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Chapter XII

The ship slowed and came out of hyperspace alongside Cyrius IV. Qui-Gon set the autopilot and took a few quick readings to calculate their time of arrival. Sitting back he rolled his stiff shoulders, grimacing as cramped muscles protested loudly. What he really needed now was a good back rub - he touched his forehead gingerly - and some Telurian tea to soothe the pounding ache between his temples.

Qui-Gon lowered his hand to the arm rest and sighed heavily. No. What he really needed was for this whole disastrous mess to have never happened.

His feelings of failure and self-loathing cut deep. Despite his harsh words to Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon had no doubts as to where the real blame lay for this fiasco. Ultimately he, and he alone, was responsible for Obi-Wan's welfare, and it seemed in that he had failed the young man terribly.

{It's my fault. I should never have let him out of my sight.}

Some small part of him challenged this guilty declaration. Like another 'voice' inside his head, it slyly dug at him.

{Obi-Wan isn't a child. You should be able to trust him.} The voice taunted.

{I do !} Qui-Gon insisted, as the conflict raged inside his head. {I trust Obi-Wan with my life.} On that score at least, he had no doubts.

{So,} the voice whispered mockingly. {You would trust the boy with your life......but not with your heart ?}

Qui-Gon raised a fist, slamming it hard into the armrest. He winced as the reverberations rushed up his arm, jarring the agonizing ache inside his head.

{Enough !} He told himself harshly. {This has nothing to do with my feelings for Obi-Wan.}

Qui-Gon's mouth twisted bitterly. Who was he trying to fool ? He could tell himself that his emotional turmoil stemmed from his disappointment in Obi-Wan's recklessness.

It did nothing to change the truth.

That he was seething with jealousy and anger. That his heart felt as though a thousand tiny teeth were tearing at it.

Why ?

Because his Padawan, his Obi-Wan had lain with another man.Willingly, almost casually sharing with a stranger an intimacy that he would never experience.

And it hurt. It hurt beyond bearing.

{*I will not think of this !*} His mind screamed. He closed his eyes, his fingers digging into the arm rests.

{Alright}, he confessed coldly. {So, I want him. But not like that. Nothing so..so sordid.}

Qui-Gon's mouth tightened. The Jedi Master was struggling hard not to hate the man who had schemed and conspired with his Padawan, stealing Obi-Wan away for the sole purpose of enjoying the youth's physical charms.

As for his feelings toward himself, they ran the full gauntlet, from self pity and despair, to disgust and angry condemnation. Had he done this to Obi-Wan ? He was Obi-Wan's Master. He had virtually raised the boy. Had he done something to make Obi-Wan believe that he would condone the use of his body as a bartering chip ? !

Qui-on couldn't accept that Obi-Wan held himself so cheaply. The young man's self esteem was not that low. Oh, he knew that Obi-Wan was far from as cocksure and composed as he appeared. His Padawan had demonstrated a deep rooted need to prove himself, a desperate need which had sometimes driven the youth into foolhardiness.

Qui-Gon had worked hard to undo his early mistakes. He was painfully aware that his initial coolness toward Obi-Wan had done much to undermine the young man's faith in himself. That had never been Qui-Gon's intention, and he had cursed himself bitterly for it over the years. When he had first encountered Obi-Wan he had still been consumed by Xanatos' betrayal. He had been too blinded by his own misery to notice the unhappiness of one small boy.

Qui-Gon opened his eyes quickly. Was he making the same mistakes all over again ? Was he so immured in his own suffering that he was disregarding Obi-Wan's ? He knew that on some level at least he was disappointed in Obi-Wan.

Qui-Gon had never considered himself to be a harsh Master. He believed in allowing his Padawan a certain amount of leeway, as well as allowing Obi-Wan to make his own mistakes. How else was the young man expected to learn ?

However, in the field they were not always afforded the luxury of debate and when he gave an order he expected it to be obeyed. There would be time for discussion later, when the mission was over. Obi-Wan knew and understood that.

So, why had the boy flagrantly disregarded his order to remain on the ship? What had possessed his Padawan to behave so foolishly ? Didn't Obi-Wan realise what might have happened ?

There was so much they still didn't know about the Pagenka - their customs and beliefs.

Qui-Gon's throat tightened as he thought of what had happened to his Padawan. His mouth set in a grim line as he stood; gathering his robe around him he left the cockpit in search of Obi-Wan.

Chapter XIII

Qui-Gon could sense his Padawan's presence inside the closed cabin. The youth was asleep. He hesitated, then took a deep breath and pressed the door release.

As he stepped inside he was greeted by the sight of his Padawan curled up on the narrow cot. A closer look revealed that the young man's sleep was far from restful. Tightly furled fists and a deeply furrowed brow betrayed the youth's troubled state; his eyes moving feverishly behind bruised lids.

Tears stained both pale, drawn cheeks and Qui-Gon felt a stab of guilt. Was this his doing ?

At that moment, Obi-Wan's eyes fluttered open and with difficulty Qui-Gon met the youth's confused, unhappy gaze.

"Obi-Wan," he said gently.

Obi-Wan looked startled, as though he had just realised his Master really was here and not a phantom from some dream. "M-Master, I....I was meditating....but I..."

Quickly, Qui-Gon sought to put an end to the young man's distress. "Sssh. It's alright, Obi-Wan." He purposefully kept his eyes averted from Obi-Wan's throat, not wishing to see the love mark which marred it. "I just wanted to let you know that we will reach Coruscant shortly. You might like to get your things together, and perhaps wash your face ?" he suggested quietly.

Obi-Wan's fingers automatically flew up to touch his cheek. He paled even further as he encountered the evidence of his earlier distress. "Yes, Master. Thank you, Master."

Qui-Gon hesitated, troubled by Obi-Wan's distress and the stilted formality between them. He opened his mouth as if to add something, but closed it without speaking. With a brief, mute nod to Obi-Wan he turned away. Hating the sense of relief he felt at escaping the tension of the tiny cabin and his Padawan's hurt gaze.

Chapter XIV

An uncomfortable silence stretched out between them as they stood waiting for the boarding ramp to lower. Just as it began to reach unbearable proportions, the releasing hydraulics gave one final hiss and the ramp nudged the hangar deck. Both men made a hasty exit, their robes billowing about them as they rushed down the ramp.

Qui-Gon logged in their arrival and then accompanied Obi-Wan into the Temple. They walked the corridors in silence; Obi-Wan's gaze fixed firmly on the floor, Qui-Gon staring straight ahead.

No one they passed attempted to make conversation, or even exchange a greeting, and nothing was said until they reached their quarters. They stopped outside the door, a visible distance between them - afraid to accidently touch, unwilling to be the first to speak.

Qui-Gon broke the painful silence. "Go on inside, Obi-Wan. I...I have something to attend to. I will be along shortly."

Obi-Wan barely raised his head. "Yes, Master," he murmured with unaccustomed meekness, but he made no move to go in.

"What is it, Obi-Wan ?" Qui-Gon asked. He hoped the youth was not going to try and bring up the matter of Bedela now.

Obi-Wan finally lifted his head, misery radiating from every pore.

"Obi-Wan ?" Qui-Gon repeated softly.

The young man wet his lips. "It's nothing, Master. That is...I...Will I have to leave the Order ? !"

"Leave the Order ? !" Qui-Gon was honestly taken aback. "No, Obi-Wan ! Why ever should you think such a thing ?"

Obi-Wan just shrugged and dropped his gaze back to the floor.

Qui-Gon was aghast. Was this the thought that had been torturing his Padawan ? He lay a hand lightly upon the youth's shoulder, feeling the muscle tremble beneath his fingers. "Obi-Wan. What you did was both reckless and foolhardy. I think you know that ?"

Obi-Wan nodded, looking up, his stormy-green eyes bright with unshed tears.

Qui-Gon squeezed the youth's shoulder gently. "You are still learning Obi-Wan. You are expected to make some mistakes; we all do. That is how we learn. If," he added, "we take note of those mistakes and gain something from them."

The young man listened in attentive silence. Inwardly, Qui-Gon flinched as he spoke. He had made his own grave errors on this mission, he only hoped it was not too late to undo them. {Obi-Wan, my heart, forgive me ?} his mind whispered. To Obi-Wan all he said was, "Now go inside and unpack. We will talk more of this later, when we are both rested."

Obi-Wan gave another subdued nod, his expression a shade less wretched. Then he unlocked the door and went inside.

His feelings in an uproar, Qui-Gon turned quickly and very nearly bolted down the corridor. He needed to speak with Mace.

Now.

Chapter XVI

Qui-Gon was relieved to find Mace alone in his quarters. He flung open the door, hurtling into the room - very nearly colliding with a worried looking Mace, who had moved to intercept him. Before Qui-Gon could even try to speak, the other Master was gently steering him toward the couch.

Mace left him for a moment, returning with a bottle of amber coloured liquid and two small glasses. He set them down on the low table and poured them both a drink. The rich, sharp scent of Baruarian brandy reached Qui-Gon and he looked at Mace questioningly.

"I thought you looked like you could do with something a little stronger than tea," Mace explained simply, handing one of the glasses to Qui-Gon.

Qui-Gon hesitated.

"Take it."

Qui-Gon took it, his hand shaking.

"Now, drink," said Mace, frowning slightly.

Qui-Gon obediently took a small sip.

"Now, what's happened, Qui ? Your message was so garbled I could hardly make anything of it. Something about Obi-Wan ? Is he alright ?" There was no mistaking the genuine concern in Mace's voice.

Qui-Gon nodded. "He's...Obi-Wan is..." His voice broke and he took another sip of brandy. Mace waited patiently. Qui-Gon looked at his friend, his expression anguished. "Oh Mace, I've made such a mess of things."

"What things ?"

Qui-Gon snorted softly. "Everything !" he replied bitterly, downing the rest of his brandy in one mouthful.

Mace looked surprised, but he simply leaned forward and refilled his friend's glass. "Alright, Qui," he said gently. "Start from the very beginning. What has happened ?"

Qui-Gon gave him a wry, sad smile and proceeded to tell his friend everything. By the time he reached the end, he had finished off his second brandy and was nursing a third, rolling the glass back and forth between trembling fingers. "I....I think I'm losing him...." He shook his head, as if dazed. Then he looked at Mace beseechingly. "I can't lose him, Mace !"

