Archive: Yes
Archive Date: September 8, 2000
Author's Webpage: https://www.squidge.org/~pumpkin/
Disclaimer: Lucasfilm, Lucasfilm, Lucasfilm.
Feedback: is always appreciated
Notes: I'm a little late getting this one put together and sent off en masse,
but better late than never (I hope!)
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.
July 01, 2000
Obi-Wan stood at his master's side, braced for the explosion to come. Three months of rituals observed and celebrations held, culminating in this moment. Dignitaries from across the galaxy had come to observe. No expense had been spared as the Canik's lavished their many honoured guests, the two Jedi among them.
There had been prayer days and cleansing days. Feast days and fasting days. Days of sorrow and days of joy. Days where Obi-Wan had fallen into bed exhausted, days where there was no bed to fall into, days where he almost fell asleep from boredom. Days of toil and days of indulgence.
Finally the moment had arrived. The moment marking the Canik's entrance into the Republic. The end of war and the beginning of prosperity.
There was a roar - a wave of sound so loud Obi-Wan swayed from it and then a light appeared in the sky, hanging there for several seconds and faded into nothing.
The dignitaries remained still, waiting quietly, but the Canik's that lined the streets began to yell and cheer, stomping their feet and waving the banner of their villages and the planet. It soon became quiet apparent that the moment was over.
Obi-Wan turned to his master. "That was it?"
"It would appear so, Padawan."
"But...but what about all the preparation?"
"What about it?"
"Three months of preparations by every being including dozens of dignitaries and special guests, ambassadors from other worlds, and for what - a three second sound and light show that, for all its shortness, was dull."
"Sometimes, Padawan, it is the preparation itself that makes the moment special and not the moment itself."
July 02, 2000
Obi-Wan slammed the door; sighing dramatically as he flung himself into a chair.
"I told you this would happen," he said, grimacing as he pointed to the jam-coloured handprints on his freshly laundered tunic. He looked up, frown deepening at his master's smile. "I don't see what's so funny."
"You have butter in your hair and jam on your nose."
Obi-Wan's hand flew to his head, coming away greasy.
"Those little monsters," he muttered. "I think you enjoy making me go through this," he accused.
"Indeed, I do," replied Qui-Gon before licking the jelly from Obi-Wan's nose. "I think you look rather endearing." He silenced his padawan's indignant response with a long, deep kiss.
July 03, 2000
Our first day back from a mission to Beilnot and my master has worked me hard. Combat and thinking on my feet are teachers in and of themselves, he said, but are no replacement for old-fashioned sparring and physical training. Subsequently, I spent the day performing katas and challenging everyone who came to the training circle.
Few words of praise left my master's mouth, instead annoyed corrections and growled commands to repeat met my every effort. But at day's end he put his hand on my shoulder and told me to go get my shower and that my evening was my own. You've earned it, he told me, voice sounding as if he was the one who'd been working hard all day. I bowed formally to him, though it was not a habit I usually followed when we were in temple, but it seemed fitting somehow on this day when he had worked so hard to keep me in top form.
My shower was long and hot. I luxuriated in the feeling of water flowing over my skin, soothing the aches and pains the day's work had left with me. When I stepped out of the cloud of steam the 'fresher had gathered, I was dressed in a light tunic and leggings, work and laundered to softness.
I wandered into the common room, feeling at ease, comfortable in my skin. I lounged against the dining table, my muscles stretched, sore but loose. My master acknowledged me with a soft smile and went back to his book, while I contemplated my options.
I could go catch up with my agemates, if any were in temple; spend some time in one of the gardens; find a group going off-temple for some fun and join them. Or I could find a book of my own and settle at my master's feet and spend the evening here in the quiet with him.
I shrug and laugh silently at myself - there is no choice to make. There is no place I would rather be than at my master's side, no matter the circumstances. I wander past the bookshelves and choose a tome - the contents matter little, I let the Force guide my hand.
Book in hand I settle on the floor next to my master. He says nothing, but I feel the contentment between us grow.
Funny how home is no longer a place.
