With or Without Consent
by Rushlight (n_sanity75@hotmail.com)
Author's Webpage: http://www.slashcity.org/~rushlight/
Pairing: Q/O
Category: PWP, Angst, RAPE
Rating: NC-17
WARNINGS!!: Partner Rape.
Summary: Some temptations just cannot be resisted.
Feedback: yes, please (whimper)
Disclaimers: Not mine, never will be, not that this is going
to do me a bit of good if George ever decides to go postal on
us.
It had started so innocently.
Qui-Gon leaned against the wall of his prison, tipping his
head back and gazing up at the window like a budded flower
seeking the light. The sunlight slanted as it fell into the
room, thick as molasses with evening's slow advance, touching
the soft fixtures of the furniture with a brassy shine, giving
an unreal cast to his surroundings.
It had been the eyes that drew him, more than anything else.
More even than those broad shoulders, the tapered waist, tight
ass and strong legs. Although that had definitely been a part
of it as well, it would not have been enough to break his
finely drawn control.
No, it had been the eyes. Perhaps it was a comfort in some
way, to be able to narrow the scope of his failure to one
mitigating factor. Those eyes. When he closed his eyes, he
could still see them. Gazing up at him, crystalline in their
beauty, filled with absolute love and trust.
He remembered how they had darkened in betrayal, slowly losing
their beguiling luster until there had been nothing left but
two featureless planes of glass, revealing nothing of the
shattered heart within.
The pain was almost unbearable as he remembered, but he could
not stop the memories from coming. Nor did he want to; maybe it
was penance of sorts to replay these scenes over and over in
his mind, laying bare the heart of his failure in a useless
effort at self-flagellation, like picking the scab off of a
half-healed wound.
His padawan, fresh from the shower. Clad only in a clinging
white towel riding low on his hips, lean body bathed in the
soft, golden light of the Coruscant morning. Hair curling
damply against the nape of his neck. He was a vision of
hedonistic beauty, lush and shining and begging to be fucked.
Qui-Gon had resisted, at first. As he always did. Sliding his
eyes away with barely a glance, but that one glimpse had burned
the image into his mind. It was imprinted in vivid detail on
his retinas, making his hands shake as he reached for the
kettle to pour them their morning tea.
"Good morning, Master."
Low, well-modulated voice, warm as honey. It slid over Qui-Gon
like a caress, igniting a slow fire under his skin.
"Good morning, Padawan." Hoarsely. No eye contact, no overt
indication that he was feeling anything at all. Just pour the
tea, focus on the cups on their delicate little saucers.
Handsome filigree across their sides.
Force, but the man was coming into the kitchen now. Qui-Gon
handed him his teacup mechanically, again forsaking eye contact
in favor of busying himself elsewhere. His heart was pounding,
bringing a warm flush to his cheeks that would thankfully be
covered by his beard.
"Master, is everything all right?"
Damn the boy's perceptiveness, anyway. Surely he had to
realize the effect he was having on his poor Master. In fact -
and here Qui-Gon felt a sudden flash of anger - Obi-Wan
probably knew exactly what he was doing to him. A moment later,
Qui-Gon crushed the notion to nonexistence, but the anger
remained, like a hookthorn that had burrowed under his skin and
refused to let go.
"You should get dressed, Obi-Wan." Quiet voice, without
inflection. "You have an astrophysics test this morning."
Low twist of puzzlement at his brows. "Are you sure you're
okay?" He took a slow step forward, reaching out one hand to
lightly touch his Master's arm.
Qui-Gon shrank back as if he'd been bitten. And now something
in his expression must have alerted his apprentice that
something was wrong, because Obi-Wan began to look uncertain.
"Master...?" A soft query, asking for reassurance.
Those eyes held Qui-Gon. Their clarity was blinding, the
almost- blue color of them half-hidden under the gentle line of
narrowed lids. Long, dark lashes, a hedonist's fantasy,
fluttering whisper-soft across high cheekbones every time he
blinked. So much innocence there, so much trust. And love. It
was no secret that they felt love for each other; they had been
together for so long now, and Qui-Gon was the only real father
that Obi-Wan had ever known. Of course they would love each
other.
Despite himself, Qui-Gon's gaze slid down from his
apprentice's eyes to take in the softly lined flesh of his
lips, moving down over the clefted chin to the gentle slope of
the white throat. His gaze lingered on the smooth shoulders,
imagining for a moment what that skin might taste like under
his lips. Then down the well-muscled belly to the light dusting
of hairs just above the line of the towel.