Mace frowned. This was, as Qui-Gon had so succinctly put it, a mess. Could he have prevented this ? He had known for a long time how the two men felt about one another, but he had made a decision long ago never to interfere in others' love lives. It was too dangerous, rarely welcomed, and often backfired.

Though in this case it had been doubly frustrating. He loved Qui-Gon like a brother and was becoming equally fond of his friend's young protege. It had been almost impossible to stand aside and do nothing while two people, who were clearly meant to be together, remained utterly ignorant of that fact.

Mace had hoped that Qui-Gon was simply waiting until Obi-Wan turned eighteen. Then that birthday came and went, and still nothing happened. With the arrival of the young man's nineteenth, Mace had decided enough was enough. He could only tolerate so much self sacrifice and lovesick idiocy.

Mace winced inwardly as he recalled that there had also been the small matter of Master Yoda, who had threatened to intervene if Mace did not. Since the ancient was likely to have be less than subtle with his approach, Mace had taken action immediately.

The supper evenings appeared to have been working, both men clearly enjoying one another's company without the formal barrier of their 'Master - Padawan relationship'. Mace had been quietly confident that in time both men would recognize the viability of a relationship; one which would undoubtedly only enhance their bond.

Relationships between Knights or Masters and Padawans who were of age were unusual, but by no means unheard of. Such intimacy was permitted, if it was certain that it would not be detrimental to either party, and the Padawan concerned was deemed capable of handling the emotional and physical commitment.

Obi-Wan, for all his tender years, was one of the most mature and level headed individuals Mace had ever met - the occasional lapse of foolishness aside. What he and Qui-Gon currently shared was one of the closest Master and Padawan pairings ever recorded. All the more remarkable when one considered its less than promising beginnings. Clearly the Force had intentions for these two. The Council had long ago given its blessing to any deepening of the partnership, recognizing it could only strengthen an already remarkable bond.

Why then was it all proving so difficult ?

Mace sighed, why was he all that surprised. This was Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi after all - two of the most intelligent, gifted and obstinate men in the galaxy. They had come to the conclusion that they weren't mean to be romantically attached - so of course it could never happen !

Now Mace wished he'd been more overt in his tactics. He was damned sure Obi-Wan would never have tried something like this if he'd already been intimately involved with Qui-Gon.

However, hindsight and wishful thinking wouldn't help here. The damage had been done. Obi-Wan was hurt and confused. Qui-Gon was also clearly hurting - with other, darker emotions seething beneath the surface. Mace sighed again. Oh well, he would just have to try and unravel this sorry mess and hope that finally the Force would take a hand in getting these two together.

He downed his brandy in one and turned his attention to Qui-Gon. Mace knew he was going to have to choose his words with great care. Guilt was a highly effective weapon in getting Qui-Gon to do anything, but it could be a double edged sword. Too much and his friend might just decide to surrender all claims on Obi-Wan, handing the young man over to another Master, before losing himself in grief.

Definitely not the desired result.

No, he would have to balance his speech carefully - making it equal parts gentle coaxing and damning tirade. Sometimes it took a verbal hammer to smash through Qui-Gon's defences. The man could out-stubborn a Meragesh.

{Forgive me my old friend, but you need to hear this.} Mace hoped the brandy had taken the edge of Qui-Gon's attack mechanisms. He really didn't want to get into a full fledged argument. What he wanted was for Qui-Gon to simply sit and listen.

He forced himself to ignore the aura of despair and silent grief surrounding his friend. Qui-Gon was clearly lost in his thoughts, his gaze turned inward.

"Perhaps," Mace began softly. Startled Qui-Gon looked up. "Perhaps," Mace repeated, "it's time to tell Obi-Wan the truth ?" Qui-Gon looked at him blankly. Mace leaned forward and took his friend's half empty glass, setting it down on the table. He lifted Qui-Gon's hand into his own, holding it lightly. "Obi-Wan isn't a child any more, Qui. I think you owe it to him to be honest about how you feel. This..this deception is destroying you both."

Qui-Gon pulled his hand back sharply. "I won't burden Obi-Wan with my feelings, Mace. What I feel for him is...is my problem. Not his."

Mace shook his head, half in sadness, half in exasperation. "It's not a problem at all, Qui ! If only you would see that !"

Qui-Gon glowered at him. "The matter is closed, Mace. This is about Obi-Wan, not me."

"No !" Mace struggled to contain his frustration. "This is about both of you. Your refusal to face your feelings for Obi-Wan has contributed to this whole sorry affair." He took a deep breath to calm himself. "Do you really believe Obi-Wan to be so shallow, that he would do what he did without caring ? !"

"No !"

"Or that he flagrantly disobeyed your order out of a casual disregard for you ?"

"I....I.." Qui-Gon stumbled over his words. He was clearly still furious, but he now he was also fighting a desperate need to defend his Padawan from Mace's 'accusations'. Caught between anger and instinct, anger momentarily won out. "He TRADED himself, Mace! He just gave himself to that... that ...Like it was nothing. Like HE was nothing ! So tell me. Should I be unconcerned that my Padawan puts so little value on intimacy, on himself ?"

Mace appeared to look thoughtful, pursing his lips and steepling his fingers. "Is that how you perceive it ?" He kept his voice calm and level. "Because it seems to me that Obi-Wan made a hard choice, one which required great courage and a personal sacrifice, in order to rescue a man and avert a war." He raised his hand to silence Qui-Gon, when the other man would have interrupted. "I'm not saying that he wasn't foolish. Or that he was wrong to disobey you. But I don't believe that is the problem here." He narrowed his gaze at Qui-Gon. "Certainly it's not what is eating away at you. Can you honestly say that it is ?"

Qui-Gon remained silent. The anger had fled from his face to be replaced by a troubled wariness.

Mace hammered the point home. "Suppose, for the sake of argument, Obi-Wan was already knighted . Wait let me finish." He again waved Qui-Gon's objection aside. "His trials are not so many years off, Qui. If he were a knight he would have been free to pursue his own solution. What if he had chosen the exact same course of action ? What would your feelings have been then ?"

Qui-Gon still said nothing. Tears shimmered in his eyes.

"What do you feel Qui ?" Mace pressed. "What do you really feel ?"

Qui-Gon looked at his friend. "I....I feel...betrayed." It was clear the confession was torn from him unwillingly.

Mace steeled himself to disregard his friend's distress. A solitary tear slipped down Qui-Gon's cheek. "But why, Qui ? Can you tell me why ?"

Qui-Gon squeezed his eyes shut, more tears escaping from behind the closed lids, flowing down his face into his beard. He didn't seem to notice. Qui-Gon swallowed hard. "Be-because he would give himself so casually to another, but...but he will never look upon me that way !" It came out brokenly, the words tinged with a bitter shame. Qui-Gon dropped his head into his hands.

Mace refilled Qui-Gon's glass to the lip and lay a hand upon his friend's shoulder to draw his attention. Qui-Gon looked up, roughly wiping his face and accepting the glass without a word.

"Are you so sure ?" Mace asked softly.

Qui-Gon looked confused.

"Of Obi-Wan," Mace explained. "Are you so certain he doesn't see you that way ?"

Qui-Gon's eyes widened. "Mace, I would never-"

"No. No !" Mace interjected quickly. "I'm not implying that you would ever act improperly toward Obi-Wan. I'm asking if you have ever considered that he just might return your feelings ?"

"What ? !" Qui-Gon was openly incredulous.

"I'm saying that perhaps Obi-Wan....feels something for you."

"I'm his Master....."

"More than that."

Qui-Gon frowned. "A lot of Padawan's have adolescent crushes on their Masters, Mace. It doesn't mean anything. You know that."

"I'm not talking about a crush, and besides, Obi-Wan is hardly an adolescent."

"He's nineteen !" It was Qui-Gon's turn to sound exasperated.

"That makes him a young man, not a boy at the mercy of rampaging hormones," said Mace coolly. "Surely, he has proven himself by his actions. He doesn't follow you blindly, Qui. He is more than capable of thinking and feeling for himself."

"And you are basing this assumption that he has feelings for me, on what exactly ? !" Qui-Gon asked, a bitter sarcasm colouring his tone.

Mace checked his own temper, reminding himself that Qui-Gon was hurting and lashing out in self-defence. "On the evidence of my own eyes," he replied calmly. "Perhaps you're too close. You and Obi-Wan have become experts at hiding your feelings from one another. Do you think for one moment that he is aware of your feelings for him ?" He paused to let that point sink in. Then he carried on.

"It is desirable that a Master and a Padawan complement one another. It's even expected to a degree. You know that. But you and Obi-Wan," he smiled, a touch of wonder in his voice. "You are so much more. You....you," he searched for the right words, and found them. "You complete one another."

Mace knew that he had finally reached Qui-Gon when the other man slumped back, white-faced..

There was just one last point to make.

"You know Obi-Wan better than any one, Qui. If I can see how he feels, so can you. Stop blinding yourself to the truth. There is nothing wrong in loving Obi-Wan, unless you let this bitterness and anger take a hold. You can't let it, Qui." He urged his friend desperately. "Don't let darkness poison this. You owe it to yourself and to Obi-wan to be honest. Stop hiding. This deceit will destroy you both. It's starting already. You report to love Obi-Wan, and yet you sit here, wallowing in your own grief, leaving him to drown in his."

By now Qui-Gon appeared to be almost in shock - hollow-eyed and startlingly pale. Then, so suddenly that Mace flinched, Qui-Gon set down his untouched glass, stood up and left without saying a word.

Briefly, Mace considered going after him, but decided against it. He had said his piece. He only hoped it was enough. Neither man deserved this misery. It had to end here and now. Either Qui-Gon confronted Obi-Wan with the truth, or as a Council member he would have to consider separating them.

He poured himself another drink. {Please, please, let this work} he begged silently. He wasn't sure what would happen if the Council were forced to separate Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan. He only knew that the Order would in all probability lose two good Jedi, and he would lose two very dear friends.

This would work. It had to.

Chapter XV

Obi-Wan reluctantly switched off the water and stepped out of the shower. Shivering, he snatched up a towel, goosebumps prickling his skin. He rubbed it roughly over his body before wrapping it around his waist and turning to face the mirror. Obi-Wan slowly raised his hand and wiped away the water droplets, watching as his blurred reflection emerged slowly through the drizzly haze.

