Archive: Yes
Archive Date: September 7, 2000
Author's Webpage: https://www.squidge.org/~pumpkin/
Disclaimer: Lucasfilm, Lucasfilm, Lucasfilm.
Feedback: is always appreciated
Pairing: Q/O
Rating: G - NC17
Summary: The date listed is the date the 'snapshot' was written/posted.
Each piece is a segment within the same universe, but they are not in
any sort of order. Each piece stands alone (iow-there are no "cliffhangers").
The snapshots will run the gamut from G to NC17. Some may be several
pages long, some only a couple of paragraphs; some will contain smut,
many will not; they will be different styles with different voices.
May 05, 2000
Fear leads to anger.
I can feel it rising up in me, rolling through me with each beat of my heart.
Fear leads to anger.
It pulses through my veins on the tide of my blood.
Fear leads to anger.
It is like a 'saber cutting through me.
Fear leads to anger.
My master taught me control, but my anger is great, my fear even greater and he is not here.
Fear leads to anger.
And he is not here.
Fear leads to anger.
They have him.
Fear leads to anger.
Force be with him until I can be.
May 04, 2000
"Where are they?"
"The old guy's in the cell out back."
"You're using the metal I gave you to bind him?"
"Yes."
"And the other?"
"Not yet in our custody."
"You fool! I told you to take them together."
"We will have the other soon enough."
"If he doesn't have you first."
"Come on, he's just a boy."
"A Jedi boy."
"We managed to capture the old man."
"You have one. And yet you set out to get them both and you had the element of surprise on your side at the time."
"Sadalk - double the guards."
"Pray that it is enough."
May 05, 2000
It was a stupid mistake. I should have trusted Obi-Wan to take care of himself, but instead I worried. And so I zigged when I should have zagged and not only is my padawan of only a few months on his own, I am caught - trussed up like some beast culled from the heard in preparation for dinner.
My only hope of rescue rests with the lad. I have faith that he will not fail me as I have failed him.
May 06, 2000
Sometimes the simple things are best. I enjoy being creative in bed, or out of it, but sometimes I crave the simplicity of being taken. No fancy words, no gymnastics, no elaborate foreplay.
Just kiss me, Master and take me. Spread me out on your bed, push my legs apart and with a single thrust make me yours. Hard or soft, long or slow - nothing matters except for the inexorable length and heat of you inside me.
I lose my mind when you do that. I lose my me. I become no more than an empty vessel waiting to be filled by your hardness, by your pleasure, by your love - by you.
It doesn't matter how long it lasts, it's always over too soon.
Until the next time.
May 08, 2000
Obi-Wan lay with his back to the door, body stiff, unyielding beneath the thin sheet. Qui-Gon sighed as he slid into the bed. He considered spooning up behind his lover, but wasn't sure of his welcome. He didn't want to attempt it if he was going to be rebuffed.
Lying carefully on his side, he felt as rigid as the man before him as he tried to settle into some semblance of a comfortable position while not touching Obi-Wan.
Half an hour later he was still awake, his back protesting at his unyielding position.
"Obi-Wan..." He wouldn't have thought it possible, but the back before him stiffened, muscles tensing. "I love you." He said the words softly, not expecting an answer, just needing suddenly to know that Obi-Wan knew how he felt - how he always would feel, no matter what else might be going on in their lives.
"I love you, too." Grudgingly spoken, Qui-Gon could hear the pout in the words.
He reached his hand out, but drew it back again. "May I touch you?" He asked, somewhat dismayed by the needy tone in his voice. He hadn't meant to put any pressure on Obi-Wan or to make him accept out of guilt.
"Please, Master." The reply came immediately, and Obi-Wan sagged back towards him as if the lack of invitation had been the only thing holding him back. Qui-Gon moved forward, their bodies coming together. Sliding his arm around Obi-Wan's waist, he took the hand that came up to meet his own and their fingers twined.
"I'm sorry, Master, I should have been more forgiving."
"No, Obi-Wan, I should have been more understanding and not insisted you speak to him again until you were ready."
"I still think he did it on purpose." The pout had returned to Obi-Wan's voice, but his body lay relaxed and easy in Qui-Gon's arms.
"Let it go, Padawan. After all, it will grow back."