Oh, this was wrong. Wrong. His mind screamed at him to leave,
to just turn around and walk away, but the raw, aching desire
he felt held him rooted to the spot. It was subtle, insidious,
like a spider crawling across the surface of his brain - as
much as he tried to ignore it, he could feel it there, spinning
its web around him.
With one hand, he reached out to touch his apprentice's cheek;
the skin felt warm under his fingers. Obi-Wan's eyes flickered
at the contact, the confusion in them deepening. Soft lips
parted, almost speaking.
"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said quietly, cutting off the query before
it came. "Go into my bedroom."
Surprise in those eyes, confusion, but no alarm ... not yet.
"But my astrophysics exam-"
"You will not be taking your exam this morning."
Did Obi-Wan guess then what his Master planned to do? Qui-Gon
thought not, as he paused the replay of this moment in his
mind. His innocent, trusting padawan could never have guessed
at the twisted hunger that writhed behind his Master's piercing
stare, even though he obviously sensed the wrongness of the
situation.
And he had gone. This brought a fresh stab of pain to Qui-Gon
as he remembered, like shards of broken glass twisting in his
gut. Obi-Wan had gone, meekly obeying his Master's command,
despite the strangeness of it, despite the fear that was only
just beginning to flicker at the edges of his thoughts. He had
paused, there on the threshold of Qui-Gon's doorway, and looked
back over his shoulder at the man that he trusted so
implicitly. Eyes wide and questioning, full of a pleading that
he did not fully understand. Qui-Gon had met that gaze coldly,
revealing nothing, and Obi-Wan had gone.
Why?? In his prison, Qui-Gon screamed the question
silently into the sudden vacuum of his soul, pressing his fist
into his mouth to hold back the agonized cry that threatened to
burst out of him. Why had Obi-Wan obeyed him? Why couldn't he
have insisted on going to his class, despite his Master's
unprecedented order? Sorry, Master, no time now, I've gotta
run...
In the bedroom now. The shades were still drawn across the
Jedi Master's windows, filtering the sunlight that managed to
make its way inside and giving it a bronze-ish cast. Obi-Wan
stood unmoving in the center of the room, looking somewhat
lost.
Light worshipped Obi-Wan. No matter the source, it always fell
favorably on him, and this moment was no exception. This light
touched him hesitantly, like a shy lover, bringing out the
russet highlights in his pale hair and laying gentle caresses
across the smooth planes of his chest, pooling around the soft
darkness of his nipples.
The object of Qui-Gon's lust raised his head as if he were
about to say something, but Qui-Gon gestured that he be silent.
For a moment Qui-Gon just looked at him, drinking in the sight
of his quiescent apprentice, taking in not only his beauty but
his vulnerability as he stood there waiting for his Master to
speak.
"You are beautiful." Qui-Gon said this reverently, his voice
low. The confusion returned again to Obi-Wan's perfect eyes,
but now it was chased by a new emotion, swirling up from those
aqua depths: fear. There and then gone, as if he had considered
for a moment what his Master might want from him and then just
as quickly discarded the thought. Qui-Gon felt himself smile, a
slow curl of his lips that must have looked utterly alien on
his normally impassive face.
He moved forward, seeing how Obi-Wan's shoulders tensed
slightly at his approach. Part of him winced inwardly at this,
but the more dominant part of him found it indelibly erotic.
Oh, he was lost now, lost. He stopped in front of Obi-Wan,
forcing the younger man to look up to meet his gaze, and
reached out to touch the slim length of his padawan's braid. It
felt silken between his trembling fingers.
"Master..." This was a harsh whisper. Obi-Wan did not blink as
he stared up into his Master's hooded eyes. "Master, I-"
Qui-Gon's eyes narrowed as a dark emotion stroked through him.
His fingers tightened around Obi-Wan's braid. "You will not
speak unless I give you leave to do so."
Obi-Wan's eyes widened. "Master-"
He never saw the blow coming. It impacted solidly with the
side of his face, driving him to the floor. He caught himself
heavily on his hands, the breath going out of him, the towel
slipping from around his hips. He caught it, holding it closed
around him, and glanced up at his Master with a look of utter
surprise and hurt.
Qui-Gon bent down and took hold of the braid again, tugging
firmly until Obi-Wan was forced to rise up onto his knees.
Tears glimmered in the young man's eyes. He opened his mouth, a
protest on his lips, then seemed to think better of it and
clamped his mouth shut again. He was trembling.
Qui-Gon nodded his approval. "You will not speak unless I say;
you will not move unless I say. You will do everything I tell
you to, without question. Do you understand?"