The heat of the shower had forced a little false colour into his cheeks, but it did nothing to hide the coiled tightness of his jaw, or the haunted look in his eyes. Frowning, Obi-Wan tilted his head up and brushed his fingers over the mark on his throat. He hadn't noticed it before, nor did he recall when it might have happened. Perhaps when Bedela said goodbye ? The Junai Chief had seemed reluctant to part with him. A cold shudder passed through Obi-Wan as he realised his Master must have seen it. Lowering his gaze he clutched the basin tightly, his knuckles whitening.

He took several deep, ragged breaths, trying to push back the tremors shaking his body.

{You're losing it, Obi} He told himself, with a touch of hysteria. {Don't lose it. You can get through this. You have to get through this.....}

He held up his hands and stared at them. They refused to remain steady. Angry at his loss of control, Obi-Wan closed his eyes and tried a simple breathing exercise. He had to calm himself. He couldn't let his emotions overwhelm him again.

After parting ways with Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan had no sooner stepped inside their quarters and closed the door, when the tremors had struck, sending him to his knees. He still had no idea how long he'd knelt there, dry-eyed sobs wracking his body. When he 'came to', he was rocking gently, his arms locked around his torso. Panic had set in - was he losing his mind ? !

Obi-Wan had managed to avoid a rerun by deciding with clinical detachment that it was simply shock, and perhaps a small part of it was relief that he was not to be cast out of the Order after all.

However, by far the larger part was surely grief.

Grief and utter, unquenchable despair.

Qui-Gon had not said that he would keep Obi-Wan, only that the Order would not cast him out. Not to lose the only life he had ever known was of small consolation, if he was to lose the most important thing in it.

Obi-Wan had assumed that Qui-Gon had left in search of Master Windu, but did he seek out the other Jedi as a friend, or as a member of the Council ? Were the two men at this moment locked in a discussion as to who best might take on a wilful and undisciplined Padawan ?

Feeling drained and dizzy, Obi-Wan had dragged himself to his feet and stumbled blindly into the washroom, stripping off his clothes as he went. Once under the shower he had turned the water up as hot as he could bear it.

He had remained under the pounding spray for as long as he'd dared, but Obi-Wan knew his Master must return soon and he would have to face him.

One further deep breath and Obi-Wan ended the exercise; the shaking had receded. . With the towel around his waist, Obi-Wan wandered barefoot into the living area. Gathering up his clothes, he dropped them by his bedroom door to wash later, and put his boots against the wall out of the way. Retrieving his bag, Obi-Wan dropped it onto his bed. He never took much with him on missions and it took only a moment to unpack it.

Obi-Wan shivered as the cold water from his braid trickled down his spine. He decided to forgo getting dressed for a moment or two. Instead he picked up Qui-Gon's bag and carried it through into the Jedi Master's bedroom, placing it on the floor.

In the midst of taking out his Master's worn tunic, Obi-Wan paused and lifted his head to look around him. He had always felt relaxed and at peace in this room, with its soothing cream walls and warm, wheat-coloured bedcoverings. Above the headboard was a circular window; the tiny individual panes made from hand-crafted stained glass. Obi-Wan knew, during Coruscant's amazing sunsets, the room was bathed in rich fiery light; illusionary flames flickering across every surface.

Surfaces that were strewn with the day-to-day clutter of his Master's life :- a pile of data pads stacked haphazardly upon a desk, a bookshelf filled with precious paper volumes - real books, as Qui-Gon called them. Obi-Wan could quote some passages from memory. They were the segments his Master read aloud whenever he was sick or injured. Obi-Wan trembled, remembering Qui-Gon's warm, rich voice, soothing him through restless fevers and deep, aching chills.

There were no pictures on the walls - Qui-Gon preferred sculpture. Several small pieces occupied the niches and cubby holes scattered about the room, including one slightly lop-sided draigon, desperately clutching at a misshapen rock. Obi-Wan had made it in his art class, shortly after Qui-Gon had taken him on as his Padawan. Qui-Gon had accepted it with a quiet, formal - 'Thank you, Padawan." - However the look his Master's indigo eyes had said much more, as did the fact that the little draigon sat, in pride of place, upon Qui-Gon's desk where the Jedi Master could look upon it as he worked.

Obi-Wan remembered how hard it had been to make Qui-Gon see him as a potential Padawan. He had come so close to giving up, though he held no resentment toward Qui-Gon for those difficult, early days. He had since borne witness to the private pain behind the calm Jedi mask Qui-Gon habitually wore. He even knew the name of one of the scars upon his Master's heart.

Xanatos.

Obi-Wan understood now, how that young man's betrayal had wounded his Master, so severely, that Qui-Gon had been reluctant to lower his guard and let another Padawan into his life.

He had always felt immensely grateful to have been the one Qui-Gon had allowed inside those defences.

Yet, on many levels, Qui-Gon remained an enigma to him. Obi-Wan knew his Master to be compassionate, tolerant, and understanding of the needs of others. He was contemplative without being introspective, intellectual but not elitist. Intensely curious, with a mind naturally suited to solving seemingly impossible conundrums. Qui-Gon was at his best in the field, where he could apply his gifts to involved investigations and diplomatic dead-walls.

If he had a key fault, it was that his compassionate nature sometimes led him into conflict - most often with the Jedi Council. He could be inscrutable, his responses cryptic, but Obi-Wan had learned that this was not from any desire to be evasive or difficult - Qui-Gon simply aimed to make the questioner pursue their own answers, seek out their own truths.

To find the man behind the Master one needed to apply a similar technique. Take a step back, set aside all preconceived notions, discard everything you thought you knew, and look again.

Then you might just see the Qui-Gon with the dry, sometimes disarming, sense of humour. The Qui-Gon who delighted in practical fun, and thought nothing of wrestling his Padawan into a mud pool, or playfully ducking him in a river. The Qui-Gon who would give his life to save another, but who gave his trust far less willingly.

Obi-Wan sometimes wondered if Xanatos were the only one to blame for his Master's guarded nature, or if there were other, older hurts buried in his Master's past. Was there someone else who had taught Qui-Gon that to give your heart meant pain and suffering ?

The soft hiss of the outer door startled Obi-Wan out of his reverie.

Qui-Gon had returned.

Obi-Wan suddenly realised that he was sat half-naked on the man's bedroom floor, clutching one of his Master's worn tunics to his chest - subconsciously inhaling the familiar spicy scent.

He leapt to his feet, bundling up the clothing for wash. As he reached the doorway, his Master called out.

"Obi-Wan ?"

"Here, Master." Obi-Wan awkwardly adjusted the bundle in his arms as it began to slip.

Qui-Gon stood in the centre of the living area. He turned toward the sound of Obi-Wan's voice - and froze. Puzzled, Obi-Wan waited for his Master to speak. When he didn't, Obi-Wan grew concerned. "Master ?"

Like a statue brought to life, Qui-Gon blinked sharply. "I...I'm going to take a shower. Please get dressed, Padawan, and wait for me in here."

"Yes, Master." Obi-Wan bent down to retrieve a fallen sock. When he stood up Qui-Gon had already disappeared into the washroom. Bewildered by his Master's somewhat strange behaviour, Obi-Wan returned to his own bedroom. He added Qui-Gon's clothes to the pile by the door and dug out a clean tunic for himself. He gave his hair a brisk once over with the towel and then dressed, all the while musing on what had just happened.

Why had his Master stared at him like that ? Qui-Gon had seemed what ? - Nervous ? Startled ? Certainly there had been something in that unfathomable expression.

Obi-Wan didn't bother with his boots, wandering back into the main living area and taking a seat on the couch. He sat, twisting his braid anxiously around his fingers. Had his Master debriefed the Council already ? Perhaps Qui-Gon had thought it better that he not be present. Why then the strange look on his Master's face ? Had the Council made the decision to cast him out of the Order after all ? Obi-Wan's stomach clenched at the thought. Where would he go ? What would he do ? Most of his family were still living, but he had scarcely any contact with them. He couldn't imagine going back to them now, not after all these years.

This was his home. He belonged here. He belonged with Qui-Gon.

{I won't go !} Obi-Wan thought rebelliously, then he slumped as he acknowledged if that were the Council's ruling, he would have no choice.

Instinctively Obi-Wan reached for the Force, feeling its familiar ebb and swell soothe him as it always had, letting him find the calm amidst the chaos. Obi-Wan clutched at it, drawing strength and comfort, finally ready to face whatever was to come.

Chapter XVI

As the washroom door clicked shut behind him, Qui-Gon locked it and moved over to the sink. He glared angrily at his reflection.

"You are a foolish old man, Qui-Gon Jinn," he muttered.

He sighed, leaning forward until his forehead touched the cold, wet glass. It made his head throb, but he welcomed the dull ache, it helped to drive away the mist that had settled around his mind.

Still stunned from his conversation with Mace, the last thing Qui-Gon wanted or needed was to be confronted by a half-naked Obi-Wan. When the young man stepped forward clad in only a towel, his damp skin jewelled with droplets of water, the blood in Qui-Gon's body had pooled straight to his groin, leaving him oddly light-headed.

For one agonizingly awkward moment, all the Jedi Master could do was stare. Frozen by the sight of his Padawan, bathed in light from the open doorway - a beautiful, bewitching changeling. A water sprite, with oceanic eyes - swirling pools of blue and green, ribboned with threads of warmest amber. Soft, short spikes of hair darkened and ruffled by the droplets of water which trickled down the youth's slender neck.

He'd tried to tear his gaze away, but only succeeded in drawing it further down the young man's body. His gaze brushing over the smooth curve of pectorals, and nipples hardened by the cool air. Qui-Gon's eyes had focused on one clear, pearl of water as it slid down the flawless skin, following it across that taut, flat belly until it disappeared into the folds of the towel.

The spell was broken when Obi-Wan moved and that towel slipped a little lower on those slender hips, revealing a stolen glimpse that drove the breath from Qui-Gon's lungs.

As he struggled with his control and his conscience, a voice had called out to him....

"Master ?"

Obi-Wan's puzzled utterance had dragged him back into the moment. Mortification quickly followed the horrified realisation that he had just been blatantly ogling his half-naked Padawan. Stricken, Qui-Gon had sought to get away.

