The Jedi Temple Murders
by analise and Kirby CrowPart 9
A brass chime sent low, pealing tones throughout the sunlit garden as Obi-Wan opened the gate to the Garden of Wings. The rain had stopped and the wind blew lazily through the tops of the short, broad yannun trees, their silver-backed green leaves scintillating with the breeze, colors alternating like a field of green wheat set in the sky.
He found his master deep in the secluded garden. Obi-Wan had awakened in his room, thinking himself alone and fighting back a suddenly feeling of panic, but calming when he saw the Temple guard smiling at him from the doorway. Qui-Gon had made sure he was protected while he slept. Then the warm mental caress had enfolded him.
*In the gardens, Padawan.*
For a moment he wondered if this were the dream his master had ordered him to have, if he were really awake and walking through the lovely garden. Muddy Green shoots of fragrant liliria with their lavender clusters released gentle scent into the air, attracting swirling blue clouds of butterflies that swarmed upon the flowers, feeding upon them. The scent was irresistible to them. Even against their will or in the presence of a clear danger, butterflies would flock to a lilirai bush. *I know how those butterflies feel,* Obi-Wan thought as he followed Qui-Gon's Force-signature to the center of the garden.
He found him kneeling in meditation under a latticed roof wherein golden dappled sun filtered down through the open squares. The sun had not yet burned away the evening rain, and every leaf was endowed with a diamond sparkle of moisture. The light was behind Qui-Gon, haloing his damp hair in sparkling light, and as he rose and slowly slipped his arms around his apprentice's waist and drew him close with a reassuring smile, Obi-Wan thought to himself that he had never seen anything so beautiful in all his life.
"Mas--" he began, only to feel Qui-Gon fingers move swiftly to his lips, silencing him.
*How long have you been here?* he asked silently through their bond.
*All night, since you went to sleep.*
*In the _rain_?!*
Obi-Wan saw his master smile at the tint of outrage in his mental voice.
"Do you think I'm too old to meditate all night in the rain, Padawan? Well, you're right. I'm too old for a lot of things, including waiting any longer to do this."
A cool breeze caressed his hair, teasing his padawan braid out from his collar and flipping it up to brush against his cheek. Qui-Gon caught it in his hand and, closing his eyes, pressed a kiss to the plaited length. Obi-Wan's eyes closed on a jolt of sharp desire, and before he could open them he felt the most wondrous thing.
Qui-Gon was brushing his lips with his own. A dry, light kiss, barely making contact, yet sending sizzling lines of heat through his nerves. He groaned and his penis twitched as that heat seemed to flow down the length of him and center in his groin.
All this from a mere not-kiss. Good gods, at this rate sex with the man would kill him.
Sex. With Qui-Gon.
Qui-Gon's breath hitched in his lungs with a swiftly indrawn gasp, and Obi-Wan realized that he had picked up his thoughts.
Obi-Wan moaned again as Qui-Gon bent his neck and increased the pressure on his lips, a true kiss, mouth firmly sealed against his, tongue stealing out to lick along his teeth, wandering bravely in for a deeper taste. He shuddered as Qui-Gon abandoned all misgiving and crushed him to his body, form molding along his, pressing together, that hot tongue stabbing down into him.
He twisted and whimpered in the embrace as Qui-Gon took his mouth, laying him open completely, arousing a trembling need in him so great that his knees threatened to collapse. At last Qui-Gon pulled back.
Obi-Wan stared at him fuzzily, lust hazing his vision, his throat tight. "Master?" he murmured.
Blue eyes, blue as the butterflies that flickered in his periphery, blazed hotly only inches away, filled with a hunger that made his bones weak. But Qui-Gon made no further move towards him. Even though his hands tightened around his Padawan's shoulders, and he could feel the pounding of the other man's heart under his hands. The passion between them was almost palpable.
Qui-Gon's lips parted slightly, as if he were going to speak. Obi-Wan waited tautly, wondering if this was when his Master was going to come to his senses, if this was when this whole damn dream was going to come crashing down around his ears. He could not break eye contact and he could not move. He was caught in a limbo of anticipation. Waiting for his Master to move. To speak. Had there been a time that he hadn't wanted this so badly he could taste it?
Everything, every uncertainty, every fear. Sandor's body in the cistern, Bacco's body in the pool, Elspeth's accusations and Geen's body disappearing into the hammer of the falls...it was all pounding in his veins, feeding the flood of emotion, drowning him. A trembling was starting up in him, a mix of panic and lust. Fear and need.
