Archive: M_A, SWAL, our homepages only
Archive Date: November 09, 1999
Category: angst, first-time
Disclaimer: We don't own them, George does. We're not profiting from them, either.
Feedback: yes, please, any comments welcome.
Notes: This little story began as a round-robin collaboration of sorts on #tpm. We all hope that you will enjoy it.
Pairing: Q/O
Rating: NC-17
Summary: A miscommunication on a diplomatic mission leads to temporary hurt feelings.

Concern made Qui-Gon wade into the lake, following in his errant Padawan's path. The water did nothing to cool Qui-Gon's overheated skin or soothe his mind. Obi-Wan had been notably silent and withdrawn ever since their arrival, to the point that he had not even protested Qui-Gon leaving him behind to meet with the Duke's councilors. The meetings had been long and dull, and Qui-Gon had seen little of Obi-Wan since they started -- enough, though, to know that something preyed on his mind.

It was only this morning that Qui-Gon realized what it might be. In his first conversation with the Duke, he had had to explain the Jedi and Obi-Wan's place as his Padawan. The word he had used had two meanings, and Obi-Wan might have taken it wrongly. Is that what had stopped him from calling out earlier, when Obi-Wan had first entered the water? Or had it been the way his skin glistened that had held his voice in his throat? He suspected that might have been it, that and the sweet smooth curve of his Padawan's bare bottom as he dove, followed by his own need to wrestle his passions into place.

It was almost a game they played, this tormenting of one another, yet neither had ever fallen. A conversation would turn to flirtation and then one would pull back. He could not remember when it had started, but he knew that it would end as soon as one of them gathered the courage to cross the unwritten line.

Force willing, it would be soon.

Qui-Gon had thought it might even happen here -- until Obi-Wan grew too quiet and turned away. Serenity and focus had been hard to claim after that.

Now here he was, halfway to the stone island in the midst of the stream where Obi-Wan lay basking in the sun, and he had no idea what he would say when he arrived. Instead of worrying, he lived in the moment, stroking smoothly until his fingertips touched the stone. He pulled himself up on it, lounging next to Obi-wan's lazy, sleeping form. A drop of water fell from his hair onto Obi-Wan's back, sliding down the curve of his ass and onto the warm stone. A tremor, then, as Obi-Wan's muscles reacted, protesting the disturbance of his slumber.

He watched the play of sinuous muscle, and for a moment, forgot why he had sought out his Padawan, the mind giving way to the body's desire.

Beauty itself lay before him.

Pulling himself back, Qui-Gon tried to dry his hand by sliding it across his own chest, then let it hover gently over the small of Obi-Wan's back. He stared at the image a moment, the way his large hand shadowed his Padawan's skin, then let it rest, gently, softly against that warmth.

"Obi-Wan," he called, his voice rumbling in the air. A sharp flutter of wings nearby led to a burst of brilliant color as a sleeping bird took flight, startled by his voice. Qui-Gon watched it wing its way upward, then felt Obi-Wan tremble to wakefulness under his hand.

Obi-Wan rolled over and smiled at him, his mind still dream-befuddled from the look in his half-lidded eyes. "Qui-Gon?" he asked, stretching and pressing his body up against Qui-Gon's hand. "I thought you had meetings...."

His voice drifted, and Qui-Gon realized his hand was no longer pressed against Obi-Wan's back. In haste, he pulled his hand away, disconcerted by his thoughts and by the situation. "The rest of today's talks have been postponed. I came to see how you were."

Obi-Wan gazed at Qui-Gon out of faintly shadowed eyes. "Not sure," he ventured at last.

Qui-Gon nodded absently, preoccupied by the sheen of water where his hand had unconsciously trailed close to his Padawan's navel. He lay back, shading his eyes from the brilliant sun with one arm, stretching out his legs.

The image had already burned itself into Qui-Gon's mind. Behind his shuttered eyes, he traced the lines of Obi-Wan's body, felt the softness of his skin and the hardness of bone; he was already half-erect. "It's nice here," he murmured, his arm over his eyes, keeping himself away from his Padawan's body. A good place to talk, he thought.

"Yes," Obi-Wan replied noncommittally. Qui-Gon felt him sit up and turn toward him, looking at him.

Qui-Gon could feel the intensity of his gaze sweeping up and down his body; he had followed Obi-Wan's lead and chosen to swim naked. Obi-Wan was taking advantage of Qui-Gon's covered eyes. Looking, yes, but silent, too silent by half. Qui-Gon shifted his legs, conscious of the effect his evident arousal was having on the younger man, hoping that Obi-Wan would...what?