Obi-Wan tried to nod, couldn't, and gasped out an anguished,
"Yes."
Qui-Gon's fingers tightened around the braid in his hand, the
pain of his grip forcing his padawan's tears to spill past the
protective barrier of those decadent lashes.
Obi-Wan corrected himself hurriedly. "Yes...Master."
Something like exultation arced like lightning through
Qui-Gon's soul. How long had he been waiting for this? It
seemed like forever that he'd been dreaming of this, Obi-Wan on
his knees before him, humbled and waiting to be used. Any part
of him that might have objected to this course of action was
drowned in the flood of raw need that washed through him. He
was nearly shaking as badly as his padawan.
"Get up on the bed."
Obi-Wan froze, and now there was real fear in his eyes. He
didn't move.
"Do it, Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon's voice was soft, one finger
stroking lightly across the side of his padawan's face.
Moving as if in a dream, Obi-Wan obeyed. Looking back on that
moment, Qui-Gon wondered why the boy hadn't at least tried to
fight back. It was as if just the knowledge that his Master
could do this to him was enough to defeat him. The thought was
almost too much for Qui-Gon where he sat in his lonely prison,
and he keened softly, pressing the heels of his palms to his
eyes. He half-wished that he had the courage to pull those eyes
from his head, those eyes that had looked at Obi-Wan with such
lust and, seeing, had wanted to possess him.
Obi-Wan was sitting on Qui-Gon's bed now. He looked
frightened, and vulnerable, and wanton. The towel had fallen
open at his side, revealing the smooth expanse of one tanned
thigh, secured only by the hand that held it closed at his hip.
His eyes were wide and staring.
Qui-Gon couldn't quite believe this was happening. Slowly, he
walked over to where his apprentice sat waiting for him. His
apprentice. His apprentice. His. Waiting on his
pleasure. The sheer carnal gratification of possession rocked
through him, and he almost moaned aloud as he contemplated the
feast that lay before him.
He took one of Obi-Wan's hands and folded it tenderly between
his own, uncurling the sensual fingers to stroke the undersides
of them lightly. Obi-Wan allowed the contact, his expression
wary. Perhaps he was still denying what was happening to him,
refusing to believe that his Master could be capable of this.
Qui-Gon knelt slowly and brought his padawan's hand to his
lips, pressing a soft kiss to the backs of those smooth
knuckles. Ignoring Obi-Wan's sharp intake of breath, he let his
eyes flutter closed as he slid his lips along one curled finger
until he reached the tip, gently drawing the callused pad into
his mouth and sucking lightly.
He glanced up, wanting to see his padawan's reaction.
Obi-Wan's eyes were round with shock, his entire body strung
with tension. Qui-Gon smiled inwardly and flicked his tongue
across the tip of the finger in his mouth, holding his
apprentice's gaze steadily. Obi-Wan gasped, his eyes darkening.
"No," he whispered. He tried to snatch his hand away, but Qui-
Gon held him fast. With an expression of dawning horror, he
tried to back away from his Master.
Qui-Gon reacted instantly. One hand closed around the back of
Obi-Wan's neck, shoving him face-down against the mattress. The
flailing legs were trapped between Qui-Gon's body and the bed,
effectively pinning the young man. Qui-Gon bent low over the
writhing body under his hands and slid his lips over the curve
of one tempting ear. When he spoke, it was a harsh whisper with
a hint of steel in it: "Do. Not. Move."
Obi-Wan froze, tears spilling down his cheeks, his face
pressed firmly against the sheets. Qui-Gon sensed his sudden
wild cry through the Force and caught it effortlessly, crushing
it ruthlessly before weaving a subtle yet constricting net of
silence around his sobbing apprentice, preventing him from
calling for help again. Now he could scream himself mentally
hoarse and no one would ever hear him.
Qui-Gon's fingers pressed harder where they held Obi-Wan down,
eliciting a low moan of pain. "You will not use the Force
against me in any way." Oh, when had his voice ever been as
cold as this? "If you disobey me, you will be punished, my
Obi-Wan." Tenderness there, mingling with the steel.
When he slowly relaxed his grip, Obi-Wan did not move. The
young Jedi's eyes were closed tightly, his shoulders shaking
with his effort to contain his sobs. Qui-Gon skimmed his hands
over those shoulders soothingly, feeling the warm skin slide
like silk under his palms. Everything about this man was
eroticism personified; his every movement was practically an
advertisement for sex. Who could blame Qui-Gon for giving into
this temptation? Who could possibly condemn him for living out
this fantasy at last?
