Truth Be Known

by Karita Wyr (karitawyr@gmail.com)

Rating: R
Archive: M-A. Anyone else please ask.
Pairing: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Bruck Chun
Summary: Obi-Wan Kenobi and Bruck Chun meet late one night.
Disclaimer: Lucasfilm, Scholastic Books, George Lucas, and Jude Watson own all the good stuff. This bit of twisted fiction was written as a gift, not in the interest of payment.
Warnings: I still may not understand the use of the subjunctive mood.
Author's notes: Written for frahulettaes for the jedi__santa fic exchange on LJ. This is a sequel of sorts to Labyrinth of Truth which is available in the M-A archive. Someday there will be a companion piece to this from Obi-Wan's point of view. Maybe. Possibly.

Bruck may have thanked the nervous initiate who delivered the note. He could not remember. It would not be the first or the last time he had forgotten his manners.

He glanced once again at the crumpled slip of paper clutched in his hand.

Bruck,
Meet me in Conservatory Five. Midnight.
OWK.

The handwriting on the paper was precise and neat. However, the reason for the message could only be messy. To say that Bruck Chun and Obi-Wan Kenobi had a difficult past would be like saying the Sith were merely misguided. Most of the Temple inhabitants had at some point witnessed one of their inevitable clashes. No one would ever believe that the two young men could put aside their differences for any reason.

But when Obi-Wan had caught Bruck staring at him during a break in the morning's seminar, something had passed between them, an understanding of their mutual desire. At least that was what it had felt like. Bruck was having serious doubts. What had seemed like a solid truth at that time had turned into a frail hope in his unsettled mind.

Was this to be a confrontation or an assignation? Bruck was not sure he could handle either, and yet he could not stay away.

Bruck arrived at Conservatory Five a few minutes early. He noted that Obi-Wan had engaged the time lock on the door, and it would not open until midnight. Sucking in a shaky breath, Bruck rested his forehead against the metal soundproof door and waited. He tried to get his thoughts in order, but it was a useless endeavor. When it came to his feelings for Obi-Wan, clear thinking wasn't an option.

At last Bruck heard the locking mechanism begin to whir, signaling that midnight had finally arrived. There was just enough time for Bruck to smooth out his tunics before the door slid open. Soft music drifted into the hall from the dimly lit conservatory. It was calming. Taking a deep breath, Bruck stepped into the room. The door closed quietly behind him.

A spotlight above a raised dais shone directly on Obi-Wan who had an elegant gold harp resting against one shoulder. Eyes closed, his hands glided over the strings. Perfect round notes bloomed beneath his fingers, joining to form a haunting melody.

Of course he played expertly, thought Bruck. It seemed there was nothing the gifted and already infamous Jedi Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi could not do well. He even looked good in the horrible standard brown Jedi robe. It brought out the tawny highlights in his hair, especially when under lighting like that in the conservatory.

The music and the flattering lighting added to Obi-Wan's natural allure, making him the most beautiful being Bruck had ever seen. In that moment, Bruck hated him. He hated Obi-Wan's perfection, his own shortcomings, their power struggles, everything that had led them to this point. More importantly, he despised his absurd need for Obi-Wan and his willingness to take whatever the other padawan might offer.

As the last note faded to silence, Obi-Wan set the harp away from him and slowly opened his eyes. "Bruck," he whispered, gazing intently at his guest.

The quiet way Obi-Wan said his name resonated through Bruck's body, finally settling into his memory. For as long as Bruck drew breath, he would remember the husky quality of Obi-Wan's voice as he said his name, how he looked as that one syllable crossed his lips and ended with a smile.

Obi-Wan stepped down from the dais and stalked across the room, dropping his robe to the floor along the way. Struck dumb, Bruck shivered in anticipation, waiting for Obi-Wan to tell him why he had been summoned here.

Once Obi-Wan stood directly in front Bruck, he put a hand to Bruck's shoulder and a knee between his legs, forcing Bruck back against the door. Obi-Wan leaned in close, as if to initiate a kiss. Bruck felt him smile against his lips. It felt like triumph.

No kiss fell upon waiting lips. Instead Obi-Wan lowered his head, nuzzling aside Bruck's tunics to nip at his collarbone. The tiny bursts of pain were more arousing than any kiss could be. Bruck was already hard and aching.

Reaching under the front of Bruck's tunic, Obi-Wan loosened the ties on his trousers and pushed them down to his boot tops. Then Obi-Wan turned Bruck roughly and slammed him face first into the door. That hurt a bit more than the bites to his skin, but he did not protest. A sharp tug on his padawan braid forced his head back at an uncomfortable angle.

"Say that you want me. Tell me you want this," Obi-Wan whispered in Bruck's ear as he thrust his straining erection against Bruck's bare ass.

With his trousers hopelessly tangled about his knees, Bruck felt off balance and exposed, completely at Obi-Wan's mercy. If this were just one more battle in the war they had fought since they were children, mercy might not be forthcoming. Bruck would beg Obi-Wan for his cock, and Obi-Wan would laugh and walk away, leaving Bruck alone in his defeat. He knew that was a possibility, but he decided he did not care.

"Yes, I want you. Fuck me. Take me," Bruck pleaded. Obi-Wan must have been pleased by Bruck's shamelessness for he stroked two lube-covered fingers down the cleft between Bruck's buttocks to tease at his opening.

Obi-Wan played Bruck's body with the same expertise he played the harp, wringing a different kind of music out of Bruck when those two fingers slid into his tight channel. Obi-Wan stroked his fingers in and out, stretching and lubricating. Bruck moaned and bucked back on the slick fingers when one brushed his prostate.

The fingers left his body, and Bruck was dimly aware that Obi-Wan was dropping his own trousers and preparing himself. Obi-Wan's hands grasped Bruck's hips and a rock hard cock was poised against his entrance. Impatient, Bruck pushed back, trying to impale himself on Obi-Wan's stiff cock.

"Now," he demanded. It was time, past time, for them to be fucking.

Obi-Wan grabbed Bruck's braid again and pulled hard. "I am running this show not you. Agreed?" Another hard tug let Bruck know that there could be no way other than Obi-Wan's way.

"Yes. You…move, please," Bruck sobbed.

Obi-Wan did not ease his way in; he plunged in. Bruck thought he might have been split into two or three pieces. The powerful thrusts felt so good, even when they drove his aching cock into the cold metal door. Unable to form coherent sentences, Bruck settled for panting and moaning.

He managed to widen his stance despite his tangled clothing, so that when Obi-Wan changed the angle of his thrusts, he felt shock waves run through his body. That, added to the rough texture of Obi-Wan's palm stroking his sensitized cock, brought Bruck close to the edge. After a half dozen firm strokes, Bruck had reason to appreciate the conservatory's soundproof walls. Heat rushed through his veins, seeped into his flesh, and burrowed deep into his bones. He came with a cry that echoed off the walls.

Sated, Obi-Wan and Bruck fell to the floor, bodies intertwined. Obi-Wan's face was aglow from fulfilled desire, but the mask of Jedi calm was beginning to slip into place, like snow falling on a garden still in full bloom. Bruck was not about to let that happen. Bracing himself for a multitude of rejections, he asked with forced good humor, "So, is our merry little war over now?"

Desire flared again in Obi-Wan's eyes and the chill dispersed. "Not now, probably not ever. How could it be?" he asked with a laugh. He stretched out over Bruck and engaged him in their first kiss. And so the next battle began.