Archive: at the discretion of the archivists
Archive Date: November 05, 1999
Author's Webpage: http://members.aol.com/CoriLannam/fanfiction.html
Category: UNDERAGE!OBI-WAN (see warnings), first time
Feedback: I would love to hear what you think. Lay it on me at
CoriLannam@aol.com.
Notes: Immeasurable thanks go to the gang in the Third Layer for much
encouragement and prodding to help me get over my 6 month writer's block,
as well as for the continual administration of smutlets (for medicinal
purposes). Special snuggles to my indulgent Master for the hand-holding,
beta reading and reassurance.:-)
Pairing: Q/O
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Obi-Wan looks for a connection.
Warnings: This story involves a sixteen year-old Obi-Wan in explicit
sexual situations with men much older than he is, within the context of a
formalized Jedi system of erotic eduation. If this squicks you, offends
you, or is any way something you would prefer not to have in your head,
PLEASE DO NOT READ!
Obi-Wan paced outside the closed door. He swiveled just before hitting the wall of the small sitting room, then paced back the other way until the opposite wall stopped him again, counting each turn rhythmically to calm his mind. The spare furnishings, somewhat intimidating when he had first entered the room, had become an advantage; had Master Fortin been more lavish in his decorating, Obi-Wan would probably have stumbled over something in his distracted state, and that was not the first impression he wanted to give.
Still, he found it odd that a man rumored to be one of the great sensualists among the Jedi would keep only a single austere bench in his antechamber. He tried to extrapolate from that an expectation of what the next hours would bring, but the mixture of nervousness and longing roiling through him distracted him from rational thought. A sudden yearning for Qui-Gon's presence swept over him, but he quashed it ruthlessly. He had reached official maturity, and that meant he should not need his Master to hold his hand through every new experience. Especially this one.
The inner door slid open just as Obi-Wan reached the far wall for the thirty-eighth time, and he spun around to face the tall, slender Master who entered the room. "Obi-Wan?" Fortin's dark eyes held a friendly courtesy which mirrored his tone.
Obi-Wan felt his tension ease a notch as he bowed politely, determined to seem as calm and matter-of-fact as Qui-Gon had been when he had ushered Obi-Wan off to this appointment. Merely another facet of Jedi learning, to be absorbed and enjoyed as all learning was. Excitement about it needed to be controlled as much as any other distracting emotion. "Yes, Master Fortin. I was scheduled...." To his dismay, he hesitated with embarrassment, but Fortin merely nodded with understanding and waved him to the bench.
"Of course," he said easily, sitting beside Obi-Wan. "I've been looking forward to meeting you. Your training record is quite impressive."
"Thank you, Master," Obi-Wan replied automatically. He struggled to center himself, not to let anticipation or anxiety fill his thoughts, to prove that his maturity was not in name only.
Fortin watched him for a moment, and Obi-Wan held himself still under the evaluating gaze. He had felt the weight of similar looks from more Masters than he could count during his years at the Temple and knew the importance of remaining calm beneath it. "This is your first time, isn't it, Obi-Wan?"
The words were gentle, but Obi-Wan felt his facade of surety deflate alarmingly. "Is it that obvious?" he joked weakly. Bravado humor had never worked on a Jedi Master in Obi-Wan's experience, but it was always worth a try. Fortin merely smiled sympathetically, and Obi-Wan gave up on that wish. He only hoped his inexperience did not put him at a disadvantage; Qui-Gon had never said outright that Obi-Wan was to wait for this formal teaching, but waiting was proper. Proper, and a way to prove that he had control over his passions, something he knew had always been a cause for concern in his training.
"It is my duty to know these things, Obi-Wan, and to make this experience as easy and educational for you as possible." Fortin seemed to surmise everything about him with a single glance, an uncomfortable sensation no matter how many times he had felt it in his life. "You have engaged in self-pleasure, I assume?"