He'd only run as far as the washroom, but the door provided a welcome barrier.

What, in the name of the Force was he going to do ?

Mace was right, this couldn't go on. His feelings were becoming clouded, brimming over into resentment and jealousy. Qui-Gon still had a measure of self-control, enough to recognize the dangerous path he had set himself upon.

He was acting irrationally. His sudden burst of temper in Bedela's throne room had launched this catastrophic chain of events. Qui-Gon knew he would never forgive himself for allowing his possessive rage to push Obi-Wan away. It was sheer merciful providence that the young man hadn't been seriously hurt.

Qui-Gon raised his head until he could meet his eyes in the mirror. They burned with disgust and self-reproach. His behaviour was inexcusable. He was Obi-Wan's Master, he should be giving the young man support and comfort, not locking himself away like a hurt, spoilt child. Obi-Wan was not a toy to be fought over. He was a strong willed, intelligent young man who deserved Qui-Gon's understanding and honesty.

However, he could hardly go back through there and just blurt out that he was in love with the youth.

Qui-Gon considered the possible responses to THAT declaration.

It was unlikely his Padawan would do, or say anything unpleasant. Obi-Wan was nothing if not excruiatingly polite.

Would he be shocked ? - Probably

Disgusted ? Afraid ? - gods !, Qui-Gon hoped not.

His stomach churning, Qui-Gon turned to the shower, stripping off his tunic and standing under the spray. His earlier arousal lingered shamefully despite the nausea curdling his belly. Filled with self loathing, Qui-Gon switched the water to cold, gasping as the frozen torrents rushed over his body.

It had the desired effect and he was able to exit the shower with at least a semblance of calm. Though not enough that he dared go out there in search of a clean tunic. Sighing, he shrugged back into the worn one, towelling his hair and combing it through with his fingers.

Qui-Gon had made up his mind. He would tell Obi-Wan the truth, but make it absolutely clear that he expected nothing from the young man in return. If Obi-Wan would feel more comfortable with another Master, then it would be taken care of at once.

Even if it destroyed him to let the young man go.

Obi-Wan was all that mattered.

Still, he silently prayed that Obi-Wan wouldn't ask. Perhaps the youth would be content with moving out into his own quarters ? He had suggested it once before, when Obi-Wan had turned eighteen. Of course, then it had in part been triggered by the selfish desire to not be exposed to Obi-Wan's lovers so close to home.

Lovers who, strangely, had never seemed to materialise. Qui-Gon hadn't given much thought to it before, in fact he had made every effort not to. He had merely been grateful for his Padawan's discretion.

Now Mace's words were making him see possibilities, where before there had only been an aching, empty despair.

Ruthlessly he tried to quell them. It was madness to think such thoughts. Qui-Gon was well aware that Obi-Wan had nursed something of a crush on him, five or six years ago. It wasn't unusual, he'd formed his own passionate attachments to Knights and Masters as a boy. He didn't embarrass Obi-Wan by drawing attention to it, knowing such feelings would pass in the goodness of time.

Now a hitherto forbidden notion forced itself upon him. What if Obi-Wan's feelings hadn't faded ? What if they had matured into something deeper ?

Qui-Gon's heart quickened at the thought and he calmed himself with difficulty. {Fool ! Stupid old fool !} He cursed.

Why would some one as young and as beautiful as Obi-Wan entertain ideas about his aging Master ?

Alright, Qui-Gon could view himself dispassionately and was honest enough to except that he had....well.....points of interest.

His height was one, he was tall, particularly when set against other humans. His life style meant he had more-or-less kept the same long, rangy physique he'd had since he embraced adulthood; albeit with a few more scars. His face, though not classically handsome had strength and character - 'a certain bold, wildness' as one admirer had put it. If eyes were truly windows to the soul, then Qui-Gon's projected the deeply passionate nature and burning intelligence that signified his restless spirit.

He had certainly never lacked for offers of an intimate nature. Pursued by men and women, young and old, in equal measure.

When he took Obi-Wan as his Padawan, his number of acceptances dwindled. The responsibilities of his charge took up much, if not all of his time. Strangely he had felt no sense of loss or loneliness. Obi-Wan filled his life, leaving no room for such feelings.

Now he was in love with the young man, and any casual dalliance would be a betrayal of his own heart.

But how did Obi-Wan feel ?

And if his nineteen year old Padawan did entertain some sort of 'feelings' for him. Did he, as the young man's Master, have the right to foster them ?

Obi-Wan was not a child, but he had more than twice the young man's years.

But if Obi-Wan truly was not a child, and he did feel something....?

Wasn't Mace right, and didn't Obi-Wan have the right to make his own choices ?

Another fear clung to him. Qui-Gon knew his love was of the lasting kind. It was simply not in his nature to give his heart any other way. Could he bear to let Obi-Wan take it knowing the young man might return the gift unwanted in future years. Obi-Wan wasn't fickle or callous, but he was fiery and changeable. It wasn't so impossible that his feelings might yet undergo further change. Could he survive if he were to taste the sweet nectar of Obi-Wan's love for only a short time. Would it be worse than never knowing ?

Qui-Gon stared at the blank washroom door, willing himself the courage to open it and step outside. Wetting his lips, he jabbed his finger against the door release, jumping a little as it hissed and the door slid open.

Drawing in a deep breath, Qui-Gon stepped out.

Chapter XVII

Obi-Wan was sat upon the couch. The young man's whole posture radiated tension and he leapt to his feet with a slightly panicked look as Qui-Gon appeared.

Qui-Gon felt a sharp pang. He had done this. He had put the fear and uncertainty into that beloved face. He swallowed a sigh and managed a faint reassuring smile for his Padawan. "Please, sit down, Obi-Wan." He motioned the young man back toward the couch.

Obi-Wan sat. "Master, I...."

This time a weary sigh did escape Qui-Gon, as he took a seat at the opposite end of the couch. "Obi-Wan, please. I would ask that you allow me to speak first."

"But-"

"Padawan."

Obi-Wan must have caught the hint of desperation in Qui-Gon's voice. The youth closed his mouth quickly and fell silent, his eyes fixed anxiously upon his Master.

"First...First, I want to say that I am sorry."

Obi-Wan made as if to speak.

"Obi-Wan, please." Qui-Gon ran his hand over his face. "Just let me finish ?"

Obi-Wan's lips pursed unhappily, but he nodded.

Qui-Gon gave him a faint look of gratitude before continuing. "I....I haven't been fair to you, about.....Well, about any of this." He made an all encompassing gesture with his hand. "I'm not saying that I am not disappointed that you chose to disobey me. Or that you were not wrong to act as you did. What I am saying is....is..." Qui-Gon struggled to meet his Padawan's bewildered gaze. He drew in a deep breath and released it. "What I'm saying is, my behaviour toward you wasn't necessarily a reflection of that disappointment."

Obi-Wan looked at him blankly.

Qui-Gon's eyes shied away. He stared down at his hands. "My behaviour stemmed from....from other feelings." He looked up, wetting his lips nervously. "Feelings I have for y-you." Qui-Gon stumbled, the words drying in his throat.

Now there was a definite question mark in Obi-Wan eyes.

"I....I was jealous." It came out as a guilty whisper. Qui-Gon's voice lowered even further as he added, "Because I love you."

Strangely, that part was not hard to say.

Not daring to look at Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon hurried on. "It....This....this doesn't mean anything. I....I don't expect.....That is...." He took another deep breath. "Obi-Wan," he began formally. "If you would feel more comfortable with another Master. I would understand." The words almost choked him. He hoped Obi-Wan hadn't noticed.

There was silence from the other end of the couch.

Qui-Gon finally looked at his Padawan.

Obi-Wan sat, an utterly stunned expression on his face.

"You....You, love me ?" the youth asked softly. He sounded oddly out of breath.

Qui-Gon nodded, no longer able to speak.

Obi-Wan's face was suddenly lit with a dazed smile. "You love me," he murmured, wondrously.

Qui-Gon wasn't sure how to take this. "Obi-Wan ?-"

"I love you too !" The words came out in a rush.

It was Qui-Gon's turn to look dazed. "W-What...?"

Obi-Wan was still smiling, a sweet mixture of shyness and giddy happiness. "I said," he spoke slowly. "I love you too."

Qui-Gon looked into the young man's shining eyes and his heart rose, but he fought against the sudden surge of hopefulness. "Obi-Wan. I....When I said 'I love you', I meant...I mean it..." His voice trailed off. He couldn't say it.

Obi-Wan's smile widened. "I know how you meant it," he said. "I meant it exactly the same way."

"You did ?..You do ? !" Qui-Gon's stunned response was far removed from his usual Jedi calm.

"I do." Obi-Wan said simply.

Qui-Gon felt as though he was trying to breathe in a vacuum. Here he was, stumbling over his words, struggling to string a sentence together. While Obi-Wan sat looking calm and confident, as though he hadn't a care in the universe.

{He's happy} Qui-Gon suddenly realised. {He loves me...and he's happy..} Slowly the knowledge began to seep into Qui-Gon's dazed mind. He felt his own answering smile forming.

A heartbeat later and both men sat, staring at one another in foolish, delighted wonder.

Then Obi-Wan's expression darkened, taking on a troubled cast. "Master, about Bedela..."

Qui-Gon couldn't stop the wince, hearing that name.

"Nothing happened."

Qui-Gon blinked. {Obi-Wan had just said something. What was it ?}

"I...I don't understand ?" He was back trying to breathe in that damnable vacuum.

Obi-Wan looked uncomfortable. "Well, it....it would have," he confessed quietly. "I...I was willing, but Bedela refused me."

"He refused you ?" Qui-Gon was quite certain his mouth was hanging open.

Obi-Wan simply nodded.

"Let me....Let me get this right." Qui-Gon couldn't keep the incredulity out of his voice. "You went to Bedela, and...'offered' yourself to him ? And he said No ? !" Qui-Gon felt a bizarre combination of overwhelming relief and righteous indignation at the perceived insult to his Padawan. Combined with utter disbelief that any one could refuse such an offer. It didn't make any sense.

"Why ?" he managed hoarsely.

Obi-Wan flushed to the roots of his hair.

"Obi-Wan ?" Qui-Gon pushed, feeling a flicker of anxiety.