July 04, 2000
The Xlrin are a fierce race, as has been proven today in the hunt we participated in. They leapt from trees, sprang from behind tall grasses and pounced from rocks along the river bank, tearing their prey apart with almost casual ability.
Now we sit around a fire, eating the meat the hunt procured. All is silent but for the crackling of the fire and the cracking of bones, as well as the grunts and wet eating noises that come from their mouths. The way they eat almost turns my stomach and only long training keeps me in my seat, eating my share of the nearly raw meat.
I keep my eyes on my padawan; on the way the fire moves over his features, throwing them into light and shadow as he sits between two warriors in training. He eats with his fingers, tearing the meat from the bones in imitation of his companions.
I notice how even his fingers have changed in the time he has been my padawan. Soft and slender when first we met, now they are a man's fingers - strong and sure. He licks his fingers, sucking the juices from them and I become mesmerised in the play of his tongue over them.
I am caught by the sudden wish to feed him from my hand, to feel that tongue slide over my fingers, catching the juices that would drip from them. I would return the favour, slowly taking the length of each digit into my mouth, making sure to clean his skin thoroughly.
It seems this feast is revealing more than I had anticipated, though it was my hosts I had hoped to learn about rather than myself.
July 05, 2000
I had said it in anger and frustration. It had been unfair - they were only trying to help, but what good would it do to ease our pain now if we were only going to starve later? And, if I am totally honest, I will admit that I resented their arrival as heroes stepping into the breach when me and my fellow physicians had been here all along, working steadily without thanks, without reward.
And so I had spoken out of turn. "If you're so eager to help why don't you do something useful like bring in the harvest?"
How was I to know they would do it?
July 06, 2000
"My feet will never be as large as yours."
"And a good thing too or you would be constantly tripping over them."
"My hands will never have the span of your own."
"You would loose most of your grace with the 'saber with hands the size of mine."
"My nose isn't small, but is lacking when compared to yours."
"Anything larger would look silly on your face."
"You are so...tall."
"Padawan...it's not how tall you are, it's what you do with your height."
July 07, 2000
I hear a soft, scared whimper and I stop. Quick investigation uncovers a dilust, wounded and pregnant, starving to death. I stoop to pick the tiny animal up, folding it safely within the voluminous folds of my robe. She is too weak to even make a rudimentary protest.
My padawan will not be happy - I can already hear his grumbling. I suppose I cannot blame him, the scratches the biyal inflicted are only just now fading. But I could hardly have left this poor creature to starve to death, taking her unborn children with her.
July 08, 2000
This Jedi is but a boy, how could he know enough to hear the music of our Lady? I shake my head at my own folly for appointing him. Our prosperity for the coming season and therefore the rest of the year is dependent on this performance; if our Lady should be displeased she will not share her bounty with us. It is usually myself or one of my sisters in service who heed the earth's call and dance, but something made me choose the boy. I had believed it to be our Lady's will, but as we stand around him in our silent vigil, I am no longer sure.
He has been standing there for long minutes, eyes closed, and I wonder again how I could have expected one so young to hear the music. Hearing it comes naturally to me, but I have been taught how to listen for it ever since I was a small child. I can hear the music swelling now, surging forward to find a partner and I tense, torn - wait or join the earth myself.
And then he moves. Simple, flowing movements that match the music perfectly and I realise he hears it, in fact it seems to flow through him, eager to dance with him. The tenor of the music increases and I can see in the faces of those around me that they can hear it now too, as if it is amplified by the boy's dancing. As the music swells we begin to sway, unable to stand still in the face of our Lady's joy.
Our year will be blessed and full.
July 09, 2000
The twin suns of Galat 3 rise together, their rays shooting soft pink brilliance across the sky. Beneath our window a zat bird begins her song - welcoming the dawn, thanking the gods for another day, praying for plenty of food. The sweet notes rise into the sky, climbing higher and higher as her singing continues; a small symphony for a single voice is created, performed, life celebrated, joy shared...
"For Force sake, Master. Either get rid of that damned bird or shut the window!"
July 10, 2000
I am supposed to be studying the transcripts of yesterday's meetings. Instead I am following my master. Moving from tree to tree as stealthily as I can. He said he was stepping out for a bit of air, but I know what his real purpose is. He is looking for a secluded spot to release the sexual tension that is burning in him, that has made him rigid and taut, like a wire stretched to the point of breaking.