The longer that Qui-Gon stared.
And suddenly he was being lifted, lifted up, hands curling under his ass, pressing the length of Obi-Wan's torso against the flat muscles of the broad chest. There were lips at his throat, covering his pulse, sucking at the soft flesh there, sending ripples of sensation up and down his body. His legs came up automatically as he was pushed back against the walled trellis, curling agilely around the lean hips, ankles hooking behind his master's buttocks. The rock-hard length that pressed almost painfully into his groin forced a whimper from his lips, his fingers digging into Qui-Gon's shoulders.
He felt the uneven roughness of the trellis at his back, the prickle of vegetation against his scalp as he let his head fall back. The blatant lust that his Master was emoting was only driving his own desires into a frenzy. He wanted nothing more than to feel the cock that pressed so hungrily into him between his lips, tasting it with his tongue and nibbling with his teeth.
The sharp gasp against his neck told him that he had been heard and suddenly he felt himself sliding down the long body, hands on his shoulders urging him downwards until he rested on his knees before his Master. He fought back a shaky grin, looking up into the beloved face and letting his hands trail up the backs of the strong thighs, curling over the muscular ass and then finding their way to the clasp of the belt, carefully avoiding the blatant bulge that sat level with his lips.
Just one of his fantasies, but perhaps one of the most titillating, he let his hands fumble at the belt even as he leaned forward and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the nubby cloth covering Qui-Gon's impressive erection. A groan from above him was his only warning before his own hands were snatched away from the belt, and short work was made of the clasp. The tunic dropped open and long fingers tugged open the lacings of the breeches in front of him. His own trembling hands returned to rest on his master's ass as the heavy, engorged weight of Qui-Gon's erection bobbed before him, freed.
Obi-Wan caught his breath at the sight, the proof that his master wanted him. So very badly. His own cock was throbbing almost painfully between his legs, and he shifted uncomfortably as he leaned forward to curl his tongue underneath the purpling crown, breathing the musky scent of arousal, trailing the point of it under and up over the leaking tip. There were tremors beneath his palms as he cupped Qui Gon's buttocks, holding him still. The trellis creaked in protest when the Jedi Master suddenly braced both arms on it, leaning forward into Obi-Wan's mouth.
Lips closed, a suction forming just over the tip, tongue still licking eagerly, suckling the sensitive glans. Slowly, he pushed the O of his mouth down the thick shaft, his jaws opening wide to take in the girth of his Master's cock, relaxing his throat to suck him in as deeply as possible before pulling back. He let his bottom teeth scrape gently along the underside, holding Qui-Gon still as he began to shake.
A cry shattered the stillness of the garden as he began move back and forth, sliding the thick cock in and out of his mouth, fingers digging into the material of Qui-Gon's breeches. He heard his master's desperate moans as he moved to cup the heavy balls in one hand and rub his thumb across the thick, textured skin, drawing back to suckle just on the tip of the stiff member in his mouth. Only when he pulled back completely to dip his head, tongue flicking out to taste the weighty flesh in his palm, did he find himself suddenly taken by the shoulders and jerked away, back from Qui-Gon's body.
Obi-Wan stared, startled, as his master knelt with him, intense blue gaze rendering him speechless and scattering his thoughts into a jumble of incoherent images. Caught suddenly again in that strong embrace, mouth being claimed by that demanding tongue as he was pressed back, down to the ground, lean, muscled body covering him completely, hot groin pushing against him.
A knee wedged between his legs, spreading him, as fingers tugged at his waist, loosening his trousers and stripping them away, pulling his own hardened penis out and stroking it.
Obi-Wan gave a single cry of distress against Qui-Gon's mouth and came as soon as he was touched, hips jerking helplessly, eyes squeezed shut and a moan of denial forcing its way past his throat as the bright world spun away for a long moment...
When he could think again, he noticed that Qui-Gon was holding him close, one hand massaging his slippery, still-hard cock, the other curled around his nape, lips to his ear and whispering reassurance.
Obi-Wan cursed foully and repeatedly under his breath, his cheeks coloring with shame, and sagged against his master, his breath shaky and uneven.
"Don't worry about it," Qui-Gon said into his ear, making him shiver.
