Summary: Obi-Wan participates in a ritual while visiting a
planet Feedback is always a treat
Disclaimers: Lucasfilm, Lucasfilm, Lucasfilm
Notes: Wow, I've got to split this one up in to 2 parts -this
would be considered *long* fic from the squash Thanks to Lil
for the beta (any problematic commas that survived are my own
doing) and to the usual suspects for encouragement and support.
Shifting restlessly, Obi-Wan came slowly awake. He was lying
face down on a soft bed; the sheets were silky and warm and
inviting him back into slumber. His head ached, pounding with
each beat of his heart and he was naked.
Opening his eyes, he confirmed that he was alone, but when he
reached out to probe the room with the Force, he found his
grasp of it tenuous at best. He could feel it around him, but
his control was shaky, almost non-existent. The click of the
door brought his head around and he groaned as the rapid
movement aggravated the pain in his head.
Letting go of the breath he didn't realise he'd been holding,
he attempted a smile as his master came in, bearing a tray.
Qui-Gon was fully dressed and his hair was neatly pulled back,
confirming Obi-Wan's suspicions that it was well past the hour
when day began.
Placing the tray on the ornate bedside table, his master sat
next to him and passed the tall glass of water to Obi-Wan.
Taking it, Obi-Wan murmured a quiet, relieved 'thank you' and
gulped down a mouthful, which he promptly spat out.
"Your friends assure me that it will help alleviate your
condition."
Obi-Wan noticed the odd inflection his master gave the word
friends, but didn't comment. Instead he grimaced and, taking a
deep breath, downed the rest of the vile liquid in one shot.
His master continued to watch him expectantly. Obi-Wan remained
silent and Qui-Gon finally spoke, his voice pitched quietly,
for which Obi-Wan was thankful.
"How much of yesterday do you remember?"
Obi-Wan frowned and attempted to sort out the jumble of images
and memories hiding among the jagged edges of pain in his head.
"I remember asking you if I could attend some pre-festival
rituals with Jress and Jrell. We shared a bottle of something
-Bletin I think they said it was -a traditional Bela
celebration starter." He paused as Qui-Gon made a small sound.
"That's all I can remember, Master."
"Did they tell you before they offered it that Bletin is an
extremely powerful aphrodisiac and that it is likely to cause
loss of control and insatiable sexual hunger?"
Obi-Wan blushed. "No, Master, they did not."
"And were you aware that they let you drink the better part of
the bottle, drinking only small amounts themselves to enhance
their own pleasure?"
"No, Master," replied Obi-Wan beginning to notice the way his
body throbbed uncomfortably in certain places.
"And do you remember being taken to the ceremonial baths where
your body was prepared in the traditional Bela customs for a
joining? Anointing your body with oil, slicking your passage
with sensation-enhancing lubricants as well as coating your
penis with a creme designed to keep you erect for long periods
of time?"
"No, Master," Obi-Wan whispered, eyes wide and worried as he
watched his master's face grow darker.
"And do you remember making your choice and bringing him to
this joining bed, spending the night making love in every
conceivable position?"
The colour drained completely from Obi-Wan's face as he
shifted. Now that his head was finally beginning to clear, he
could feel every ache and pain in his body. His passage was
definitely sore and throbbing, his muscles were tired as though
stretched by long hours of use, and his penis was still hard.
"Master," he asked in a very small voice, "are you telling me
that I'm married?"
"Essentially, yes."
Qui-Gon turned to the door as Obi-Wan burst in, face alight.
"Ah, there you are, Padawan. There is enough time for some
meditation before we have to get ready for the celebration."
Obi-Wan's face fell, though he covered his disappointment
quickly. "Yes, Master."
"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said softly, coming to rest his hands on his
apprentice's shoulders. "You were going to tell me something. I
would like to hear what it was you were going to say."
His padawan hesitated a moment and then nodded. "It's just that
Jress found out that today is my birthday, that I'm 18 standard
Republic years, and he says that those who celebrate their 18th
birthday, or 'Tarenow' as they call it, on the day of the
celebration are blessed. There are rituals and a special
ceremony during the celebration. I told them that a Jedi does
not seek such things, but Jrell said that for me to celebrate
my Tarenow during the celebration would assure honour,
prosperity and long happiness for the Bela people."
"And you came to ask if you could participate."
