Dedication: to Christy, who never stops surprising and
delighting me.
Archive : Anywhere as long as my name stays on it.
Disclaimer : None of the Star Wars characters belongs to me,
they are the sole property of George Lucas. Pirates, beware.
Author's Note: I don't write slash. I've read it for years,
but this is my first slash piece. I don't write in first
person; this is also my first attempt at this point of view.
(Christy insisted I was up to the challenge.) There was no beta
reader for this piece, so any mistakes, misspellings or errors
are my own fault.
I was cold. That was the first thing that came to mind as I
regained consciousness. I was cold and my body ached. As my
senses returned, slowly, I stretched out my inner concentration
to feel the Force. The familiar tingle of it nearly made me
giddy and I laughed knowing I was still alive. As I opened my
eyes I saw Qui-Gon hovering over me, looking both somber and
relieved--when he caught me staring, he straightened up again
and cleared his throat.
"You're back. Not everyone returns from the dead, padawan," he
rumbled. Gingerly I sat up, feeling a chilly weakness seeping
through my bones. My lower lip hurt.
"The demon," I managed to rasp.
"The demon bested you. I doubt there is enough blood left in
you to fill a drinking mug," Qui-Gon replied, his voice still
rough and troubled. As I ran a tongue over my lip, I winced,
nicking it on the fangs that were poking through my gum line.
"Crap of a drunken Hutt--He turned me!" I could feel
the panic rising through my body; I shuddered and would have
jumped up from the medical bed, but Qui-Gon grabbed my
shoulder, steadying me, calming me. I could feel the heat of
his mortality through the cloth.
"No, Obi-Wan. I forced him to turn you. I held my
lightsaber to the back of his worthless neck until he the
completed the change, then I took his head off with a flick of
my wrist." There was no boasting in his tone; looking down at
me, his blue eyes were glacial with the sort of aloofness that
comes with shame. I realized the enormity of what he'd just
confessed to, and my mind reeled with the implication of it
all. I sucked in a hard, deep breath.
"You forced him to turn me! You let him make me into a--" my
hands balled into fists; I could feel a prickle of tears behind
my eyelids at this betrayal. Slowly Qui-Gon's hand shifted from
my shoulder to my chin and I couldn't resist rubbing against
it, like a cat seeking affection.
"I couldn't let you die. I couldn't, " he whispered
roughly. "Not all the rules and platitudes and Jedi principles
could ever change what I feel for you." With those soft,
tortured words, I felt all my anger dissipate and a rush of
love flood through me. My hands sought him, and I pulled my
master against me, resting my cheek against his belt, my icy
tears staining his tunic with droplets of crimson.
Within a day I learned much about my new condition. I could
run, jump, fight faster than anyone else. Even Adi Gallia had
to admit that my Demon-enhanced reflexes were formidable. That
was a little gratifying. I also realized that every sense I had
was fine-tuned now, capable of greater depth and strength. I
could hear a heartbeat across a courtyard, I could smell a fire
fifteen miles away, I could see shadows dancing over the stars
of Coruscant.
I hated it.
Life was hard enough as a knight in training, not that I
complained in my time. All padawans had difficult lessons and
arduous duties as a part of our education. We were taught
serenity, adaptability and resourcefulness. We weren't taught
how to deal with life after death, a life that required
more death to sustain itself. How could I even begin to contend
with this new condition? How could I satiate the hunger that
was growing stronger within me?
The Council was quick to acknowledge that I needed time and
help; they managed to develop a synthetic blood substitute that
seemed to contain all the nutrients I needed. It tasted as
bland as stagnant water, and made me gag, though I hid this
fact from them. Only my Master knew, and every time I felt his
sorrowful blue stare I cringed. Bad enough that I loved him and
never had the chance to tell him so--now it was a never-to-be
dream, the leftover yearnings of the living man I no longer
was.
The faint blue of growing twilight spilled through the windows
of the room, adding to the air of melancholy about me. Normally
I loved looking out over the vast city of Coruscant, watching
the flickering twinkle of lights below. Tonight it annoyed me.
Hunger clawed at my ribs, and only will power held it back. I
wanted to feed, and knew it would have to be blood. Fresh, full
of life and vitality, blood given over in passion.
I wanted Qui-Gon's blood.
Sighing, I drew myself up, opening the window, knowing that I
could step out and stretch myself on the wind. Gravity was no
longer a restraint. Fear was no longer a mentor. I hear the
soft tread behind me.
