Master Apprentice Archive Within: Without Quick search:

Within: Without

by MrsHamill (thamill@cox.net)

Archive: MA and my site, Mom's Kitchen (www.squidge.org/~foxsden)
Category: Drama, H/C, first time
Pairing: Q/O
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Kind of a combination love-conquers-all and ghost story, set on a primitive planet.
Disclaimer: What, you think I own these guys? Do I even look like George Lucas? If this is not what you expected, please alter your expectations. No such thing as random coincidence. No such thing as too much lubricant. (Thank you, Mark Morford.)
Warning: Never say "bite me" to a cat.
Series: Nah. I need another series like I need another man!
Notes: I am very fond of the stories written by a wonderful writer named Legion (she's in TS and other fandoms). One of her older TS stories, "Of Angels and Demons" (https://www.squidge.org/~theforest/larchive/angel.html) always bugged me for some reason until I finally figured out why -- I always saw Qui and Obi instead of Jim and Blair, and I wasn't happy with how she ended it. I wanted more. So I finally got off my butt and wrote it. This story owes quite a lot to Legion's original, but I hope I've made it my own successfully, as well as carried it to a more logical conclusion. Claude and Camille made it readable, and Katbear helped me find out why I was unhappy with it, but any mistakes left are mine, rest assured.

there is a demon within me
I can feel him moving on the inside
oh I can feel him scratching
I can feel him tearing at my heart

there is a demon within me
he lives by my misery
thriving on my isolation
I can feel him fortifying

there is a demon within me
a foul creature from the dark side
oh why did he come to me
I can feel him laughing within

he was summoned by me

there is a demon within me
he goes by the name of loneliness

demon within (c) Skriven av Gustaf Bjorklund

"I have a bad feeling about this."

Qui-Gon Jinn looked from the shuttle, dwindling into the clear sky, to his padawan. He was smiling gently. "You're merely nervous about living for a year without datasets."

Obi-Wan Kenobi shot his master an irritated look, then raised his hood against the bone-chilling wind. "No, Master, that's not what I meant, and you know it. What I mean is that we're stranded here, and we have no way of getting off, no way of contacting anyone..."

"We've been over this, Padawan." Qui-Gon sorted through their luggage -- a remarkably small amount given they'd be on MaKhaarn for a year -- separating it into smaller, more logical groups from where it had just been tossed by the pilot of the shuttle. He sounded patient and just a bit condescending, though that could have been Obi-Wan's imagination. Over the past year he had noticed that Qui-Gon seemed to be different, seemed to be more reserved. Several times, Obi-Wan had caught Qui-Gon staring at him with an odd expression on his face, one that Obi-Wan couldn't translate.

Obi-Wan sighed. "Yes, I know. I'm sorry, but I can't shake this feeling."

"Think of it as a challenge. It's not often that we get a chance to do pure research on behalf of the Senate." Qui-Gon gave him a wry glance. "Just think -- a mission where no one will be trying to kill us."

There it was again. Qui-Gon's comment was meant to be humorous and he was chuckling. However, Obi-Wan could tell it was all surface, and was willing to wager the humor did not reach his eyes or his heart. Qui-Gon's Force aura felt different too -- it seemed quieter, less quicksilver brightness and more a darker blue, as if he were depressed. While it was true that Qui-Gon had a reputation for being calm almost to the point of catatonia, Obi-Wan had always known there was a depth of feeling which lay beneath the surface of Qui-Gon's mind, only detectable if one paid attention to it. Now it appeared to have changed, Obi-Wan wasn't sure what, if anything, to do about it.

His train of thought was broken when Qui-Gon abruptly stood up straight, squinting into the distance. "Is that our transport?"

It was, though it approached with glacial slowness through the flat, barren land. They had been warned about MaKhaarn, told it was bitterly cold and extremely barren. The warnings, for once, appeared to be understatements -- while they waited, the wind tried its best to blow straight through them. The approaching lump finally resolved into a very large, very hairy quadruped, with a person on top of it and dragging a strange looking wagon. When it reached them, they were awed by the sheer size of the beast -- it was roughly the size of a small shuttle -- and by the Force aura surrounding it.

The person on top climbed to the ground using a rope ladder that was unrolled down the side of the beast. The being was hooded against the cold, and was about the size of Obi-Wan. "Greetings," they heard, and once the hood was pushed back, they saw it was a woman. "You are Jedi. This one is Dhro-Nahak, sent to meet."

In his mind, Obi-Wan translated her name as "One Who Sees". Learning a language by sleep-insertion always gave him a terrible headache and it was never complete, though it did come in handy when absolutely necessary. "Yes." Qui-Gon was bowing, and Obi-Wan hastily copied him. "This one is Qui-Gon Jinn, and that one is Obi-Wan Kenobi. We are teacher and student. We represent the not-MaKhaarn in this quest of the not-MaKhaarn and the MaKhaarn."

The language the MaKhaarn spoke was a very basic one, which contained no excessive words. There was a name for a thing, and that was it. It made the language easy to learn, but deceptively difficult to use, as they both had suspected.

Dhro-Nahak bowed back to them. "You have not brought magic, as was agreed?"

With a quick glance at Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon said, "The only magic we bring is medicine for us and our lightsabers."

She frowned at him. "What is this magic?"

"It is a weapon that is part of being a Jedi," Qui-Gon told her. Obi-Wan envied him his composed fluency in the language. "It will stay on this one, and none will touch it."

After a moment's thought, she nodded shortly. "It is well. Put what you have brought on the tlet, and we go."

The word was unfamiliar, yet by her actions, Obi-Wan realized she was referring to the wagon-like thing the beast was dragging. He filed the word away. It was the work of a moment to stow their things, then she led them around to the front of the beast.

"That one is Ga'a. That one lives in our place and works for us. That one will take the ones here back to our place."

The beast was clearly examining them, and both Jedi bowed to her. When it bobbed its head in reply, it confirmed Obi-Wan's thought that it was sentient. MaKhaarn was a truly alien world, and despite his misgivings, Obi-Wan was beginning to feel the exhilaration of discovery. Their year on this desolate rock might actually go by quicker than he feared.

Life on MaKhaarn was calm and slow, which suited Qui-Gon well. He had long ago given up certain pleasures in order to more efficiently accomplish his work, and so found the imperatives of the MaKhaarn -- what there were of them -- to be a good match to his temperament.

Qui-Gon also discovered early on that he liked the MaKhaarn. They were plain folk, but not simple. As the Jedi had been informed during their orientation to the planet, the objection to 'magic' -- technology -- was not based on ignorance. The life the MaKhaarn led was as they wished it to be, and they were in synch with their planet and environment to a degree far stronger than Qui-Gon would have thought possible. Over millions of years, the planet and its primary had cooled, and rather than rail against this climactic change or develop technology to reverse it, the MaKhaarn had simply evolved with their planet. They were content, happily living in the present, in the now, with no worries of the future that was beyond their control anyway.