The blush burned its way across his cheeks, and he cursed himself inwardly. A fine blushing virgin he must appear. "Yes, Master, and I am already aware of the basic mechanics." Book knowledge and trainee gossip only, but that was what he was here to change, after all: to learn the fact behind the theory and gain control over physical and emotional needs, something he was clearly in need of, if his performance so far was any indication.
"Well, then, that makes our task considerably simpler, yes?" Fortin smiled again before standing briskly. Obi-Wan stood as well, trying to match the Master's air of professional ease, but well aware of his failure to hide his growing discomfort. "Shall we go inside?"
Obi-Wan followed him through the inner door, clenching his hands to let out his tension. Strange, to be on the verge of a momentous occasion, one he had greatly looked forward to, and yet all he wanted now was to get it over with.
The delicate parts came apart easily under his fingertips as Qui-Gon focused his entire attention on dismantling and recalibrating the inner components of his lightsaber. He had a strong feeling that the Council was about to send him off again, and he preferred to have his most visible means of self-defense as finely tuned as he could make it. Later he would do the same for Obi-Wan's saber; normally he would expect his apprentice to care for his own weapon, but tonight he would make an exception. Just like every other apprentice he had ever known on this night, including Qui-Gon himself, if Obi-Wan came home at all he would be far too tired and distracted to be much good for anything but indulging himself into exhaustion with reliving tonight in his imagination. Tomorrow would be soon enough to emphasize the control aspect of the instruction he was now undergoing.
He felt Obi-Wan's approach an instant before the outer door of their quarters slid open to admit his Padawan. Obi-Wan strode in, scowling, as Qui-Gon looked up in surprise, and tossed his cloak with uncharacteristic carelessness across the back of a chair. "Obi-Wan?" he said, his concern growing as he automatically scanned his apprentice's physical and mental well-being. Physically, Obi-Wan seemed unharmed; his body exhibited most of the satiation one would expect under the circumstances, except for the emotional tension radiating from every pore. Whatever signs his body might give, he was obviously far from satisfied. "What happened?"
"What do you think?" Cool, level, impassive. Anyone but his Master might have been fooled into thinking him the model of Jedi control. "I didn't think in this instance I would be expected to report about what lessons I've learned."
"Of course not," Qui-Gon replied as he set aside the pieces of his lightsaber. Obi-Wan looked at the dismantled saber with clear surprise -- normally Qui-Gon would never have abandoned that particular task before he finished -- then started pacing the room. Qui-Gon measured his next words carefully against Obi-Wan's level of agitation. "But I want you to feel comfortable talking to me about anything you need to."
Obi-Wan paused on his next turn and gave Qui-Gon a small smile. "You know I do." The smile vanished as he continued pacing, but Qui-Gon felt the smallest touch of relief at having seen it before Obi-Wan continued. "But it isn't that important."
"Why don't you let me be the judge of that?" Qui-Gon sent a gentle tendril of calming force to Obi-Wan, but felt it dissolved into tatters by the aura of discontent surrounding the boy. "If it affects you this violently, it is important, and I would help you if I can."
The frown deepened and Obi-Wan bit down on his lip before answering. "I merely find myself needing to readjust my expectations. I was under the impression that...sexual activity was something very important and deeply pleasurable, but I've discovered it is hardly worthy of the build up it's given."
Qui-Gon stared at him for a moment in shock. He had never heard such sentiments coming from a sixteen year-old boy; he wondered if anyone ever had. Such a phenomenon clearly required delicate handling. "Obi-Wan...I do not mean to pry into what is certainly a personal matter...but am I to take it that you did not enjoy your time with Master Fortin?"
Obi-Wan stopped pacing at the far end of the room and shifted uncomfortably. "It was...enjoyable, on a certain level. Master Fortin was very polite and considerate. But I have no wish to repeat the experience."
Polite? Fortin had been quite polite the few times Qui-Gon had spoken with the man, but that was hardly the first word he would expect to come to mind for one's first lover, even a lover delegated for the express purpose of teaching the power and control of the sexual act. And, more seriously.... "You are to have no further sessions with Master Fortin, then?"
