The Thousand Nights and One Knight: When I Kissed the
Teacher
by Halrloprillalar (prillalar@geocities.com)
ARCHIVE: M/A, SWA-L please. Elsewhere by permission. Email
forwarding is OK.
CATEGORY: First-Time, Romance
RATING: R
SPOILERS: None.
SUMMARY: Qui-Gon/Obi-Wan (Luke/Wedge). Pre-TPM. In which master
and Padawan search their feelings.
FEEDBACK: Yes, any and all comments welcome.
DISCLAIMER: Star Wars belongs to George Lucas, not me. I do not
profit in any way by this story.
TPM VIEWINGS AT THIS POSTING: 6
MORE FIC: http://members.tripod.com/~prillalar/fic/fic.html
BETA GODDESS & WRANGLER EXTRAORDINAIRE: Laura Shapiro.
AMBIANCE: Oasis. "Because maybe you're gonna be the one who
saves me?"
NOTES: There is a Prologue to this nascent series, available
here:
http://members.tripod.com/~prillalar/fic/1001prologue.html
Although the regular series instalments are TPM, the Prologue
is Luke/Wedge. If you want to skip the Rebelly goodness of
those boyz and start right in with Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan here, I
think you'll pick up the gimmick easily enough.
June 1999
Luke blinked awake and sat up against the pillows. Lighting a
candle, he smiled drowsily and brushed his fingers across his
lips. Then he leaned over and kissed Wedge, small, nibbling
kisses along his jaw line and behind his ear. "Wedge," Luke
whispered, "wake up."
"Mmm." Wedge struggled up on his elbows and yawned just as Luke
tried to kiss him. "What is it?"
"I had another dream." Luke stroked the hair back from Wedge's
forehead. "You said you wanted to hear the next one."
Wedge rubbed his eyes. "Yeah, OK."
"It was strange. There was Ben...Obi-Wan, but he was young.
Maybe twenty? With spiky short hair and this long braid. And
his master, Qui-Gon Jinn. He was--"
"A tall man, with strong features, and long hair pulled away
from his face," Wedge put in.
"How did you know that?"
"I've seen pictures of him, from the Republic days -- in my
father's house on..." He didn't continue. Luke reached out and
took his hand.
"So, Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon were doing a routine training
exercise."
Obi-Wan swiped his sleeve across his forehead and searched for
an opening as he and Qui-Gon circled each other warily. Obi-Wan
feinted, ducked, and grabbed Qui-Gon's shoulder. Next thing he
knew, he was flat on his back on the mat.
"You must do better, Obi-Wan." Obi-Wan suddenly wanted to wipe
that smug look off of Qui-Gon's face. "And control your anger."
First allowing himself one more brief flare, Obi-Wan closed his
eyes to centre himself. Then he stood and tried again. And
found himself on the mat, slammed harder than before.
Obi-Wan studied Qui-Gon, trying to devise some plan of offence,
trying to find a weakness. What he saw was his master, hair
pulled back in a thick braid, face barely sheened with sweat.
Broad shoulders and narrow hips under the white gi. Bare feet.
Inscrutable expression.
"Trust your instincts, Padawan."
Instincts. He jumped to his feet and darted in. Taking hold, he
felt muscle roll under his hand, smelt the tang of Qui-Gon's
exertion and his own stronger stink. He was thrown again. And
again. Lying there, he heard the hammering of blood in his
ears, tasted defeat in his mouth.
"Focus, Obi-Wan. You must have clarity." A trace of annoyance
tinged Qui-Gon's words. "Be mindful of your feelings and let
your body follow."
Once again, Obi-Wan tried to find the quiet space within. Why
was this so difficult today? Locking his gaze with his
master's, he searched inside himself, began to focus his
feelings. And, like a sun's rays through a lens, they burned
him. Turning away, he rose, took his stance. He couldn't let
his body follow those feelings. Surely Qui-Gon could sense
them.
Surely he could. Obi-Wan found himself thrown over and over,
buffeted by the breakers of some stormy ocean. Then the seventh
wave rolled over him and he skidded along the mat, scraping his
cheek.
He looked up. Qui-Gon's chest heaved, a drop of sweat ran down
his cheek, his fingers curled. "Go to your quarters, Obi-Wan."
The words were flat, toneless. "Quiet yourself and meditate. We
will have this lesson again tomorrow." Turning his back,
Qui-Gon went to the door and opened it, but didn't leave, just
waited for Obi-Wan to pick himself up and go.
Passing his master, Obi-Wan had a sudden urge to twist his
fists into Qui-Gon's jacket, to try for one more throw. But the
small, sane part of him kept him from acting out his death
wish.
In his rooms, Obi-Wan lit candles and burned incense as he drew
a bath. Stripping off his gi, he washed away the sweat and
dust, plunging his head beneath the cool water for as long as
he could hold his breath.
It didn't help. Dressed in a white robe, he paced the floor,
unable to meditate, unable to concentrate. No need to search
his feelings when they consumed him.
He must get control. Kneeling, he began a litany, but the words
that fell from his lips were not the ones that swirled in his
brain. He could not, could *not* feel this passion. This was
his master, not another apprentice to play with.
