Author's Webpage: http://come.to/prillalar
Beta Goddess & Wrangler Extraordinaire: Laura Shapiro
Disclaimer: SW belongs to George Lucas, not me. I do not
profit in any way by this story.
Pairing: Q/O (Lu/Wedge)
Rating: R
Series: The Thousand Nights Nights and One Knight
Summary: In which master and Padawan search their feelings.
Luke blinked awake and sat up against the pillows. Lighting a candle, he smiled drowsily and brushed his fingers across his lips. Then he leaned over and kissed Wedge, small, nibbling kisses along his jaw line and behind his ear. "Wedge," Luke whispered, "wake up."
"Mmm." Wedge struggled up on his elbows and yawned just as Luke tried to kiss him. "What is it?"
"I had another dream." Luke stroked the hair back from Wedge's forehead. "You said you wanted to hear the next one."
Wedge rubbed his eyes. "Yeah, OK."
"It was strange. There was Ben...Obi-Wan, but he was young. Maybe twenty? With spiky short hair and this long braid. And his master, Qui-Gon Jinn. He was--"
"A tall man, with strong features, and long hair pulled away from his face," Wedge put in.
"How did you know that?"
"I've seen pictures of him, from the Republic days -- in my father's house on..." He didn't continue. Luke reached out and took his hand.
"So, Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon were doing a routine training exercise."
Obi-Wan swiped his sleeve across his forehead and searched for an opening as he and Qui-Gon circled each other warily. Obi-Wan feinted, ducked, and grabbed Qui-Gon's shoulder. Next thing he knew, he was flat on his back on the mat.
"You must do better, Obi-Wan." Obi-Wan suddenly wanted to wipe that smug look off of Qui-Gon's face. "And control your anger."
First allowing himself one more brief flare, Obi-Wan closed his eyes to centre himself. Then he stood and tried again. And found himself on the mat, slammed harder than before.
Obi-Wan studied Qui-Gon, trying to devise some plan of offence, trying to find a weakness. What he saw was his master, hair pulled back in a thick braid, face barely sheened with sweat. Broad shoulders and narrow hips under the white gi. Bare feet. Inscrutable expression.
"Trust your instincts, Padawan."
Instincts. He jumped to his feet and darted in. Taking hold, he felt muscle roll under his hand, smelt the tang of Qui-Gon's exertion and his own stronger stink. He was thrown again. And again. Lying there, he heard the hammering of blood in his ears, tasted defeat in his mouth.
"Focus, Obi-Wan. You must have clarity." A trace of annoyance tinged Qui-Gon's words. "Be mindful of your feelings and let your body follow."
Once again, Obi-Wan tried to find the quiet space within. Why was this so difficult today? Locking his gaze with his master's, he searched inside himself, began to focus his feelings. And, like a sun's rays through a lens, they burned him. Turning away, he rose, took his stance. He couldn't let his body follow those feelings. Surely Qui-Gon could sense them.
Surely he could. Obi-Wan found himself thrown over and over, buffeted by the breakers of some stormy ocean. Then the seventh wave rolled over him and he skidded along the mat, scraping his cheek.
He looked up. Qui-Gon's chest heaved, a drop of sweat ran down his cheek, his fingers curled. "Go to your quarters, Obi-Wan." The words were flat, toneless. "Quiet yourself and meditate. We will have this lesson again tomorrow." Turning his back, Qui-Gon went to the door and opened it, but didn't leave, just waited for Obi-Wan to pick himself up and go.
Passing his master, Obi-Wan had a sudden urge to twist his fists into Qui-Gon's jacket, to try for one more throw. But the small, sane part of him kept him from acting out his death wish.
In his rooms, Obi-Wan lit candles and burned incense as he drew a bath. Stripping off his gi, he washed away the sweat and dust, plunging his head beneath the cool water for as long as he could hold his breath.
It didn't help. Dressed in a white robe, he paced the floor, unable to meditate, unable to concentrate. No need to search his feelings when they consumed him.
He must get control. Kneeling, he began a litany, but the words that fell from his lips were not the ones that swirled in his brain. He could not, could not feel this passion. This was his master, not another apprentice to play with.
The door chimed. Obi-Wan stood too quickly and the blood rushed from his head. "Come." The door swished open. It was Qui-Gon.
The blood was taking a long time in returning to Obi-Wan's brain and he barely kept himself from swaying. "Master."
"May I enter?"