"He did not feel it necessary, and neither did I." Obi-Wan's face burned red, his jaw twitching with the effort of suppressing his emotions enough to keep his level tone. "In fact, he suggested I might think about taking the oath of celibacy. I am seriously considering his advice."
"What?" Qui-Gon burst out before he could stop himself. He could hardly believe Fortin would say such a thing. An oath of celibacy, at sixteen? The oath could lead to great power within the Force, and several of the Council had taken it, but he had never considered it himself, nor would he ever recommend it to his Padawan. To cut oneself off from such a vital aspect of the living Force was, barring special circumstances, tantamount to walking around with one eye shut where there was no need. "Obi-Wan, I would hardly recommend such a course of action at this stage of your life, nor can I condone Master Fortin's suggesting it to you upon your first meeting."
Obi-Wan gave a minute hitch of his shoulders. "He is supposed to be very wise in these matters. And I cannot see that I would be missing much. As I said before, I have no great wish to experiment further in this area, certainly not enough to let it take any concentration from my training."
Not only no more encounters with Fortin, but none at all, then. Qui-Gon liked this less with every moment. "I have no fears with regard to your training, Padawan, but I think you may be rushing into an incorrect judgment based upon a single experience."
"It is my judgment to make."
"I don't dispute that."
"And I see no reason to draw out the process. I know Master Fortin's reputation; he's supposed to be the best. The most experienced, the most knowledgeable. If it wasn't any good with him, then I doubt I'll like it any better with someone else."
Qui-Gon felt his frown deepen and spared a hope that Obi-Wan would know it was for Fortin, and not for him. "I chose Fortin for you. Clearly it was a mistake, and I--"
"No, Master." Obi-Wan shook his head. "Master Fortin did everything he could to make me comfortable, and his skill was certainly...considerable. But I felt nothing. A moment of physical pleasure, but it wasn't worth it."
"It doesn't have to be that way," Qui-Gon protested, keeping his voice soft. "It isn't supposed to be that way. Not with the right partner, with someone you can connect with, be close to."
Obi-Wan looked at him directly for the first time since entering, and the intensity in his gaze sent a ripple of impact through Qui-Gon's equilibrium. "Then show me."
He swallowed, his mouth gone dry. "Obi-Wan...." He should have expected this, but hadn't. "You know there are reasons why Masters do not teach this particular lesson to their own students."
"I know," Obi-Wan replied quietly. "And I know that it has happened before, and the universe did not grind to a screaming halt."
"Perhaps not. But I do not think it wise, in our case."
"Why not?" Jaw set in an expression Qui-Gon recognized as meaning his apprentice had made up his mind and would not be swayed, Obi-Wan met his gaze levelly. "I love you. I trust you. There is no one I feel closer to. If not you, then who?"
Qui-Gon watched Obi-Wan's eyes darken to a deeper blue, his focus as his thoughts whirled with a distressing lack of order. He wanted nothing more than to pull Obi-Wan into his arms and soothe away his distress, to reassure him as he had years ago that everything would be well. And after that, how easy it would be to reassure him further, to keep him in his arms and show him what the act of love could be, in the right hands.
But he could not. Not without more consideration than he could give the matter with Obi-Wan there staring at him, reading his thoughts in his face, his own face slowly falling as he accepted Qui-Gon's decision. Finally, Obi-Wan looked away. "Then I just wasted hours that could have been more profitably spent studying ship mechanics," he said with only the slightest edge of regret in his resigned tone. "But at least now I know."
"Obi-Wan --" Qui-Gon began, unsure of what he wanted to say, but not wanting to leave the conversation on that note.
"It's okay, Master, really." Obi-Wan smiled mechanically, his cursory attempt at assurance falling obviously flat. "But if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go wash off the memories of tonight as thoroughly as I can."