If it hadn't been for the rich, recently discovered deposits of heavy metal and gems, Qui-Gon would have counseled them to avoid the Republic altogether. But they did not seem able to protect themselves from interplanetary ravagers, so for safety alone, MaKhaarn was better off within the Republic, although they had not specifically requested Republic presence. The Jedi had been tasked by the Senate to determine what type of outside presence might be acceptable and least disruptive to the MaKhaarn.

Their first few months on the planet had the Jedi spending their time moving from 'place' to 'place', staying for about three weeks in each location before moving on. The MaKhaarn were not nomadic, but their hard world demanded that they use it with utmost care.

Part of reason for that care might have been that they weren't the only sentient species on MaKhaarn. The huge, gentle Ghakk, who would lend their strength when needed, were considered equal partners. There were other creatures as well, some of which were questionably sentient and some that were clearly not. Regardless, the MaKhaarn treated them all with the same courtesy. There was no meat in the MaKhaarn's diet, even though a few of the lower species were predators. Instead, they ate grain and fruit grown in half-buried greenhouses, cheeses made from the milk of various species, and a curious unleavened bread which was deceptively flavorful.

The Jedi were now in residence at one of the largest places, where there were hot springs and communal bathing, as well as a huge repository of written history. Their work became more intensive and both Jedi found themselves working long hours -- first with the people, then with the stacks of written records, and finally by themselves, long into the night as they recorded the day's events in their hand-written diaries.

Reading MaKhaarn was, in many ways, more tedious than speaking it, Qui-Gon thought as he returned home one evening after a long, exhausting day with the archivist. He walked against the wind, clutching his robe about him tightly, grateful for the heavy material. In the vestibule of the house, which acted almost like an airlock to keep the warm air in and the cold air out, he shed his cloak and boots before entering the house proper.

In each place they'd moved to, there was a furnished, well-insulated home given for the Jedi to use. So well insulated were they that while indoors, the Jedi adopted the MaKhaarn way of dress, which was wearing as little as decency allowed. That, unfortunately, presented Qui-Gon with something of a problem. Over the past year or so, he had found himself looking at Obi-Wan with both his normal pride and fondness and something like a confused, shame-filled desire. He couldn't remember when he'd first noticed that his student had become a composed, handsome -- actually, beautiful -- young man. Their form of dress indoors simply served to point out Obi-Wan's well-muscled, physical maturity and increased his desire, which sent waves of disgust through him, which merely increased his feelings of loneliness. While it was normal for a padawan to want his or her master, it was not exactly normal for the master to want the padawan. It was something Qui-Gon meant to meditate on, but somehow he always managed to avoid it. Qui-Gon was, in essence, a lonely man. He knew this, and thought it was something he'd come to terms with years before.

When he did pause to think about it, Qui-Gon found himself hoping the feelings he had for Obi-Wan were one-sided. He had no real concerns over a master having a sexual relationship with his own padawan -- although he thought it might be difficult to maintain a proper student-teacher association -- he felt it was no one's business but the master and padawan involved. He feared, however, that a mere sexual relationship with Obi-Wan would not be enough for him. Not only was Obi-Wan a young man who would not want to be tied down to an aging master for the rest of his life, he had shown no interest in having a serious relationship with Qui-Gon, or anyone, for that matter. Qui-Gon needed to mediate on the matter. He needed to confront the issue. He was a Jedi master, after all. He'd never had problems in the past confronting difficult issues.

Then again, this was the first time he'd fallen in love with his student.

As Qui-Gon entered the building, he found Obi-Wan lounging in the central recess, a large round pit lined with cushions and blankets which served as their bed, as a sofa, even a table at times. Obi-Wan had found one particular cushion -- out of many with lurid colors and degrees of softness -- to be most comfortable for him in the weeks they'd been in residence at this place. As Qui-Gon entered, he smiled to see Obi-Wan hugging it to his chest.

Noting the frown which marred Obi-Wan's features, and the large book open before him, Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow. "Having trouble getting it all down again?"

Obi-Wan looked up and grimaced. "I have never before properly appreciated the benefits of hand-held recorders. Should we ever return to civilization, I shall build a shrine in their honor."

Laughing, Qui-Gon began shedding layers, neatly stacking his clothing in the alcove designed for that purpose. When he was down to shorts and a singlet, he felt far more comfortable. Through the thick walls, not a bit of the vicious wind blowing could be heard. "I think I must take exception to your use of the word 'civilized,' Padawan." Stepping into the pit, he took a seat near Obi-Wan, and began using the plant-derived oil on his chapped hands and face, something they both did frequently. This time, it also helped keep his mind off all the beautiful skin his padawan was showing.

Obi-Wan snorted. "Yes, Master," he said, his voice wry. "While I don't dispute the level of sophistication among the MaKhaarn, I must take exception to these living arrangements. You cannot expect me to believe they're civilized."

"There is running water, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon hid his smile behind his hands as he spread oil on his cheeks.

"But no showers. And I think it is a stretch to call hand-pumping ice-cold water into a beaten metal bowl running water." Obi-Wan smiled impishly. "However, I cannot fault them for building in this particular place, since the hot spring is fabulous. In fact, I've made an appointment there tonight, to talk with one of the teachers. I'm hoping to get a handle on some of the more obscure legends. That is, if I can get them to talk amid the luxury."

That got a chuckle out of Qui-Gon, who stood and tousled Obi-Wan's brush cut as he walked out of the pit, studiously ignoring anything below Obi-Wan's hair. "Well, while you do your research, I think I'll get some food and then perhaps a nap," he said with a sigh. "I haven't been sleeping very well, which I think you've noticed."

"Good." Qui-Gon glanced at Obi-Wan and saw a far more serious expression than Qui-Gon expected. "I mean to the nap. You're right; you haven't been sleeping well at all. It's been worrying me."

No, he hadn't been sleeping well, and undoubtedly part of the reason why was because he was forced to share his bed with his beautiful padawan. Seeking to deflect the conversation from a possibly dangerous area, Qui-Gon began looking through the larder for food. "Which sections are you working on?"

"Creation myths." Obi-Wan had already turned back to his page. "They don't seem to have an almighty being mythos, or indeed, any particular theology. There are many creatures who seem to fulfill the role of either angel or demon, but no god to speak of."

"I've noticed that too. I'll be interested to see where your research takes you."