Decisively, he took hold of Obi-Wan's wrists and drew them
back, not ungently, dropping a rain of light kisses along his
padawan's spine as he did so. The skin under his questing lips
tasted as delectable as he'd always imagined it would be,
smooth as chocolate with just a hint of salt, sweet soapy
residue from his shower, sharp with the tang of fear. Holding
Obi-Wan's wrists at the small of his back with one hand,
Qui-Gon used the other to gently draw the towel down over his
padawan's hips.
Obi-Wan moaned. Qui-Gon soothed him with soft words and gentle
caresses, sliding his hand down over the rounded curve of one
buttock. He pressed a tremulous kiss to that plump flesh,
sliding his tongue across it in a gesture of sudden, erotic
decadence. Obi-Wan's hips bucked under him, but Qui-Gon held
him down effortlessly.
Reaching for the sash at his waist, Qui-Gon slowly unwound it
from around him and brought the soft fabric up to where he held
his padawan's wrists immobile at his back. When the feathery
material brushed across the curve of his ass, Obi-Wan tensed,
understanding immediately what his Master planned to do.
"Master, please." His voice was a pained whisper, roughened by
tears. "Please, don't..."
"Hush, Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon's voice was gentle.
He drew the sash around Obi-Wan's wrists, cinching it tight
enough to restrain without cutting off the circulation. Obi-Wan
struggled briefly, but there was no heart in it - he knew he
was no match for Qui-Gon's superior strength and size.
Satisfied, Qui-Gon stepped back to admire his work. Obi-Wan
lay face-down on his bed, naked and luminous in the half-light
of the dawning morning, the white towel twisted around his
knees. His face was turned away from Qui-Gon in a delectable
gesture of quiet defiance.
Slowly, Qui-Gon began to undress. One by one, each layer of
his clothing slid down his body to pool at his feet. The air
felt cool on his skin, but he couldn't tell if the chill he
felt was exterior or if it came from within. He still couldn't
believe he was about to do this - but he had no doubt that he
would. He'd gone too far to turn back now, even if he'd wanted
to. No, he was as helpless under this tide as Obi-Wan was.
Naked, he sat down on the bed next to his apprentice. Obi-Wan
tensed as the mattress shifted under his Master's weight, but
did not look at him.
"Oh, Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon smoothed one hand over the back of that
trembling neck, ruffling the still-damp hair. "You don't know
how long I've wanted this."
"Master, please-"
Qui-Gon applied gentle pressure with his fingertips, cutting
off the beloved voice in mid-plea. "Don't beg, Obi-Wan. I don't
want to hear you beg." What did he want, then? He had a sudden
image of Obi-Wan leaning into his arms, willingly, showering
hot kisses across his face. Angrily, he shoved the thought
away. It would never happen; the most he could ever hope for
was to experience the joy of this winsome body. And enjoy it he
would, if he had to give up his soul in the taking of it.
He leaned down and nuzzled Obi-Wan's hands where they curled
at his back, tracing the cleft of his padawan's ass with one
finger. Obi-Wan breathed a small, whimpering sigh. Applying
gentle pressure with his finger, Qui-Gon nipped playfully at
the knuckles that twitched under the touch of his beard.
Obi-Wan gave a choking cry as his Master's finger pressed
inexorably at his anus, and he tried futilely to pull his hips
away from that intrusive touch. Qui-Gon held him down, adding
more pressure to the constrictive entrance and raining soft
kisses to the skin above Obi-Wan's cleft. Slowly, the tight
ring of muscle began to yield to him, and his padawan's cries
became more frantic, his thrashing body more difficult to keep
under control.
"Shh, Padawan." Qui-Gon used the Force to pin the young man to
the mattress, effectively bringing an end to his struggles.
Then the muscle at last gave way before him, and Qui-Gon's
finger slid smoothly inside. Obi-Wan's cries abruptly ceased,
and he lay there, motionless, his breaths coming in shallow
gasps. His tear-filled eyes were fixed unwaveringly on the wall
in front of him.
"Just relax, Obi-Wan. It'll hurt less if you just let yourself
relax..." Qui-Gon crooned softly, massaging the small of his
padawan's back in slow, repetitive circles. Bit by bit, the
tension eased out of it, and Qui-Gon waited patiently for his
padawan to adjust to his intrusion.
Oh, he was so tight. Qui-Gon imagined his cock being encased
in this hot, clinging flesh and felt a haze drop over his
vision. He groaned, biting at Obi-Wan's ass hard enough to
leave a mark. The temptation to forego the preparation and
simply ravage this virile young body was near to overwhelming.