Well, start the conversation, of course.

"You'll sunburn," Obi-Wan warned him abruptly and scrambled away.

Uncovering his eyes, Qui-Gon watched as Obi-Wan pulled a water-proof pouch out from a crevice in the rock, then closed his eyes again and lay back. Soon, a cool trail of droplets traced its way down the center of his chest to his belly, hesitated at his navel, then trickled very slowly lower. Qui-Gon sighed deeply, unmoving, as gentle hands massaged the oil over his body.

Qui-Gon almost groaned as Obi-Wan's nimble fingers worked out the knots in his calves. Three days of endless negotiations, difficult grounding katas performed in the few spare moments he had without proper warm-up...he should know better. But even the diplomats had tired of the ceaseless bickering and demanded some rest, granting him the chance to be here with his padawan. Now all he need do was find an opening to talk about what Obi-Wan was feeling.

Just as soon as he finished this massage...

"Turn over." Qui-Gon opened his eyes and did as he'd been told, wondering if this time the flirtation would turn to something else. But how could it when he still didn't know what had disturbed Obi-Wan so? Care for the mind, the heart, and the body, he reminded himself. But contrary to traditional Jedi teaching, Qui-Gone believed in putting the heart first.

"Here." Obi-Wan poured a palmful of oil and rubbed it into his skin.

Qui-Gon's words still hurt, but they were just words. Obi-Wan was very aware of the warm skin under his hand as he rubbed the oil in, slowly working his way down his master's back to his ass. The freedom to touch like this was something out of his deepest dreams, and he wanted to treasure the moment.

For several months now he had harbored the idea that something more was growing between them, something other than the training bond. But when he overheard Qui-Gon's introduction of him to the people of Gallish, he had been stunned to learn that Qui-Gon still thought him a child.

Blushing, he let the pain of that moment flow through him. He had been glad that Qui-Gon had had little time for him these past few days; it had given him time to look inside himself and come to accept that his master still felt that way.

Yet his master still teased him, flirted with him here on this rock. He made no mention of the tension between them; perhaps Qui-Gon didn't know? It seemed unlikely, but perhaps -- perhaps his master wasn't as aware of Obi-Wan's thoughts as he'd always believed. Maybe there was simply too much distance to cross between them.

He took a deep breath and relaxed. Live in the moment, my young Padawan. Good advice when the moment looked to be all he would ever have.

Taking more oil into his hand, Obi-Wan slowly worked his way down the corded thighs. His eyes followed the path of his hand over the crisp hair, taut muscles, and tanning skin. Qui-Gon sighed softly under his attention, seeming to savor each touch of his callused fingers. Pouring a little more oil into his palm, Obi-Wan put the bottle down and rubbed his hands together, shifted slightly, and began to work at the tight calves with both hands. He swallowed, seeing his Master like this, naked, trusting....It was a vision. A dream... and he wanted it to never end.

Digging his fingers into the tight muscles, Obi-Wan nearly smiled at the groan he caused. "You should be more careful," he said with a hint of scolding in the words. He could see the tension slowly leaving, days of accumulated stress seeping away, the big body relaxing. This was a gift he could still give, it seemed, though anything else might be out of reach. He would accept what was his place to offer.

Qui-Gon rumbled his assent. "I should. And I should be grateful that my Padawan takes such care of me...." Obi-Wan's mind snapped back into focus, and he felt some of his own tension return. His hands trembled for a moment, then continued the massage. "I try, Master," he murmured softly.

Qui-Gon's brow furrowed, feeling Obi-Wan's hesitation. The heart, the mind, the body, he reminded himself. Not everything can be communicated with words. "Perhaps it is time I returned the favor." He rolled slowly onto his side, reaching for the oil. "Lie down, Padawan."

Shifting away, Obi-Wan returned to his earlier position. He lay face down. Qui-Gon watched him, sinking into deep empathy with the young man. Obi-Wan would be feeling the sun-warmed rock pressing into his body as he pillowed his head on his folded arms. He was tensing. His eyes stared at the sun reflecting off the water. Qui-Gon felt his apprentice shiver at the first touch, sensed him ruthlessly closing off his earlier feelings.

Qui-Gon oiled his hands and began at the shoulders, kneading at the knotted muscles under smooth, tanned skin. He could feel Obi-Wan tremble beneath his fingers and silently cursed himself for a fool. Into each touch, he put as much care and concern for Obi-Wan as he could find within himself, using the Force to send those waves of love, respect, and trust to caress his padawan's soul. If he could ease some of the hurt like this, so be it. The time to talk would come when it was right.