"Yes, Master. But I have a duty to attend you and that is more
important."
"I think I can manage on my own, Padawan. You go with your
friends and we will meet at the celebration."
"Thank you, Master." Obi-Wan bowed and headed for the door.
"Obi-Wan."
"Yes, Master?"
Qui-Gon hesitated and then went to his pack and removed a small
package. "I have a gift for you. Just a small talisman..."
Returning to his master's side, Obi-Wan shyly held out his
hands. He turned the small blue box in his hands over and over,
wondering what it could be. Over the years his master had given
him small, unique gifts on his birthday. Each was connected in
some way with the Force and all five were with him always -in a
small pouch on his utility belt.
A rock, veined with the Force. A flower petal that never died,
though it had been plucked years ago. A tiny flute no larger
than half his little finger that played haunting melodies at
the prompt of a small Force touch. A beetle, long dead, that
had hardened to stone instead of decomposing. A small vial of
water from the Rion Falls on Trianok; it was said that at the
base of the falls, where the water was purest, was the source
of the Force and whoever drank of the water gathered there
would be forever young. His master had climbed the mountain and
braved the falls himself to obtain the gift for his padawan.
Each gift had been given somewhat diffidently; the Jedi did not
collect material things and Obi-Wan knew that each had been
chosen by his master with care. He wondered what could be in
this small box that made his master so shy to give it.
He carefully opened the small box under the watchful eye of his
master. In it, almost hidden by white tissue paper, was a small
yellow bead. Qui-Gon took his braid and rubbed it gently
between his fingers.
"It was mine," he said softly of the bead, eyes on the braid he
held, "when I was a padawan. I thought...," he paused and
Obi-Wan waited, watching as a flicker of emotion passed across
the familiar face. "Well, I guess I'm more sentimental than
many would give me credit for. I thought you might like to wear
it."
"Yes, Master, I would be honoured to. It would be like a small
part of you was always with me, looking out for me when we are
parted. Would you braid it in for me?" Obi-Wan asked, holding
the bead toward his master. Nodding, Qui-Gon unwound the thin
tail of hair, running his fingers through it before slowly
re-braiding it, slipping the small bead in halfway along the
tail.
A knock sounded on the door as he tied off the end and he
tugged on it, smiling down affectionately. "Go on and meet your
friends. I will see you at the celebration."
Qui-Gon smoothed his white tunic and gathered his cloak about
him as he made his way into the Grand Hall. The room certainly
lived up to its name. It was large and airy, the ceilings
reaching up over 36 units. The walls were etched with scenes of
Bela history and trimmed in gold and silver. Enormous
chandeliers hung from the ceiling, each dancing with the flames
of hundreds of candles. One wall was lined with tables
overflowing with food and drink and everywhere were the Bela
themselves, brightly dressed, chittering and laughing.
"Master Jinn!" Jran-Dre called out to him. The Bela's face was
beaming and he held out his arms, clasping Qui-Gon heartily in
greeting. "Jress tells me that your apprentice will be
celebrating his Tarenow during our Festival. You honour us
greatly."
Qui-Gon inclined his head affably.
"And if he chooses a Bela as his mate, well our people would
take it as a sign of times of great prosperity to come,"
continued the politician.
"What do you mean?" asked Qui-Gon, his voice betraying none of
the apprehension Jran-Dre's words had caused.
"Oh, do not worry, we know that you Jedi honour many
traditions. We will not hold your boy the promise of the
lifebond, but it will be seen as a sign of blessing to have him
go through with the Tarenow and take a mate. He must have
someone in mind or he would not have agreed. I wonder..." the
Bela looked around at the celebrants, as if trying to determine
which of his people had caught the young human's eye.
"Are you sure that he was aware of all the ramifications of
this Tarenow when he agreed to it?" asked Qui-Gon. He could see
no way to put a stop to the ritual without angering the Bela
and risking their mission, but he could not believe that
Obi-Wan would have agreed to it if he had been apprised of all
the details.
"But of course," spluttered Jran-Dre. "Are you suggesting that
my offspring would have tricked him into...I assure you that
they would not do such a thing. Look, her comes Jrell now, we
shall ask her and you will see that the Bela are a people of
honour." He waved to the young Bela female who had just entered
the Grand Hall.