When Obi-Wan left for his appointment, Qui-Gon discovered he was far more tired than hungry. Giving up his rummaging in favor of sleep, he climbed down into the bedding pit and allowed himself to collapse, face first, onto the cushions -- grateful for the chance to behave in a less-than-masterish manner. Almost automatically shoving arousing thoughts of Obi-Wan aside yet again, he tumbled into sleep almost immediately.

A solid weight on top of him brought him to a state that was caught between dreaming -- an erotic dream featuring Obi-Wan -- and waking, and the growing length he felt in his cleft made him hum in approval. It had been many years since he'd taken the time to be with a lover, or had even wanted to be with a lover, and the edge of despair that often haunted such dreams for him was still present. More asleep than awake, he tried to shove up to show how welcome the weight was.

He was not able to move at all, and this made his own growing erection painful, as it was caught beneath him. Becoming increasingly uncomfortable, he squirmed, trying to get to his knees, but the more he struggled, the heavier the weight on his back grew and the more toward wakefulness he went. Finally just gave up and tried to enjoy. Almost in reward, he felt himself opened and felt the heat of another cock enter him. It was wonderful, but not quite what he needed, and he found himself muzzily chasing a climax that was just beyond his reach.

Waking a bit more, he realized it was becoming difficult to breathe and he tried to turn his head enough to get a deeper breath of air. He could not, and that, coupled with the fact that his lover was not quite in the perfect place to move his climax along, made him increasingly frustrated and angry, which brought him to greater awareness. Then his lover began thrusting, which caused just enough friction on his own erection to perhaps bring about his finish, and Qui-Gon began actively courting it, reaching for it while wondering if he'd be able to get it before asphyxiation made him pass out.

Moments before he might have reached it, a sudden crash made him jerk awake. It was merely the fireplace automatically adding more peat to the fire. Though the noise had been loud enough to wake him, Qui-Gon shook the cobwebs out of his head, frowning in confusion. He raised himself up and looked down to his erection, still covered by his loose shorts he wore, though he could have sworn... Dismissing it as an odd dream and wondering if he'd been thinking about Obi-Wan or one of his former lovers, he tried to take care of the problem quickly, in case Obi-Wan returned.

Unfortunately, his body would not cooperate, and climax simply would not come. Qui-Gon sighed in bitter disappointment, then mentally slapped himself for becoming maudlin. He allowed himself one brief, wistful thought of who he wished was available to help him before willing his arousal away and going in search of something to eat.

There was simply no way to enter their house quietly, Obi-Wan thought with a frown. The inside was really just one large room, and though he would have liked to have been able to sneak in, get his research notes and sneak back out again before Qui-Gon was aware of him, he knew it would probably be useless. He knew Qui-Gon was home by the boots and cloak in the vestibule, knew that his master's mood over the last few days was less than fair, and gritted his teeth in anticipation of another testy confrontation.

For something approaching a week, his master had been argumentative and short-tempered. Qui-Gon Jinn obviously had something bothering him and it chafed Obi-Wan that his master wouldn't confide in him, wouldn't let him help with whatever was wrong. Most of their stay on MaKhaarn had been good, productive and interesting, but this new mood had come seemingly from nowhere. There were dark bruises under Qui-Gon's eyes from lack of sleep, and he had taken to being away from their shelter nearly all night, only returning when Obi-Wan was ready to go back to work in the morning. The past two or three days had been especially miserable, and every time Obi-Wan tried to find out what was wrong, his master turned either acerbic or as frigidly cold as the weather.

Opening the inner door as quietly as he could, Obi-Wan peered into the dim recesses of the room. The bio-luminescent lighting was dimmed, and the only real light came from the fire -- an orange glow. A large lump in their bedding area resolved itself into Qui-Gon, and Obi-Wan sighed internally. It appeared his master was finally asleep, and Obi-Wan closed the inner door as quietly as he had opened it.

Obi-Wan's notebooks were neatly stacked on the floor next to the pit, and, without bothering to disrobe further, he gingerly walked across the floor and bent to pick them up. As he did so, he realized that Qui-Gon was sweating, even though all he wore was a pair of shorts and a singlet. He was wrapped around a large pillow and laying on top of the bedding, but his face revealed his sleep was not a quiet, restful one.

Feeling a burst of sympathy, Obi-Wan debated trying to get a blood sample while Qui-Gon was asleep, to see if there was any contagion in his blood which might be causing his distress. Even the MaKhaarn of this place had noticed Qui-Gon's mood change, and Obi-Wan knew he was avoiding them as much as he was avoiding everything else. Just that day, one of the farmers had told him that he'd seen Qui-Gon entering a greenhouse late at night. Obi-Wan figured it was to meditate, since no Jedi could sleep among the plants which grew almost riotously. The meditation theory was simply because both Jedi had used the greenhouses for that purpose in the past -- they were usually the only places where the MaKhaarn didn't go frequently.

As he stood, debating his next move, he saw Qui-Gon move, and thought he was waking. Meaning to duck and grab his papers, Obi-Wan froze. Qui-Gon wasn't moving, but his clothing was. His shirt was being lifted and ripped directly up the center by invisible hands. Unable to believe what his eyes told him, Obi-Wan reached for the Force for an explanation, but found he was unable to do so. To his surprise, he was also unable to move, and no amount of effort would shift his feet or cause his mouth to open.

Long red lines appeared on Qui-Gon's back -- scratches of some sort, some almost deep enough to bleed -- and Obi-Wan thought his eyes would leave their sockets in shock. How could this be happening? How had something blocked the Force? Both Jedi had remarked how much stronger the Force was on this planet, and Qui-Gon's theory of the reason why was that the planet was more alive than first glimpse would allow. Whatever the reason, this was the first time Obi-Wan had been unable to call the Force to him, and it surprised and frightened him.

As he watched, stunned, invisible hands pulled Qui-Gon to his knees and held him there, dangling, though not limply -- his muscles were corded in what was probably an effort to move. His shorts were yanked down by the invisible thing that had him, revealing an angry-looking erection. Obi-Wan frantically tried to look elsewhere, anywhere but there, but though he could move his eyes, he could not move his head. Abruptly, Qui-Gon began to rock forward and back on his knees, and Obi-Wan's first thought was that he was trying to get free. Then he realized, with increasing horror, that whatever had control of Qui-Gon's body was fucking it, was using it for pleasure. Pleasure which was definitely one-sided, from the look on Qui-Gon's face.

With a lurch, Obi-Wan was made to walk stiffly into the pit, to stand, and then to kneel, before Qui-Gon. Breathing as deeply as he could to force the panic down, Obi-Wan mentally struggled to regain control of his body, to reach for the Force -- but it was to no avail. He looked down at Qui-Gon, and his eyes widened. Whatever it was that had control of his master's body was forcing his head up, and was apparently trying to open his mouth. Qui-Gon's muscles were clenched and his jaw was clamped shut but the unseen being was putting further welts on his cheeks and lips, trying to force his mouth open. Then Qui-Gon's nostrils were pinched shut. Jedi could hold their breath for some time, but Qui-Gon hadn't had a chance to prepare for it and when he tried for a breath, the thing had him, prying his jaw open with what looked like brutal force.