"Ohhh..."
The moan that rose from Obi-Wan at the touch of Qui-Gon's
teeth was very low, very subdued, but it was the most erotic
sound that the Jedi Master had ever heard. It nearly snapped
his fragile control, but he clung to sanity with an effort,
twisting and curling his single finger inside Obi-Wan, slowly
coaxing the muscles to open for him. Obi-Wan bit down on his
lower lip to keep his cries inside, but even so, a low whimper
escaped him.
"That's it, Padawan," Qui-Gon murmured, only half-aware of the
noises of protest that his apprentice was making. "That's it,
Obi-Wan. So good..."
Slowly, he added a second finger, using the Force this time to
ease his entrance. There was no lube; it wasn't as if he had
been expecting this to happen, for Force's sake. Obi-Wan's hips
lifted slightly under his touch, then sank back down to the
mattress, the misery rising off of him in waves.
"Shh, Obi-Wan. That's it, now. Just lay still..."
A third finger then, and now Obi-Wan did try to pull away
again. Qui-Gon was ready for it, however, and a slight pressure
at the small of his back kept the writhing young man rooted
firmly to the mattress. Qui-Gon could sense the spike of pain
that Obi-Wan felt as he slowly stroked inside that warm body,
and the Jedi Master tried to smooth his movements with the
Force even more strongly. Qui-Gon used his free hand to pull
Obi-Wan's hips up off the bed, rising up onto his knees behind
him and inching forward until his hips were bracketed between
Obi-Wan's quivering thighs, using his knees to spread those
lean legs as far apart as they would go. The position forced
Obi-Wan to take his weight forward on his shoulders, and the
sheer vulnerability of this posture made Qui-Gon moan aloud at
the sight of it.
He pulled his fingers from Obi-Wan's body and massaged the
firm asscheeks with deep, stroking movements; he could tell by
the way Obi-Wan's breath quickened that he knew what was coming
next. Qui-Gon's breathing was ragged as he leaned forward,
pressing his cock against that narrow hole, a strangled gasp
catching in his throat as he felt the resistance of the ring of
muscle there. Gods above, but the boy was so tight. Then the
loosened muscle gave way before him and he was suddenly
clenched in hot, liquid ecstasy.
Qui-Gon tipped his head back, his eyes fluttering shut, and
dug his fingers into Obi-Wan's hips as he fought for control.
Slowly, he drove himself forward into that fervent heat,
hearing Obi-Wan groan beneath him. The sound stroked over his
skin like a caress, the eroticism of it irresistible,
insatiable, as his padawan lay pliant and submissive under his
hands, as beautiful in his surrender as he had ever been in
defiance. And the surrender was total now; he could feel it in
the way the man yielded to the slow movements of his body,
accepting it, bearing up under it with such quiet dignity.
After that, there was no turning back. Qui-Gon bent forward
over his apprentice's bowed back, sliding his hands up those
muscular arms to tangle in the damp hair at his nape, then down
again over the lean flanks, all the while pumping steadily into
the snug satin of this body's embrace. His hands swooped
downwards, around the sharp planes of the hips, and closed
reverently around the shaft of the penis that hung heavy
between his padawan's spread legs. It did not surprise him to
find that Obi-Wan was hard; of course his padawan would be
everything that Qui-Gon had dreamed of and more, seeking to
give all that he was in service to his Master, even
unwillingly.
Obi-Wan bit back a cry as those hands closed around him, but
Qui- Gon pressed him mercilessly, sliding his large palms over
the long velvet glide of silken flesh, curling his fingers
around its crown and stroking down with skilled precision. His
thumbs rubbed across the sensitive skin under the head,
eliciting another low moan. Qui-Gon was helpless under the wave
of rapture that rode over him, and he squeezed his eyes tightly
shut against it, increasing his rhythmic movements until he saw
stars sparkling behind his closed eyelids. Close, he was so
fucking close...
He came with a harsh shout of exultation, his body convulsing
in the grip of the sensations that swept through him, melting
him in its heat. Boneless, he collapsed down onto the mattress,
bringing Obi-Wan with him. He retained enough presence of mind
to hold Obi-Wan close against his chest, keeping his spent
penis encased within the young man's flesh, and increased the
movements of his hands on his apprentice's erection. Obi-Wan
was trembling violently now, his expression agonized, and he
tipped his head back over his Master's shoulder as a shudder of
averse arousal rocked through him. Qui-Gon sank his teeth into
one smooth shoulder, determined to bring this scene to
fruition. Curling his legs around the shuddering body in his
arms, he pushed faster, harder, giving just the smallest scrape
of his nails at the tip of that polished length...