"I'm sorry," he mumbled pressing his face into Qui-Gon's shoulder, the rough tunic against his mouth. "I can't believe I did that."
Qui-Gon chuckled, and Obi-Wan felt the heat rising in his face again before Qui-Gon's mouth sought his in a deep kiss.
"I'm not laughing at you," Qui-Gon whispered, kissing the corner of his mouth, his chin, lips sliding across his cheek. "I'm flattered."
Obi-Wan relaxed, inhaling the scent of his master's skin and luxuriating in the feel of the beloved body against his own. He gasped as Qui-Gon's fingers tightened on his cock, stepping up the rhythm. Incredibly, he felt himself grow hard again.
Qui-Gon smiled into his neck. "You're young. You can do this many times."
"Now?" Obi-Wan blurted, immediately dismayed at hearing his own hopeful tones. *Gee, beg him, why don't you? Arf arf arf...*
But Qui-Gon was nodding enthusiastically. "Absolutely now."
He watched as Qui-Gon's fingers gathered the slippery seed on his belly and from around his cock and then drew away.
A shock of desire went through Obi-Wan and he gasped as Qui-Gon hand, coated with his sperm, went to his own cock and began stroking it. The young apprentice moaned involuntarily as a painful thrum of desire centered in on his groin and stabbed at him. The sight of Qui-Gon touching himself with a hand made slippery by his own cum was incredibly erotic. It stirred him more than his fantasies ever could, shaking his soul with the reality of where he was and what he was doing. Finally, finally doing.
Qui-Gon kissed his mouth lingeringly as he stroked himself, then pulled back with a smile and urged Obi-Wan onto his side. Gentle hands stripped his trousers down his thighs and his tunic upwards, leaving him bare from chest to knees as the older man settled his large body beside him, curling around him lovingly and hugging him close, kissing the back of his neck.
Obi-Wan shivered again, his eyes wide open, drinking in the beauty of the garden, the golden bars of sunlight striking over the wall, the dappled light moving and dancing across the flowers, heavy. languid air scented with pollen
"Am I dreaming, master?" he asked, and whimpered as he felt the strong, sure hands lifting his buttocks and settling them firmly against the erection that seemed to fit naturally into curve of his ass.
"No dream, my love."
Thumbs slid down the cleft, massaging him intimately before the cum-slicked cock was pressed against his opening, nudging gently for entrance.
It was so very slow. Obi-Wan trembled and shook in Qui-Gon's arms as he was taken bit by bit, claimed with such devastating skill that he thought he might actually scream. Easing inside him with astounding gentleness, a fraction of an inch at a time, never more than he could handle, one hand pulling at his cock while the other delicately pinched his nipples, mouth busy at his neck and shoulders.
Blue butterflies flitting in front of his face, the solid feel of the earth beneath him, the fragrance of the ferns and blossoms. Obi-Wan inhaled deeply, wanting to commit it to memory, to hold it inside him forever.
Then Qui-Gon pushed forward a final time, sheathing himself fully inside his apprentice, and Obi- Wan could not repress the cry that forced its way out of him, not of pain, but of incredible joy, too much to be contained.
Tears of happiness streamed from his eyes as he reached around and pulled his master's arms around him, thrusting his body back against to take more of him, wanting all of it, wanting everything
Never had he been so tested as he was at that moment, lying there in the criss-crossed bands of shadow among the butterflies and the lavender liliria. He walked the edge of pain in his restraint, his need to simply give in to the overwhelming lust that blazed through his every nerve in a throbbing, consuming rush --his need to just let go as the young man in his feverish embrace had done only a short time before. He was surrounded by the tight heat of his Padawan's body, a clenching, squeezing furnace that milked every last ounce of control from him, held him as tightly as he held the youth in his arms. Slow, he urged himself in a chanting inner mantra.
Slowly. He wanted to last, to stretch this moment into infinity. He wanted to relish the sensation of his love's body sheathing his own, to luxuriate in the fact that there was nothing but the purest trust and joy vibrating from his beloved apprentice.
One hand came up to stroke Obi-Wan's unseen mouth, letting his finger slip between the soft lips, stroking along the swell of the lower one, feeling a tight, wet suction engulf the tip of it even as the young man began to thrust sensually against him, inching on and off of his erection. Qui-Gon bit down on the inside of his cheek almost viciously, his other hand moving to clamp down on one wanton hip, stilling it before the last of his fragile control shattered like so much cheap glass.