The door chimed. Obi-Wan stood too quickly and the blood rushed
from his head. "Come." The door swished open. It was Qui-Gon.
The blood was taking a long time in returning to Obi-Wan's
brain and he barely kept himself from swaying. "Master."
"May I enter?"
"Of course." A lump of ice suddenly formed in Obi-Wan's gut and
began melting into acid. He'd expected this, but not so soon.
Striding in, Qui-Gon stood in front of Obi-Wan, laying a strong
hand on his shoulder. "I hurt you," he said. "I'm sorry."
Obi-Wan frowned, off-balance yet again. Cool fingers touched
his cheek and the scrape began to burn. Or maybe that was his
whole face. "You should put something on that." Qui-Gon picked
up a jar from a shelf and spread ointment over the scrape. It
tingled. Obi-Wan closed his eyes until he felt Qui-Gon move
away.
"Thank you."
"Did I disturb you?"
Obi-Wan stared at Qui-Gon, then realised what he meant. "No, I
was trying to meditate but not really succeeding."
"What's troubling you?" Qui-Gon waited as Obi-Wan said nothing.
"Tell me, Obi-Wan."
Qui-Gon surely knew already. "You are." Obi-Wan turned his
back. "My feelings for you. They're...inappropriate." He paced
away. "They're wrong." Spinning, he paced back, then stopped
short. "This must happen all the time." Shame, embarrassment,
stupid, stupid, stupid. "Every apprentice must fall in love
with his master." He dropped onto the low couch. "I'll get over
it. I promise."
"It's true. An apprentice often does fall in love with his
master." Qui-Gon sat too and took Obi-Wan's chin in a firm
grip, turning his Padawan to face him. "But it's rare that a
master falls in love with his apprentice."
Obi-Wan drew his breath in sharply, transfixed by Qui-Gon's
gaze. Blue eyes, laser blue like Obi-Wan's own lightsaber.
Danger blue. Qui-Gon bent his head and Obi-Wan knew that they
were about to... No. Pulling free, he jumped to his feet. "What
are you saying? Are you humouring me?"
"I'm saying that I love you." Qui-Gon stood.
Quicksilver joy and dread spun through Obi-Wan. "So that
means...that you have to drop me as your Padawan."
"No." Qui-Gon walked towards Obi-Wan, all calm and peace except
for his flashing eyes.
"It means there's some training rule that says we can't have a
relationship."
Taking Obi-Wan's face in his hands, Qui-Gon pressed their
foreheads together. "No."
"It means that this would be a very bad idea?"
"No." Qui-Gon's breath was warm. "It means this." And kissed
him.
It was a terrible kiss. Their teeth cracked together and their
noses bumped and they made a sound like water draining down a
clogged sink and Obi-Wan wound his fingers into Qui-Gon's hair,
finding his still centre at last.
The second kiss was soft, tentative, slight pressure of mouth
on mouth. Hardly a taste. Qui-Gon's thumb stroked Obi-Wan's
cheekbone.
Three was the charm. They found the fit, felt the rhythm. Under
his tongue, Qui-Gon tasted of the spice he chewed. Obi-Wan
sucked in his master's lower lip. The kiss was languid, slow.
They kissed until they were in the bedroom, kissed until their
robes fell to the floor, kissed until they lay together in the
narrow bed.
Gradually, they learned the shape and feel of each other's
bodies. Obi-Wan found the spot below Qui-Gon's ear that made
his master gasp. And Obi-Wan shivered when Qui-Gon kissed his
navel, soft hair spilling over his belly. Stretching out, they
pressed together, slid, rocked, and the blood thrummed in
Obi-Wan's ears as he climaxed. Qui-Gon kissed Obi-Wan's cheek,
almost a bite, then shuddered against him.
Years of training paid off in hours of stamina. Through the
patient night they schooled each other and Obi-Wan was
delighted to find he had things to teach his master. After
Qui-Gon arched his back and bit his lip until he could no
longer keep from crying out, Obi-Wan began to laugh. He'd
thrown Qui-Gon at last.
The candles guttered before they had taken their fill. In
darkness, they fell asleep together, Obi-Wan's heart beating
against Qui-Gon's back. Before he drifted off, Obi-Wan spoke
into his master's sleeping ear. "I think I can concentrate
now."
"And that's when I woke up."
Wedge propped himself onto his side. "That was nice. But
sappy."
Luke tugged on his lover's hair. "Not sappy. A Jedi must be in
touch with his feelings. In tune with his inner self."
"You're telling me a Jedi has to get off to be in tune with his
inner self?"
"Well, it helps..."
"Still, it could have been more explicit. More rough and
ready."
"You think?"
In one swift moment, Wedge rolled on top of Luke, pinning his
hands above his head. "I think."
The candle went out. Luke breathed deeply, feeling the warm
weight against him. "Show me, Wedge."
So he did.
F I N I S
A kiss is still a kiss, a sigh is just a sigh, and feedback is
a sweet, sweet thing. prillalar@geocities.com
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