Master's thoughts with him.
//Obi-Wan//
Obi-Wan fought to draw the last remaining drops of fear from
his Master, taking it into himself and letting the Force draw
it out and set the last of it to the wind.
Then there was cold. A hard, unfeeling cold that penetrated his
skin from the right side of his face and chilled his entire
body.
Hard, cold, and smooth.
Floor.
The floor.
Obi-Wan's eyes fluttered open and he felt utterly disconcerted.
Groggy and bewildered, he glanced around and tried to place
where he was.
//A room. Small room at the. . .Jedi Temple. Yes, at the
Temple//
//Lying down on. . .the floor. The floor?//
//On my face//
Indeed, the right half of Obi-Wan's face pressed hard against
the cold marble tile of the floor. Slowly he pulled himself
into a sitting position, feeling incredibly light-headed and
not at all sure of what had happened. He thought back,
remembering with incredulity the transformation, the afterglow,
and his meditation.
The dream. The boy. Death. Qui-Gon lying unconscious. So much
fear. . .
His thoughts raced to his Master, screaming for response.
//Master!//
Nothing. Silence, terrifying and still. Obi-Wan felt the blood
drain from his face, his stomach drawing tight, muscles coiling
and ready to spring. There was no connection there. He could
not sense his Master.
"Master!"
Obi-Wan flew from his room without hesitation, leaving the
dictates swirling in his wake.
His robe whipping ferociously behind him, Obi-Wan bolted down
the curving halls that led to his Master's suite. Sweat raised
on his forehead as he continually called out to his Master in
frenzied thought, begging for acknowledgement and receiving
none.
As he rounded the corner that led to his Master's door, Obi-Wan
stopped short as he saw the door to his Master's suite opening.
He ran to it and nearly collapsed to his knees in thankful
relief as he looked inside.
His Master sat on a chair at the far end of the suite near the
window, one leg crossed casually over the other. His hands
rested in his lap; long fingers intertwined. The light source
in his suite was set so low as to seemingly exist only to cast
deep shadows throughout the room. Obi-Wan strained to see his
Master in the dimness.
He looked pensive, calm.
"Master!" Obi-Wan slumped against the doorframe, relief
flooding his soul. He squinted into the low light. "Are you all
right? I could not sense you. . ." Obi-Wan's voice overflowed
with worry.
"I am all right Obi-Wan. Quickly, come in." Qui-Gon's voice
possessed a staid calmness, but Obi-Wan heard a slight tremble
there. More importantly, he could sense his Master's thoughts
again, more vividly than ever. It was almost as if they were
his own. The transformation had, of course, nearly made them
his own.
Obi-Wan walked in and heard the whoosh of the door closing
behind him. He focused on his Master, sensing his thoughts, and
was aghast at what he found. "You closed yourself off to me. .
."
Qui-Gon stood and walked swiftly toward his Padawan. "So the
Council couldn't sense our thoughts. As I woke from my dream I
sensed you withdrawing from meditation and recalling the dream.
I sensed your panic Padawan, and I knew all too well what your
reaction would be."
"You knew I'd come for you. . ."
". . .whether or not you could sense my thoughts." Qui-Gon
stood directly in front of Obi-Wan now. The briefest flash of a
smile flickered across his face. "Just as I would come for you
Obi-Wan."
//Just as he would come for me//
"Master, the dream. . ."
"It was just that Obi-Wan. A dream. Take them seriously, but
not so seriously that they cloud your view of what is real."
It had seemed real to Obi-Wan. The fear in his Master was all
too real. Perhaps Qui-Gon did not remember.
"Master, I sensed deep fear in you. Do you not remember? I drew
it from you - turned it over to the Force."
Qui-Gon took a step closer to his Padawan, gently placing a
hand on his shoulder. Obi-Wan felt waves of heat radiating from
each of his Master's fingertips, igniting an instant, scorching
fever throughout his body.
"Yes Obi-Wan, I remember." He paused, searching his Padawan's
eyes. "It is a rare thing to enter another's dream, even after
transformation. Rarer still is the ability to alleviate the
dreamer's fear. To do so is to put yourself at great risk." His
Master's eyes seared into him, gravely serious. "The Dark Side
has never been closer Padawan. Could you feel it there with
you?"
"Yes Master." Obi-Wan couldn't tell if his Master was pleased
or displeased with his decision to draw out his fear. He met
Qui-Gon's gaze earnestly, hoping for the best, hoping to learn.