It was enough. Obi-Wan screamed as the orgasm hit him, and his
body bucked back against Qui-Gon's with such force that it
nearly drove him back off the edge of the bed. The Jedi Master
braced himself against it, taking full responsibility for the
wet explosion of passion that he had caused, and pressed ardent
kisses along the curve of his padawan's sweat-sheened neck as
the tremors rocked through the young body in his arms. He could
never grow tired of the taste of this skin; he drew his tongue
across it lovingly, worshipfully, swirling the tip of it into
the depths of one ear. What he had just done was decadence,
reckless self-indulgence, but nothing had ever felt so very
right in his entire life.
Obi-Wan was lying still and silent in his arms, his eyes
closed. Qui-Gon brushed his beard lightly across the side of
that handsome face, trying to draw some small reaction from
him, but it was no use; Obi-Wan may as well have been a statue.
So this was it then. Rape. He could not lie and tell himself
that it had been anything else; he had walked into this with
his eyes wide open, and any consequences of his actions were
now his to deal with.
And if he was going to be damned, then he may as well be
doubly damned.
"Obi-Wan," he whispered, little more than a lingering sigh
against the ear that curved so enticingly under his lips. "Obi-
Wan, there is more I require from you this morning."
That elicited a small twitch, a brief surge of denial. Still,
those eyes did not open, lashes lying dark against the pale
cheekbones.
Qui-Gon reached for the braid that lay limply across his arm
and curled it absently in the palm of one fist. Still kissing
and licking at Obi-Wan's ear, he gave the long knot of hair a
gentle tug. "Up, my Obi-Wan," he murmured, drawing back slowly
into a sitting position.
Obi-Wan had no choice but to follow him, bound as he was.in
that gave testimony to the fact that he had been freshly
fucked, and the helpless defiance in the set of his shoulders
was beautiful to see.
"Look at me, Obi-Wan."
Slowly, reluctantly, Obi-Wan raised his gaze. Once again, Qui-
Gon was swept away by the beauty of those eyes, but there was
something there now that hadn't been visible before. They were
flat, heavy with some dark emotion; it was rather like looking
into a broken mirror and seeing oneself distorted by the ruin
of what had once been a vibrant, reflective thing.
And I have done this, Qui-Gon told himself. The thought
brought with it a pang of quiet agony.
But it was not enough to deter him from his current course. He
stroked Obi-Wan's cheek roughly, tipping his chin up. "Do you
know what I want from you now, my Padawan?" His voice was very
soft.
"No." This was nothing more than a whisper. But the slow,
swirling horror that dawned in those shattered eyes told
Qui-Gon that he did know, Force help him.
Slowly, Qui-Gon pulled on the braid in his hand, drawing Obi-
Wan's head down inexorably toward his crotch. Warm breath
wafted across his cock, which was already half-hard again in
anticipation, and Qui-Gon let his eyes close with a deep sigh.
"Do it, Obi-Wan," he said, having no fear that his order would
be disobeyed. Obi-Wan was his now, broken and subdued and
obedient to his will.
One last, desperate shudder passed through his padawan's frame
before warm lips touched the head of Qui-Gon's burgeoning
erection. There was something almost reverent about the way he
did it, and for a moment Qui-Gon was struck by the total
incongruity of receiving such gentleness from the man he had
just brutally raped. Then all coherent thought was lost to him
as he felt the moist tongue flicker across the tip of his cock,
whisper-soft.
Without thinking, he grasped the back of his padawan's head
with both hands and drove his mouth down hard over his
erection. Obi- Wan tensed against the sudden thrust, startled,
but did his best to swallow all of his Master's considerable
length. Qui-Gon groaned as his cock was worshipped with lips
and tongue, the sensations sweeping through him dizzily,
stealing from him any capacity for rational thought. How could
he still want more, after all he had already taken? But he did
want more, needed it, craved it with every fiber of his being,
and it was more than just submission that he longed for.
On the heels of that thought came another: that Obi-Wan might
someday do this for him, not because he was forced to it, but
because he wanted to bring pleasure to his Master, wanted to
stoke the slow fire of desire that flowed mutually between
them. But that would never happen, would it? Qui-Gon was
undeserving of such a gift, the tender treasure of his
padawan's soul, and he was lost now, lost. But it had been
worth it, just to feel the softness of this young man's skin
beneath his hands this one time, to taste the pungent salt of
his skin.