The Ferins are a very alien species and they emit a hormone which acts like a strong dose of pheromones upon most humanoid species. They wish to join the Republic and the Republic wishes to have them - there is no dispute here, but the Jedi were sent as representatives due to our vaunted control. But even Jedi bodies cannot withstand the constant barrage of the sexual chemicals and we must release the pressure now and then. I realise suddenly that my master chose to leave so that I might also masturbate in privacy, but though I am in need of release, I would rather watch my master than tend to myself.
It surprises me how deep into this quiet forest my master goes, though it should not. He has no wish to be found by a Ferin, no wish to insult them with his body's needs. Finally he stops and sits with his back against a great talik tree and I sink against a talik of my own, hiding, watching.
There is no pre-able, he simply pushes his cloak and tunics out of the way and unlaces his leggings. I almost give myself away as he pulls his penis from their confines, but I manage to contain my gasp - erect like this he is very large. It doesn't take very long before he is coming with a muffled grunt, creamy liquid flowing over his hand. I bite my lip to cover my own cry as my body reacts to the sight of his orgasm.
Then he is striding toward me and I slide around my hiding tree, keeping out of sight. I will wait awhile before returning - long enough for my legs to stop shaking and to come up with a good reason for being out of our quarters.
As I lean against the firm support of the tree, I relive my master's passion. One day soon I hope to be the one to ease my master's need, and to find my own comfort in his arms.
July 11, 2000
"Ah Tisec, here you are."
"Sh."
"What are you doing skulking about? I've been looking all over for you."
"For the love of Xalxent - if you won't be quiet at least lower your voice."
"What are you up to?"
"Watching our two Jedi. Over by the liris flowers."
"Oh my."
"Indeed."
"What are they doing?"
"Well, at first I thought the older was devouring the younger, but it's been going on too long for that and they both seem to be willing participants. Perhaps they are communicating. It is after all their mouths that have joined. Of course, that isn't how they have used their mouths to communicate with us."
"They could be feeding - one pre-masticating the food for the other."
"No, I've seen them both eat at meals."
"Could they be mating?"
"I suppose it's a possibility."
"Whatever it is, it doesn't look like much fun."
"No, it doesn't. Thank Xelxant that we are not human!"
July 12, 2000
"Do we have to do this, Master?"
"Yes, Padawan, we do. It's a soft assignment, almost a vacation - why does it make you so unhappy?"
"You're kidding, right? A band of bawling, brawling initiates playing in the mud? Frankly, I'd rather be off fighting Hutts."
"Not playing in the mud, Padawan - building castles in the sand, making cities and worlds, bringing dreams to life."
"Bah. My leggings will be permanently wet and my tunic will be covered in hand-shapped sandprints the entire time. As will yours."
"Yes. It sounds quite delightful, doesn't it?"
July 13, 2000
Everything is dark, quiet, but something isn't quite right. He reaches out for...something. Anything.
There it is, a tiny pinprick of light. He focuses on it and it shoots toward him, growing ever larger until it explodes, bright and noisy in his face.
He's filled with pain, his body protesting consciousness, fighting him, willing him back to the safe darkness inside himself. He can't go though. Not yet - there is something he must do first.
He can hear now, a voice murmuring softly. A hint of panic accompanies the warm waves of energy that drifts toward him.
He lifts his eyelids, forcing them open against the strong desire to just let it be, to fade. A face above him, blurry, and he tries to focus, but just opening his eyes seems to have used all his energy.
The face moves closer, swimming closer through the fog. He can see the mouth moving now, but it doesn't seem to match the sounds he's hearing. Closer still and something slaps his cheek and then soft hair tickles his mouth. Padawan.
"Obi-Wan..." The boy doesn't seem to hear him. He tries to lift his hand, to reassure the lad with a touch, but it's so heavy and he loses track of what he was doing.
The pain is fading now, the darkness pushing it away. He surrenders gratefully, hand grasping a thin lifeline.