She waved gaily and drifted over to them. Her eyes were over
bright and her smile lopsided. "Father, Master Jedi." Her voice
was somewhat slurred, her curtsey definitely off-centre.
"You've been into the Bletin," accused her father. She shrugged
gracefully.
"Just a sip or two; we let Obi-Wan drink most of it. He's so
cute when he's drunk."
Qui-Gon banked down his anger and let the Bela continue his
questioning.
"Master Jinn was concerned that his apprentice was not fully
aware of all the aspects of the Tarenow rituals and ceremony. I
informed him that you and Jress would not have tricked him into
doing this."
"Of course not, Father!" Jrell looked affronted for a moment
before collapsing into giggles. "Though we may have neglected a
detail or two."
"You did tell him that the Tarenow involved choosing a mate and
consummating that choice."
"Well...Jress is telling him now."
"But the ceremony is minutes away! To discontinue now will
bring much fear of bad luck and hard times!"
"Oh, he's had enough Bletin I'm sure he'll want to go through
with the ceremony. His body is prepped, he's going to want it
very badly." She giggled again, seeming impervious to Qui-Gon's
anger, which he was having a difficult time controlling.
These people were using his padawan for their own ends and
while he was sure that Obi-Wan was no blushing virgin, the boy
deserved the same respect as anyone else, including the ability
to make an informed choice as to when he had sex and with whom.
Jran-Dre dismissed his daughter with a wave of his hand.
Leaning in towards Qui-Gon, he spoke softly, but earnestly. "I
am truly sorry, Master Jinn that my children have tricked your
apprentice into the Tarenow. It brings much dishonour to my
people in the face of the Jedi. But to stop this before it goes
any further will guarantee that our negotiations will fail and
to be honest with you, between the Bletin and the cremes and
oils in the baths, your boy will be needing release."
"His choice to participate has been taken from him!"
"If he truly does not wish it, the aphrodisiacs will not compel
him to agree. They just aid in the abandonment of his
inhibitions and enhance the experience for him." The Bela
lowered his eyes. "Please, Master Jedi, if he agrees, let the
ceremony continue, I beg of you."
Qui-Gon considered the matter, weighing Obi-Wan's free will and
the success of their mission. "He will be totally free to take
the mate of *his* choosing?"
"Oh, yes, he may choose the one he wants; no one will do more
than try to catch his eye."
"And he will not be held to the lifebond that usually
accompanies this choosing?"
"No, I swear it."
"Then I will not interfere-"
"Oh, thank you, Master Jedi," gushed the Bela, hands clasping
Qui-Gon's between them. "My people are forever in your debt."
"I will not interfere unless it seems that my conditions are
not being met."
"Of course, of course." Jran-Dre fawned and preened, linking
his arm with Qui-Gon's and walking him toward the small dais in
the centre of the Hall.
The other celebrants gathered around the dais until it was
completely surrounded by a circle many deep. A gong sounded and
Jran-Dre made his way to the dais, standing in front of the
small elevated circle. He raised his arms and the Grand Hall
grew quiet.
"It is the night of Festival."
"Hail to Bela, Jewel of the Sky."
"It is the night of renewal and hope. It is the first night of
the new year."
"Hail to Bela, generous and bountiful."
"Tonight we are doubly honoured. Not only have the Jedi agreed
to celebrate our Festival with us, but one of them is 18 today
and has agreed to take his Tarenow among us." A cheer went up
from the crowd and they stamped their feet in approval. "Bring
forth the child who is to become this night a man. Bring forth
the one who will join tonight with his mate."
A door opened and the crowd parted to reveal two youths slowly
making their way toward the dais. One was Jress, dressed in
tight silver pants and a matching vest. He supported and guided
Obi-Wan, who was not quite steady on his feet. Qui-Gon drew in
a breath as he watched his padawan make his way slowly toward
the dais.
Obi-Wan was dressed in a pair of loose silk trousers the colour
of wheat. His vest was deep red and open, the skin beneath it
pale and gleaming with oils. As he came nearer, Qui-Gon could
see that his nipples were raised and hard, his shaft full and
leaking, a small spot staining the front of the silk trousers.
Their eyes met as Obi-Wan passed him. Qui-Gon could read them
easily -they were full of lust, arousal, desire. There was
nothing in them to suggest that Obi-Wan had been coerced, if
one discounted the slightly glazed quality which spoke of the
aphrodisiac he had been fed.
