Archive: Written for the Dead Padawans Society (http://www.ravenswing.com/DPS/)
Yes to other lists I post it to, if you want it, that is.
Archive Date: February 12, 2001
Category: POV, angst
Disclaimer: Lucas is Good, Lucas is God. He owns Star Wars, and the
entire universe within it. I, on the other hand, am a lowly snivelling
wretch, and I own nothing.
Rating: NC-17
Summary: A Jedi must do his duty, no matter what the cost
Warnings: YES!!!!
Very much so. Character death. Much angst between partners. Hurt, no
comfort and no happy endings.
In a Jedi's life there is duty and there is responsibility. Sometimes there is love. I have been fortunate to find the latter, even if only briefly. Duty has always held the first place in my heart.
Another successful mission over, and my apprentice will soon be a Knight. Shoulder to shoulder we stand on my balcony to watch the fading of the day. It's a habit of ours, one I learned at my own Master's side. No matter how bright the day, the light is never more glorious than in the last few moments before it dies.
The sunset turns his hair ruddy, gentling the stong lines of his jaw, and purpling the shadows of his face. He smiles at me, a little shy perhaps, but not nervous. He is confident, and why not? He has done well today. Tonight... tonight I take my Padawan as my lover.
He sighs happily as the last bright flare of golden fire is snuffed out and he turns to me, joy and expectation lighting up his eyes. Tentatively he reaches up to brush the stray hair away from my face, and then, finding no resistance, slips his hand round to the back of my head to grasp the knot in my hair and pull me towards him. I let him set the pace. Until the dawn, this night is for him.
His lips are as soft as I knew they would be, his tongue as sweet. He pulls away from my mouth and begins to kiss every inch of my face, nuzzling my soft beard, and gently licking his way down my neck.
"I've dreamed of tasting you, Master," he breathes. "I want to feel you on my lips, on my tongue, in the back of my throat." The whisper against my neck sends shivers of delight and terror straight to my groin.
He tips his head up to take my mouth again, and I pull him towards me. I crush his body to mine, longing to crawl inside him, to meld his body to mine as if desire alone could fuse us together. He feels so right in my arms.
It hurts, now, to realise that my first instincts were correct. The boy should never have been trained. Despite my Master's wishes, he should have been left on that forsaken planet to eke out whatever existence he could make for himself. It would have been a kindness. The last few years have been a joy but this night, I fear, may break me.
I long to give him everything he deserves, everything he desires. I cannot. All I can give is what is in my power to give; my love, my body, myself, and one more night of life.
I bend and cover his mouth with mine again. His eyes are closed, the long lashes I have always thought wasted on a warrior brushing his cheek. Impulsively, I kiss the soft lids which slide slowly open, rain grey eyes reflecting nothing but love and joy. His mouth quirks with mischief as he parts my robes, shucking the soft cloth over my shoulders, joyful at finally reaching the forbidden. Long strong fingers map my body, as I in return begin to chart the unexplored reaches of my Padawan's body.
My heart clenches inwardly at the unfairness of it all, that he should suffer, that we both should suffer, for something that has not even happened yet. It is coming though, I have seen it. I am not much of a prophet, but enough of one to have glimpsed the horror that lies ahead.
I have seen the future for my Padawan, and there is nothing of light there, nothing of joy. It is all Darkness. I see him screaming in rage as his lightsabre flashes, to be met by another 'sabre. I see his eyes darken from the madness of grief into determination. I see him cursing and swearing vengeance.
He murmurs gently to me now, nothing but soft entreaties on those lips, in between the burning kisses he brands on my cool skin. The trail of fire blazes down my body, sparks flying ahead, the brush of his lips so hot I swear it leaves cinders. His voice is a whisper of flame, heating my blood beyond bearing.
"Come to bed, Master."
There have been whispers around the Temple, dark rumours, unlucky omens, and visions of terrible destruction. We have all felt it. Something bad is coming, and soon. No-one seems to know where the destruction will come from, but I have seen the way Yoda sometimes watches my Padawan sadly, as if he knows something, something he will not speak of.
I am watching him now as he slides his leggings down in one smooth movement, and then sitting on the bed, kicks them away. He rubs his palms against his thighs distractedly, then glances up at me and smiles. I am momentarily frozen before my fumbling fingers find the fastenings of my own pants. He watches me now, and those impossibly long lashes lower to hood his eyes as I undress.
My mouth is dry, my palms are damp, and I don't know if I can do this.
He lies there splayed for me, the invitation clear. Moonlight through the window casts a blue sheen over his pale skin. The only colours are the dark snake of his braid accross his chest, the bruised circles of his nipples, rising and falling with each careful breath, and the flushed flesh at his groin in its nest of fiery gold. As I gaze at him, his legs fall further open, and he reaches down to trace the outline of his opening with one long finger. Where did my Padawan learn to tease like this?
My hands reach out worshipfully. I pay homage to my Padawan's strength in each hard muscle of his arms, to his determination in each ripple of his belly, to his courage in the beating of his heart beneath my lips.