"He said he wouldn't...He didn't...He wouldn't take an innocent." Obi-Wan's cheeks were scarlet.

"An 'innocent' ?" Qui-Gon repeated slowly.

"A virgin," Obi-Wan whispered, ducking his head as the blush stole down his throat.

Now Qui-Gon was certain that he was dreaming. Either that or he had been sucked into some insane alternate universe where nothing made sense and the impossible happened.

Obi-Wan was a virgin ? ! - No, that can't be right.

"You told Bedela, that you were a virgin ?" He asked.

Obi-Wan nodded miserably.

"W-Why ?" Qui-Gon still couldn't quite grasp the logistics.

Obi-Wan actually squirmed, his expression one of intense embarrassment.

And just like that, the truth hit Qui-Gon, like the stun from a blaster. "Because you are," he whispered.

A mortified nod, and Obi-Wan dropped his gaze.

Qui-Gon stumbled to his feet. He didn't hear Obi-Wan's soft - "Please." Nor did he feel the gentle brush of the young man's hand as Obi-Wan reached for him. He failed to see the way his Padawan's shoulders slumped as the youth's hand fell, empty, into his lap.

He walked to the centre of the room. Just needing to move, to think. This revelation had thrown his thoughts into chaos. What did this mean ? How was it even possible ? ! A sick rush of fear and nausea accompanied the terrible realisation that Obi-Wan's first time could have been with Bedela, had the Junai Chief not turned the youth away.

Force ! - For his Padawan to have lost his innocence in such a way...

Qui-Gon's senses came flooding back and he turned to face the young man in question. Obi-Wan sat, looking small and lost, fiddling dejectedly with the hem of his tunic. Cursing himself thrice over, Qui-Gon swept over to the couch. He crouched down beside his Padawan and drew both of Obi-Wan's cold hands into his own warm, safe grasp.

"I'm sorry, Obi-Wan. I'm making a real mess of this aren't I ?" Qui-Gon shook his head in self-disgust, gently squeezing the smaller hands within his own. "I am truly sorry. I was just a little surprised, but this is nothing to feel awkward or embarrassed about, Obi-Wan."

A not wholly convinced Obi-Wan peered at him through long fringed lashes. "I know," the young man muttered a touch peevishly.

Qui-Gon sighed, and took a seat on the couch beside his Padawan. "I suppose what I'm trying to say, is that I'm concerned as to why you haven't..." He shrugged helplessly. "Why you haven't felt the need to...to express yourself. Physically."

Obi-Wan's hands twisted within his. If possible the young man's flush deepened.

Qui-Gon had no desire to prolong the young man's misery, but his Padawan's 'confession' had given rise to certain concerns, that needed to be addressed. "I'm not asking out of idle curiosity, Obi-Wan. It most certainly isn't my intention to pry. I just want to be certain that there isn't anything wrong." He winced, that hadn't come out quite right. "Not wrong exactly, but is there anything worrying you ? I mean you're young, healthy, beautiful...."

The power of speech left him as Obi-Wan suddenly looked up.

The young man's face was bright with colour, a rich scarlet flush staining both cheeks. His eyes seemed to change even as Qui-Gon lost himself in them, shifting swirls of river blue and forest green.

"You think I'm beautiful ?" There was no artifice in the young man's voice. It was a straight forward question, one tinged with hope and disbelief.

"Yes." Qui-Gon said honestly. He brushed his fingers over the young man's wrists, Obi-Wan's breathing quickened. "I think that you are beautiful, Obi-Wan." The Jedi Master's look became teasing. "I might be increasing in years, but I am far from my dotage. I have excellent eyesight." Then his look turned tender. "I cannot believe that any one could look upon you and see otherwise."

"Unless they're Alcarian." Obi-Wan offered lightly, clearly trying to hide his embarrassed delight.

Alcarians found human ascetically displeasing due to their 'disproportionate number of limbs'. Alcarians had four arms and six legs, giving them an insectoid appearance. There were only four in the Order, all creche Masters. Who better to watch over small, active, Force enhanced children than beings, who, quite literally had eyes in the back of their heads ?

Qui-Gon chuckled softly, and without thinking leaned forward to place a chaste kiss on Obi-Wan's forehead. He froze in the act, suddenly aware of the heat rising from the young man's body, the warm clean scent of his skin, Obi-Wan's breath - quick and ragged - against his throat.

Stifling a groan, Qui-Gon drew back. Obi-Wan was staring at him, eyes wide, pupils dilated. The air around them felt charged, a strained tension surfacing as both men paused, trapped by their uncertainty.

The tip of Obi-Wan's tongue slipped out to moisten his lips. Qui-Gon watched as if transfixed. Desire flared until the air seemed to crackle with it.

Both men moved simultaneously. Obi-Wan tilting his face up as Qui-Gon closed the remaining distance between them.

Their lips met, shy and cautious, closed and chaste. Qui-Gon opened his a little, brushing them over Obi-Wan's, following with a light sweep of his tongue. Obi-Wan responded by parting his own lips, allowing Qui-Gon to capture the bottom one, sucking on it gently, teasing the fullness. Obi-Wan whimpered softly and Qui-Gon deepened the kiss, his hands moving up to grip his Padawan's arms, pulling the youth closer. It ended breathlessly, only the need for air forcing them apart.

Qui-Gon drew back, trying to regain some modicum of control - before he threw his Padawan down and took him on the floor.

Eyes searched silently, lingering over familiar features now flushed with longing, seeking confirmation. They each found their answer in the other's gaze. This was more than lust, more than infatuation.

This was love.

"Obi-wan, be certain." Qui-Gon's voice shook. "I love you and....and I want you." He felt the young man tremble, and he stroked his fingers over his Padawan's tense muscles. "I just want to know that you won't regret this," he whispered.

Qui-Gon wasn't asking for an undying declaration from his Padawan, as much as he might wish it. He accepted that Obi-Wan could no more guarantee his heart, than in truth, could he. However, he had to know Obi-Wan understood that this was not something to be undertaken lightly or casually.

He sat, waiting. His heart in his mouth.

Slowly, Obi-Wan reached up and stroked a finger down the side of Qui-Gon's face. He smiled, almost sadly. "I have never been more certain of anything in my life." Then the young man's expression changed, becoming more fervent. "I want this," he insisted. "I want you."

Qui-Gon recognized the truth behind the bold words.

"I love you," said Obi-Wan.

Qui-Gon lay his hand over Obi-Wan's, pressing it to his cheek. "And I love you."

With a bewitching blend of shyness and determination, Obi-Wan leaned forward, recapturing Qui-Gon's mouth in a deep kiss. This time it was Obi-Wan who did the exploring, his lips and tongue eagerly claiming all that Qui-Gon had to offer.

Qui-Gon was hopelessly lost. The sweet, spicy taste of his Padawan melted away his thoughts, leaving him completely mutable to Obi-Wan's demands. The young man's other hand rose up to cup his face, sliding around to tangle in the wet wildness of his hair, pulling him closer.

Though still, apparently, not close enough, as Obi-Wan all but crawled onto his lap in an attempt to bring their bodies together.

The first, startling touch of groin against groin shocked them both. Obi-Wan gasped and tightened his grip on Qui-Gon's hair. The Jedi Master groaned into his Padawan's mouth, as the heat of the young man's hardness burned through the thin layers of tunic.

Somehow Qui-Gon found the strength of will and body to carefully ease the younger man away. Obi-Wan whimpered and tried to cling to him, rubbing his hips against Qui-Gon's. His Padawan's unwitting sensuality almost proved the Jedi Master's undoing. However, it also very nearly pushed him onto the floor.

"Obi-Wan...s-stop," he gasped out. "Stop."

The second time his words seemed to reach Obi-Wan, who abruptly froze and began to pull away. Qui-Gon sensed the embarrassed dismay gripping the youth, and he refused to relinquish his hold until Obi-Wan met his eyes. "You haven't done anything wrong, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon assured him. "I thought perhaps we might retire to the bedroom ?" He couldn't quite believe how nervous he felt, but all Qui-Gon's previous encounters faded out of context compared to this overwhelming want.

"That is..if you wish to ?" he added, somewhat awkwardly.

By way of an answer, Obi-Wan slid the rest of the way off Qui-Gon's lap.

Standing, he held out his hand. Qui-Gon took it wordlessly. His Padawan's eagerness rendering him silent.

Obi-Wan led the way around the couch, but he hesitated outside their respective bedroom doors. Qui-Gon ended the impasse by leading Obi-Wan into his room.

Chapter XVIII

Coruscant's twin suns were beginning to set and the small room was ablaze with colour. It streaked Obi-Wan's skin red and gold, turning his hair to flame. Qui-Gon carefully freed his hand from Obi-Wan's and crossed the room to loosen one of the curtains above the window. As he undid the tie, the gauzy cloth dropped down, subduing the brilliant glare into a softer, more subdued glow.

He turned back to face Obi-Wan. The youth stood, his face displaying both nervousness and excitement. This time it was Qui-Gon who held out his hand and Obi-Wan took it, moving forward gracefully. Qui-Gon pulled the young man's body against his; one arm around his Padawan's narrow waist, the other hand stroking the clear, smooth line of Obi-Wan's jaw. Obi-Wan swayed slightly, Qui-Gon tightened his hold, steadying the youth. Their eyes locked - mutable blue-green and fathomless indigo.

Without looking away, Qui-Gon reached for the narrow braid draped over Obi-Wan's shoulder. Slowly, oh so slowly, he wound the silken threads around his fingers. Obi-Wan watched him, pupils widening. His breath hitched as Qui-Gon's knuckles grazed his jaw. A gentle tug, and Obi-Wan's head was drawn backwards, exposing the pale creamy column of his throat.

Obi-Wan neither assisted or resisted. With unflinching trust he gave himself: his body arching back, his weight supported solely against the crook of Qui-Gon's arm.

Finally, Qui-Gon stopped and lowered his head, deliberately placing his lips over the mark left by Bedela. Obi-Wan gave a soft, muted whimper, rising up onto the balls of his feet. Obi-Wan's slenderness seemed magnified a thousand times as his body melded against Qui-Gon's. The Jedi Master released the braid, drawing the youth hard against him.

Qui-Gon's fingers skimmed beneath Obi-Wan's tunic, touching smooth, fever-hot skin. He stroked his hands down the youth's sides, feeling the lean body tremble. "Obi-Wan, my love," he murmured.