He bowed shallowly and headed for the bathroom, leaving Qui-Gon to stare after him with dismay. The door had shut and the shower started before he looked down at the bits of lightsaber scattered before him, mirroring the state of his own thoughts. He picked up the casing and turned it over in his hands, then set it back down and went to the communications console, determined to find out exactly what had happened tonight. The message light blinked at him and he blinked back with surprise. A message from Fortin himself, left just as Obi-Wan had come home.
Fortin's transparent blue image flickered to life as he pressed the play button. "Qui-Gon," the other Master greeted him, his face serene as though he had spent the last hours in meditation. From the lack of passion Obi-Wan had described, perhaps he had. "I wish to thank you for sending Obi-Wan to me. He is, as you said, a bright and promising young man, and I foresee a great future for him. It was an honor to be able to share in his instruction, however briefly."
The man hesitated for a moment. He had a reputation for discretion, one of the reasons Qui-Gon had chosen him for his very private Obi-Wan, and rarely shared much about his tutelage even with the Masters of the Padawans he saw, unless the circumstances warranted it. "I only regret that I was not able to teach Obi-Wan more. He is a quick student, as you know, but I was unable to establish an empathy with him. He resisted every attempt to form even the lightest temporary bond, remaining distant and unresponsive, and I do not think he enjoyed much of what we did manage to accomplish. Certainly he seemed relieved when it was over and he could go."
He cleared his throat and Qui-Gon frowned. Obi-Wan had never been the most empathic of individuals, but their own training bond had formed as easily as breathing, and he had never had a complaint from any other Master about Obi-Wan being resistant to the mental touch of an instructor. Nor had he ever shied away from expressing emotion, either to Qui-Gon or to his friends.
But Fortin was continuing. "I do not presume to guess at the reasons behind his resistance of intimacy. As his Master, you are far more qualified to deal with the situation in whatever way you see fit. I would, however, suggest to you, as I did to Obi-Wan, that perhaps he is more suited to the ascetic path, where his energies might be focused in areas that are more comfortable for him. I fear darkness could lie along any other path for him."
Fortin bowed slightly, and the transmission ended. Qui-Gon stared blankly at the space where the image had been, deeply disturbed, then sank to his knees where he stood, sliding easily into meditative trance. Something had gone awry, and it was his responsibility, as Obi-Wan's teacher, to find a way to fix it in whatever way the Force directed.
He had chosen Fortin largely because of the enthusiastic recommendations from other Masters, although he did not know the man well himself. Better, it was thought, to send one's Padawan to a Master outside his general circle of acquaintance, to avoid any complications either during or after the liaison. Qui-Gon himself had been honored by such a request a number of times over the years and had a distinct idea of what the encounter should be for both Master and Padawan. When the time came for his own Padawan, he had applied himself to finding the best possible match for the passionate but serious Obi-Wan.
Fortin was said to have a great taste for and skill at pleasure, but an iron control and rapport with the living Force that allowed him to explore sensual depths without risking the taint of darkness. As such he was a popular choice to instruct human Padawans in the basics of sexual conduct, control and enjoyment; to teach them how the enjoyment of their bodies could serve the living Force and how to avoid the corruption of physical and emotional needs gone out of control.
And yet, despite his obvious skill, Fortin had failed with Obi-Wan -- his affectionate, passionate Obi-Wan, whom Fortin wanted to name a potential ascetic. Even the thought of such a path for Obi-Wan felt deeply wrong to Qui-Gon, and he followed the strands of Force that led from that instinct in search of the correct conclusion.
Obi-Wan did not fear intimacy, nor, Qui-Gon knew, was he emotionally cold and unattached. But it was clear he did not want Fortin as his teacher, although he had said nothing when Qui-Gon had told him of it and offered him the chance to veto. And Qui-Gon could not doubt that Obi-Wan's instincts on the matter were correct. If Fortin, for whatever reason, could not read or reach Obi-Wan emotionally, then Qui-Gon could not leave such intimate teaching in his hands.