But Obi-Wan's mouth on his cock caressed him with such
tenderness; it teased him with thoughts of what he knew could
never be. With a sudden burst of anger, he shoved Obi-Wan away
from him, and his apprentice fell heavily onto the floor,
unable to catch himself with his wrists bound behind his back.
He lay there, looking up at Qui-Gon with an expression of shock
and confusion and misery, and it was too much.
"Get out." Qui-Gon's voice was laced with ice. With a vicious
wrench of the Force, he ripped the sash from Obi-Wan's wrists,
freeing him.
Obi-Wan gaped. "Master-"
"I said GET OUT!" Qui-Gon was on his feet in a flash,
and Obi- Wan scrambled backwards, desperate to flee the focus
of his Master's wrath. Qui-Gon watched with pained eyes as he
fled the room, disappearing through the open doorway like a
flicker of a dream that was destined to fade with the coming of
the morning's light.
With an agonized sob, Qui-Gon stumbled forward until he caught
himself against the wall. What had he done? Oh, Force save him,
what had he done? He brought the back of one fist to his mouth
and pressed it tightly against his lips in an attempt to
smother the keening wail that was trying to rise out of him.
His knees gave out entirely then, and he sank down to the
floor, huddled in a shivering ball of misery.
Obi-Wan would be running to get the Council now. The thought
brought surprisingly little horror with it; he deserved
whatever punishment they decreed for him. Even death would be
too merciful a price to pay for his crime. No, he would just
wait here for them to come to him, and he would not resist them
when they took him away.
And so Qui-Gon stayed there, in the prison of his own making,
as the sun wore its slow way across the Coruscant sky.
Replaying the events of the morning over and over in his mind,
seeking to find some meaning in it, some reason to go on. For
Obi-Wan was lost to him now, his padawan, his love, his heart's
desire, and knowing that was the worst pain of all.
The shadows of evening were chasing through the room when he
heard the front door open again. It had taken quite a long time
for the Council to come for him, he thought vaguely, wondering.
He may have dozed on and off throughout the long day; certainly
he didn't remember much about it, from the time that Obi-Wan
had left him. His only company had been his memories, and his
deep, searing sense of shame.
Slow footsteps padded quietly through the small apartment,
stopping outside his door. Qui-Gon refused to look up, to meet
the accusing gaze that would be focused on him. He huddled
deeper into the coverlet that he'd pulled from the bed to cover
himself with, trying to disappear. The shame and self-loathing
rose like bile in his throat, choking him, and tears stung like
acid in his tightly shut eyes.
"Master?"
The voice was soft, tentative, but it bit into Qui-Gon like a
whip. He tensed, refusing to acknowledge it.
Soft tread of footsteps, coming into the room. "Master, look
at me. Please."
He could not resist the low note of pleading in that voice.
Hesitantly, he opened his eyes. Obi-Wan stood above him, an
angel in the fading light, the soft folds of his robes and
tunics clinging to the contours of his strong body. His hands
were folded serenely inside the sleeves of his cloak.
There was no condemnation in the boy's eyes, only a deep,
studied look of Jedi calm. Qui-Gon forced himself to move up
into a sitting position, leaning back against the wall. "I'm
surprised the Council let you come back here alone." Harsh
bitterness in his voice, directed inwards.
"I didn't tell the Council what happened."
Qui-Gon struggled to understand the import of those words and
failed utterly.
Obi-Wan took another slow step forward and stopped when he saw
Qui-Gon tense. Carefully, he lowered himself to his knees so
Qui-Gon did not have to strain his neck to look up at him, as
if he were trying not to intimidate the older man. His eyes
fell to the floor, obviously uncomfortable with what he was
about to say. "I spent all day in the gardens, meditating.
Trying to understand what happened between us this morning."
"I'd say it's obvious what happened." Low twist of irony to
the words.
"I would not." He raised his eyes then, and Qui-Gon was struck
by the anguished intensity that shone in them. "I wanted to
hate you for what you did to me, but I couldn't. I tried to
understand my feelings, why I should feel this way, and I kept
coming to the same conclusion." He took a deep breath as if to
steady himself, his eyes closing briefly. But he opened them
again and met Qui-Gon's gaze levelly when he said, "I love
you."
Qui-Gon almost laughed aloud. "You're mad."
"Perhaps we're both mad." Small ghost of a smile. "Tell me,
Qui-Gon, why did you do it?"
Oh, so this was to be his punishment, then. To be held to a
full accounting of his actions before the one he had wronged,
the one that he loved more than life itself, the one he had
given up his soul to possess for one brief moment in time. He
met those warm eyes and felt as if he were gazing into the
depths of eternity itself. "Because I wanted to possess you."