Dragging the material from Obi-Wan's throat, Qui-Gon pressed light kisses along the young man's collarbone. His tongue traced the wild pulsebeat pounding beneath his Padawan's skin, pursuing it upwards. His lips nudged the soft curve of an ear, a brief pause, and Qui-Gon drew the lobe between his teeth, nipping it experimentally.

Obi-Wan tensed, shuddered, and sank against him boneless. Qui-Gon drew in a sharp breath and moved his lips back to the fragile skin of Obi-Wan's throat. A hard kiss, then a soft bite, sharp teeth not quite breaking the skin. Obi-Wan came to life in his arms, crying out as he pushed up against Qui-Gon.

Qui-Gon turned, tumbling them both backwards onto the bed. He landed on his back with Obi-Wan laid across him. The young man clutched his shoulders, the slender frame suddenly tense - Qui-Gon's arousal jabbing into his belly.

Qui-Gon sensed his Padawan's agitation and struggled to restrain himself. The desire to turn and pin that slim body beneath his own was overwhelming. Finding a vestige of self-control, Qui-Gon instead turned them both onto their sides. Obi-Wan's arms lowered - trapped between their bodies. The young man's mouth twitched as he clearly struggled to decide where to put his hands. Qui-Gon provided a solution by holding onto them.

The Jedi Master was trying to catch his breath. The aching hardness between his legs didn't help, and he reluctantly moved a little further away from Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan tried to cover his discomfort. "Shouldn't we be undressed for this ?" he joked nervously.

Qui-Gon gazed at his Padawan tenderly. "I think perhaps we should talk, Obi-Wan."

"Talk ?" The young man's voice was strained with disbelief. "Now ?"

Gathering the Force around them like a cloak, Qui-Gon used it to soothe his Padawan's rattled nerves, and his own. "I....I need to understand why you have avoided this type of intimacy."

Obi-Wan closed his eyes in despair.

Qui-Gon quickly released his Padawan's hands and put his arms around the younger man. "Ssh, Obi-Wan, my love. I don't mean that you should go into details. But I need to know that there isn't anything troubling you."

Obi-Wan opened his eyes. Their stormy gaze was almost accusatory. "And if I said there wasn't. Would you really believe me ?"

A little stung by the unspoken implication that he wouldn't, Qui-Gon stayed silent.

It was clear Obi-Wan resented his pursuit of this matter. Was he intruding ? Should he just let it drop ? He reached out through the Force, letting his mind brush softly against his Padawan's. He felt distress, despair, and a cold, bewildered confusion.

He couldn't overlook this. Had someone, or something hurt his Padawan ? Qui-Gon clamped down on the fierce anger the thought brought forth.

He met Obi-Wan's defiant gaze squarely. "Yes, Obi-Wan. If you can tell me that, then I will believe you. I trust you, my Padawan."

With those last few words, Qui-Gon had thrown out a challenge. One which clearly said - I trust you. Now, will you trust me ?

The young man sighed and wriggled slightly. "There really isn't a reason, Master. I....I just never felt comfortable with it."

"So no-one has made you feel this way ? No-one has hurt or frightened you, ever ?"

Obi-Wan hesitated a fraction too long.

Qui-Gon tensed. "Obi-Wan ?"

"I....I wasn't afraid," Obi-Wan whispered.

A cold hand clutched Qui-Gon's heart. "Please, Obi-Wan." His voice was tight with emotion. "Tell me."

Haltingly, his eyes cast downwards, Obi-Wan stammered out what had happened that summer, long ago. He was careful to omit Aramon's name.

With the young man's words, the icy fear left Qui-Gon; it was replaced with bitter self-recrimination. Why hadn't he noticed his Padawan's unhappiness ? Why hadn't recognized that the boy was distressed ? He said as much aloud.

Obi-Wan defended him immediately. "You were unwell. And then... Then it was over, and you were still recovering...."

"That doesn't excuse my inability to even notice that something was wrong !" Qui-Gon exclaimed. He released Obi-Wan, turning over onto his back, draping an arm across his face. "I don't know. "Perhaps I didn't want to see." Qui-Gon lowered his arm and looked across at Obi-Wan. "I confess, I have never found it easy to think of you 'being' with any one, however innocently."

Obi-Wan propped himself up on his elbow, trailing his other hand boldly over Qui-Gon's chest. "It doesn't matter," he muttered, plucking at a loose thread on Qui-Gon's tunic.

Qui-Gon frowned, covering Obi-Wan's hand with his own. "It does matter," he insisted. "Obi-Wan, I am your Master. No matter what else happens between us, that is a constant. It will never change unless you wish it-"

"Never." Obi-Wan broke in fiercely, his eyes gleaming.

Qui-Gon couldn't stop the warmth that declaration stirred within him. He knew it showed when Obi-Wan blushed and dropped his gaze.

"Then we shall always be Master and Padawan. For I will never give you up, Obi-Wan." he said.

"And when I am knighted ?" Obi-Wan asked, lifting his head. Those stormy eyes were bright with emotion.

Qui-Gon cupped his Padawan's face with one large hand, rubbing his thumb across a flushed cheek. "If you wish it, we can still be together then."

Obi-Wan's expression said it all. "Yes !" he exclaimed breathlessly. "I want that !" He coloured even redder and tried to bring himself under control. "I mean that is what I wish, Master."

Qui-Gon laughed softly, sheer happiness drawing his features into a wide grin. He hugged Obi-Wan tightly. The young man responded by draping himself back over Qui-Gon, resting his folded arms on Qui-Gon's chest and placing his chin on top of them.

Qui-Gon wrapped his arms around the young man. His smile became rueful. "I should have noticed," he said softly. " I should have known that you were unhappy." Sorrow darkened his eyes. "I neglected you out of my own selfish needs. I wanted to believe that you were just being discreet." His mouth twisted bitterly.

Obi-Wan pushed himself up and dropped a quick kiss onto Qui-Gon's lips, before settling back down again. "I wasn't coerced into anything," he protested.

"You were unwilling." Qui-Gon reminded him, his lips still tingling from the kiss.

Obi-Wan shrugged. "Not really."

"His attentions were unwelcome ?"

"Only sort of." Obi-Wan expression became shy. "He...he was the wrong one. There was no 'connection'. I didn't feel anything." Obi-Wan appeared exasperated by his inability to explain it more clearly. "I.....I felt 'empty', when he touched me."

"Emotionally, you weren't ready," Qui-Gon said softly.

Obi-Wan nodded. "I know, but it was more than that. Even later, when I...whenever I tried to go further.....Something stopped me."

"Something ?" Qui-Gon frowned.

"I...I just didn't know." A flush crept up Obi-Wan's face.

"Know ?" Qui-Gon echoed softly.

"Obi-Wan looked at him, his gaze suddenly serious. "That I was waiting for you," he said simply.

There were no words that could answer that, Qui-Gon knew and didn't even try. Instead he slowly pulled Obi-Wan close and kissed the young man tenderly. Their lips brushed together softly, this kiss an expression of love, rather than carnal desire.

Gradually, however, the movement of their bodies and the changing nature of the kiss brought them back to the brink of their earlier passion. This time Qui-Gon didn't try to fight it, letting himself fall over the edge, Obi-Wan followed trustingly.

Tongues met and duelled, their hips thrusting against each other. Qui-Gon's hands cupped his Padawan's firm buttocks, squeezing and kneading them with his fingers. Obi-Wan writhed and whimpered, his own hands pulling at Qui-Gon's tunic.

Qui-Gon suddenly broke the kiss and flipped them both over. Obi-Wan lay still beneath him, his arms pinned above his head. Qui-Gon looked into his Padawan's eyes, searching for any sign of fear or distress. He found none, only a wild, nervous excitement.

Qui-Gon paused for breath. He grinned. "I don't remember this being covered in the manual."

Obi-Wan caught the teasing tone. "There's a manual ?" he asked. His eyes sparkling.

Qui-Gon kissed him hard before answering.

"A huge one." He teased. "With chapter upon chapter on how to deal with impudent Padawans."

"Does this class as punishment then ?" Obi-Wan asked innocently. Only his eyes - gleaming wickedly - gave the game away.

Qui-Gon shook his head in wonder. He should have known that Obi-Wan's playful nature would spill over into his lovemaking. All the inexperience in the universe couldn't dampen Obi-Wan exuberant spirit. "No," he said smiling, "but this does," and he released the young man's arms to tickle him.

Obi-Wan yelped and tried to defend himself. Qui-Gon eventually won the resulting tussle, pinning Obi-Wan's hands by his sides.

The young man's tunic top had risen up, revealing one dusky pink nipple. Qui-Gon looked at it, and then looked at Obi-Wan - who appeared to stop breathing as Qui-Gon lowered his head and kissed the tender nub.

Obi-Wan gasped and stiffened. Qui-Gon raised his head. "Do you like that ?" he asked huskily.

Obi-Wan just nodded wordlessly.

Qui-Gon used his teeth to tug the shirt up a little higher, revealing the other nipple, which was already hardening in anticipation. Qui-Gon pressed his lips to it, swirling his tongue around the fleshy peak until it was fully erect; then he began to suckle.

Obi-Wan's head came up with a sharp cry. He dropped back heavily, murmuring nonsensically as his legs drove against the bed.

Qui-Gon placed one last, wet lick against the youth's nipple, and drew back. "I dreamed you'd be like this," he admitted quietly. "So responsive, so giving, so beautiful...."

Obi-Wan found his voice. "Y-You dreamt of me ?" he asked hoarsely.

"Almost every night." Qui-Gon confessed a touch guiltily. He gave his Padawan a rueful smile. "I think I was in real danger of catching hypothermia from all the cold showers."

Obi-Wan chuckled softly. "Cold showers, hmm ? I'm surprised no-one has ever commented on how little hot water we use."

They shared a look, one which told of how hard they had each struggled with this. One which said they didn't have to any more.

"So. No more cold showers ?" Obi-Wan asked hopefully.

Qui-Gon ran his tongue up Obi-Wan's breast bone. When he was stopped by the folds of tunic he lifted his head and looked into the young man's dazed eyes. "No more cold showers," he agreed.

"Oh....g-good," Obi-Wan said breathlessly.