Still, the teaching must take place. He could not allow Obi-Wan to suffer for his own unfortunate decision, and to leave Obi-Wan with only a vaguely distressful encounter as the whole of his sexual experience would be a grave disservice. Which meant finding a way to prove the conclusions Obi-Wan had drawn from that encounter wrong, to show him the warmth and affection and power that should have been there.
But Obi-Wan wanted Qui-Gon -- despite the commonly-viewed impropriety of such a arrangement and the highly valid reasons for that view. The danger there was not the lack of an emotional connection, but the deepening of the existing bond until objectivity and obedience became lost or led to darker emotions.
He had lost one apprentice down a similar, albeit non-sexual, path. He would not lose a second.
The rush of fear at the thought startled him. Obi-Wan trusted him, loved him indeed, and he would not betray that trust through either action or inaction. But nor could he allow the memory of another betrayal force him into the incorrect choice.
His thoughts remained muddled, even more muddled then when he had begun. Clearing his growing frustration, he sank deeper into his meditation, letting the Force seep through him, sweeping him along in spirit to wherever it was he needed to be.
Then he was with Obi-Wan, the Padawan of his vision seeming as solid and warm as though he had joined Obi-Wan in actuality. Exquisitely nude beneath the spray of the shower, Obi-Wan turned his face upwards. The water washed away his tears of disappointment and loneliness, streaming down to gild his body in glittering rivulets.
Qui-Gon did not resist the urge to trace the reverse path of one line of water with his fingers, up the smooth thigh and hip to linger at the waist. The dream Obi-Wan arched into his touch - and Fortin had called him unresponsive? -- then sighed, eyes still closed, and leaned into Qui-Gon, his head dropping to Qui-Gon's shoulder in a gesture of devotion and faith.
Such absolute trust. Unquestioning and unconditional. Dangerous, almost alarming to have such a trust, but the Force had put Obi-Wan into his care, and it was the Force that guided him to this moment when he took the Obi-Wan of his vision into his arms and accepted the charge laid upon him.
Fortin could not be blamed for his failure; this intimate teaching had long been reserved for one man only. Convention could not hold sway for long against the clear will of the Force, and Qui-Gon had no further doubts as to where his duty lay.
He came back to himself and opened his eyes. Rising, he sought Obi-Wan's presence. His Padawan had gone from the shower to his bedroom while Qui-Gon had been in meditation, his unhappiness a beacon. Qui-Gon went and made use of the shower himself, preparing himself in body and mind to form the deeper connection they would need. He found a small bottle they would need if he succeeded, then crossed their quarters. Obi-Wan's door opened at his touch.
Obi-Wan lay still beneath the covers of his bed, staring at the beam of city light from the window pooling on the otherwise black wall. He had scrubbed his body until he risked pain, telling himself the stinging in his eyes was only soap, then crawled naked into the comfort of his own bed. Only the comfort could not take away the hollow feeling inside his chest or the frustration in his mind.
He knew he should meditate, process what he had learned tonight and accept it as the will of the Force, but his thoughts insisted on whirling in circular patterns, unsettled. Fortin's kind, pitying gaze still burned in his memory, and his words still struck Obi-Wan as though the Master was throwing stones at him. Physical intimacy did not suit everyone... no shame... a more contemplative path within the Force....
The door opened. He startled, then held himself motionless as it closed again. Soft footsteps approached behind him, then the imposing bulk of his Master bent the edge of the mattress. Obi-Wan felt the weight of Qui-Gon's gaze on him, but could not bring himself to respond to it, until a gentle hand brushed over his cheek. "Obi-Wan."
"Yes, Master." He wondered if Qui-Gon had come for another try at persuading Obi-Wan that he was wrong, or if Qui-Gon would tell him he accepted Obi-Wan's view on the subject. Neither possibility promised a balm to his dissatisfaction.
The callused fingers moved up his face to stroke the hair at his temple, tucking his braid behind his ear, then resting lightly on the back of his head. "I am sorry you found your experience tonight distasteful." Qui-Gon paused, and Obi-Wan waited in silence. "I misjudged the situation, and for that I apologize."