July 14, 2000
Obi-Wan walked into the meeting room, bracing himself as he came to stand next to his master. He looked around the room in dismay - there were at least eight Blak'trin present for today's negotiations.
He wondered, in a brief moment of almost-panic, if he could turn and run, or at least walk very quickly, from the room. He quickly squashed that line of thinking - it would be unbecoming for a Jedi to insult his hosts by refusing their honest and well-meant greeting, and he would not dishonour his master by shirking his duty.
Obi-Wan found his centre, using Qui-Gon's unwavering voice as his guide and turned to greet the vice-regent's chief negotiator. Unflinching, he stood his ground as the clawed hand grasped his testicles, tugging firmly in the Blak'trin version of a handshake. Eight times the gesture was repeated and he could feel his master's approval as his voice and demeanour remained calm and serene.
Obi-Wan knew that being a Jedi was not an easy path, but he couldn't help but think that at some times it was harder than others.
July 15, 2000
The wind blew around them, rustling the leaves on the trellan trees and dipping the small belu flowers, making each tiny bud ring. The two suns were setting, each painting the sky in marvellous hues - a nightly ritual of competition. A small hobt had come to the edge of the clearing to watch and a vox family, complete with four cubs, were foraging through the undergrowth nearby.
Obi-Wan saw none of it.
His eyes were squeezed tightly closed, his breath coming in short, panting gasps. His body was stiff, arching up from the ground. A ragged moan tore from his throat as his master's head moved over his middle, obscuring the only view Obi-Wan would have been interested in if his eyes had been open.
Behind his lids, Obi-Wan's love, and Qui-Gon's, shone brightly, illuminating his soul. His orgasm, like the wonders of the beautiful planet they found themselves on, was almost an afterthought.
July 16, 2000
He's sleeping. On his back. Soft snores punctuate the silence of our bedroom. I'll have to take him to the healers, get that cold looked after - it has lingered longer than it should.
In the meantime...in the meantime I spend my night doing what I like best - watching my Obi-Wan sleep.
Tonight I kneel on by the bottom of the bed and contemplate his feet. Square and graceful - they contain an elegance totally lacking in my own large appendages, my bantha paws. He would scoff and then scold me for insulting his lover, remind me that I am a large man and even make some suggestive comment about all my appendages being large. And then we would laugh and, laughing still, make love.
But he is asleep and I awake and so I may make my study undisturbed. Sturdy ankles and long, curved soles. Ten toes, each an invitation to sensuality. I wonder how lightly I could touch them before it became less erotic and more ticklish. Would he be horrified to learn that I would like to kiss them? To lick them and take each one into my mouth and slowly suck on them the same way I suck on his shaft? Would he believe me if I told him I could make him come just from making love to his feet? Or that doing so would make me come as well?
Some things are better done than said. Perhaps when he wakes I shall show him.
July 17, 2000
I try not to stare, but I just can't help myself.
"They call them hands," whispers Visok, on my right. My tail feathers fold with my embarrassment and I hope the human on my left hasn't noticed my rudeness. I look around carefully, but no one else seems to have noticed my pre-occupation. Most eyes are on our Leader's table, watching Him and the other Jedi human talk as they eat.
I try again not to watch, but looking down at my own plate, watching my own claws take the food and crush it before bringing it to my mouth only reminds me of how different these humans are.
My eyes return to the Jedi next to me, watching as the youngling takes his food in the silly things they call hands and brings it up to his mouth. He doesn't crush it first, but bites off some of the meat and begins to chew. It takes him quite some time to finish one wedge of meat, holding the excess that does not fit into his mouth in his hands until it is finished.
But when his tongue comes out of his mouth to clean his hands I turn away and try not to lose my supper at the revolting sight.
How can these humans bear themselves, let alone each other?
July 18, 2000
My new padawan's face gives nothing away. Calm, serene, he wears the mask he was given in the creche. Concentration digs a furrow between his brows, but his emotions do not colour his face.
They do however, colour his eyes.
Green, grey and blue, they change with a swiftness that is astounding. Already I know that the deep emerald denotes happiness, while bright blue sparks with his anger. At the moment they are flat grey, a new colour - a new emotion.
I wonder if I will ever learn them all.