May 09, 2000
There is no moon on Syl'jhan. The nights are black, the stars merely pinpricks that let you know which way is up. The wind seems alive in this darkness, swirling around our bodies as we guard the vale of the dead. It whispers as it gently touches us and then screams and tears at our robes, moody and changeable.
I sit next to my master, close enough that I can feel the heat from his body. If I lean to my right, our shoulders will touch and his hand brushes against me as he talks. His voice drifts through the darkness, the soft lilt more pronounced somehow as the black night hides him from me.
It is a ceremonial duty we perform - keeping watch for the Brac'nal, the eaters of the dead. I have heard padawans in the temple bemoaning the assignment, claiming that it is boring, beneath them, a pain. But I wouldn't change any of it. Except for maybe just one thing.
I would like to hold his hand.
May 10, 2000
"It is with great honour that I open the talks to bring the Drulate and the Dranlin to an agreement to end centuries of skirmishes and wars. We have never completely trusted our southern neighbours, nor they us, which is why past talks have always ended in failure.
"This time we have a common goal - we wish to enter the Republic. But to do so we must be a united people. To this end, we have put aside our weapons and come here today. The Republic has demonstrated its willingness to have us enter a partnership with them by sending two of their peacekeepers to mediate the discussions between us." The Drulate leader turned toward the Jedi, the bells in his hair and on the sleeves of the simple tan dress he wore tinkling lightly. "Please join me in welcoming the Jedi - Jinn and Kenobi."
The 16 other men in the room all stood and stomped their feet. The sound of bare skin slapping against the stone floor of the cavern joined the soft ringing of the bells on their outfits. Everyone sat once again and the quiet was broken anew as Qui-Gon stood and the bells on the native costume he wore chimed.
"It is the Republic's hope that a settlement can be reached here that will be both agreeable and beneficial to all. We are your humble servants, here to assist you in any way possible." Qui-Gon bowed and on the floor beside him, Obi-Wan also dipped his head.
Everyone rose again and the room rang with stamping and tinkling.
The Dranlin leader spoke next. "In the tradition of our peoples, let us now stand together and demonstrate to one another that we are each unarmed, that we bring with us nothing but ourselves. Let us bathe the cavern with our essence so that our discussions may be fruitful."
The sound of the small bells became loud as everyone stood once more and fumbled with the tie's at the front of their dresses.
"Master, they don't mean...oh. I guess they do," Obi-Wan said faintly as the bells began to chime ferociously.
"Obi-Wan, I suggest you stop talking and start...well start, before they believe the Republic's peaceful mediators have something to hide."
"Yes, Master."
May 14, 2000
(sound of knocking)
"Ah, Initiate Kenobi. Expecting you I was."
"Yes, Master Yoda. What can I do for you?"
"Strong you are, yes?"
"Well, I guess so, Master Yoda."
"Good. My luggage you will carry."
"Yes, Master. Where to?"
"Landing pad by the South Tower."
"You're leaving the temple? Where are you going...if I may ask, Master."
"Know the answer to this, I do not."
"You're leaving but you don't know where you're going?"
"Guide me the Force will."
"But guide you to where?"
"To my mother."
"Your mother? You have a mother?"
"Sprung fully formed from the Force you thought maybe? Hrmmm?"
"I meant...I mean I figured that your mother would be dea- would be go- um..."
"One with the Force the words you are looking for?"
"Yes, Master. I'm sorry."
"Needed not is your apology. When 800 years you have lived, dead everyone will think your mother is too."
"I don't think I'm going to live to be 800 years old, Master Yoda."
"Hmmpf. Unfortunate this is. Lonely will I be when 1600 years I am."
May 15, 2000
Night duty in the security room is quiet and time passes slowly. I amuse myself as best I can, usually by playing cards while keeping half an eye on the bank of monitors for anything out of the ordinary.
Tonight, a soft moan distracts me from my game of onlyone and I look up, scanning the screens for anything out of the ordinary. The sound comes again and I put my hand on my blaster, legs tensing to spring into action. I pinpoint the sound to the monitor in the room of one of the Jedi. The label reads Kenobi - he is the younger one.