"Hardly your fault, Master." He closed his eyes again, letting the gentle touch on his hair soothe him. If only Fortin's touch had felt so warm....
"Not entirely. But I should have been more mindful. Making love involves letting go your control, giving part of yourself to your partner, wanting to connect with them. You have a loving, generous spirit, Obi-Wan, but you have never been one to give yourself casually to anything."
Obi-Wan turned over, finally, and looked up at Qui-Gon's shadowy form. "I wish I could love the way that you do. Give of myself that way."
Qui-Gon's hand brushed across his forehead, then cupped his cheek as warm lips pressed his brow where the fingers had touched. "You do. I see you do it every day, and it fills me with joy. To be close to you is one of the greatest gifts in my life."
"My Master...." He groped for Qui-Gon's hand, felt the long fingers twine with his, then lift his hand to be kissed.
"My Obi-Wan." Another kiss, then Qui-Gon lowered their joined hands to rest on his knee. "I want to share that joy with you, show you how good being close to someone can be, how powerful the Force is in such a sharing."
"With you, Master, I would be willing to learn." He offered the words carefully. From whom he would learn anything was not his decision to make, but the gentle words and touches, the tenderness in Qui-Gon's voice, made his breath quicken.
"I should not be the only person you are close to, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon chided gently, but the brush of his thumb against Obi-Wan's palm soothed away any sting. "But I do love you."
"That's all I need," Obi-Wan whispered just before soft lips covered his. He arched up into the kiss, following when Qui-Gon pulled back. His head lifted from the pillow in the quest to keep the contact and sighed at his failure. Then the warm mouth returned for another, lingering visit, drawing him upward again in the search for a deeper taste before releasing him. At the third kiss, Qui-Gon's arm caught him around his back before he could fall back, pulling him up into Qui-Gon's lap.
The soft fabric of Qui-Gon's trousers rubbed along the back of Obi-Wan's thighs as he slid forward into his Master's embrace, straddling his waist as strong hands braced against his back and pulled him closer. He let his own fingers slide through the thick hair at Qui-Gon's temples and cup his skull. Poised like this, he and Qui-Gon were of equal height, and he used the leverage to let their kiss deepen.
Fortin had kissed him, but it felt nothing like this. They slowly explored each other's mouths, Qui-Gon guiding him, but letting him control the pace. He sighed into Qui-Gon's mouth as the warm hands moved along his back, igniting his flesh until he shivered, then soothing him. His own hands dropped to Qui-Gon's shoulders with the sudden need for even more contact against his skin. "Master?"
Wordless approval filled him, and he groaned at the strength of Qui-Gon's presence in his mind. A few sharp tugs had the tunic loose, and Qui-Gon let go long enough to shrug it off before resuming their slow loving. Obi-Wan let his senses fill with the heat of Qui-Gon's body, the salty skin beneath his lips, the solid curve of muscle under his hands, the murmurs of pleasure they shared between them at every touch. Every caress of Qui-Gon's hands on his stomach or mouth on his shoulder built his desire until he could only cling, trembling, to his Master, face buried in Qui-Gon's neck.
"Easy, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon whispered, stroking his hair, helping to reinforce Obi-Wan's control until he could straighten and kiss Qui-Gon again. "We have all the time we need."
"You aren't going to time our session?" Obi-Wan joked shakily. Acutely aware of his erection pushing into his Master's belly, he started to slide back, but Qui-Gon tugged him back, drawing the hard flesh against himself with slow, deliberate surges. Obi-Wan cried out as streaks of pure ecstasy shot through his body, lifting himself up to thrust again and again until Qui-Gon pulled him down to feel the bulging arousal press against his buttocks.