July 19, 2000
Obi-Wan appreciated a warm planet, but Bridoch was hot enough to dull even his enthusiasm. Arriving at the guest quarters he shared with his master, he closed the door gratefully on his escort, barely waiting for the click of the latch before shrugging out of his robe.
With almost obscene haste he stripped to his leggings and headed for the balcony, leaving his clothing in a heap behind him. This far up, a soft breeze teased his skin as soon as he stepped out onto the large rectangle that ran the length of the building.
Smiling, he noted that his master had already discovered the more amenable temperatures on the balcony and was running through the Sunfire Kata. He watched, entranced as he always was at the sight, as his master flowed through the intricate movements, the Force moving around and through him. His master had also chosen to remove all his clothing save his leggings and his bare skin glistened in the brilliant sunlight, muscles moving easily beneath the surface.
Folding his arms around his chest, Obi-Wan's smile faded as he hugged himself. He wondered if his own slender limbs would ever move with the fluid grace his master demonstrated. He worked out with his master every day, but still only had fledgling muscles to show for his troubles.
He sighed and moved to stand next to his master as Qui-Gon began a new kata. He certainly wasn't going to get anywhere moping about.
A few moments into the kata and he could feel the Force flowing smoothly around his body, augmenting his skill and linking him with his master as they performed the movements together. Obi-Wan smiled again, the patience his master always counselled finding him and bringing him contentment.
July 20, 2000
I watch his lips as he speaks to me of love. So recently against my own, they are slightly kiss-swollen and darkly red. My breathing quickens at the memory, my breasts rising and falling, but he has eyes only for the man in his dreams.
I could have taken him if I had wanted, but he is so sweet in his earnestness...and his innocence. Though he hasn't named him, I know that the man he speaks of is his master. And as I gaze at his soft lips, watching them mould each sound, each declaration of adoration and respect and lust for the one he loves, I cannot help but wonder if the master knows what he has within his grasp?
July 21, 2000
Some missions are dangerous, some tedious. Others are entertaining or exciting or even extremely enjoyable. This mission could only be described as uncomfortable.
Perched, side by side on an outcropping even Yoda would have found small, neither of them could do more than shift slightly. They had been sitting there for only a day. There were two more days to endure. And for no other reason than to assure the Vilante people that they were human and not ghosts.
Obi-Wan still wasn't sure how exactly sitting partway up the mountain and doing nothing for three days was supposed to prove that they weren't ghosts and he was fairly sure that his master was just as perplexed. Nevertheless, Qui-Gon had accepted the edict as if he and Obi-Wan were asked to perform this particular task on every mission.
And so here they sat.
They had not been allowed to bring anything up with them. Any view there might have been was blocked by the dense grey fog that drifted around them. No noises penetrated the area either. While not really physically painful, it was an experience that he had no desire to repeat and the two days they had left to go seemed interminable.
About an hour ago, Obi-Wan had lost the sensation in his right thigh, but it was coming back now, tiny needle like prickles insisting that he did indeed have nerve endings there.
Qui-Gon's soft voice at his ear startled him. They had spent much of their first day talking, covering a large variety of topics, but both had fallen silent around the same time Obi-Wan's thigh had gone numb.
"Yes, Master?"
"Sh, Padawan," Qui-Gon whispered, his mouth pressed close to Obi-Wan's ear. "I'll do the talking. You listen."
Obi-Wan swallowed, feeling a shiver go through his body at his master's whispers. Something told him that this would not be a discourse on the philosophy of the Tenz warriors.
"Your ears are really quite lovely, Padawan," Qui-Gon murmured. His tongue gently traced the outer shell of Obi-Wan's ear, breath swirling in its wake, cooling the tongue heated flesh. Obi-Wan choked back his response, body growing taut as his master continued to nuzzle his ear.
"In all our time together, I don't believe I have ever given your ears the attention they deserve." Qui-Gon's voice sounded like molten lava, pouring over Obi-Wan's nerves in heated waves. Obi-Wan felt his shaft respond to the promise his master's words implied, growing firm, eager.
"If it hadn't been for this mission, I may have never noticed how enticing they are." This sentence was punctuated with the swirl of a tongue into his ear and Obi-Wan shivered as the sensitive flesh was caressed.