My fingers move purposefully downwards. I capture the hard length of him, warm and smooth in my calloused palm, and let him thrust blindly. His eyes are closed, but his mouth is open, panting. I kiss the small furrows of concentration on his brow, as I have so often longed to do.
I will be everything I can be to my Padawan tonight; Master, lover, and deliverer. I will be strong for him. I grip him hard and he gasps, sliding against me, pushing, grinding, racing towards his release. He comes with a throaty growl, pulsing into my hand.
"That was just the appetiser, my love," I smile. "Now for the feast."
He nods, too undone to speak for the moment. My erection feels heavy and I want to bury my need inside him, but I have so many things I want to do for my love, and only one night.
My hands do not tremble as I slick the fingers with the rich oil and begin, gently, to anoint his body. I massage him front and back, soothing, smoothing, sometimes kneading, and then gently teasing until he is golden and glowing and writhing with need. Its a picture to warm long cold lonely nights.
"Master..." he moans. "I'm empty and aching and I need you inside me to make me complete..."
The liquid spill of oil down the cleft of his buttocks makes him gasp. I follow the trail with my fingers, gently pressing in. I don't know if he's done this before. There is so much I have yet to discover about my lover and so little time. He is so eager, so bright with life, pushing back against me. That little frown of concentration re-appears as he consciously relaxes, allowing me to slip two fingers easily inside him. I take my time, there's no need to hurry this, although he seems to have other ideas, pleading with me for more. I slow even further. It's not cruelty. I want this to be the most beautiful night of his life.
He is lost, his words subsiding into moans. I wonder if I could make him come just the way he is, kneeling on my bed with his legs spread and my fingers delving within him, but I want to be there with him. I slick my erection and move, but he anticipates me and rolls.
"Like this," he says somewhat croakily, laying back and pulling his knees up. "I've waited for this so long. I want to see you, naked and vulnerable as you come, my Master... my lover."
I cannot deny him this, despite my fears of what he may see when my defences are stripped away. The joining is... more than I could ever have imagined. It's a completion, a recognition, a coming home; and I push the dread to the back of my thoughts as we race each other to our climax. His hands reach out for me. I realise I have grabbed his braid and am pulling him up towards me. So good, so beautiful and the distant roaring noise I hear is my blood pounding, and his cries, and my own voice shouting his name as I pour myself inside him.
Too liquid to move we lie in a tangle of limbs. He is still gasping, sweat curling short fronds of hair at his temple. I still have his braid curled around my fingers. I try to remember some of my other plans for tonight, but my mind is almost deliberately blank, and I drop into a light doze.
Dark clouds swirl all around him. He treads warily through the shattered remnants of the great Jedi Temple on Coruscant. He strides purposefully through a scorched city, sparing no thought for the broken bodies lying crumpled in the rubble. He is walking away from the smouldering ruins of a great palace, some stolen treasure hidden in his arms, his red-rimmed eyes distant and hard. The thick greasy smoke rises behind him in a writhing column and thankfully obscures my vision. I can look no more. I blink, to clear my eyes of soot, and find I am blinking away my own tears.
I try to hide my distress, but he feels it, the connection between us burning so brightly now. He moves to soothe me, wrapping his arms around me and pulling my head to rest upon his chest. I can hear his heart beating.
"Is something wrong, my Master?" His hands stroke my back.
I shake my head. "Nothing." I close my eyes and breathe in the sweet warm scent of him. "Overwhelmed, perhaps."
He grunts his agreement. "This day has been more than usually interesting."
He touches my face gently, a thumb rubbing accross my cheek, as if he almost expected to feel tears. I can sense his growing uncertainty, brought on, no doubt, by my unexpected vulnerability. It has surprised him, I think, to see a Jedi Master brought so undone by the simple act of lovemaking, but you cannot get so close to another person without the mask slipping somewhat. I cannot let the mask slip any further.
I capture a finger with my mouth and suck on it, hard. His eyes grow smoky once more, desire replacing the confusion.
"Fuck me," I say, releasing the captured finger. "Please."
His face shows his surprise, and growing eagerness.
"Are you sure?" he asks. "You seem..."
I nod. "I want this."
He pulls my head up and kisses me before pushing me back onto the bed and beginning to work his tongue down my body. I cradle his precious head in my hands, feeling my eyes fall closed as he finally reaches his destination. Oh my love. It feels so good to have him enfolding me in his light, his heat, yet I cannot bring myself to full arousal.
At last I can bear it no longer, but push him away and flip onto my belly, spreading my legs.
"Please..."
Obedient to the last he moves to please me. He rubs my back, running his hands over my hard bones and curves. As he moves behind me and spreads my cheeks I lower my head to the pillow and rest it on my elbows. The snail's trail of his tongue parts me, flicking the bud I so want him to touch, and then more firmly pushing, probing. I shiver. No-one has ever touched me there like this, and no-one ever will again. I moan softly.
He slides a slick finger inside me, and as if it were a key opening a lock, the floodgates open and I begin to weep silently. I press back against him, despairing, and desperate for more. If he sees my shoulders shaking, let him think it is my undoubted desire for him.