He considered himself an able lover. He had gathered a fair amount of experience over the years. Unlike many Jedi Masters, he had always believed that a healthy sex life was just as important as feeding the body or the mind. But nothing could have ever prepared him for how it felt to have the object of his passion, the man who had become the center of his world, writhing and gasping --and oh-so-willing-- in his arms. It was enough to deeply humble him.
The whipcord of his apprentice's body arched against him, fighting the tight hand that confined his hips.
"Please..." the whisper, so laced with passion, was more than he could fight against. Slowly. So slowly he began to thrust. Just millimeters at a time at first, his hand moving to cover the slender fingers that already engulfed Obi-Wan's throbbing cock, guiding the hand, squeezing around it, caressing both fingers and the sensitive flesh they grasped, teasing the slippery tip gently. His other arm curled around underneath the youth, clutching him tightly against his chest as he moved, thrilling to the feeling of flesh against flesh.
His breath was harsh against the softness of Obi-Wan's damp nape and he couldn't resist biting the skin gently, lapping at the salty sweat that misted in a sheen on the perfect young body.
"Please, more...harder..." The breathy moans were becoming more demanding, the quivering limbs against his more insistent. Closing his eyes, he clenched his teeth together and let himself thrust deep and hard into the willing heat, feeling the electric shock of pleasure thrum through their bond like an explosion as he scraped against that secret spot deep inside his Padawan.
The cry that lifted into the air was an animal blend of both voices, fairly vibrating with delicious need, and he almost came then and there.
Qui-Gon gave up then. Gave up any pretense of prolonging something so overwhelming and he quickly pulled out of the tight, burning fire of his apprentice's body and flipped the unresisting youth onto his back. He yanked Obi-Wan's breeches off the rest of the way almost frantically and hooked the long, sculpted legs over his forearms as he grasped his Padawan's slender hips in his hands.
He took the moment to pause, even with the haze of lust that had come down upon him like a madness, to truly *see* the youth that was spread out so perfectly before him. So beautiful. Beautiful enough to tempt a stone. Flushed face, lips pink and parted, glittering jewel-toned eyes half hidden by eyelashes that were far too thick by half. A whipcord body, toned to perfection from a lifetime of physical training was mostly exposed, trembling slightly with its need, the ecru tunic pushed up *just* over the taut nipples. His posture itself was nothing but sensuality as he begged with his very body language for completion.
"Qui-Gon..." the breathy voice was half pleading, half reproving as he twisted his body almost petulantly. His apprentice was getting impatient with the lack of attention to his state of arousal. He hid a grin and bent over Obi-Wan, sliding his big hands up the slender body until he cradled him in his arms. Then he pulled the youth up, up until they were eye to eye, Obi-Wan clutched tightly to his chest, legs well-spread and still hooked over the joint of his elbows. Poised over impalement.
He knew what would happen as soon as he set his apprentice down into his lap, and so he paused to pull a long, hot, honeyed kiss from those perfect lips, shivering at the sensation of Obi-Wan's arms snaking tightly around his neck, rubbing the rock-hard heat of his cock against Qui-Gon's belly.
It was too much to bear. Without removing his mouth from his Padawan's, he pushed him down, sliding back inside the slick heat with a single thrust.
The howl that ripped from Obi-Wan's mouth was echoed by his Master and his chest felt tight as he began to thrust up into the youth, barely remembering to breathe. Harder and harder, the older man's head falling back to expose his throat, his hands tight and merciless on his apprentice's hips, Obi-Wan's cock grinding between the friction of their sweat slick bodies.
Even with his lust driving him to distraction, it was still Obi-Wan who exploded first in a hot, throbbing spasm that smeared thickly against both heaving torsos. But it was the almost painful clenching of the muscles that clamped around his cock as his lover came that was the final straw.
The last vestige of his control was ripped from him effortlessly and he let it go, starbursts of light exploding behind his tightly shuttered eyes as he thrust and thrust and thrust.....
They stayed like that for a long, long moment. Qui-Gon cradling his Padawan to him, unmoving, his face buried in the youth's neck, feeling the scratch of stubble against his collarbone and the damp heat of soft breath puffing against his skin.
And then he tumbled them bonelessly back to the ground, pulling Obi Wan with him, wrapping his arms tightly around his lover and simply glorying in the reality of the moment.
Padawan. Lover. Obi-Wan.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12