When the laces to Obi-Wan's pants began to open, he dissolved into outright terror. Still unable to move, he watched as his master's head was forced down, face first, into Obi-Wan's groin. The veins were standing out in Qui-Gon's neck as he fought, and Obi-Wan felt he could do no less than that, redoubling his efforts to break free of the strange paralysis.

A great, bleeding gash was ripped into his tunics across his chest, and Obi-Wan froze for an instant before the agony hit. Unable to even whimper, he tried to shove the pain away, but managed only limited success since he could not call the Force to him. He was abruptly distracted by Qui-Gon's capitulation as he took Obi-Wan's limp penis in his mouth. It didn't surprise him when Qui-Gon's head was made to bob up and down, in a mockery of fellatio, but what did surprise him was the gentleness with which Qui-Gon managed it. He was obviously trying to save his apprentice from more harm, to make it good for Obi-Wan, and if Obi-Wan had been able to weep in sympathy, he would have.

As it was, he had to watch as Qui-Gon was summarily beaten further, bruises and welts appearing all over his back and buttocks, as whatever had him in thrall abused him mercilessly. Obi-Wan thought that the sympathetic pain he felt for Qui-Gon would keep him from growing hard and coming in his master's mouth, but Qui-Gon had no lack of skill in this, obviously having done it before. Pleasure won out, and before Obi-Wan knew it, he was on the verge of climax. In short order, he was coming helplessly and feeling his master swallow convulsively. Overcome by the pain of his gash, his orgasm and the helpless horror at what was happening, he barely noticed when he was lifted and tossed aside.

Obi-Wan thought he could not have been out for very long, as he was still feeling the aftershocks of what had been an intense climax. He was curled in on himself and shaking, when he heard Qui-Gon's hoarse voice calling him.

"I'm fine," he said, replying to Qui-Gon's query as he struggled to sit up. He lifted his tunics carefully up and over his head in one unit, hissing as the deep gash was pulled. Using the tatters of his undershirt to blot it, he blinked in amazement when it began closing of its own accord -- within seconds disappearing, as if it had never been there, not even a scar to mark its existence. He looked up, across at Qui-Gon, who was still lying down, and blinked to see his scratches closing and the bruises fading as well. "What...?"

Qui-Gon closed his eyes. "The first few times I thought I had imagined it."

"You what? How long has this been going on? How could you have thought you were imagining it?" Obi-Wan couldn't settle on how to feel about the whole thing -- amazement, anger at Qui-Gon for keeping this from him, fear that it could happen again -- all of those whipped through and around his brain with the force of a hurricane.

"There was never any evidence." Qui-Gon swallowed and carefully eased himself into a sitting position. Obi-Wan winced to see his cock was just as hard and angry-looking as it had been at the beginning. "I wrote them off as very strange dreams and resolved to meditate more, to find release in my own hand. But that didn't work either."

"You mean, you can't..."

"No." Qui-Gon looked down at himself and grimaced. "Nothing I do works."

Obi-Wan stared in shock. "All this time? And here I thought you were just out of sorts for some reason. I don't... I can't..."

Qui-Gon took a weary breath, shaking his head sadly. His shoulders were slumped in defeat. "When it started getting a bit more bold, a bit more audacious, I realized I wasn't dreaming, it was really happening."

"That's when you started leaving the house at night." Obi-Wan felt a burst of sympathy again for his master, though it did not take precedence over his anger.

"Yes." The look Qui-Gon gave him was apologetic, but the anger Obi-Wan felt could not be appeased. "I couldn't risk it attacking you as well, Obi-Wan."

"How about telling me what was happening so I could help you?" Obi-Wan demanded in what was nearly a shout. "I can't believe you just accepted this!"

"I couldn't do anything else," Qui-Gon said, his weary voice refused to rise to the argument. "The Force doesn't affect it, I can't fight it -- Force knows I've tried -- and I was terrified that you would be pulled in with me, if I slept here, with you." Swallowing, he looked away from Obi-Wan's gaze. "I suppose that hope has become useless now."

Obi-Wan took a deep, deep breath and tried to release his frustration and anger to the Force. Once he was able to do that, fear for his master took center stage, and his Jedi training took over. "We need to find out what it is," he said decisively, flatly. "There must be a way to fight it, and if we're both working on it, I'm sure we'll manage to overcome it."

"You were fighting as hard as I was, I'm certain you were, you would do no less." Qui-Gon shook his head and rested back against the padded ledge of the pit. "Fighting seems to simply make it stronger."

"There must be a way," Obi-Wan insisted stubbornly. He rose and began rummaging for clean tunics. "I'm going to go see Rhnu-Ctha, talk to him and see if there's anything he can tell us."

Preoccupied with dressing, Obi-Wan failed to notice his master's silence. When he did, he turned and saw a level of exhausted pain on Qui-Gon's face that wrenched his heart. He walked back down into the pit and knelt next to Qui-Gon. After a moment, he gently pulled Qui-Gon's head to his shoulder, patting his hair soothingly. It felt odd to offer comfort to his master, but somehow, it also felt right.

"I'm sorry, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon mumbled. His voice sounded as tired and lost as his face looked. "I didn't want you involved in this. Especially not the way..."

"It's all right," Obi-Wan said quietly. He smiled and added, "If it helps, you were very good."

Qui-Gon chuckled briefly, painfully, as he pulled away and sat back up. He focused on his hands and his voice trembled very slightly. "And I'm sorry for that, particularly. All the times I've... It wasn't how I imagined... I mean, how I wanted us to... well... the idea of forcing you..."

Obi-Wan blinked. What was Qui-Gon saying? He... wanted Obi-Wan? Had wanted to do that to him? The unexpected thought sent a thrill of something that settled right in Obi-Wan's heart and groin, which he ruthlessly reined in. Now was not the time to be discussing attraction or whatever, there was a crisis. But first... Obi-Wan quickly centered himself and sought his path in the Force. It was clear, very clear indeed.

Leaning forward to cross the space between them, Obi-Wan gently kissed his master. It was a sweet, promising kiss, and he felt Qui-Gon's surprise and something else that might have been love, through the Force. They broke away far too soon, but Obi-Wan smiled. "Eat something," he murmured. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

Back out into the biting wind, Obi-Wan struggled through the dwindling daylight to the large building that served as a center of government and of teaching, an archive of learning and half-lost lore, and a place that had been all but a home to him for several weeks. It was called simply the memory house, which was oddly appropriate. Along the way, he breathed as deeply of the pure, ice-cold air as he could, held it, then released it slowly. He allowed himself to feel the terror of the last hour -- felt it, acknowledged it, and dismissed it. He had work to do.