More fingers spread me gently. He takes care, my well trained Padawan, ever mindful of my comfort. I am gasping into the pillow, strange sounds I do not recognise spilling from my lips. I want this so much, a memory of a feeling of a joy so big that it threatens to tip my whole purpose in life awry and divert me from my duty. A memory to take with me into the long lonely years that stretch ahead of me.
"Now, Padawan. I want you in me now."
"No," he says, to my despair. "Not until you tell me..."
"Please, if you love me. If you ever loved me, just fuck me now. You will understand in the morning."
Oh yes, a number of things will become very plain in the morning. I feel a kiss, soft as sunshine on my shoulder before he moves to obey me.
I am slick and stretched and very, very ready. He slips in. A pause to let me settle while he kneads the small of my back, and then he presses in further. I push back. I want him to know how eager I am for this, how willing. How much I love and want him.
We rock gently at first. The movements of his hands and the soft brush of his braid along my back are both soothing and stimulating at the same time. I find myself growing hard again, and gasp as he takes my hardness in his hand. I rock between his body and the bed, his hand gently pumping my cock as we seal our desire.
His breathing is ragged, his words just a meaningless jumble as he presses kisses on my back. I can sense he is reaching the end of his endurance. Oh my love. My climax, when it comes, almost takes me by surprise, flooding gently from me like a cup overflowing, spilling softly over the sheets. He follows just behind me, as always.
We lie together. He smiles at me one last time, his face lighting up the night, before he drifts into sleep, sated and secure. I lie awake, keeping vigil throughout this longest night of my life. He feels so right in my arms.
I don't know why he will turn. I can scarcely believe it of him, my apprentice seems so much a part of the Light. All I know is that I have seen the Darkness all around him, and I know that I am right. This must be prevented at all costs.
It is a Master's duty to raise their Padawan into the Light, It is a Master's responsibility to take steps to prevent a fall to the Dark. I know that I am right, that this is the right thing to do. I will allow no other to perform this task.
I watch him sleep. Occasionally dreams stir the eylashes into a flickering dance. I wonder what he sees. He smiles in his sleep, the mobile lips stretching gently to light up his face. It is as if the sun had already risen. I don't know what he dreams of but he whispers, once.
"Master..."
It must be soon, before he wakes with the dawn. I don't know if this is the darkest deed I have ever done, or the noblest. I won't sully a Jedi weapon with the blood of an innocent man; nor will I soil his body with the cursed blade of the Sith. The knife is small and sharp, and the end will be swift.
I knew today as I lay there stunned, watching my apprentice battle the red and black monstrosity in my stead, that his life could now be measured in moments, or in hours, but no more. This would be his trials. If he failed, I would have to fight the Sith. If he triumphed, then the moment I have been dreading for months would be upon me.
At last the sky begins to grey towards dawn. I would hold back this sunrise if I could, stop the whole world turning for just one more hour of watching my Padawan breathe gently in his sleep. Obi-Wan loves to watch the dawn with me, but he will not see this one.
The hour has come.
Softly I trace the contours of his face, the strong line of his jaw and the softness of his lips. He twitches slightly, a movement like a kiss against my fingers. I don't want him to see me do this. I don't want him to feel any pain. I wish... I wish I could have one last kiss, but I fear to wake him. My hand slides down to his chest, my fingers dipping to feel the strong beat of his heart.
The knife slips in.
Too late. He is awake and jerking into action as the pain and the shock hit him. His hands reach up to push the knife away, but it is too late. All too late.
My body presses over him, restraining his thrashing. His heart gives one final shuddering beat and stops. He stares at me in shock, a little blood trickling from the side of his mouth from where he has bitten his lip. I fasten my lips on his, stifling any scream, trying to swallow his pain and his horror, drink down all the anger at this betrayal, sucking him dry as his lungs try uselessly to drag in air.
He tries to gather the Force to him. He is so strong, but caught unawares, he cannot stand against me.
Don't struggle, please don't struggle, I beg him silently. This is so hard. Please don't make it harder on yourself.
Finally he stills. I hold him. He has always felt so right in my arms.
"Look, Obi," I say, my voice sounding odd and broken to my ears. "The sun is risen. Light has conquered the Dark again."
Obi-Wan says nothing. There is no answering dawn upon his face. I hold his cooling body against me and rock him gently, too numb to weep.
"There, there, Padawan. It's better this way. Everything will be all right now."
It's not all right. It never will be all right again, but my instinct is to comfort him anyway. My fingers ghost over his pale cheeks, his chin, his lips, wiping away the last remnants of his blood. I close his sightless eyes, unable to bear the mute accusation there any longer.
He looks like he's sleeping now.
I cut his braid. A Padawan such as he was, close to his trials, falling bravely in defence of the Light, will be given a posthumous Knighthood. Truly, he deserves it. Deserved it, rather.
All I can tell myself, to ease the aching despair, is that I have lived for my duty, and now I have fulfilled it.
It is not enough.