"Of course." A lump of ice suddenly formed in Obi-Wan's gut and began melting into acid. He'd expected this, but not so soon.
Striding in, Qui-Gon stood in front of Obi-Wan, laying a strong hand on his shoulder. "I hurt you," he said. "I'm sorry." Obi-Wan frowned, off-balance yet again. Cool fingers touched his cheek and the scrape began to burn. Or maybe that was his whole face. "You should put something on that." Qui-Gon picked up a jar from a shelf and spread ointment over the scrape. It tingled. Obi-Wan closed his eyes until he felt Qui-Gon move away.
"Thank you."
"Did I disturb you?"
Obi-Wan stared at Qui-Gon, then realised what he meant. "No, I was trying to meditate but not really succeeding."
"What's troubling you?" Qui-Gon waited as Obi-Wan said nothing. "Tell me, Obi-Wan."
Qui-Gon surely knew already. "You are." Obi-Wan turned his back. "My feelings for you. They're...inappropriate." He paced away. "They're wrong." Spinning, he paced back, then stopped short. "This must happen all the time." Shame, embarrassment, stupid, stupid, stupid. "Every apprentice must fall in love with his master." He dropped onto the low couch. "I'll get over it. I promise."
"It's true. An apprentice often does fall in love with his master." Qui-Gon sat too and took Obi-Wan's chin in a firm grip, turning his Padawan to face him. "But it's rare that a master falls in love with his apprentice."
Obi-Wan drew his breath in sharply, transfixed by Qui-Gon's gaze. Blue eyes, laser blue like Obi-Wan's own lightsaber. Danger blue. Qui-Gon bent his head and Obi-Wan knew that they were about to... No. Pulling free, he jumped to his feet. "What are you saying? Are you humouring me?"
"I'm saying that I love you." Qui-Gon stood.
Quicksilver joy and dread spun through Obi-Wan. "So that means...that you have to drop me as your Padawan."
"No." Qui-Gon walked towards Obi-Wan, all calm and peace except for his flashing eyes.
"It means there's some training rule that says we can't have a relationship."
Taking Obi-Wan's face in his hands, Qui-Gon pressed their foreheads together. "No."
"It means that this would be a very bad idea?"
"No." Qui-Gon's breath was warm. "It means this." And kissed him.
It was a terrible kiss. Their teeth cracked together and their noses bumped and they made a sound like water draining down a clogged sink and Obi-Wan wound his fingers into Qui-Gon's hair, finding his still centre at last.
The second kiss was soft, tentative, slight pressure of mouth on mouth. Hardly a taste. Qui-Gon's thumb stroked Obi-Wan's cheekbone.
Three was the charm. They found the fit, felt the rhythm. Under his tongue, Qui-Gon tasted of the spice he chewed. Obi-Wan sucked in his master's lower lip. The kiss was languid, slow. They kissed until they were in the bedroom, kissed until their robes fell to the floor, kissed until they lay together in the narrow bed.
Gradually, they learned the shape and feel of each other's bodies. Obi-Wan found the spot below Qui-Gon's ear that made his master gasp. And Obi-Wan shivered when Qui-Gon kissed his navel, soft hair spilling over his belly. Stretching out, they pressed together, slid, rocked, and the blood thrummed in Obi-Wan's ears as he climaxed. Qui-Gon kissed Obi-Wan's cheek, almost a bite, then shuddered against him.
Years of training paid off in hours of stamina. Through the patient night they schooled each other and Obi-Wan was delighted to find he had things to teach his master. After Qui-Gon arched his back and bit his lip until he could no longer keep from crying out, Obi-Wan began to laugh. He'd thrown Qui-Gon at last.
The candles guttered before they had taken their fill. In darkness, they fell asleep together, Obi-Wan's heart beating against Qui-Gon's back. Before he drifted off, Obi-Wan spoke into his master's sleeping ear. "I think I can concentrate now."
"And that's when I woke up."
Wedge propped himself onto his side. "That was nice. But sappy."
Luke tugged on his lover's hair. "Not sappy. A Jedi must be in touch with his feelings. In tune with his inner self."
"You're telling me a Jedi has to get off to be in tune with his inner self?"
"Well, it helps..."
"Still, it could have been more explicit. More rough and ready."
"You think?"
In one swift moment, Wedge rolled on top of Luke, pinning his hands above his head. "I think."
The candle went out. Luke breathed deeply, feeling the warm weight against him. "Show me, Wedge."
So he did.