Then Obi-Wan felt himself tipping backwards, still held securely in Qui-Gon's arms as the other man laid him back on the bed. "How could I set a time limit on being with you?" Qui-Gon said, voice hoarse as he bent over Obi-Wan again. Obi-Wan could barely see him in the darkness, but felt the intense focus of Qui-Gon's gaze as it traveled down his naked body, caressing him as hotly as his hands had before. "How could Fortin resist you? How could he not feel this?"
"Master," Obi-Wan breathed. He reveled in the wash of emotion Qui-Gon let flow through their bond. So different from the distant courtesy of Master Fortin. Love, respect, support and confidence... so very much Qui-Gon. The living Force pulsed around and between them, and unable to resist its demands, Obi-Wan reached up to pull his Master back down to him.
They exchanged slow, wet kisses as Qui-Gon blanketed him, supported him, taught him, both in body and mind. Energy built and ebbed between them as their bodies responded to each other, and Obi-Wan learned what brought him pleasure and how to return it. Qui-Gon's hands, wet with the oil he had brought for them, moved over him and inside him, setting every nerve ending ablaze until Obi-Wan could wait no longer to return the favor.
Laughing at his own boldness while feeling the rightness of it, Obi-Wan urged Qui-Gon to lift his hips enough for Obi-Wan to push down the last barrier between their flesh. Qui-Gon laughed, too, and obeyed him, lifting himself up on his hands. Obi-Wan bared him quickly, then choked back a cry as Qui-Gon's weight settled back onto Obi-Wan's body, heavy erection pressed against his hip.
Qui-Gon chuckled again, voice husky. "What, don't tell me Master Fortin didn't even remove his trousers?"
"For all the good it did him, yes." Obi-Wan slid his hand down to grasp the thickening organ, smiled blissfully at the sharp intake of breath that proved Qui-Gon wanted him, was aroused by him, as much as Fortin had not. "He did."
"Even more foolish than I, then." Qui-Gon had heard the part Obi-Wan did not speak aloud, and Obi-Wan felt his displeasure with Fortin's attitude and its effect on Obi-Wan. He started to respond, but Qui-Gon hushed him with a touch. "It doesn't matter now. He is not to blame for the workings of the Force - and I am here with you now. Everything is set aright." Then his tongue swept Obi-Wan's mouth and Obi-Wan gave in to his need to wrap himself around his Master again.
He lost track of how long they made love, how often they shifted to reach the places they wanted to kiss and touch, how many times he had taken his master's shaft in his hand just for the joy of hearing him moan as Obi-Wan caressed him, or how many times they rested in each other's arms, renewing their control just enough not to finish too soon. Finally, in one of those moments, his need would not be contained further. Open mouth pressed to a broad shoulder, Obi-Wan moaned against the heated skin as two of Qui-Gon's fingers slowly stroked deep inside him. "More, Master...."
"Anything you need, Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon's voice shook as much as Obi-Wan's as he pulled his hand free and propped himself up on one elbow, feathering his fingers through Obi-Wan's hair. His leaking erection burned against Obi-Wan's stomach, and Obi-Wan marveled at how deep his Master could sink into desire without losing himself. "Just tell me."
He reached up to tangle his fingers in the long, mussed hair, palm brushing Qui-Gon's damp cheek, voice a harsh rasp. "You."
"I am yours tonight." Qui-Gon spoke sincerely, and Obi-Wan felt the truth of it surrounding him from the Force and from Qui-Gon's body. "Whatever you want, I will give you. Whatever you wish to learn, I will teach you."
Qui-Gon would give him what he would never have dared to ask from Fortin, even if he could have borne such intimacy with a stranger. His blood pounding from the knowledge, he kissed Qui-Gon hungrily, fingers digging into the firm muscle of Qui-Gon's biceps as he wrestled them both upright and reached again for the oil on the bedside table.
As he opened it, Qui-Gon gently disengaged himself from their embrace enough to turn over onto his stomach. Obeying the instincts Qui-Gon had taught him to trust, Obi-Wan caught his pillow and tenderly eased it under to cushion Qui-Gon's hips, letting his hands linger over hips and backside. He moaned at the gentle pleasure he felt almost as clearly as his own as Qui-Gon's aching erection rubbed into the softness of the pillow.