Qui-Gon's voice was quietly stern. "You should not have drawn
my fear."
Obi-Wan remained respectful of his Master, though he wanted to
scream his opposition. "Yes Master. Respectfully Master, I must
tell you that I would sacrifice myself without hesitation to
keep you from the Dark Side."
Qui-Gon's hand shot to the back of Obi-Wan's neck, holding him
there as firmly as his gaze held his Padawan's eyes. His voice
commanded compliance. "You will not. Ever. If I am weakened and
at risk of turning, you will leave me. Immediately. Do you
understand Obi-Wan? You will not turn for me."
"I understand Master." Obi-Wan was shocked at the severity of
his Master's words and the force with which he held him. He
knew he shouldn't be, considering the destiny of his Master's
last Padawan.
Obi Wan knew that Xanatos's seduction by the Dark Side while a
Padawan remained the single most painful chapter in his
Master's life, one that scarred him on every level. It left him
vowing never to take another Padawan. The feelings of loss had
become Obi-Wan's through transformation, and they ran
shockingly deep.
Qui-Gon let his hand slip back to his Padawan's shoulder,
bringing his other hand to rest on Obi-Wan's opposite shoulder.
His mouth turned upward in a quick, hesitant grin, his gaze
softening. "Never sacrifice the future for the past Obi-Wan."
Qui-Gon closed his eyes, pausing for a long moment. "Remember
this. To sacrifice yourself for the future is to be as one with
the Force for eternity."
"Yes Master. I understand and I agree Master." Obi-Wan took a
deep breath, not believing that he was about to oppose his
Master. "But Master I would rather die a thousand deaths than
to see you die in body or spirit." He struggled with the words.
"Master, I. . ."
Obi-Wan impulsively brought his hands to his Master's face,
cradling it and hoping they would express what his words could
not.
His Master's grip on his shoulders tightened and Obi-Wan could
sense his thoughts.
//I know Obi-Wan//
Of course he knows. He is me. I am him. Obi-Wan searched his
Master's face and now he knew. Undeniably now, his Master felt
the same.
Obi-Wan had truly known all along.
After their kiss in the Labarik Sea, they had returned to their
lives as if it had never happened. Obi-Wan had always sensed
that he was special to his Master, but could never discern in
what way, other than as a Padawan.
Now he knew. Irrefutably.
Obi-Wan stood nearly panting in front of his Master, feeling
years' worth of passion and want, craving and hunger surging
relentlessly inside him. Building fast. Rising, an unstoppable
torrent of need crashed through him and he felt his fingers
gripping his Master's face, pulling him closer.
Dictates be damned.
His Master bent willingly toward him but stopped just as
Obi-Wan could feel the heat of his lips on his own. He wanted
to scream out in utter frustration.
He felt his Master's breath soft and hot against his mouth.
"This can go no further than a kiss Obi-Wan."
Blinded by unchecked lust Obi-Wan heard words fall from his
lips that he could not believe were his own.
"The hell it can't."
Before his Master could protest, Obi-Wan pulled him hard into a
kiss of so much power that it threatened to consume them both.
This kiss was a battle as fierce as their first one and Obi-Wan
feverishly clutched at Qui-Gon, pulling his robe from his
shoulders.
Their lips ground against each other's, their tongues parried
wildly, their mouths devoured the other's.
His Master's passion was more controlled and, unbelievably, was
even more powerful than his own. Qui-Gon's hands had slipped
from his shoulders, one going to the back of his head where it
crushed his ponytail flat, the other fell to his waist where
Obi-Wan felt his fingers digging hard into him.
Then he was spinning. Literally. Qui-Gon, mouth still hard on
his Padawan's, had spun him around and was pushing him backward
hard and fast. With a dull thud, Obi-Wan felt himself pressed
firmly against a wall, held there by the pressing weight of his
Master's body. The force with which he was shoved there caused
a groan to slip from his lips.
His Master's body, hard against him.
//So beautiful. So perfect. Master, I am yours//
Obi-Wan's arms grasped at his Master, holding him close,
feeling muscles wound tight, the arousal that was so apparent
in his Master's body betraying his words of caution and denial.
Qui-Gon pulled away, ending the kiss suddenly, his lips
trailing immediately to Obi-Wan's jaw and neck. His beard
scratched lightly at the sensitive flesh there. The soft burn
of his mouth marked his flesh as surely as any brand.