Qui-Gon let go of Obi-Wan's arms and knelt up, still straddling his Padawan's thighs. "Sit up."

Obi-Wan wriggled up the bed until he sat, his back against the pillows.

"Raise your arms."

Obi-Wan obeyed. Qui-Gon caught hold of the young man's tunic, drawing it up over his head. The Jedi Master swallowed hard, watching the interplay of sleek muscle along Obi-Wan's torso. He threw the top aside. Obi-Wan's fingers moved to the drawstring at his waist, but Qui-Gon pushed them away. He put his Padawan's hands back down by his sides.

"Leave them there."

Obi-Wan did. His eyes followed Qui-Gon, as the Jedi Master lay his hands upon Obi-Wan's shoulders and gently pushed him back against the pillows. Qui-Gon returned his attention to the cord at the youth's waist. He untied it and hooked his fingers inside, working the material loose. Qui-Gon could feel the heat rising from his Padawan's velvet skin and he couldn't stop himself stealing a brief caress. Obi-Wan's thighs tensed and he exhaled heavily.

Qui-Gon turned his focus back to his Padawan's leggings; the young man's arousal clearly outlined through the cloth. "Lift your hips," he said hoarsely.

Obi-Wan pushed himself up and Qui-Gon tugged the leggings down as far as the young man's ankles. "Down." His voice was a ghosted breath.

Obi-Wan lowered his hips back onto the bed.

Qui-Gon took hold of one slender ankle and then the other, slightly raising each in turn, freeing Obi-Wan's feet from the tangled garment. He threw the leggings aside and turned back to look at his Padawan.

The sheer beauty of the young man stole Qui-Gon's breath.

He knew this slender body almost as well as his own. He had bathed it with cooling water when it twisted and turned in the grip of a burning fever. He had cleaned and bound each cut and scrape and broken bone. He had held it through nightmares, comforted it through grief, and borne its unconscious weight through deserts and swamps.

None of that mattered.

That was when he had looked upon Obi-Wan's body with the impartial eyes of a Jedi Master. Now he gazed upon Obi-Wan with these strange new eyes, the eyes of a soon-to-be-lover.

The intimacy almost broke him.

Obi-Wan lay still and silent against the wheat-coloured sheets. The only movement came from the rapid rise and fall of his chest. The youth's body was bathed in a warm, ruddy glow from the partially veiled window above. Dusty beams catching the streaks of burnt-red in his hair, turning his lashes to gold. Beneath their heavy fringe, sea-green eyes stared - the irises all but consumed by the inky black of pupils flooded with desire.

Qui-Gon stretched out his hand, stroking a newly bared thigh feeling the muscle twitch and tighten. His fingers travelled upwards, tracing the curve and hollow of a hip bone, glorying in the sensation of hot silken skin. Obi-Wan's erection strained toward him. Qui-Gon skirted it carefully, instead brushing his flat palm over Obi-Wan's taut belly.

"M-Master....Please...."

Qui-Gon stopped and pulled his hand back. He met Obi-Wan's eyes and understood at once what the young man was asking. Without fuss or ceremony Qui-Gon drew his tunic over his head, and then sat back to remove his leggings. Obi-Wan's eyes devoured the long, lean planes of his Master's body.

Qui-Gon came forward, holding himself aloft over his recumbent Padawan. The muscles of his arms shook. He watched as Obi-Wan's eyes moved down the length of his body, widening as they fell upon the rigid flesh jutting out from its nest of curls.

A visible tremor passed through the young man's slender frame.

Concerned, Qui-Gon broke the heavy silence. "Obi-Wan ?" he asked softly. "Are you sure this is what you want ?"

"Yes !" Obi-Wan's eyes flickered back up to meet Qui-Gon's. "Force, yes !" the youth exclaimed, then he blushed. "I mean yes...yes I do. I'm....I'm just...." The youth laughed nervously. "It's just I've never done this before, and...and you have." His voice dropped to a whisper, his eyes darting away. "I guess I just don't want to disappoint you."

Qui-Gon lay down beside his Padawan, reaching out to catch hold of the young man's chin and gently draw his gaze back up. "This isn't a test, Obi-Wan." He stroked his thumb across a slightly pouting lip. "You could never disappoint me."

Obi-Wan looked at him, and Qui-Gon was distressed to see tears in the youth's eyes. "But I have," Obi-Wan whispered, distraught. "I disobeyed you. I...I I'm sorry, Master. I'm so s-sorry..."

"Sssh. Sssh. My love." Qui-Gon wiped away a tear as it appeared. "I know, I know. But I think we have both learnt from what happened. It is in the past now. Let it rest. Yes ?" he asked gently.

Obi-Wan blinked at him, fresh tears spiking his lashes. Qui-Gon kissed them away.

"Master," Obi-Wan murmured.

Qui-Gon covered his Padawan's upturned face in kisses. The young man moved to meet Qui-Gon's lips with his own. The kiss deepened. Obi-Wan hooked a leg over his Master's hips, and the sound of their harsh breathing filled the room. Qui-Gon roughly palmed the young man's buttock, pulling the youth hard against him.

They continued to kiss and touch, their hands eagerly seeking out the planes and contours of one anothers bodies. Then Qui-Gon's fingers circled Obi-Wan's erection and Obi-Wan gasped loudly, thrusting his hips instinctively into the warm, rough glove of Qui-Gon's hand.

"Ohhh..."

Qui-Gon gentled the kisses, drawing them down from the peak. He didn't move his hand away, leaving it loosely cradling his Padawan's erection. "What do you want, Obi-Wan ?"

"Hmm...?" Obi-Wan looked at him dazedly.

Qui-Gon decided to be merciful and released the youth to let him think.

Obi-Wan whimpered as the warm, rough fingers retreated from his burning flesh. "M-Master ?"

"It's alright." Qui-Gon assured him, settling his hand upon the young man's hip. "I just need you to tell me what you want, Obi-Wan."

"Want ?" The young man echoed.

Qui-Gon smiled tenderly. "Yes. Want. What do you want, my love."

Obi-Wan's thought processes were apparently clearing as the young man wriggled a little, somewhat embarrassed. "I...I'm not sure," he confessed.

Qui-Gon held the young man close, drawing him against his chest. "I'm not trying to push you, my love. I just don't want to do anything you don't want." He kissed the top of Obi-Wan's head. "I've hurt you enough," he whispered softly.

Obi-Wan squirmed in his arms to face him. "That's the past remember ?"

Qui-Gon nodded, hiding a bemused smile at the scolding look on his Padawan's face. "Yes, Master."

Obi-Wan poked him hard in the ribs.

"Ooof !" Qui-Gon rubbed the offended spot. "Alright ! It's the past. It's the past."

Obi-Wan gave him a satisfied look and then lay his head back onto Qui-Gon's chest. There was a brief pause - Qui-Gon stroking Obi-Wan's shoulder, while Obi-Wan's fingers traced out a pattern on his Master's thigh.

After a moment the young man sighed. "I..I wish I had more experience with...with this." He sounded frustrated. He sighed again, this time more wistfully. "All your other lovers probably knew exactly what to do," he muttered.

Qui-Gon couldn't stop the chuckle which shook him.

Obi-Wan looked up, his expression slightly hurt.

Qui-Gon was instantly contrite, though he couldn't completely hide his amusement. "Forgive me love," he said. "I'm not making fun of you. It's just that you make me sound like some sort of 'Jedi Lothario'. Which, I assure you, I am not."

Obi-Wan's hurt look vanished, though the wistfulness remained. "But you have had other lovers ?" he pressed.

"Well. Yes." Qui-Gon admitted.

"Many ?" Obi-Wan enquired boldly.

"No," said Qui-Gon. "Not many." He took hold of Obi-Wan's hand, raising it to his lips. "And none since I loved you," he added - kissing each slender finger in turn.

Obi-Wan was silent, watching him. It had been on the tip of the young man's tongue to ask if Mace Windu had been amongst those few. But did it matter ? Perhaps the past should keep its secrets. Sometimes silence was safer. He didn't want to know the names of those 'others' who had shared his Master's body. Let them stay faceless and forgotten. Qui-Gon was his to love now, just as he was Qui-Gon's. The past was unimportant.

Qui-Gon waited patiently, watching the emotions as they darted across his Padawan's face. When the youth's expression settled he spoke again. "Obi-Wan ?" A question in his eyes.

"Make love to me." Obi-Wan's face was flushed, but he met Qui-Gon's gaze boldly. "I want you in me."

Qui-Gon swallowed hard. "Are..are you sure ? We can take things slo-"

Obi-Wan interrupted him. "You asked me what I wanted. That is what I want." His boldness faltered slightly. "Please, Master. I...I've waited so long..." Obi-Wan's voice broke.

Qui-Gon pressed a kiss against his Padawan's palm. "Qui-Gon," he said softly.

"W-what ?"

"I am not your Master here, Obi-Wan. You must call me Qui-Gon." He flickered his tongue against the pulse of Obi-Wan's wrist.

"Qui-Gon," said Obi-Wan breathlessly.

"Ask me again." Qui-Gon whispered, blowing over the freshly moistened skin.

"Qui-Gon. Make love to me."

Qui-Gon didn't speak. He turned them until he lay over Obi-Wan then he kissed the youth with all the strength of his passion. Obi-Wan parted his thighs to allow Qui-Gon to settle between them, lifting his legs and locking his ankles around the Jedi Master's waist. Qui-Gon grunted with the sensation of his Padawan's sleek body pressed tight against him. Instinctively he thrust against the youth, grinding their erections between their bodies. The heated friction was maddening, and Qui-Gon knew he was getting to close to the edge. Obi-Wan was even closer, his head had fallen back and he was panting wildly.

Carefully, Qui-Gon disengaged himself from the tangle of limbs. "Turn over," he said softly.

Obi-Wan lay stunned for a moment. Then the meaning of Qui-Gon's words sank in and the young man scrambled over onto his belly.

Qui-Gon drew in a ragged breath. His capacity for thought deserted him as he stared upon the smooth, perfect spheres of his Padawan's buttocks. Both hands reached out, almost of their own volition, each covering a firm globe. Obi-Wan gave a muffled groan, his face buried in the pillows. Still moving as though in a trance, Qui-Gon pushed his palms down upon the silken flesh, kneading them gently. He leaned forward and placed his lips against the right cheek, nuzzling it, then kissing it, then nipping it - none too gently. Obi-Wan made a sound of sated approval, almost a purr.