This was little more than a whisper.
"Why?"
He closed his eyes, trying to hold back the pain that coursed
through him. "Because you're the most beautiful thing I've ever
seen. Because I only feel truly alive when I'm with you.
Because I've wanted you for so long, it was all I could think
about anymore. I wanted to taste you, to feel you, to conquer
you. To make you a part of me for one moment, however
fleeting."
"Why?" Obi-Wan was merciless.
No punishment could be greater than this. But he gritted his
teeth and made the admission that threatened to choke the
breath from his throat. "Because I love you."
Silence, then, while Obi-Wan digested his words. Qui-Gon
wanted to laugh; the situation was that ludicrous. Here he was,
declaring his love for the man he had just raped, the man who
had every reason in the galaxy to hate him. He truly would have
preferred for it to be the Council that had come for him,
coldly judgmental, rather than this strange juxtaposition
between tenderness and consequence that was his padawan.
"I think I understand." Low voice, thinking it through as he
spoke. "But I believe you were operating under a false
assumption."
That made Qui-Gon look up at him again in puzzlement. "What do
you mean?"
"You were assuming that there could never be true love between
us, that I would turn aside any consensual advances that you
might make."
"And would you have?"
"I don't know." The admission obviously bothered him. "I'd be
lying if I said that I've never felt attracted to you
physically. But I was afraid of those feelings, afraid of what
you would think of me if you knew how I felt about you. Your
respect has always meant so much to me; I was afraid that I'd
lose it forever if I ever let on that I viewed you as more than
a teacher, a friend." His gaze dropped, and the fingers of one
hand touched his wrist absently, tracing the skin that
Qui-Gon's sash had covered. "I think that what you did gave me
the freedom to explore those feelings without fear. I mean, it
wasn't my fault it was happening, so I could hardly be held
accountable for my feelings, now could I?"
"You aren't responsible for what happened, Obi-Wan."
"But I didn't exactly try to fight you off, now did I?"
It was an impasse. Qui-Gon sighed tiredly, wishing that this
day had never happened. "You cannot ... blame yourself. What I
did was wrong, and there is no explanation or rationalization
that can excuse it."
"Perhaps not. But we still need to deal with the consequences
of it."
Trust Obi-Wan to find the crux of the matter. "So what do you
suggest we do, my Padawan?" he said, letting his eyes ask,
Still my Padawan?
"That we acknowledge our feelings, Master." And the love in
those deepening eyes was all the answer that Qui-Gon needed.
Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to meet Obi-Wan's
eyes. "I love you, Obi-Wan," he said, bracing himself against
the words as they left him.
Obi-Wan smiled, reaching out to stroke his cheek lightly. "I
love you, too, Qui-Gon."
And then the tears came. Qui-Gon crumpled in on himself, the
sobs wracking through his body with a violence that left him
breathless. Strong arms closed around him, pulling him close to
a warm, sheltering body, and he fought them for a moment, but
they held him firm. Finally he allowed himself to relax into
them, sobbing, and the words poured from him in a torrent. "I'm
sorry, Obi-Wan, oh gods, oh Force, I'm so sorry, I never meant
for it to happen, I never wanted to hurt you, please, Obi-Wan,
I'm so very sorry..."
Obi-Wan held him, and rocked him as he would a small child,
smoothing back the hair around his face with gentle hands.
"It's okay, Qui-Gon," he whispered, and the roughness in his
voice said that he was fighting back his own tears. "It's over
now, shh..."
Finally, the tears subsided, and Qui-Gon lay limply in his
padawan's arms. He allowed himself to feel the comfort of that
longed-for touch and snuggled deeper into their reassuring
embrace. "What do we do now?" he asked, breathing out a
contented sigh.
He could almost hear the shrug in Obi-Wan's voice when he
answered. "We love each other."
And just as simply as that, the events of the morning were put
behind them. It was an unorthodox way for two lovers to meet,
but Qui-Gon certainly could not object to the results. There
would be a lot of issues they would need to work through before
the experience could truly be forgotten, and Force knew it
probably never would be, but what they had now was the
beginning of trust, strange as it was. Anything further would
come later; for now he was content just to be held in his
padawan's arms.
Love, like pain, could be experienced on many levels. He felt
warmed to know that his padawan, his love, would be making the
journey with him.
Fin.
Comments, anyone? Loved it or hated it, I'd really love to
know. I'm thinking about writing a mirror version of this story
from Obi's POV. Sound interesting? Please send all comments to
Rushlight at n_sanity75@hotmail.com or post on-list.