Rhnu-Ctha was the archivist, a teacher, an elderly MaKhaarn whose wrinkled, deep green skin showed both his age and his reluctance for going outside. He had taken to the Jedi immediately, and had been of immense help to them as they dug through the information on MaKhaarn, judging it and filing it away for comment by the Senate should it be needed.

Obi-Wan had long suspected that Rhnu-Ctha basically lived in the building, for he was always there whenever the Jedi asked for him. This evening it was no different, though he had obviously interrupted his dinner.

"This one has regret in disturbing you," Obi-Wan said with a deep bow. "But this one has an urgent question."

Swallowing what was in his mouth, Rhnu-Ctha bowed back. "It is of no thing. Come, Jedi-an, sit." MaKhaarn was a guttural language, and the name 'Obi-Wan' was difficult for them to pronounce properly. Thus, he was called Jedi-an and Qui-Gon was called Jedi-khi -- and the 'd' sound was much more like a 'k' when pronounced.

The building -- round, like all of their buildings -- was cooler than was normal, since the stored stacks of paper were happier in a less-warm, less-humid environment. It was comfortable for Obi-Wan in his tunics, something he appreciated since he hoped he would not be there long. There was the usual round cushioned pit, this time situated in the middle of the stacks, and that's where Rhnu-Ctha led Obi-Wan. Once settled, he indicated his readiness to listen.

Taking another deep breath, Obi-Wan began filling him in on what had happened that afternoon, sometimes groping for words, trying to leave the sexual parts out. As he spoke, Rhnu-Ctha's eyes grew wide and he became very still. Obi-Wan could almost feel the anxiety flowing off him.

When Obi-Wan finished, Rhnu-Ctha continued to sit still for a while, blinking in what appeared to be surprise. Finally, he rose, muttering to himself, and disappeared into the stacks of lore, motioning for Obi-Wan to stay where he was. After about ten minutes, he returned, bearing a thick sheaf of paper that had been rolled and tied with a dried fern.

"It is moagth-dhrrm," he said. His skin was darker than usual, denoting some level of shock, and he wouldn't meet Obi-Wan's eyes. "This one does not think one has been for many ages."

In his mind, Obi-Wan struggled to translate the words. "Moa -- to, to put in this one's mouth, yes? And gth, not seen." He thought while Rhnu-Ctha unwrapped the fern and spread the sheets out. Unseen eater? "Dhrrm -- this one does not know this word."

"That which lives in each, Jedi-an. What makes us MaKhaarn."

Obi-Wan struggled with the word for a moment, then finally gave up. "What is it? This thing that is attacking Qui-Gon, pardon, Jedi-khi?"

"A much evil," Rhnu-Ctha said seriously. "A thing not seen for long cycles." He gave Obi-Wan a mournful look. "MaKhaarn will sing kkaddh for Jedi-khi."

It took a moment for that to register, then Obi-Wan erupted. "Sing kkaddh?! Jedi-khi does not die! This one will fight this thing, this moagth-dhrrm! Tell this one what to do, please?"

Rhnu-Ctha shook his head sadly. "None will live the moagth-dhrrm. Jedi-khi must stay away so that the moagth-dhrrm will not seek others after. Jedi-an must stay away from Jedi-khi as well, if Jedi-an live."

"This one will not," Obi-Wan said flatly. "Jedi-khi is this one's teacher. This one loves Jedi-khi. This one will not leave Jedi-khi to this thing, and Jedi will fight it. There will be no reason for MaKhaarn to sing kkaddh for him, because Jedi-khi will live."

"There is no memory of any living the moagth-dhrrm," Rhnu-Ctha repeated flatly.

"There has not been Jedi before." Obi-Wan set his jaw and stared at Rhnu-Ctha. "If Rhnu-Ctha cannot help this one, then give this one the memory. This one will read and Jedi will fight the moagth-dhrrm, and Jedi will win."

Blinking, Rhnu-Ctha gave Obi-Wan a puzzled look. "You are not MaKhaarn. Why the moagth-dhrrm picked Jedi-khi is not known by this one. But perhaps Jedi-an is right, and Jedi will defeat it." He rose, bowed deeply and presented the sheaf of papers. "MaKhaarn will sing kkaddh for Jedi-khi, but perhaps it will not be truth." Obi-Wan took the papers and bowed in return. "This one wishes Jedi a sunny sky, Jedi-an."

"Jedi thanks Rhnu-Ctha."

As Obi-Wan turned to leave, Rhnu-Ctha spoke again. "This one will have food left at Jedi house, Jedi-an. Jedi will need strength to fight. This one hopes that Jedi will not leave MaKhaarn."

Obi-Wan bowed again, and smiled in gratitude. He tucked the papers under his tunic and left to brace the harsh wind.

Qui-Gon was, for one of the few times in his life, deeply afraid. He had experienced fear before, had released it to the Force, had overcome it. But this time, he felt far more fear than he had ever experienced. He knew he could face this thing affecting him, and did not concern himself over the possibility that he might die from it. But the thought that it might go after Obi-Wan, his beloved padawan, made him shake, made him almost sick to his stomach. When Obi-Wan returned to their house, he had noticed the tea that Qui-Gon had brewed and had accepted a cup with a preoccupied smile. Rather than ask what he had found, Qui-Gon seated himself next to Obi-Wan in the pit and waited, patiently, for him to speak.

Finally, with a huge sigh, Obi-Wan looked up from the papers he was sorting through. The expression on his face was so sad, so desolate, that Qui-Gon immediately embraced him, hugging him tightly. "What have you found?" he finally asked, in a whisper.

"Whatever it is, it's something I can't quite translate properly." Obi-Wan rubbed his eyes and moved out of Qui-Gon's embrace, though he stayed close. "Some sort of an invisible demon. There are lots of records about it -- Rhnu-Ctha recognized it almost immediately from my description -- but other than descriptions of how it affects the MaKhaarn, I can find little information." He looked down at his lap, at the sheets of paper, holding their curl from years of being wrapped up. "He seems to think that it will kill you." Qui-Gon managed to hide his feelings at that, and waited for Obi-Wan to continue. "He also wants you to stay away from the MaKhaarn, lest the thing go after someone else after it finishes you."

Qui-Gon looked down at his hands. There was no sign any longer of what the thing had done to him, no outward sign, at any rate. "Perhaps I should go, then, lure it away --"

"No." Obi-Wan's voice was hard and inflexible. "Absolutely not. You will stay here, with me, and we will fight this thing."