Jress led Obi-Wan to the centre of the dais and, after
steadying him, left him alone in the middle of the raised
circle.
"Are you Obi-Wan Kenobi, Padawan of the Jedi?" asked Jran-Dre.
"I am."
"Is it your wish to take your Tarenow here and now?"
"It is." Obi-Wan's voice was firm, without a trace of
apprehension or fear. Qui-Gon wanted to snatch him from the
stage and lead him away, to save him from this ceremony that
had not been entirely of his own choosing. But he had agreed
not to interfere if it appeared that Obi-Wan had no objections
and was not being coerced. Standing still after Jran-Dre's next
words was the hardest thing Qui-Gon had ever done.
"Then stand forward and select your mate. Take the one who
holds your heart to you and let the two of you be joined. Make
your choice."
The noise in the Grand Hall was loud in its quiet. Sons and
daughters had been jostled to the front of the circle, each
wearing as little as possible, sparkles and colour highlighting
their skin and hair. Jran-Dre himself held his children, one
beneath each arm, his hope clear on his face.
Qui-Gon felt a stab of envy pass through him. He acknowledged
the feelings -he was jealous of Obi-Wan's chosen one. For
several years he had harboured the hope that when Obi-Wan
became a man he would come to Qui-Gon with declarations of
love. He knew it wasn't a very realistic hope and he crushed it
now, releasing it along with the jealousy, letting the Force
have them both.
Obi-Wan stepped down from the dais and walked slowly toward his
master. Or so it seemed, though Qui-Gon knew well that it was
Jress or Jrell toward whom Obi-Wan stalked with such purpose.
Obi-Wan stopped in front of Qui-Gon, looking up into his eyes.
"Master," he began.
Qui-Gon placed his hands on his padawan's shoulders, squeezing
lightly. "You don't need my blessing, Padawan, though if you
want it it is yours."
"But I do need it, Master. I cannot have you as my chosen
unless you agree."
Qui-Gon felt heat bloom in his face. The desire he'd so
recently released came flooding back to him, bringing him to
instant hardness. He couldn't speak and instead brought his
hands up to gently cup his padawan's face. Obi-Wan's eyes
glittered up at him like a pair of jewels.
Beside them Jran-Dre choked and sputtered, muttering under his
breath. After a moment or two he cleared his throat and
completed the ceremony. "Obi-Wan Kenobi, Padawan of the Jedi,
is this your choice?"
"It is." Obi-Wan's voice was low, sultry and Qui-Gon shivered
as he heard it. Obi-Wan removed Qui-Gon's hands from his face,
taking them in his own.
"Is this your heart?"
"He is."
Jran-Dre turned to Qui-Gon for the final question. "Do you
accept Obi-Wan's Tarenow?"
"I -" He cleared his throat and repeated his answer loudly and
clearly, so that all could hear him accept Obi-Wan. "I do."
"Take them away," said Jran-Dre imperiously, clapping his hands
twice. Two servants, a male and a female slid forward and led
the two Jedi from the hall.
The room they were taken to was warm and humid. A shallow pool
dominated it. The blue walls reflected the water and soft pink
columns rose in each corner. The Bela female led Obi-Wan to a
marble bench at one edge of the pool while Qui-Gon was led into
the water. Resisting, he tried to undo the sash of his dress
uniform while the servant fought him.
"It's okay, Master, they did the same to me. Jress assured me
there's nothing in the water to spoil the linen."
Qui-Gon refrained from commenting on the wisdom of accepting
anything Jress might have said at face value and let himself be
led into the pool.
The male servant turned him three times and, using a large pot,
poured water over his head. It was warm and smelled sweet, but
his wet clothing hung uncomfortably, feeling clammy against his
skin. He moved to untie his sash, but the servant's hands
batted them away, taking them and holding them against his
sides.
"Okay, okay," said Qui-Gon. "You can do it."
Obi-Wan laughed softly and Qui-Gon looked up at him, breath
catching at the enchanting sight. Lights recessed into the
ceiling reflected off the water, playing over the silk of
Obi-Wan's clothing and making his oiled skin shine. His hair
twinkled like it had been sprinkled with stars and his braid
hung down to just past one enticing nipple. Qui-Gon's bead and
the usual small red tie were the only adornments in the plait.
