Notes: *Sigh* - have I mentioned before how much I dislike writing first-time stories? :) Yes, I know that I'm the only one, too, in the history of slash. I don't mind *reading* them. Isn't that enough?
For LS, just because she asked. Several times. Very nicely. :)
Pairing: Q/O
Rating: R. A poetic allegory of sex. Or something like that.
Series: Sixth in "Twin Destinies"; sequel to "Careful", "The Final Lesson", "Bonds", "Ceremonial Masks", and "A Precious Imbalance"
Spoilers: Pre-"Phantom Menace", no spoilers.
Summary: The 'first-time' scene between Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan, snipped from "Bonds".
Warnings: I don't use betas. :( Any mistakes are solely my fault and the fault of my *#^&@ spellcheck.

Obi-Wan stood awkwardly in front of his Master, unsure of why Qui-Gon had suddenly asked him to stay. It was late at night; all around them was only the silence of a sleeping household. He had already said good-night to Qui-Gon, and had expected to go from there to his own sleeping- chamber, but Qui-Gon had stopped him, drawing him into the still quiet of his room.

"Padawan, I believe that there is something that we need to discuss," Qui-Gon started, smiling gently at him.

"Yes, Master?"

"I was wondering if there was anything that you wanted to tell me." He hesitated for a moment, and then continued. "Because of the nature of our bond, we can have no real secrets, and yet - I would never intrude on anything that I felt you wanted to keep private."

Obi-Wan, sensing the nature of what Qui-Gon wanted to discuss with him, suddenly found a spot on the floor in front of him very interesting. "Yes, Master. I know that."

"I will keep that promise, but - I have felt a disturbance in you, for some time. I know that you would come to me if you needed help, but - " He smiled, again, bending his head a little to catch Obi-Wan's eye. "Is there anything you would like to talk about, Padawan?"

Fighting the urge to shift his weight nervously, Obi-Wan let several moments pass, hoping that some miracle would occur - the sky falling, the floor beneath his feet opening up. Nothing happened, except the passage of time. Finally, he sighed. He knew that Qui-Gon wouldn't push him, would allow him to leave if he were only to say 'no', that there was nothing that he wanted to discuss. But it would be between them; apparently, it was already between them, and he had just pretended not to see it. "Yes, Master. I suppose there is."

Qui-Gon nodded, silently.

Calling upon the last reserves of his wits, Obi-Wan started to speak. "I find, lately, that I have been - having difficulty controlling myself, Master. I have been learning my lessons, watching you, practicing, learning about the Force - during the day. But I have also been leaving our quarters at night, to find companionship, with friends, sometimes with boys I barely knew." He shook his head. "I don't know what is wrong with me, Master," he said, finally daring to raise his eyes a little. Qui-Gon was regarding him very seriously. "I know that if I were a true Jedi Knight I would be able to control my feelings, and that this is another test put before me, and yet - my body seems to be betraying me."

"Have you found happiness with someone, Padawan?"

Obi-Wan shook his head. "I have been happy, at times, but it is always fleeting. I always feel that there is something - something that I am missing. Some truth that is eluding me. I close my eyes - I can lose myself in another's touch - and yet, when I open my eyes again, there is just myself." He paused, a frown in his eyes. "Can you help me, Master? Teach me what it is I should be learning from this lesson? I know that there must be something, but I cannot seem to discover what it is on my own."

Qui-Gon nodded. "I may be able to, Padawan," he said. "If you are very sure that that is what you want."

"Yes, Master, it is."

"First," Qui-Gon said, "I can reassure you that you are not unique in what you are going through. Every Jedi - every human - goes through this same rite of passage."

Obi-Wan nodded, and could not resist the opportunity in front of him. "Did you?"

"I did." He chuckled. "I remember," he said, his eyes far away, his smile slightly sad. Then he shook his head, and said, "Do you remember what you were taught at the academy about the Code of the Jedi?"