Murmurs, whispered low against his neck, only heightened
Obi-Wan's desire despite their message.
"Obi-Wan, this cannot happen." Qui-Gon paused, letting his
tongue snake out and moisten the skin on his Padawan's neck.
His voice came out in whispered bursts, seemingly timed with
his own quick, sharp breaths. "It would only be. . .to your
detriment. . .your training. . .would suffer." Qui-Gon groaned
quietly, slipping the robe from his Padawan's shoulders.
He sensed that his Master's resolve was slipping. He sensed his
Master's will being torn in two.
Obi-Wan let his arms fall from around his Master, allowing the
robe to slip from his body. He knew his Master had to say these
words. They made complete, logical sense. But as sure as he
knew of his love for his Master, he knew that they would unite
now in the only remaining way that they had not yet.
"My training. . ." Obi-Wan growled as he felt hands on his
belt, loosening it. "My training would only strengthen. Our
bond. . ." Obi-Wan's belt fell away, his Master's lips brushing
against his before caressing his closed eyelids. "Master, our
bond would only intensify. . ."
He sensed - no, he knew - that his Master desired it as deeply
as he did. He would give himself wholly to his Master, as he
knew Qui-Gon so desired, so needed him to.
Obi-Wan struggled to speak, needing to tell his Master he knew.
Finding it impossible to form coherent words through his
passion, he sent his thoughts to his Master. As he did, he
pulled the holder from his Master's hair, letting it spill
forward, lacing his fingers through it.
//Master your hair. . .so fine. . .Master I sensed your unease,
your restlessness, and I know its cause. And I know its
solution//
Qui-Gon took him in a deep kiss as his hands began stripping
off his Padawan's sash and tunic. Obi-Wan broke the kiss
breathlessly, aching for a shred of control over his Master.
Just once.
"Master, I know its solution." He tried to sound firm, but when
his Master dipped once again to his neck, Obi-Wan felt any
control slip away.
"Do you Padawan?" Qui-Gon's voice was low and trembled with
untamed want as he kissed his neck.
"At the ceremony, you. . ." Blast, did his Master know what he
was doing to him? "Mmm. . .you began something that I did not
allow you to finish. . ."
"So you did." He felt his Master smile briefly against the
curve that joined his shoulder and neck.
Obi-Wan drew away from his Master's mouth and leaned down,
capturing his eyes.
"Now you shall."
It was wrong to do this, but Qui-Gon could fight it no longer.
The scent of his Padawan's flesh filled him with a longing of
such magnitude that he felt weak and incapable of resisting its
draw.
As he held him there against the wall, pinned under the weight
of his body, Qui-Gon admitted it to himself. He loved the man.
As son, as friend, as compatriot, as lover.
Loved, desired, wanted, craved.
Obi-Wan was staring into his eyes now, telling him things he
already knew. Boldly telling him with words that he as Master
would kneel before the Padawan until completion, thus easing
his restlessness. Telling him with thought of his eternal
loyalty.
Qui-Gon heard it all and cherished his Padawan's concern,
holding his loyalty close to his heart. As he slipped the
layers of clothing from Obi-Wan's body, thought and word ceased
and he felt nothing except the pounding of blood through his
body. Or was it Obi-Wan's blood he felt?
Was there a difference anymore?
His Padawan's hands ripped at his clothing, pulling them off
with unrestrained fervor. Tunic flew this way, belt and then
sash that way. As Obi-Wan tugged his leggings down, he allowed
them to simply pool at his Master's feet.
He knelt there a long moment before parting his lips and
allowing Qui-Gon's cock passage through his lips to the soft
warmth of his mouth.
Qui-Gon moaned too loudly as his Padawan took him deeply into
his throat on the first thrust. He fully sensed Obi-Wan's
forever-entwined love/lust spiraling around him. Oddly, or
perhaps not so oddly, he could sense minor physical sensations
of the mouth and throat that Obi-Wan must have been
experiencing.
His Padawan showered his cock with lavish attention, wet kisses
from wet lips, and painless nips from hesitant teeth.
"Obi-Wan, I thought I was to. . . finish this."
His cock slipped from between the lips of his Padawan and
Obi-Wan's eyes lifted to his.
"Master, I could not resist."
"Patience, my Padawan. All good things in time." Qui-Gon
smiled, understanding and relating to Obi-Wan's eagerness. He
grasped Obi-Wan by the shoulders, pulling him upward, wanting
to let his Padawan nourish himself for as long as he desired
but knowing that he could wait no longer for the taste of
Obi-Wan.