Divining where Qui-Gon's thoughts were, Obi-Wan raised his hand
to play with the braid, taking the yellow bead and rolling it
between his forefinger and thumb. Turning his head, though
keeping his eyes on Qui-Gon's, Obi-Wan brought the bead to his
mouth, the tip of his tongue sliding across his lips to lap at
it. Qui-Gon closed his eyes as arousal lit through him, his
genitals beginning to ache with sweet desire.
When he opened his eyes again it was to find Obi-Wan sucking on
the bead, one hand massaging the prominent bulge at his own
groin, while his changeable eyes feasted hungrily on Qui-Gon's
body as it was slowly revealed by the servant removing
Qui-Gon's clothing. Qui-Gon felt no embarrassment as his
leggings were pulled from his body, his shaft eagerly escaping
its confines and curving proudly toward his belly.
Obi-Wan moaned and slid his hand beneath the waistband of his
silken trousers, working his erection vigorously. Qui-Gon
touched himself, gasping as he began to mimic Obi-Wan's
movements. Shifting on the bench Obi-Wan released his shaft,
hissing as the silk brushed across the tip.
A cup was held up to Qui-Gon's lips and he drank the overly
sweet liquid without comment. Almost immediately his member
became harder. The female servant waded into the water, joining
the male servant, and the two of them rubbed oil into his body,
hands sliding sensuously over his skin, massaging his muscles.
Obi-Wan watched avidly, hand moving more quickly over the
length of flesh at his groin. Hands covered Qui-Gon's shaft,
working a cool creme into the heated length. He moaned as the
continued friction heated the lubricant, intensifying the
sensation of fingers moving over his flesh.
The servants were chanting softly, the sound not forming words,
but adding to the coil of pleasure that wrapped around
Qui-Gon's body, holding him still where he was. The water of
the pool lapped softly at his thighs, tugging gently at the
bottom of his testicles; his breathing came in shallow hitches,
his control on the verge of becoming totally shattered.
More creme was smoothed along Qui-Gon's cleft, fingers sliding
easily along his skin, rubbing over the tight bud. It heated
quickly, leaving him trembling and wanton with the need for
touch. Qui-Gon spread his legs slightly, his testicles becoming
enclosed in the water that moved against him.
Two fingers slipped into Qui-Gon's passage as Obi-Wan's body
jerked, ejaculate pulsing onto his body and staining his vest a
deeper red. Qui-Gon's own body jerked, semen flowing from his
penis, caught in a bowl by the female Bela. Qui-Gon stood
unsteadily on his feet, moaning as the manservant's fingers
slid from his anus, the creme they'd inserted heightening each
sensation.
The female servant brought the bowl of Qui-Gon's essence to
where Obi-Wan sat and anointed his padawan with it, touching it
to his forehead, lips, chin, nipples, belly and the tip of his
still hard penis. She held the bowl aloft and Obi-Wan dipped
his fingers into it, bringing them to his mouth and tasting the
pale fluid.
Retrieving a second bowl from beneath the bench, the servant
collected the ejaculate from Obi-Wan's orgasm, wading back into
the pool to repeat the anointing on Qui-Gon's body. When she
held the bowl aloft he dipped his fingers in, tasting as
Obi-Wan had. The flavour filled his mouth, bitter but also
sweet.
The small ritual had bound them somehow; he could feel the
connection thrumming gently through the Force, tying him and
Obi-Wan together.
The male Bela led him from the water and dried him gently
before dressing him in clothing similar to his padawan's, but
Qui-Gon only had eyes for Obi-Wan. He watched, jealousy raging
unreasonably through him as the female servant touched Obi-Wan,
helping him to stand and rearranging his clothing. He moved
quickly to his padawan's side.
He joined hands with his padawan, head lowering for a kiss, but
the servants split them apart, and Obi-Wan chuckled ruefully.
"I don't believe we're allowed to do more than hold hands until
we are sealed in the mating chamber."
"Then by all means, let us go there quickly."
He could barely keep his hands off Obi-Wan and he didn't know
how the younger man was managing to appear as calm as he did.
Qui-Gon had only been given a single glass of the liquid he
assumed to be Bletin, the same aphrodisiac Obi-Wan had
consumed. By all accounts, Obi-Wan had drunk the better part of
a bottle on his own.