"Of course, Master," Obi-Wan said, puzzled by the sudden shift of topic. "Every day, we recited it: 'There is no emotion; there is peace. There is no ignorance; there is knowledge. There is no passion - '" he stopped, for a moment, stumbling slightly over the words "' - there is serenity. There is no death - '"

"'There is the Force'," Qui-Gon finished, nodding. "Do you believe that?"

"Yes, Master."

"And what have you learned from it?"

Obi-Wan started. He had never been asked that question before; the Code was something that he never thought about, just accepted as Truth. "I - I suppose that a true Jedi knows how to control himself and his feelings, Master, and uses that control as a mastery of the ways of the Force." He spoke almost in a questioning way, waiting for Qui-Gon's reaction.

"I see that we should have had this discussion sooner, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said, with a gentle humour in his voice. "This afternoon - "

"Master," Obi-Wan interrupted, his face flushing anew.

"No, Padawan," Qui-Gon stilled him. "This afternoon," he started again, "after we were successful in our battle, you put your arms around me, very tightly. I want to know what you felt in that moment."

Obi-Wan was unable to speak, unable to put into words either what he felt at the time of that hug - which had been so spontaneous, so perfect for their moment of victory, to affirm their tandem movements in battle with one of gentleness, away - or now. He sat, mute, trying to think of something to tell his Master, some way to explain his clouded thoughts - disturbing as they were, and so familiar.

Finally, Qui-Gon took pity on him. He moved, slowly, and took Obi-Wan's chin in one strong hand, pulling him close. Startled, the apprentice stared at his Master, closing his eyes only when the lips came down upon his.

The kiss seemed to last several eternities - Obi-Wan had a clear vision of himself growing very old, white-haired, with this man beside him, still looking exactly as he did at this moment. He breathed without knowing how he was doing so, only knowing that not to do so would mean that the kiss would end.

They broke apart, Obi-Wan still stunned into immobility, wondering what sort of dream could catch him so startlingly awake as he was.

Qui-Gon smiled at him, again. "You still have nothing to say, Padawan?"

"Master - "

Qui-Gon tilted the youth's chin up, with his hand. His lips glistened in the half-light. "You have merely to walk away, Obi-Wan, and your feelings will be known. You put your apprenticeship with me in no danger by doing so."

The boy swallowed, hard. "You know my feelings, Master."

"Do I?"

The smile on his elder's face emboldened the young Jedi apprentice. "Yes," he said, his voice gaining in strength. He stood straighter as he spoke, Qui-Gon noted with approval in his eyes.

"Then you choose to stay with me tonight?"

"Yes."

Qui-Gon nodded his head again. "Yes," he echoed.

He leaned his head back and opened his mouth, wide, drawing in the clear, cold air of the night into his lungs, the searing, chill air startling - almost painful - but welcome. It made him feel real, somehow - alive, awake, aware.

Qui-Gon's hands were warm against his stomach, and he was being kissed and undressed simultaneously - a warm trail of spittle already crossed his chest, from one taut, rosy-brown nipple to the other. He raised his arms without being asked, one at a time, the tan tunic was pulled off, the sash long ago dropped to the floor, making a light puddle on top of the dark brown of his cloak. His boots already lay in a far corner, shed with more urgency than grace, until his Master's hands had stilled him, opening his eyes to the Truth.

'There is no emotion; there is peace.'

He reached forward with his fingers, feeling the full weight of the long hair, streaked here and there with a touch of silver, which glinted in the dim light. He wondered at its presence, never having noticed it before, and bent his head down, kissing the crown of the fine head, drawing in a rich lungful of the scent of his Master, brushing his lips down until he reached warm, slightly salty skin on Qui-Gon's forehead. He kissed eyebrows, eyelashes over the warm orb of a closed eye, down the cheek to the soft bristle of beard. His Master turned his head, lifted it slightly, and he found lips pressed against his, and then they opened, drew him inside, welcomed him.