"It's not wise."
"It's not fair," I snapped back before I could think.
Qui-Gon's sigh tickled the hairs on the back of my neck and I
stiffened. The gentle scent of him: linen, leather, ancient
incense--made me dizzy. That and the hunger.
"You've no need to hunt, Obi-Wan," he murmured in a low voice.
"I have what you desire. Take it."
Turning, I looked up at him, studying his serene expression
with skeptical eyes. His pulse jumped; I could feel it quicken
and that simple fact made a slight smile cross my mouth. It was
getting darker, but there was enough light to see his face.
"Take it, master? You trust me not to drain you--not to
turn you?" I meant it to sound light and careless, but
something in my voice betrayed me as it came out low and sweet,
a caress of words. Qui-Gon lowered his head, a tiny betrayal of
his uncertainty, but I couldn't tell if it was for the offer,
or the seduction of my comment. A surge went through me and for
the first time, the Force felt strange in my head. Qui-Gon's
big hands rose in the gathering darkness, reaching on either
side of me to close the window. I stood in the circle of his
presence, listening to the strong beat of his heart.
"Listen to me, Obi-Wan. I acted out of selfishness, and for
that, I cannot ask your forgiveness. All I can do is give you
what you need." His warm breath brushed my temple, and his hand
drifted from the window lock to my padawan braid, rubbing it
between his thumb and forefinger.
"What if what I need is . . . more, master?" the purr
came out of me, surprising me, frightening me. I could feel the
tendrils of the Force gliding out, caressing Qui-Gon in tiny
touches. His breathing was becoming uneven.
"Then so be it." he acquiesced in a sigh. I stared up at him,
feeling the power as he bent his head and pressed his mouth to
mine. His lips were searingly hot, and my fangs pricked his
tongue; I gasped a moan as the sweet wine of his blood trickled
against my teeth. With strength born of my demon condition, I
pressed my hands against his chest and forced Qui-Gon back
three steps. A red haze filled my vision; I knew whatever
control I had would soon be gone if I didn't master myself.
"Sit down," I growled at him. Qui-Gon dropped into a chair, a
tiny trickle of blood welling on his lower lip. On the surface
he was as serene as ever, but my senses screamed to me that it
was a facade, barely covering his own anxiety and longing. The
pulse at his throat thrummed visibly, summoning me. I took a
deep breath.
"I'll drink, and gladly, but on my terms, Qui-Gon," I
tersely announced. "I cannot put all my trust in you as I did
once--blindly, without doubt. I need assurance that your offer
is sincere." A thought occurred to me, and with a tiny smile, I
began to unwind the sash about my waist. His eyes followed my
movements and his brows furrowed.
"Give me leave to bind you before I feed. If you let me do
this, it will prove beyond a doubt that you meant every word
you said."
For a long moment in the purple-shadowed room, neither of us
spoke. Qui-Gon sat still as I glided over. I dropped down in a
crouch at his side, the sash slung between my hands, waiting
for the answer, suddenly more aware of my own needs as I
watched his proud face.
"Of course." The rough timbre of his voice shook slightly. He
reached up and tugged open his tunic, revealing the hard
muscles of his chest, the long ridges and hollows of his broad
shoulders. Even in the deep shadows I could see the rawboned
beauty of his form and my throat ached. A willing victim. A
gift.
"You are wondrous--" I murmured softly. He seemed amused at
that; a small smile touched the corner of his mouth almost
hidden in the mustache. Qui-Gon inclined his head, his silvery
hair spilling forward.
"Hardly, padawan. Merely--fair."
A laugh escaped me as I realized he intended both meanings of
the word, and further, that he intended I should know it. I had
never thought of my master as witty--his approach was often
direct and brusque--but this unexpected comment emboldened me
and I draped the sash around his chest, around his ribs and
below his nipples.
"Fair you may be, master, but I've been bested by those arms
and that strength many times." With three hard twists and tugs
I knotted the sash behind him, binding him to the armless chair
as tightly as I could. Qui-Gon offered no resistance, watching
me calmly as I finished and stepped back.
"And now . . ?" he prompted almost courteously. I looked down
at him, seeing his long and lean form below me, waiting. I
closed my eyes.