Shaking his head, Qui-Gon tried to reason with his padawan, aware that lack of sleep was clouding both his judgment and his common sense. "Obi-Wan, we can't. If it's going to..."

"I said no." Turning so that he faced Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan held his gaze. "Listen to me, Qui-Gon Jinn. You are going nowhere. You will stay here with me, and we will fight this thing, together. I will accept no other path, and the Force can go hang if it wants me to leave you. Luckily, it seems it does not." He sighed again and shook his head. "If we could only get off this rock..."

Awed and surprised by the depth of feeling in Obi-Wan's words, Qui-Gon lifted his hand and ran the backs of his knuckles down Obi-Wan's cheek. "I'm not sure even that would work," he said finally. "The thing seems to be part of my Force signature somehow -- going off planet might just open the rest of the galaxy to it. I know I can't feel the Force when it's... doing what it does."

"Rhnu-Ctha called it a moagth-dhrrm, and I was trying to figure out what the Sith that meant," Obi-Wan said, pawing back through the sheets of paper. "Invisible eater, I think, but the noun dhrrm I can't translate. Rhnu-Ctha said -- I think -- it is what makes us alive, what makes us people, and..." Stopping himself in mid-word, Obi-Wan sat up straight and his eyes grew big. "Soul," he whispered. "Invisible eater of souls."

Qui-Gon felt a shiver of fear run down his spine. "Yes." He nodded, certain his face was as pale as Obi-Wan's. "That's... that's what it feels like. What it feels to be doing."

"It's living off your Force signature." Swallowing, Obi-Wan turned back to Qui-Gon, and once again his brow was furrowed. "But there's more to it than that, isn't there? Why else would it sexually attack you?"

Shaking his head, Qui-Gon sipped his tea while he tried to think. He grimaced; it had gone cold. "Perhaps it's drawn to strong Force signatures." He rose and fetched the teapot, refreshing both his and Obi-Wan's tea. "There are legends on many worlds of demons who will sexually interact with humans, often in their sleep."

"Incubi," Obi-Wan said, nodding. "I've read of a few, but they were always legends, stories to scare children. This is real." He sipped his tea. "Have the attacks been getting worse? You said that the first few times, you thought you'd imagined it."

"Yes, they have been getting worse." Qui-Gon tried to hold himself at a remove from his feelings, since talking about the situation dispassionately actually seemed to help. "At first, I thought they were a product of my over-tiredness, or perhaps..." He shied away from that -- no need to go into his awful loneliness nor his desire for Obi-Wan. "Later, when I realized they weren't imagined or dreamt, I began staying away from you, in the hopes that whatever it was would just... go away."

"Not very sound thinking, Master," Obi-Wan said with a small smile. "You should have told me right from the start."

"I didn't understand what was going on," Qui-Gon defended himself, weakly, he knew. "And it's been so long since I've gotten more than a few moments' sleep..." He sighed and rubbed his eyes, realizing Obi-Wan was right. "I'm sorry. You're right, I should have told you immediately."

"I know now." Obi-Wan's smile widened. "And now that I do know, I know we'll fight it. And I know we'll win." They smiled at each other over the rims of their cups. "It never attacks you except when you're asleep?"

"That's correct." Qui-Gon's words were cut off by a huge yawn. "Or meditating. And, until today, it had never interacted with anyone else." He looked into his tea, trying to read his future there. "I am sorry, Obi-Wan."

"For what?" Obi-Wan sounded genuinely curious. "It was hardly as if it were you... doing that." Giving Qui-Gon a crooked smile, he added, "I should be the one apologizing. I was... it was rather difficult for me to... I mean." They both smiled. "I didn't think I was going to become aroused, because I could see how you were hurting. But you..." Qui-Gon stared, utterly charmed, as his padawan blushed. "You're very good," Obi-Wan finally finished softly, his face a lovely red color.

Something hard and cold in Qui-Gon began to melt. "It helped," he blurted out, and Obi-Wan stared at him. "Your arousal. Your... your being there. It helped, to know I was giving you pleasure, that you were getting -- that I was giving you -- pleasure. Pleasure for you." Qui-Gon felt his face was at least as red as his padawan's, but he wanted to get that out. He needed to tell Obi-Wan at least some of his feeling, he felt it was important, for all it was embarrassing and shameful to him.

They stared wordlessly at each other. Finally, Obi-Wan spoke, his voice little more than a whisper. "You said something earlier, that it was not how you had wanted us..." He searched Qui-Gon's face, obviously looking for something.

Ashamed of his feelings, Qui-Gon looked down at his hands again. "It's supposed to be the padawan in lo -- lust with the master, you see." He swallowed. "I'm not sure how long it's been, but I don't seem to be able to release it to the Force. I'm sorry, Obi-Wan, for the wild fancies of an old man."

"No." Qui-Gon blinked and looked up at his padawan's firm voice. "Not wild, and definitely not old. It's true I never thought... well." Obi-Wan managed to keep the blush under control this time. "I always just thought of you as... unattainable. It's not that it never occurred to me, but I never felt it would be possible. You never seemed to need anyone, never seemed to want to have anyone that close to you." He reached out and caressed Qui-Gon's cheek. With sudden insight, he added, "You're lonely, aren't you? How did I miss that? How could I be so wrong about something?"

"It's fairly simple to do," Qui-Gon replied, suddenly, exhaustingly, elated. "I've been doing it for years, now. I am so sorry that it had to happen this way, though."

"We'll get through this," Obi-Wan told him firmly. "We have to."

True to his word, Rhnu-Ctha had food delivered to them. They heard the outer door open, heard some thumps, but when they went to investigate, no one was there. They brought the boxes of food into the house and put some of them away.

Obi-Wan could tell that Qui-Gon was swaying on his feet in exhaustion, so he took Qui-Gon's hand -- noticing the tremors in it -- and drew him to the pit, to their bed. "You need to get some sleep," he said as he sat down, pulling Qui-Gon down with him. "I'll be here. I want you to use me as your bed. I need to see what happens when it starts."

Qui-Gon obviously had misgivings to that plan, but his utter fatigue won out. Obi-Wan made himself comfortable, with water and the sheaf of papers Rhnu-Ctha had given him to read. Qui-Gon then sprawled half on top of him, his head in Obi-Wan's lap, one arm around his waist, and fell asleep almost instantly.

Worried that he wouldn't be able to relax, or that he'd feel confined, Obi-Wan was surprised by how comfortable he felt. Though not a virgin, Obi-Wan hadn't had many lovers, and rarely slept all night with them. He thought it would be an imposition, for some reason -- at least that's what he told himself. Sleeping with Qui-Gon on missions, however, was never an imposition, and he found himself wondering why that was so.