The oils and cremes were not helping matters; despite their
earlier orgasms they were both still hard, and Qui-Gon's skin
transmitted each touch to his genitals, even the slightest
movement of air against him. He could feel the blood pulse
along the walls of his anus and he craved to be filled.
They were led through a dimly lit hall, usually used by the
servants to get from room to room without cluttering the
hallways of the palace.
"We aren't to be seen until the mating is complete. It's bad
luck apparently," Obi-Wan spoke quietly and there were promises
in his voice beneath the mundane words.
"For us or those seeing us?" asked Qui-Gon, pretending he
wasn't aching to hold his padawan in his arms and make love to
him until they could no longer move. Obi-Wan made no answer as
they were led into the room prepared for their mating.
The curtains were pulled, the only light coming from a large
fireplace. The flames lit the room with a warm glow, leaving
dancing shadows on the walls and ceiling. A carpet of deep
green covered the floor, matching the curtains that hung around
the bed. The bed itself was the centrepiece of the room. The
large frame was ornately carved and painted dark gold. The
sheets were also gold, etched with burnished highlights, and
the pillows were piled high at the head of the bed.
The servants bowed to them and left, closing the door behind
them. Qui-Gon's attention returned to the bed as Obi-Wan moved
to sit on it, bouncing. "It's as soft as it looks..."
All of Qui-Gon's need rushed to the fore. He was filled with
the urge to throw himself upon the softness of the bed and beg
his padawan to fill his body, to make him whole.
"...and if you don't get over here now, I'm going to jump you
where you stand and make love to you on the floor." Obi-Wan's
growl galvanised him into action and Qui-Gon strode across the
room, cupped Obi-Wan's face between his hands, and took his
first kiss.
No chaste meeting of lips; they met open-mouthed, tongues
duelling, pushing in to explore each other's mouths. Obi-Wan
tasted so sweet, yet tangy, the contradiction intriguing,
addictive. As were the small, needy sounds his padawan was
making and the feeling of the restless fingers that explored
his torso, pushing beneath the open vest.heat of his body and encouraging the narrow hips
to resume their movements while he latched onto Qui-Gon's other
nipple. Qui-Gon cried out, hips pumping rapidly against
Obi-Wan's abdomen. His hands tightened their hold on Obi-Wan's
hair and with a low growl, he came, his seed soaking into his
silk leggings.
It had been a long time since he had been so eager that he'd
come in his pants. There was, however, no time for reflection.
Obi-Wan was pulling him onto the bed, twisting their bodies as
Qui-Gon tumbled.
Encouraging him to lie on his stomach, Obi-Wan took one of the
pillows from the head of the bed, sliding it beneath Qui-Gon's
hips. His leggings were pulled from his body, the silk tearing
easily and before he could get his bearings, Obi-Wan pushed
into him, sinking deeply into his body until Qui-Gon could feel
the silken glide of material against his bottom.
Obi-Wan pulled out slowly and plunged back in, stretching
Qui-Gon. He ached, the stretch translating into a burning
sensation. Another thrust and the burning sensation also
morphed, leaving sweet pleasure in its stead. Obi-Wan thrust
again - more slowly, then again. And then his control broke and
he began to pound into his mate's body, hands gripping
Qui-Gon's hips tightly.
"Master!" Obi-Wan shouted. Qui-Gon could feel the pulse of the
erection inside his body, the liquid heat of ejaculate against
the sensitised skin deep within him. Obi-Wan collapsed onto
Qui-Gon, chest moving as he gasped for breath. Qui-Gon lay
still, enjoying the sensation of his padawan's body covering
his own. Obi-Wan's skin was hot and the edges of his vest
tickled at Qui-Gon's sides where it hung down. The silk of
Obi-Wan's leggings was smooth against his buttocks and legs,
almost cool compared to the heat still pressed within him.
They were both still hard.
Obi-Wan groaned and covered his face, his headache coming back
full force as memories of the night before flooded back into
him.
"At least I haven't bound myself for eternity to a Bela. I
would imagine that would cause quite the incident."
"Well, I guess you're going to be all right if you've
rediscovered your dubious humour." Qui-Gon teased him gently.