Obi-Wan was making a concentrated effort to relax, but it was hard for him. Qui-Gon soothed him gently, wordless images of their time together rising in his mind, ripping through the Force to calm Obi-Wan's mind. He let his Padawan know that the hands that worked their way down his body belonged to a man he could and did trust with his life, if he needed to. The projected thought filtered into Obi-Wan's mind slowly; Qui-Gon could feel his tensions easing, and he sighed in unison with the younger man.

Qui-Gon continued working the oil slowly down Obi-Wan's back, relaxing the muscles under his hands as he went. As the tension left the younger man's body, he felt a tightness around his heart ease. "Have you come here daily, Obi-Wan?"

Obi-Wan hissed at a knot, then sighed. "I try to. It's quiet here." He let his eyes close as he spoke.

"And beautiful. You have exquisite taste, my Padawan." He stroked slowly around the abused muscle, using just a touch of the Force to draw its pain away. As Obi-Wan relaxed fully he shifted sensuously on the sun-warmed rock. Desire coiled in Qui-Gon's belly at the sight.

"Yes. It is beautiful." Pulling an arm out from under his cheek, Obi-Wan draped it over the rock to dip his fingers into the cool water. "I wanted to bring you here. To show you. To share it."

Qui-Gon dropped his voice nearly to a whisper. "Why haven't you?" He reached out to Obi-Wan, traced an eyebrow softly with his index finger. "Did you think I would not come?"

Obi-Wan shivered slightly at the touch and clenched his hand in the water, the pain from Qui-Gon's words welling up in his eyes. He breathed deeply and released it, staring across the water. He opened his hand as a fish swam up inquiringly. "I have tried several times."

Had he? The thought started him, that he would not notice his Padawan reaching out to him, Obi-Wan appealing to him in pain? This morning...the morning's conversation had been brief, Qui-Gon forestalling Obi-Wan's questions abruptly. He had needed to leave, attend the morning session, but perhaps he had been harsher than necessary, pushing his own feelings aside.

Treating him like a child.

Qui-Gon sighed. "I am sorry, my Obi-Wan. Perhaps it is past time we talk."

"I know these negotiations are important." Obi-Wan teased the fish for a moment before it swam away. "I did not say anything before, because I did not wish to distract you from your work, but Master...what you said hurt." He stared at the water, not looking at the older man. "I know I sound young when I say that, foolish, youthful, naive, but I thought...I thought I meant more. It has been hard for me to accept, though I have worked on it these past few days."

"What if I thought there was nothing for you to accept, Obi-Wan? What I said...it should not have hurt. That it did was my fault, my failing, not yours. Please..." He cupped his hand under his apprentice's chin and gently turned his head. "Please look at me."

Obi-Wan looked into his master's eyes at the gentle touch and allowed the depth of his hurt to show. He turned slightly, bracing himself on the rock to look without straining. "I know that. I will do anything for you, Master. But to be brushed off in our quarters like I'm only a servant?" He clamped his mouth shut, pulling away to sit up. "We were alone. No one to see, no surveillance."

"We were alone, yes. But I never called you a servant, Obi-Wan, nor did I imply you were."

Obi-Wan looked away. "You called me 'Kashim.'"

"Kashim, yes." Qui-Gon nodded. "That is the closest I could come to your position."

"It's the boy who shovels out the stable, Master! How could you think that of me?"

It was as he feared. Although he knew it was inappropriate, Qui-Gon could not still his appreciation of the irony of this moment. He smiled, hoping Obi-Wan would understand, the mirth bubbling out of him in a low laugh. "Oh... oh, I see."

Obi-Wan glared at him. "You see what, Master? A child fit for taking care of the horses?"

"Obi-Wan, no. A Kashim is the most trusted person in the Gallish household. He is the one who cares for the animals and saddles them when the master goes to war. He cares for the armor, the weapons, the very food his master eats." Qui-Gon felt his cheeks redden and knew he was blushing. "Warms his Master's bed at night." He cleared his throat. "They are nearly inseparable."

Obi-Wan stared at him, stunned, as the implications slowly filtered in. His face flushed, and he looked away, his voice rueful rather than contrite. "Then it was a compliment..." He turned back and looked into Qui-Gon's sparkling eyes, meeting his Master's laughter with his own.

"Yes, my Padawan. A hurried one, but no less heartfelt for it." He cocked his head thoughtfully. "Though the Duke did feel that you were a little old for such a role. He's been trying to interest me in taking his nephew on instead." He let the smile in his eyes reach his lips, watching Obi-Wan's astonishment transform itself into amusement. Irrepressible, his Obi-Wan. Devilment personified. "You are the rock on which I rest my cares, Obi-Wan. The center from which I move." He trailed a thumb slowly over the young man's cheek. "All that and more."