What could I say? Qui-Gon had kept me from a true death, and
killed to do it. If I took him as my belly and mind and cock
urged me to do, I had no idea if he would survive through the
night. I stepped forward. Gracefully, I let my knees slide
against either side of his right thigh, trapping it. The soft
scrape of cloth on cloth sounded loud to me. Slowly I bent down
and captured my apprentice braid in my right hand, using it to
tickle the end of his nose.
"I have no idea of how a demon feeds. But I know how I
want to feed, Qui-Gon," I managed to rasp out. The Force surged
between us, honing the moment as we locked gazes. The throb of
my cock against his thigh was deliberate and unmistakable; a
direct challenge. Even though my heart no longer beat, I felt
the light-headedness of hunger and lust within me. My fangs
flashed when I licked my lips. Qui-Gon watched.
Then he growled, low in his throat, shifting a little to press
his thigh against me as a tiny trickle of sweat rolled down his
temple. Ahhhhhh.
I had him.
For all his practiced inscrutable calm, he was as frantic for
my kiss as I was to give it to him. Fierce joy surged through
me; I took the braid and pressed it across his mouth. In
surprise, he took it in his teeth as I smiled down.
"If I drink too heavily, if I begin to take too much--yank," I
directed, my breath making all the fine hairs on his throat
rise. Lightly, caressingly I dragged my fangs on the corded
muscles of Qui-Gon's neck. He arched up in response, and I let
my right hand slide down his chest to cup the straining ridge
rising from his groin. The feel of his big cock, insistent and
throbbing maddened me and quickly I sank my fangs into his
throat, feeling the gush of his blood surge into my mouth.
Ohhh the rich coppery ambrosia of it! Qui-Gon's life essence
pulsed over my tongue, tasting of strength and passion and
fear. Each swallow burned its way down my throat, searing away
the hollow hunger behind my ribs. After five gulps it was too
much, and I felt myself come, furiously, splattering within my
own trousers. I pulled up, licking the red trickles from the
corners of my mouth, and pressing my left hand against the
wound. Qui-Gon was panting. My right hand, still toying with
the bulge of his manhood, lightly squeezed.
"You make a fine feast, master," I sighed. Thanks to the
Force, under the touch of my fingers, his wound healed, leaving
tiny pink spots of regenerating flesh. Qui-Gon slowly let my
braid drop out of his teeth; it was wet and frayed. The heat
rose from his body in an almost visible aura as his unabated
lust raged.
"But I want more."
Swiftly, before he could even begin to struggle, I dropped to
my knees and used my shoulders to force his thighs apart. My
hands freed his cock; it surged up from the cloth and I
lovingly cupped my palms around it.
"Obi-Wan . . ." his usually melodious voice was a strange
blend of panic and lasciviousness as he stared down at me. I
flashed him a grin.
"When I was I alive I couldn't even tell you. But now I have
you just as I've dreamed of for years." I couldn't believe I
was saying it now, but even as the words left my lips, the
prick in my hands throbbed harder. Qui-Gon bit back a deep
groan and I dropped my head, taking him into my mouth.
I was careful--there would be no fang grooves along the thick
length of my master's cock. Slowly at first, and then with
increasing speed, I sucked him, letting my tongue and lips
envelop his manhood with every stroke. Qui-Gon thrust his hips
forward, grunting softly, the muscles of his stomach tightening
as I brought him closer and closer to the edge. Finally, with a
desperate growl from the bottom of his lungs, my master came,
flooding my throat with his seed.
I swallowed, pleased at my discovery that it cooled the blood
fire within me, delighted at having Qui-Gon in precisely the
way I'd fantasized about for years. He was mine, now in a way
I'd never imagined he could be--nurturing but sensual. A few
last flicks of my tongue and he was clean again. As I moved to
untie him, I realized the sash had torn. Stunned, I met his
eyes.
"The Force was with me," he commented drily. "--in more ways
than one, little padawan." His strong hands came up, cupping
the sides of my face, thumbs stroking my cheekbones. I felt a
smirk coming on, but Qui-Gon beat me to it. It was a rare treat
to see him look almost young. The way I would now forever. He
leaned forward to kiss me, slowly and tenderly this time,
without the drive of lust behind it. Within that kiss was a
promise of more to come, I knew.
When I broke away to look at him, Qui-Gon nodded, and rose,
gathering me into his arms. For a moment we looked out over
Coruscant together, lost in our own thoughts.
"Master--it won't be easy," I finally ventured.
"Obi-Wan, you've made things hard for me for years--why should
now be any different?" he commented, and threw back his head to
laugh.
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