Another sound, this one clearly a groan of pleasure and I feel my cock begin to harden. I play with the buttons on the monitor, zooming in on the bed and turning up the light intake to high. If I'm found out I'll be beaten and sent to the mines, but the risk only hightens my excitement
I can't see him clearly - just an impression of lean limbs and a muscled torso. His face is completely shadowed. But his arm is moving, his hand curled around his middle and pumping. Another soft, breathy sound of pleasure comes across the audio and there is no doubt as to what he is doing.
I flick a switch, turning out the lights in the security office and undo the buttons of my pants, pulling them open at my crotch. Leaning back in my chair, I prop my feet up on the counter in front of me, while I pull out my rock-hard erection. I play lazily with it, rolling it between my hands and pressing the flat of my palm against the tip, rolling it to pick up some liquid lubrication.
One hand now slick, I turn my attention back to the monitor, watching the young Jedi writhing on his bed. I let my own hand pick up the rhythm he sets - he's a little ahead of me, but I usually don't spend as much time over this as he seems to, so I catch up quickly. Twice I have to stay my hand, slow myself down as he continues at the same relentless pace.
Taking his time.
Finally the movements of his hand speeds and his breathing becomes audible. He's gasping, little whimpers choking from his throat and I wonder what he's imagining, who he's thinking of as he does this.
I wish suddenly I could see his face; wish that I could see that flat emotionless mask the Jedi wear broken into a rictus of pleasure. I imagine myself fucking him, pounding into his body as I pull on his cock and his eyes would squeeze tightly shut and his mouth would open wide on a scream as he came.
Oh yeah, I'm close, so close and he is too, I can hear the slap of his hand now against his groin as he pumps himself and each breath hitches, ending on a small moan. His cry as he comes is bitten off, but it is enough to send me shooting and in my soundproof booth there is no one to hear my moans as I come.
I lie back, watching as he curls onto his side and pulls the covers up over his body. His laboured breathing slows and the feed grows quiet. With quick, efficient moves I clean myself up and adjust the pick-up to his monitor back to normal.
I know that if I pass him in the hall in the morning, he will again be wearing that calm face that I have grown accustomed to seeing among the Jedi. I wonder though, if I were to really look at him, if I would see a hint of this night in his eyes.
May 20, 2000
Obi-Wan settled next to his master with a deep sigh. Long arms came around him and the hard, pebbled bed of earth beneath his body seemed warmer and more comfortable. They shifted together, easily settling into a familiar position - Obi-Wan's head pillowed on a strong arm, his back pressed tightly against the warm length of his master's body.
The large, dark expanse of Qui-Gon's cloak was easily remade into a blanket and the cold receded against their combined forces. His master's head settled along-side Obi-Wan's own and he could feel the gentle breeze of Qui-Gon's breath against his cheek.
Some time later, Obi-Wan found himself still awake. Though his master's body was a great comfort, his nose, brows and chin were suffering from the sharp bite of the wind and the slightest movement invited the frosty air to enter their makeshift bed and search out any holes in their clothing.
"Ignore the cold, Obi-Wan."
"I am trying, Master," Obi-Wan spoke a tad defensively, dismayed at having kept his master awake.
"It does seem somewhat persistent."
Obi-Wan chuckled at his master's typical understatement.
"Perhaps we can think of something to warm ourselves up," suggested Qui-Gon.
"Too much movement will let enough cold air in to leech away all our heat," warned Obi-Wan, his tone full of regret.
"I was thinking more along the lines of talking."
"Talking, Master?"
"Yes, Obi-Wan."
"I'm not sure I see how talking would help to keep us warm."
"Well, I thought perhaps you could tell me about your deepest, darkest fantasies."
May 21, 2000
Soft touch of lips against my own, more breath of air and barely there flutter, like the delicate wings of a butterfly lighting on me. It wakes me only enough to notice and then I drift back down into sleep.
I wonder briefly what has my padawan awake and away from our bed before the light of dawn, but the thought comes too late to keep me awake.
May 22, 2000
The healers quietly go about their business, flowing around the man standing by the bacta tank. He has injuries of his own, but will not leave his padawan's side. Ah, Qui-Gon, you feel guilty for having accepted this mission, but be sure you do not take more than your share.