Qui-Gon didn't seem to find it an imposition either -- he was snoring slightly and Obi-Wan smiled to hear it. With a sigh, began the laborious process of reading through the material Rhnu-Ctha had given him, absently caressing Qui-Gon's hair as he did so.

After some hours, Obi-Wan put the paper he was reading down and frowned. There was something different, something wrong, and he looked around the room, trying to figure it out. Finally he realized that Qui-Gon had tensed up in his sleep; his muscles were no longer lax but instead felt as if he were preparing for a fight.

Putting the papers aside, Obi-Wan carefully shifted until he was directly under Qui-Gon. "Master, I know you can hear me," he whispered into Qui-Gon's ear. "I think I've figured something out. Don't fight it. That may be part of how it feeds, or whatever it's doing. Concentrate on me instead; center yourself on me, only. Let me be the reality, and the rest be a shad--"

Abruptly, the remembered paralysis struck, and Obi-Wan's words died in his mouth. The weight of Qui-Gon on him doubled, and it became a struggle to breathe. Remembering his advice to Qui-Gon, he remained as passive as he could, drawing shallow breaths, trying to ignore the sound and feel of blows to Qui-Gon's back.

It worked a bit too well. As Qui-Gon's length grew between them, Obi-Wan found his own shaft growing in response. Struggling to remain passive was difficult, but he tried, until the creature began fucking Qui-Gon again. The back-and-forth friction on his erection was simply too much, and Obi-Wan gave up, helplessly drawn towards his ecstasy. Qui-Gon seemed to be able to focus on him alone, though, since his muscles lost much of their rigidity, and though it might have been Obi-Wan's imagination, the creature's attack seemed more frantic. Finally, unable to take any more, Obi-Wan came, whimpering in his throat, both embarrassed and intensely aroused.

After a time, the creature left, and they fell asleep.

It was several hours later that Obi-Wan woke, drawn towards wakefulness by Qui-Gon's absence. Groggy, he sat up amid the chaos of soft cushions and blankets, looking around the room blearily. Qui-Gon was approaching with a pot of tea and a tray of fruit. "I thought you were about to wake," he said.

"You shouldn't have let me sleep, Master," he said. "You're the one who needs it."

"Your stomach was growling," Qui-Gon said with a smile. "I figured if it was loud enough for me to hear, you wouldn't be asleep much longer."

Taking a cup of tea and one of the fruits, Obi-Wan just grinned crookedly. "Are you all right?"

"Better than I have been for some time," Qui-Gon admitted. He bit into one of the fruits, sucking the juice up. "Due to my wonderful padawan. It wasn't enough, but the sleep did help."

"Was this attack different? You did hear my instructions, didn't you?"

"Yes, I did." Thoughtfully chewing, Qui-Gon swallowed. "I'm not sure if this last attack was different. It felt a bit different, but that might have been because you were there too."

"We'll need to try it for a bit longer then," Obi-Wan said decisively. "The section I was reading talked about how those afflicted with the creature always fought, and never won. It made me think -- you've said it was attached somehow to your Force signature, and the somewhat lurid name leads me to believe that... Sweet Force."

While Obi-Wan had been talking, Qui-Gon had put the tray down and stood, turning to climb out of the pit. At Obi-Wan's whispered oath, he turned back. "What?"

Obi-Wan stood and gently turned Qui-Gon so his back was to Obi-Wan. "Can you feel these?" he asked, tracing the lines.

"The marks? Or the bruises?" Qui-Gon asked, his mouth dry.

"The bruises are already fading. The marks, however are not."

"Is there a pattern?"

"Yes." Obi-Wan's finger began to tremble as he traced the lines. "It's in MaKhaarn. It says, 'mine.'" Abruptly, Obi-Wan swung Qui-Gon around, holding him tightly by his biceps. "You do not sleep, you do not even close your eyes unless you're with me, in my arms, do you understand?"

"Obi-Wan, that's..." Qui-Gon began to protest, though he was obviously as rattled as Obi-Wan.

"I am quite serious, Qui-Gon Jinn." Obi-Wan smacked his arm gently. "You promise me, or I'll glue myself to you."

"I promise, I promise," Qui-Gon said, wrapping his arms around Obi-Wan. "I swear."

Obi-Wan returned his hug. "This room is our battlefield, and we are going to win this war."

"With you by my side, I don't doubt we will."

Obi-Wan smiled at the assurance in Qui-Gon's voice, and he pulled far enough back to see his face. Liking what he saw, he gently stretched up and kissed Qui-Gon. "We're going to win," he repeated softly.

The next attack was far more vicious. The first thing it did was to pluck Obi-Wan up and toss him aside, out of Qui-Gon's arms. But Qui-Gon found he could still center himself on his padawan, and used the thought of him as a focus, trying to sink into meditation so that his body would not betray him and try to fight. The beating they both received in retaliation was so terrible that even Obi-Wan lost some of his cockiness. But the severity and desperation of the attack made both of them realize they were approaching the fight with the proper weapon.

When they weren't sleeping, they talked, and Qui-Gon admitted to his loneliness and his hopeless feelings for his padawan. He allowed he was not even certain when it had happened, or even how. Obi-Wan accepted his declaration with a sweet wonder and happiness that was so astonishing and heartening to Qui-Gon, he was rendered all but speechless.

They talked about their return home to Coruscant, which was another few months off, talked about Obi-Wan moving into Qui-Gon's bed, exchanged secrets and kisses. Qui-Gon lay back, cradled in his padawan's arms, happier than he had been in years. Now, if only they could rid themselves of the pesky demon troubling them...

Further proof they were on the right track came during the next attack. The demon's touch became fleeting, sensuous, as if trying to tease a reaction out of Qui-Gon. It never had a chance, since Obi-Wan's genuine and uninhibited response was far more than it could ever hope to have.

When that didn't work, it changed tactics again. Leaving Obi-Wan in Qui-Gon's arms, it began to beat him terribly. That almost cost them the battle right there, as Qui-Gon was so appalled by the damage to Obi-Wan he was ready to run off into the night and give himself up to the demon.

Once they were finished screaming at each other, Obi-Wan began laughing helplessly. "I think that was our first fight," he said to Qui-Gon, who found himself also laughing, even while applying what medicinal creams they had to the still-open wounds on Obi-Wan's back. "We're on the right path," Obi-Wan insisted, turning back to Qui-Gon. "We're able to sleep for longer and longer periods, now. We're winning, master." Those simple words heartened them both enough to keep fighting.

Two more times the creature beat Obi-Wan, each time lessening in damage. The third time, it went back to Qui-Gon, and Obi-Wan found himself free.