Obi-Wan smiled, embarrassed, yet his expression warmed, and he leaned into Qui-Gon's touch. "I think my mind must have been otherwise occupied, Master, for me to have taken it as an insult." He turned his face into Qui-Gon's hand and placed a soft kiss in the center of his broad palm. "I should have trusted you."

The whispered words caressed his hand, and Qui-Gon's breath caught in his throat, his whole bring filled with wanting. The banked embers of his desire flared; let it be now. He moved his hand behind Obi-Wan's head and gently pulled him closer, softly brushing his lips across the other man's mouth, testing his welcome. Lips parted as Obi-Wan moved into the embrace, his eyes closing as he leaned into he kiss.

Yes.

His kisses were slow at first; he was drunk with the intensity of the need to make them last. His hands roamed down Obi-Wan's back as their lips and tongues devoured one another, each touch fanning the gently growing flame. A shudder passed through him as Obi-Wan returned his caresses, stroking his back, kneading the mounds of his ass, leaving his skin tingling where they touched.

The gentle caresses became commands, and Qui-Gon quickly obeyed, easing Obi-Wan onto the ground beneath him. He watched Obi-Wan's eyes, careful of pushing too much, making sure that this was born of mutual desire. Kiss-swollen lips, eyes dilated to pools of near-black, and a hard cock pressing into his side all told him the body was willing.

But was the mind?

Obi-Wan's hands pulled him down, stroking him as he maneuvered them so that he seemed to find a comfortable spot. "Don't stop..." He whispered soft and low, his hands tangling in Qui-Gon's hair. "Live in the moment..."

His words broke something within Qui-Gon; a rough moan of passion escaped his lips. He lay heavily against Obi-Wan, covering him with his body, shading his soft skin from the harsh rays of the sun. Blood coursed through his veins like an awakened river, pounding at his temples, driving away his concerns. He could feel that Obi-Wan wanted this as much as he did, the sleek caress of his shifting body driving Qui-Gon's need higher.

He lay on his side, his legs threaded around Obi-Wan's. He wrapped his hand around Obi-Wan's hard, leaking cock, eliciting a groan. Obi-Wan matched the move, wrapping his hand around Qui-Gon's cock, the sensation making Qui-Gon forget speech, forget everything but the need for his Padawan's touch. He froze as Obi-Wan brought his hand up over the tip, brushing it, tantalizing, then gripped it forcefully, stroking down its length.

Qui-Gon had no words for how good the touch felt, so he let his body use its own language. Harsh kisses alternated with soft as need drove them on, Obi-Wan matching him strength for strength and thrust for thrust in expressing their need to mark what they owned. Qui-Gon lost himself in the sensation of touching Obi-Wan like this, bucking and thrusting and grinding out his passion. A physical ache sang through him, the desire to claim Obi-Wan, to fully possess him and be possessed in turn.

The image was too much, sending him spilling over the edge, his body wrenching and jerking as he came. Obi-Wan moaned beneath him, bucking into his hand, and despite his need to collapse, Qui-Gon wrapped his hand tighter, stroking his lover to completion. He swallowed Obi-Wan's final cry as he came, their warm fluids mingling across thighs and chest, smearing them each with the other's scent.

Obi-Wan lay panting, his chest heaving. Qui-Gon lay back and pulled Obi-Wan onto him, letting his hands stroke through the bottle-brush hair, sweaty and scented with river water. Contentment and peace flowed between them, pleasure pure and gentle as they lay there and let the rest of the day pass, twined about one another in the warm sunlight, the sound of the water soothing them as they alternated between dozing and loving.

At last the brilliant light darkened, the sun moving behind the trees on the far bank. Obi-wan sat up and rummaged around in his pouch for the bottle of water he'd brought. He opened it and sipped, then nudged Qui-Gon and handed him the bottle to drink from as well.

"We should be going back."

"Yes, we should."

Neither man moved.

"If we go now, there will still be sunlight to dry us off. "

"True. And I fear that the btu-flies will be out soon. They leave a nasty welt when they bite."

Obi-Wan looked at Qui-Gon out of the corner of his eye. "Kashim, hmm?"

Qui-Gon ducked his head and nodded.

Obi-Wan stood, stretched and laughed. "Good. Your bed is softer than this rock." He dove into the river, leaving Qui-Gon to follow behind.

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