It was so easy to forget Kenobi's age, indeed that he was only a padawan. He and Jinn are so rarely at the temple, travelling instead from mission to mission - coming back only to be sent away again, sometimes even in the same day. We have kept ourselves cocooned, ignorant of the fact, or perhaps just refusing to see it, that we send a boy out to do a man's business, abetted in our folly by the boy himself who constantly acquits himself with courage and ability. It is easy to forget that Kenobi is only a 17 year old padawan.
We knew when we asked Jinn to take the mission that he would not refuse. How could he? He is our best man, we know it and he knows it. We knew also there would be some risk, that there could be injury to one or both of our best team. And I hide now behind my words and I do not even fool myself. We suspected, very strongly - in fact we knew but for the proof - that the Denians were torturing their prisoners. We needed that proof to take them to court and have them thrown out of the Republic or change their ways. But to know that some hypothetical mistreatment will occur and to be faced with a boy in a bacta tank, eyesight gone with no guarantee that he will ever be able to see again, are two very different things.
Any assignment has pitfalls, potential dangers, but this one, more than most and now we are faced with a very real consequence of that. It could have been Kenobi's life the healers fight for rather than his eyes.
And so the master feels guilty. As do I. If we lose this one before we really even have him...so much potential hanging in the balance. I will carry this guilt inside me for a long time; if Obi-Wan loses his eyes I may never be rid of it.
May 24, 2000
My padawan is nervous; though he looks calm I can feel the agitation he is trying to control. I can't blame him, I am nervous as well.
It is our first mission to a non-humanoid world. Certainly Coruscant has a diverse population, with representatives from each planet that is a member of the Republic. But Obi-Wan has rarely, if ever interacted with anyone outside of the temple. In that way we coddle our initiates.
We stand at the end of the gangplank, waiting for the Trinak's to greet us. They look like a cross between wolves and parrots, and though my padawan and I have phonetically learned a simple greeting, we have been fitted with translators for the negotiations, basic is outside the range of their vocal chords and their language is almost as hard for us.
This is a very important mission, both for the Republic and for my padawan. Though I am sure that he will acquit himself well on his first dealing with non-humanoids there is still that small fear that his nerves will win the day.
The Trekk'naaak'lem comes forward and opens her beak to bare sharp fangs. Sniffing, she scents my padawan.
As I watch, Obi-Wan leans forward and, opening his mouth, scents her before stepping back and delivering his greeting with no show of jitters, I only hope I can do as well when she turns to me. The Trinak throws her head back and howls, a sign of pleasure. Obi-Wan's face doesn't change, but I can feel his nerves settle as happiness and peace fall over him.
I have to restrain my own emotions as pride threatens to overwhelm my careful control. As the Trekk'naaak'lem turns to me, I only hope that I can do as well.
May 26, 2000
He caught me pleasuring myself.
He was having coffee with Master Etenue, or at a council meeting, or something that kept him away late and I was feeling wanton and needy and lonely. Silly really, but it was our first night apart since becoming lovers and I was jealous of anything that took him away from me.
I had been thinking of him all evening, remembering each night since the first. The way our lips would join as we kissed, his beard always tickling the space between my upper lip and my nose. The way his hands would range over my body, as if I were his, which of course I was - am. The way his hips would press eagerly against my own, his erection hot and hard and large. The way we would rush to his bed, or not, tumbling onto the couch, the chair, the floor.
I attempted to read and then, too restless for that, to clean. Finally I gave up the pretence and wandered slowly into his - our - room. I let my hands roam my body, sliding beneath my tunics and my leggings, imagining they were his. By the time I was standing by the bed, I was half-naked and fighting with the clasps on my boots.
Finally I was bare and, rolling onto my back on the bed, I began to touch myself - imagining all the while that it was my master's hands that touched me. It wasn't, by any means, a new fantasy, but this night it was imbued with the reality I now knew.
Imagination and memory merged together and it was as if Qui-Gon were really in the room with me, touching me, bringing wild delight. And when I was done and I opened my eyes and turned my head there he was, standing, no, leaning against the wall, face flushed, a dark spot staining his leggings.
Wanton still, I stretched, watching him watch me, and I spoke, "I was thinking of you, Master."
On to June 2000's Snapshots