Obi-Wan chuckled ruefully, sobering as he tried to figure out
what to say to his master regarding his behaviour the previous
evening. Some of the things he remembered made his face grow
red. His body tingled, penis still hard and throbbing as he
remembered his master kissing him in the most intimate of
places. He had returned the favour, tentatively at first, but
with growing pleasure as his soft licks and quick stabs had
left his master quite literally begging for more.
Qui-Gon's hand cupped his face, tilting it until their eyes
met.
"It was an exhausting but fulfilling night. I was honoured that
you chose me, though I realise that you took the graceful way
out of the situation."
Obi-Wan's brows drew together in puzzlement.
"Jrell confessed that she and her brother hid the exact nature
of the Tarenow from you until you were already under the
influence of both the aphrodisiac and the various cremes they
had massaged into your body. Not to mention that to withdraw at
that late hour would have insulted the Bela, despite their
keeping the exact nature of the Tarenow from you. You made a
good job of a bad situation and I am proud of you, Padawan."
"Only proud?" Obi-Wan asked, looking shyly at his master.
"Not to mention amazed at your flexibility."
"Master!"
"Don't be a prude, Obi-Wan."
"I'm just surprised that you're taking this so well."
"I very much enjoyed making love to you, Obi-Wan. Would you be
more comfortable if I didn't share that?"
"No, Master. I... I very much enjoyed making love to you too."
Obi-Wan turned his face, kissing one of the palms holding his
cheek, letting his tongue slide against the warm skin. He
nuzzled the familiar palm, tongue tracing the soft flesh,
mapping the size and texture of calluses -skin made thick and
hard by a lifetime of training.
He breathed deeply, pulling his master's scent into himself.
Qui-Gon hissed and Obi-Wan drew the sound in and built his
courage around it. He turned to his master, eyes fastening on
to the gentle blue.
"I love you, Master -Qui-Gon. And I will be forever grateful to
the Bela and their Tarenow for allowing me to choose you as
mate, for being able to express the sentiment out loud and not
just in my heart. Even if we never speak of this again, I will
always have one night to remember, one night where there was
only you and I, our bodies and love, mingling freely."
Qui-Gon's hand had tightened while Obi-Wan spoke and he held
his master's eyes when he was done, heart thudding anxiously in
his chest as he waited for Qui-Gon's response.
"Oh, my Obi-Wan," said Qui-Gon, his other hand touching
Obi-Wan's face, sliding to cup his cheek. Obi-Wan let his
master tilt his head, hardly needing the words that followed,
but cherishing them nonetheless: "You are my very own heart,"
whispered against his lips.
Just a kiss, a single soft touch of lips, sealed them together.
It spoke louder than any drug-induced lovemaking. As simply as
that, their vows were made in the Force.
Qui-Gon rested his forehead against Obi-Wan's, his hands moving
to link with Obi-Wan's own. They sat like that for a long time,
foreheads leaning one against the other, noses pressed
together, lips barely touching, the same air sustaining them
both.
"I need a shower," said Obi-Wan as the moment passed and he
realised that while his master smelled sweet and sort of like
gnorfruit, he himself smelled like he'd been covered in oils
and spent the night rutting.
Qui-Gon laughed and Obi-Wan marvelled at the sound. He had
heard his master laugh before -the polite titter of politics,
the rueful laughter of a bad joke shared with his padawan, even
the laughter of shared joy with friends. But this, this husky
chuckle that came from somewhere deep inside Qui-Gon's chest,
this was the gentle laughter of a lover, happy to be alive and
with his beloved.
"Share it with me," Obi-Wan suggested softly, watching his
master's face.
"*I* am clean."
"I wasn't thinking of washing you..."
"In that case it would be my pleasure."
Qui-Gon stood, holding his hands out, and Obi-Wan took them,
letting his master pull him up from the opulent bed. He was led
to an alcove near the front of the room that opened into a
large marble shower, black stone shot through with white and
yellow.
"It's too bad we didn't know about his last night," murmured
Obi-Wan as his master turned the faucets until he had adjusted
the temperature and flow to his satisfaction. Backing away, he
motioned to Obi-Wan to go in while he removed his own clothing.
Stepping into the spray was like walking into a healing. The
warm flow of water eased his muscles and soothed his aches; he
breathed a sigh of relief when his penis softened as the last
of the crème was rinsed away. Obi-Wan's headache receded
completely for the first time since he'd woken, leaving him
clear-headed. He was aware of the instant his master joined him
in the shower, his body tingling at his mate's proximity.