Elated, Obi-Wan distracted Qui-Gon from the attentions of the thing with everything from running chunks of ice over him to painting his body with the oil they used on their skin to a deep massage with the same oil. Qui-Gon still couldn't climax, and Obi-Wan made a firm resolution -- once they had won, he would see to it Qui-Gon came three times for every time he was tortured.

After almost a week -- close to two weeks since the attacks had started -- both Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan tried a shared meditation, with some trepidation. They knew the demon had used Qui-Gon's meditations for attack as much as it had used his sleep, but they were willing to take the chance.

Their relief was palpable. The Force answered their call resoundingly, and they descended into the harmony of it with joy. Hours later, as they swam towards the surface of their minds, they also shared a vision.

One of the bleak, rocky plains of MaKhaarn appeared before them, and in the distance, a figure approached. As it became clearer, they both saw it as being a native, but again not. Its skin was the pale green of all the MaKhaarn, but instead of head fur, it had long hair, which whipped around it in the biting wind. It was also naked -- one moment appearing as female, the next, as male. Its face was as desolate as the landscape.

"Please." When it spoke, its voice set up an odd resonance to both Jedi. They did not answer, but waited for it to speak further, which it finally did. "Please." The entreaty was almost painful.

"You are what?" Qui-Gon finally asked, in MaKhaarn.

"Please." It looked at both of them, but its contact with Obi-Wan was fleeting and dismissive. "This one needs. Please."

Suddenly, Obi-Wan realized what it was. "You are moagth-dhrrm," he accused. "You have tried to kill Jedi."

"Please." It did not deny the charge, nor did it look in any way contrite. "Beautiful, your pain. Beautiful, your ache. This one needs. Give to this one. Please!"

"No." Obi-Wan looked over at Qui-Gon, to find him frowning thunderously at the moagth-dhrrm. "You have hurt this one, and this one's student."

"For needs. This one comes to you for your pain. Beautiful. Hungry. Please!"

"No." Obi-Wan's denial was as hard as Qui-Gon's. "This one will not let you. Go."

"No. Please. No!"

The thing looked absolutely wretched at their denial. With a shock, Obi-Wan realized he was able to almost see through it. He reached out -- both physically and mentally -- to touch, to shore Qui-Gon up with his love. For some reason, that seemed to hurt the thing, and it keened and writhed, as if in pain.

"Please!" The wind was beginning to blow more fiercely, though the Jedi did not feel it. Slowly, the wind began taking the moagth-dhrrm apart, blowing it in pieces down the plain. A last "Please!" they heard, a whispered scream, and it was gone.

"This one is very glad that kkaddh was not truth." Both Jedi were seated in the large memory house, sipping tea with Rhnu-Ctha. The MaKhaarn had been astonished that the Jedi had managed to defeat the moagth-dhrrm. For the last few days, they had told their story, learning as they told it.

"It's evident that it was drawn to my loneliness, my despair over wanting you," Qui-Gon had told Obi-Wan at one point, summoning up the courage for truth. He had silently promised himself that he would no longer keep things inside, that he would share his thoughts and problems from now on, whatever the cost. Obi-Wan initially had frowned at his theory, then agreed -- that did seem to match what it told them in their shared meditation.

"Long it has been since moagth-dhrrm. The moagth-dhrrm never has been seen," Rhnu-Ctha told them. "To the memories, this one will add the work of the Jedi."

They bowed, both to Rhnu-Ctha and to the others assembled in the memory house. It was not the MaKhaarn way to hold parties or to fete people, but this, they saw, was as close to it as possible.

Qui-Gon had also privately made up his mind about MaKhaarn and whether there should be any Republic presence. Both Jedi felt the reason the demon had not been around for a while was the deep peace the MaKhaarn felt, the harmony they had with their planet. The moagth-dhrrm fed on loneliness, on pain, and the MaKhaarn, thankfully, had little of that. Qui-Gon planned on waiting until Obi-Wan made his own report, but he was certain he would advocate no physical presence on the planet. An orbiting platform, however, was not without merits, and he felt that might be the best way to be and deal with these strange and wonderful people.

They made their exit shortly after, and Qui-Gon noticed a strange eagerness in Obi-Wan to be alone. He found the reason for it as soon as they entered their house. Once they had hung up their cloaks and removed their boots, he turned and pressed Qui-Gon against the wall, kissing him passionately.

While not displeased, Qui-Gon was a bit surprised. He captured Obi-Wan's head in his hands, running his thumb over the lobe of Obi-Wan's ear as he deepened the kiss, reveling in the loving touch he had so long denied himself.

Without words, they opened the inner door and locked the cold outside. They efficiently stripped, Obi-Wan went all the way to naked and smiling as Qui-Gon copied him. Still silent, Obi-Wan took Qui-Gon's hand and led him to their bed, the soft nest in the central pit, tenderly easing Qui-Gon down, before straddling his hips.

"I am going to make love to you, Qui-Gon Jinn," Obi-Wan finally said. His voice was quiet and powerful in the profound silence of their house. "And I am not going to share. I think I'll make that perfectly clear now."

Obi-Wan dipped the end of his padawan braid in the small container of the oil they used on their skins, then used it to paint his sigil -- OWK -- on Qui-Gon's chest, over his heart. Qui-Gon watched him with something akin to awe, this glorious young man who was examining every inch of him -- kissing, licking, biting, until every one of Qui-Gon's nerves felt aflame. He closed his eyes, the better to feel as Obi-Wan lifted his legs and gently, carefully prepared him, letting his muscles go lax and trusting his heart and body to his padawan.

When Obi-Wan entered him, it was like a revelation. They held themselves still, Obi-Wan deeply inside Qui-Gon, both feeling their shared heartbeat and letting their arousal build slowly, with a gradualness that simply drove it higher.

Languidly, Obi-Wan began to thrust, setting a slow rhythm that was heaven. Qui-Gon lifted one of his feet to Obi-Wan's shoulders, and Obi-Wan kissed the inside of his knee. The slow, even thrusting was simply too good to last long, and Obi-Wan finally began to pound away at Qui-Gon, gasping as he did so. Qui-Gon let him, with the realization that this time, he would climax, that his new lover would not toy cruelly with him, so when his testicles drew up hard, when his finish was clawing at his spine, he gave it up, joyously roaring Obi-Wan's name, aware that Obi-Wan was also coming, filling his very body with love.

A long, lovely time later, Qui-Gon recalled that last thought as Obi-Wan dozed on top of him, spent. He smiled and sighed happily, then remembered his promise. "I love you."

Obi-Wan's head came up and he blinked wondrously into Qui-Gon's eyes. "I love you too." His voice was almost surprised. "That's why we won, isn't it." It wasn't a question, though Qui-Gon treated it as such.

"Yes," Qui-Gon replied, tugging gently on Obi-Wan's braid. "That's how we won."

end