Hands, strong, sure, pressed against his back. He had to break away, had to breathe again of the cold night air, and that mouth, which was stilling something in the very core of his body, stilling him so that he would know, continued where it had left off, against his chest, his stomach, his navel. Qui-Gon's mind whispered words against his flesh that he would remember forever, even if the world were to stop the instant they stopped touching.

That seeking mouth found another barrier - cloth, around his waist, down his legs. He held his breath, just for a moment, until the fastenings were undone, and he felt the soft slide of fabric, and then nothing. They were staring at each other - Qui-Gon was staring at him, looking at him, and Obi-Wan realized that he wasn't breathing, either, and then it was all right. He smiled, held his hands out, and caught his Master as he fell - as they fell, together.

'There is no ignorance; there is knowledge.'

Skin held a language all its own; it spoke of smoothness and rough friction, night-air-chill and heat, arid expanses tasted and moistened, hollows that fit a single kiss or dozens, scattered like petals, blown away in a breath. He listened, learned gasp and moan and plea, and gave away patience like sighs. Heat filled him, pushed its way outside of his body, out of his pores and his mouth and his eyes. He held on with hands and mouth and thighs, offered a tentative, questioning demand, and was obeyed. It was all delight - it hurt, it made him weep, it was too much, it wasn't enough.

They stilled. His Master held him until he could breathe, until he stopped asking why and how, until he stopped shivering from the cold and from the heat, until he stopped being afraid of the answers. Kisses grounded him, stilled the trembling, connected him, gave him focus. He felt the sleeping-couch hard and unyielding against his back, his Master's mouth low on his body, and closed his eyes, reaching out, blind.

'There is no passion; there is serenity.'

There were flashes of bright light against his eyelids, red and white against the blackness that surrounded him; his hands were grasping at the air, convulsively; his legs, tensed cord of muscle, unwilling to let go - of what, he did not know. Qui-Gon was speaking to him, broad hands on his thighs, asking him, over and over, and again and again he shook his head. He could not let go, he would not let go.

The breath came against his ear. "Open your eyes."

He shook his head.

"Padawan...open your eyes."

Slowly, cautiously, he let in a sliver of light, banishing the darkness. Qui-Gon's face hovered, an inch above his own, his mouth breathing air directly into his lungs. He gasped, suddenly, warm air flooding his body, dizzying him. A deep kiss centred him, drawing the breath from his lungs, and back in again, gently. They repeated this kiss of life over and over, until he was no longer gasping, and his arms and legs finally felt light, as feathers.

He watched, eyes open, as his Master made his slow way once again down his body, whispering over and over softly against his flesh, and this time he heard - two words, repeated:

"thank you"

'There is no death; there is the Force.'

He breathed deeply as he came, threw his arms wide open, his body suddenly the connection of his Master with himself, the air that surrounded them, the light, the Force, all of it. He felt each molecule, separately, the rush of energy that surged and abated, leaving him breathless, because breathing had no meaning. He just was.

He awoke with his head buried in softness - not a pillow, but his Master's hair.

He didn't move, didn't open his eyes, just waited, breathing.

The rough-edged voice, heavy with the late hour, made him smile. "Padawan."

He always knew; he had always known, right from the first. Obi-Wan opened his eyes. "Master." There was no blanket covering them, but he was warm. He watched, to see what would happen.

Qui-Gon smiled. "You have a thousand questions in your eyes, Padawan."

He shook his head. "No, Master. Just one."

Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow. "Only one?"

"Yes, Master."

"And what is that one question, Obi-Wan?"

He turned his head and rested it in the centre of Qui-Gon's bare chest and breathed, still, listening to his Master's heart beat strong next to his ear, a soothing sort of music. The sadness which would always be his, from that day forward, stole away part of his voice. Finally, the silence drawn out it its finest edges, he asked the air, "How long?"

There was no answer, just a heart beat strong next to his ear.

Back to SWA-L Archive