Qui-Gon gazed at Obi-Wan as he now stood before him, his lips
red, chapped, and appearing bee-stung from the harshness of
their kisses and the attention expended on his cock. Overcome
with tenderness and emotion, Qui-Gon ran his thumb gently along
Obi-Wan's lower lip, following it with a serene kiss.
A hand cradled his beloved Padawan's face as he slipped his
mouth to his ear to whisper the words he'd longed to say, the
words his Padawan had ached to hear.
"I do love you Obi-Wan."
Obi Wan fell softly into Qui-Gon, his body slumping lightly
against his Master's. Quietly he spoke, his voice even and
peaceful.
"Thank you Master." He paused as he leaned against his Master's
shoulder, grasping his hand and entwining his fingers with
Qui-Gon's. "I have, and always shall, love you."
He sensed his Padawan's disbelief that these words had finally
passed between them, sensing his relief, his joy, and his yes,
his fear. Qui-Gon felt them as his own emotions. Truly, it was
impossible to distinguish between his Padawan's feelings and
his own at times.
//Waylay your fear Obi-Wan. Change is inevitable, but we shall
remain as ever//
With that, Qui-Gon eased his Padawan from him, searched his
face, and brought his mouth softly to Obi-Wan's. His student's
lips moved in slow, deliberate machinations over his,
increasing in fervor until they again found themselves in a
passionate clutch, grinding hard against each other.
Qui-Gon loosened the drawstring of Obi-Wan's leggings, letting
them fall in a heap around his ankles. He sensed the
anticipation rising in them both as he dropped to his knees,
taking time to savor the taste of his Padawan's chest, stomach,
and hips on his descent.
As he took Obi-Wan's cock between his lips he heard his Padawan
moan loudly and indeed, he felt the urge to as well. A trickle
of pre-ejaculate already coated his tongue - the familiar
salt/sweet taste intoxicating him as it had during the
ceremony.
Qui-Gon's fingers stroked his Padawan's powerful legs, feeling
the muscles drawn tight under the skin. He heard Obi-Wan's
breathing coming in heavy gasps, moans escaping his lips with
each thrust of his mouth along his Padawan's rigid cock.
He felt Obi-Wan's fingers weaving through his hair, his hands
guiding him.
//Master, do not think me arrogant in guiding you when you so
obviously know. . .//
Slipping his lips from Obi-Wan's cock, Qui-Gon whispered low
and knew his words would stir a firestorm in his Padawan.
"Guide me as you will for at this moment I am your student."
Obi-Wan groaned and threw his head back, cracking it with a
thud against the wall.
"Are you all right?"
Obi-Wan's answer was nothing more than an affirmative groan as
he tightened his grip on his Master's head.
He reacted just as his Master knew he would. Qui-Gon took his
Padawan's cock deep into his mouth, pumping it with added vigor
as he followed the desires of his student's guiding hands.
Qui-Gon let himself go for a moment, reveling in the feel of
his Padawan; rigid and firm, yet as soft as the finest
Cylevenian silk. He lost himself in the scent of him; carnal
and earthy, his musk nearly as intoxicating as his taste.
His taste. It remained as tears - sweet and salty and
completely addicting.
Obi-Wan increased the tempo and Qui-Gon sensed release was
close. He was not in the least bit shocked to feel a fire
starting in him, knowing he was feeling his Padawan's own
imminent release.
He drew himself up in preparation, stroking the back of his
Padawan's thighs with a touch as light as a feather, feeling
goose-bumps rise over Obi-Wan's legs.
//Master - so close. Please. . .//
//Give yourself to me Padawan//
With a surrendering groan, Obi Wan's life force shot from him
to his beloved Master, thus instantly easing his restlessness,
giving him peace.
Qui-Gon leaned into his Padawan, taking all he had to give,
knowing that Obi-Wan was as ambrosia to him.
Completely spent, Obi-Wan fell back against the wall and
slipped down against it, landing with a thud on the floor. His
eyes, glazed over and exhausted, stared unbelievingly at his
Master.
He stared for a long time and his Master stared back; eyes
locked as if in trance, seemingly feeding each other exactly
what the other needed - be it unconditional love, acceptance,
reassurance, or veneration.
Unwilling to destroy such a moment with the harshness of
speech, Obi-Wan came to his Master in thought.
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