A good thing, he thought through distant bliss, that he could see only shadows of the outline of Qui-Gon's body, waiting for him. Any more visual stimulation and he would not have lasted past the first stroke of his oily fingers on his own swollen length. As it was he hung too close to the edge by the time he readied himself, slickly coated.
Breathing deeply to calm his thudding pulse, he reached out reverently to stroke the full curve of hard muscle and soft flesh. He ran his fingers along the smooth cleft, the memory of strong digits penetrating him still sharp in his body as he eased a finger into the tight opening. Warm velvet met him, soft and clinging as he took care to stretch and coat the channel as best he could before neither of them could wait any longer.
He did not need Qui-Gon's silent command to position himself between Qui-Gon's spread legs. He could hardly discern whether it was the Force or their own desperate cravings summoning him down onto Qui-Gon, into him, but then Qui-Gon's body cradled him. Safety, on the edge of exhilaration.
"Just like that." Qui-Gon groaned and stretched out his arms to grip the edge of the mattress as Obi-Wan slowly worked his way inside. With each restrained thrust, the soft passage closed around more of his shaft with a heat and pressure he had never imagined possible until he was entirely buried inside the other man.
Dizzy from the intensity of the sensation, Obi-Wan stretched himself over Qui-Gon's body, grounding himself in his Master's strong, bright presence. He slid his hands down Qui-Gon's trembling sides, then pulled back and let himself stroke slowly into Qui-Gon again. Within seconds he found himself beyond restraint, each thrust coming faster and harder until his entire body shook with the strain of the rising ecstasy. He had no control left, but it was good, because Qui-Gon had surrendered control, too, and they were careening together toward something greater than either of them.
Qui-Gon pushed up to meet each thrust, choking back his moans, the slick muscles of his back rippling beneath Obi-Wan's chest. "Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan!" he gasped, and Obi-Wan sobbed, clutching at slippery skin as his hips jerked frantically to reach the crest of the maddening pleasure. He needed to finish; he never wanted it to end. Qui-Gon's final whispered "Obi-Wan" undid him. Two last, hard thrusts and he was pumping his orgasm deep into his Master's equally convulsing body, riding out the shudders with his eyes clenched shut until at last he collapsed.
"Qui-Gon." He breathed softly against his Master's neck, feeling their bodies disengage even though he still felt deeply joined to Qui-Gon. A last shiver ran through him from the energy that hummed across and just under his skin, still trying to ignite his sated flesh. With some effort, he lifted his hand in front him; he almost expected to see it glow with the power of their joining.
He felt the lift of Qui-Gon's chest as he laughed, then turned until Obi-Wan slid off him. Qui-Gon slid the pillow out from under him and regarded it ruefully before tossing it to the floor and pulling Obi-Wan against him once more. "I'm afraid I've ruined your pillow."
"It's okay," Obi-Wan mumbled into Qui-Gon's neck. Qui-Gon tasted different now, after love, and he wanted to savor it and analyze it until he knew every flavor of passion. "You can get me another one."
A soft huff of laughter warmed his ear and Qui-Gon pinched him lightly. "Cheeky, now, are you?"
Obi-Wan lifted himself up until his lips hovered a breath above Qui-Gon's, their noses almost touching. "Get us another pillow and I'll let you find out."
Qui-Gon was still chuckling when Obi-Wan's mouth tasted his one more time before he pulled off Qui-Gon, rolling onto his back and into a full-body stretch. His Master had been right, as he nearly always was, even if his methods were often unconventional.
"I do what works, Obi-Wan. And there are days when not much can be said for convention." A lingering caress to Obi-Wan's face accompanied Qui-Gon's words, and Obi-Wan smiled with satisfaction. Fortin who?
"As always, my teacher, I bow to your wisdom." He seized the hand by his face and brought it the rest of the way to his lips, the connection between them thrumming with approval. "Teach me again."