Qui-Gon sat back.....He needed something ?.....What was it ? Oh, Yes.

"A moment, my love," he whispered into Obi-Wan's ear. Obi-Wan turned his face to look at him, eyes smoky with desire.

"Hmph ?" Was all the young man managed.

Qui-Gon moved swiftly into the wash room, rummaging through the cabinet until he found the massage oil. To his relief it was nearly two thirds full.

He padded back into the bedroom. Obi-Wan hadn't moved. The youth looked back over his shoulder as Qui-Gon returned. Green-blue eyes focused on the little bottle in Qui-Gon's hand and Obi-Wan quickly turned his face back to the pillows.

Qui-Gon knelt on the bed. "You are sure, Obi-Wan. This is what you want ?"

"Yes"

Qui-Gon smiled briefly at the exasperation in the young man's voice. However, he could also feel the nervousness fraying at his Padawan's hard held control. This certainly wouldn't work with the young man so tense.

Uncorking the bottle he poured a generous amount of oil onto his hand. He warmed it before applying it to the young man's rigid shoulders.

Obi-Wan made a sound something like - "umpff." Then he slowly began to relax as Qui-Gon's hands worked their magic, soothing out some of the stress and tension that had crept into the young man's body. Before long, Obi-Wan was boneless, adrift in a sea of pure pleasure. He made that same strange purring sound again, wiggling his hips a little.

Qui-Gon took the hint and moved his hands down from Obi-Wan's shoulders, sweeping down the column of the youth's spine to tease and rub the full mounds of his buttocks.

"Oh, Force," Obi-Wan hissed.

"You like that ?" Qui-Gon asked. His voice rough with desire.

"Force, yes !" Obi-Wan cried. "That's so good. So good." He arched. up into Qui-Gon hands, his upper body resting on his forearms as he rose up onto his knees.

Qui-Gon's mouth went dry. His hand shook as he reached for the bottle, pouring out some more of the oil.

"Please." Obi-Wan whimpered.

"Sssh. I'm here. I'm here." Qui-Gon reassured him. His hands slicked with fresh oil, Qui-Gon stroked them down Obi-Wan legs. Moving back up the youth's inner thighs, he brushed his fingers lightly against the velvet sac nestled between them. Obi-Wan gave a wordless cry and raised himself up even further. He now knelt on all fours, his head and shoulders tilted down towards the pillows, his buttocks thrust upwards.

Qui-Gon could feel his control melting away. Clinging desperately to the last of it, he slid one slick finger between the pert cheeks. Obi- Wan jumped a little. "Is that alright ?" Qui-Gon asked softly.

Obi-Wan nodded - then realising Qui-Gon might not see that, since his head was buried in the pillows - he gasped out, "Yes. More, please."

Breathing hard, Qui-Gon let his finger trail along the crease, down as far as the perineum, then back up. Each time he repeated the gesture he lightly brushed over the entrance to the young man's body. Until the final time he paused there. "Trust me, Obi-Wan," he whispered softly. "I want you to take in a deep breath. Then breathe out slowly and relax."

He waited until the young man did as he asked. Qui-Gon stroked Obi-Wan trembling thigh with his other hand. "Good, Obi-Wan. Now again, my love."

Obi-Wan repeated the same exercise - taking in deep, long breaths - then releasing them. After four or five such breaths he was fairly relaxed. On the sixth, Qui-Gon very gently pushed his finger down and forward as the young man breathed out; carefully easing the tip past the tight ring of muscle.

Obi-Wan tensed a little, but showed no real sign of discomfort.

"Is this alright ?" Qui-Gon asked again.

"Hmm." Was all Obi-Wan could manage, but he nodded. His fingers gripping the sheets tightly.

Qui-Gon accepted the wordless approval, and let his finger slip a little deeper into the scalding heat of his Padawan's body. When it was embedded up to the second knuckle he stopped and almost withdrew. He stopped again just before he did and pushed back in - repeating the gesture to create a slow thrusting motion - his finger sliding in and out, loosening the tight muscle.

Gradually, Obi-Wan relaxed and began to lose himself in the sensation of Qui-Gon's finger pushing in and out of his body. The young man began to move with it, rocking his hips back and forth in a slow easy rhythm, impaling himself even further.

Qui-Gon's bones turned liquid, completely captivated by the sight of his oiled finger slipping in and out of that tight, hot channel. His control scattered like ashes on the wind and he quickly withdrew his finger. Obi-Wan whimpered in protest, but Qui-Gon was already pushing the youth's hips down toward the bed. He snatched up a pillow from beside Obi-Wan's head and positioned it beneath the young man's body. Grabbing up the oil he poured a good deal of the remaining third directly into the youth's crease.

Obi-Wan twitched slightly, as the cool oil drizzled down the cleft of his buttocks. However, any protest he might have made was silenced when Qui-Gon pushed his finger back into his body. Obi-Wan spread his legs a little, opening himself and Qui-Gon very slowly pushed in a second finger to join the first.

"Oh." Obi-Wan whispered. Then he was silent, except for the occasional soft sound of pleasure that escaped him.

Qui-Gon bit his lip, struggling for control, anxious not to rush this. He eased his fingers in and out, scissoring them slightly, watching closely for any sign of pain. Obi-Wan was so tight; his virgin passage gripped Qui-Gon with a snug sensuality that made the Jedi Master want to whimper with need. He fought against his rising desire, waiting until Obi-Wan gave an impatient little thrust of his hips, driving himself onto Qui-Gon's fingers.

The young man gave a mewl of frustration. It wasn't enough....He needed more......He needed...something.

Qui-Gon understood what his Padawan wanted. Perhaps better, at that moment, than Obi-Wan. Withdrawing his fingers he took up the last of the oil and poured it over his erection. The coolness helped to calm it, though it was soon hot and angry-red as his fingers worked the oil up and down its rigid length.

He stopped when the friction was more than he could stand. His hands clutched Obi-Wan's hips, drawing the youth back and up. "Open your legs a little more." Qui-Gon rasped.

Obi-Wan shuffled back onto his spread knees, the pillow now pressed beneath his chest. Qui-Gon pulled him back even further, pushing Obi-Wan's legs apart.

"Umph."

"Alright ?" Qui-Gon asked, his hands shaking as they gripped his Padawan's slender thighs.

"Y-yes."

"Are you ready ?"

Another "Yes." Even softer this time.

Qui-Gon moved forward, positioning the head of his erection at the entrance to Obi-Wan's body. "Take a deep breath, my love." A brief pause as Obi-Wan drew in a long, shaky breath. "Now, let it out," said Qui-Gon softly. As the young man obeyed, Qui-Gon pushed his hard length past the unyielding ring of muscle.

He gasped. Even slick and stretched Obi-Wan was still impossibly tight. A constricting tunnel of moist velvet, closing around his hot flesh. Qui-Gon bit down harder on his lip, tasting blood. Then Obi- Wan gave a low moan, and he froze.

"Don't..don't...st-stop.." Obi-Wan gasped.

Qui-Gon could hear the pain in the young man's voice and he immediately prepared to pull out.

As though sensing his thoughts, Obi-Wan tried to push back, groaning with the effort.

"Obi-Wa-"

Qui-Gon was cut off as Obi-Wan turned his head to look back over his shoulder. The young man's eyes blazed.

"Don't you dare stop." He ground out. It wasn't the tone of command in Obi-Wan's voice that made Qui-Gon hesitate. Rather it was the pure, desperate desire in the young man's eyes. The pain already fading as other sensations took a hold.

Slowly, they would have to go more slowly.

Obi-Wan's head dropped back down, his shoulders were shaking. Qui-Gon stroked his hands over the youth's body, making soft, soothing noises as he ran them down the young man's trembling flanks, calming Obi-Wan as if he were a wild animal that had taken fright.

Obi-Wan responded to the gentle tone and the touch of his Master's hands. The tremors lessened and he relaxed."More. Qui-Gon. Please."

Still wary of hurting the young man, Qui-Gon pushed down with the greatest of care, moving forward minutely.

Obi-Wan trembled, trying to accustom himself to the sensation of being slowly stretched and filled. It hurt. Oh, it hurt. But the pain of penetration was already beginning to fade, becoming lost in the deep, burning pleasure, spiralling out through his body. Making him want more and more......

He moaned again, but this time it was a sound of pure ecstasy.

"Yes. Oh, Obi-Wan. My love." Qui-Gon's moan of pleasure joined his Padawan's, as he went deeper and deeper, until finally his loins were flush against Obi-Wan's body.

"M-Master...."

Qui-Gon responded to his Padawan's incoherent plea, pulling back, then pushing in. Repeating the action, to a slow, silent beat. Obi-Wan's wordless cry of rapture, spurred him into a wilder faster rhythm. He gripped his Padawan's hips almost fiercely, thrusting deep, pulling back, then driving in again. Obi-Wan moved with him, picking up the tempo. The only sound their harsh breathing and the soft slap of skin against skin.

Qui-Gon's hand slipped around his Padawan's body, seeking out the hardness between the youth's legs. Obi-Wan howled as his long fingers wrapped around the taut flesh, quickly beginning their own sliding dance. Already beyond the point of bearing, Obi-Wan's climax was almost instantaneous, and the hot rush of his seed gushed over Qui-Gon's hand.

The velvet tightness holding Qui-Gon, suddenly contracted around his member and with a shout he came, pouring his essence deep into Obi-Wan's body. They sank down onto the bed as one. Qui-Gon struggling to support himself, trying to keep his weight off Obi-Wan.

"Dsnnzst."

"Wha?" Qui-Gon mumbled his own unintelligible query.

"Don't." Was the slightly clearer reply. "Not heavy. Like it."

"Oh." Qui-Gon relaxed. Slipping to the side very slightly.

"Hmmzst. That's nice." Obi-Wan mumbled into his pillow.

"Good," said Qui-Gon, who's mind didn't seem capable of anything beyond a single word response. "Sleep," he added.

A soft snuffle was his only reply. He smiled and pressed a kiss against Obi-Wan's back. "My love."

"Hmmph. Love you."

Silence fell, as the soothing sleep of lovers claimed them both.

THE END.