His master turned him, lowering his head to give Obi-Wan a deep
kiss. Their mouths met and clung, each loath to lose the
contact. Their tongues danced together; pushing, pulling,
following, leading, twining together.
"There is a large choice of soaps," said Qui-Gon as he moved
away, his arm swinging in an arc to encompass the shelf that
ran the length of the room. The little bottles and pots
glistened through the moisture-laden steam that was beginning
to fill the room.
"You smell wonderful, Master. I want the soap you used."
Qui-Gon chuckled and reached for a small jar at one end of the
shelf. "It was the only one without a scent," he murmured as he
poured the liquid into his hands and rubbed them together.
Obi-Wan stepped out of the flow of water, head falling back
with a soft moan as Qui-Gon's hands ran over his body,
transferring the soap bubbles from the large palms to Obi-Wan's
own skin. Qui-Gon's touch was efficient but far from
impersonal.
Obi-Wan enjoyed the solid, knowing touch. He spread his legs,
bracing himself as his master slowly and deliberately touched
every part of him. He put his hands on Qui-Gon's shoulders when
his master knelt to clean his legs, his thighs, hips, genitals,
buttocks.
A soft, breathy moan left his lips as the touch became more
intimate. A single, soapy finger ran along his crease, sliding
teasingly past his opening several times before pressing
inside. Obi-Wan gasped as the long digit entered his body,
pressing inexorably deeper. He shifted, allowing Qui-Gon easier
access, and moved his hands from the shoulders in front of him
to the shower wall.
The marble was cool under his hands and damp from the steam
that hung around them. Hot water swirled around his feet on its
way to the drain and the rush of water against the stone floor
was in loud competition with the sound of his own blood rushing
through his veins.
His master's touch continued, the single finger sliding in and
out while Qui-Gon's other hand cupped his testicles, fondling
them gently before sliding along his penis, the soap slicked
hand moving gently, bringing him slowly to hardness.
"No," Obi-Wan gasped as his master stood, leaving him gently
aroused. Although he knew they had made love most of the night,
his recollections were, on the whole, incomplete -just flashes
of two people having sex, somewhat hazy and unreal, as if he
were a watcher and not a participant. It was no doubt a
side-effect of the aphrodisiacs and performance enhancers. What
they were doing now was far more real than anything they had
done the night before.
He let his master push him back into the flow of water.
Qui-Gon's hands moved over him again, encouraging the soap
away. Obi-Wan shivered as their eyes met. Qui-Gon's had gone
dark with desire; they shone with his love, and Obi-Wan felt
his knees buckle.
His master dropped to his own knees and his arms came around
Obi-Wan's waist, holding him up and making him feel even more
unsteady all at the same time. He watched, body shivering, as
Qui-Gon's rubbed his face against Obi-Wan's groin, the beard
tangling with his pubic hair and scraping over the sensitive
skin of his erection.
Small kisses were placed along his penis from base to crown and
Obi-Wan moaned, his skin becoming more sensitive with each
kiss. He could feel the water hitting his skin, each drop
sliding over his flesh, joining other drops and falling from
his body. He could feel the heat of his master's hands wrapped
around his hips, each finger like a bolt of electricity against
him. And when his master's mouth closed around the top of his
erection, he could feel it in his blood, in his bones, in his
heart and soul.
He jerked forward, crying out as his phallus slid deeply into
his master's mouth, Qui-Gon's hands loose and leaving him free
rein. Hips pistoning twice, he came, his master's name on his
lips like a prayer.
His knees finally gave way and Obi-Wan dropped down into his
master's arms. Their mouths met again and Obi-Wan tasted
himself on his master's lips, the salty, bitter flavour
mingling with Qui-Gon's own earthy taste. Reaching down, he
found his lover's penis flaccid, but when he pulled back,
Qui-Gon's eyes were twinkling. "I came when you did," he said
softly, voice rough and low, husky with satiation.
Obi-Wan cupped his face and brought there mouths together for
another kiss.
Their lives were sealed together now. Not because of the
Tarenow, but because of the love in their hearts. Teacher and
Apprentice, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan, Master and Padawan, it
mattered little what they were called, for in their own minds
they were each the other's soul.
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