"Would you like to know what they are enticing me to do?"
Whimpering, Obi-Wan nodded, hands curling into fists as he fought to remain still.
"I feel myself compelled to lick," and here his master matched action to word, "and suck until all you can feel, all you know is your ear."
Obi-Wan's eyes closed, his breathing grew laboured and he moaned as Qui-Gon continued to alternate between licking and sucking and talking. He could feel his erection throbbing, feel the pressure building in his balls and it was the words that did the most damage. Words softly spoken in his master's low, rumbling voice.
Qui-Gon continued his seduction with words and mouth and tongue until as suddenly as it had started it all stopped. Obi-Wan hung between pleasure and orgasm, helplessly waiting for the balance to be tipped. His master spoke once more.
"Come for me, Obi-Wan."
And he did.
His body shuddered and shook as the wave of pleasure tore through him. He gasped, hands gripping the edge of the outcropping to keep himself from falling.
Obi-Wan kept his eyes closed as his breathing slowed, his hands unclenching. He became aware once again of the tingling in his right thigh as the deadened nerves came to life again. He had a new discomfort to add - the rapidly cooling wet spot in the front of his leggings. But he felt relaxed and at ease within his skin and couldn't quite make himself care.
A sideways glance revealed only his master's calm face, but Obi-Wan would have sworn that Qui-Gon's serenity had an air of smugness about it. And it was for that reason that Obi-Wan began to plan. After all, he only had two days in which to extract his revenge.
July 22, 2000
A padawan's place is at his master's side, a half a step behind. But since becoming lovers I will often send Obi-Wan ahead of me, especially if he isn't wearing his cloak.
He walks with fluid grace, hips rolling in unselfconscious sensuality. And if we have made love the night before, if I was the one taking, the hips roll just a little longer.
He is walking ahead of me now, hips rolling just that little bit extra, like a subtle wave, like a wink - telling me he knows why I have sent him ahead and what I am thinking.
July 23, 2000
Qui-Gon circulated slowly around the bright room, keeping a subtle eye on the group of dissidents who had been invited to the banquet. They were actually mingling quite well with the other guests and the hum of conversation that filled the air was pleasant and unbroken by raised or angry voices. So far there had been no problems, which boded well for the beginning of negotiations scheduled for the morning.
He headed slowly toward a cluster of the Regent's who men were standing together in a quiet corner that afforded a good view of the rest of the hall. They were speaking quietly, almost furtively among themselves and they broke off as Qui-Gon approached them, smiles on their faces.
"Ah, Jedi Jinn, well timed."
Qui-Gon inclined his head. "How may I be of service?"
"We were just checking your young man's...assets and were wondering how much you would sell him for?"
"I beg your pardon?" asked Qui-Gon, choking back his shock. Surely he had heard incorrectly.
"He's a very good looking boy - those formal uniforms of yours don't leave much to the imagination do they - though his seem to fit more snugly than your own."
"I'm afraid he's at an age where he's outgrowing his clothing more quickly than we can replace it. Coruscant is far away from where many of our missions take us, such as here on Shreeen," Qui-Gon replied, hoping to steer the conversation in another direction.
"Excellent - still growing you say - is he a virgin then? Name your price, I must have him."
Qui-Gon drew himself up and looked over at Obi-Wan. His young apprentice was standing with his back to them, listening as a dissident and a supporter spoke animatedly, and, indeed, his formal leggings and tunic were stretched tightly across his shoulders and backside.
"I'm sorry I do believe there has been some mistake," he said coldly. "The Republic does not allow slavery. We were under the impression that the Shreeen shared this view. If they do not, perhaps it is something that should be added to the agenda tomorrow. In the meantime, I must warn you that while we do not own people, Obi-Wan is my apprentice and therefore my responsibility and I will not allow any harm to come to him. Good day, gentlemen."
Making his way to Obi-Wan's side, Qui-Gon noticed that the soft hum of conversation had increased in volume, sounding now more like the angry buzz of casadis bugs. He casually laid his arm over the boy's shoulders as he came to a stop beside him. Qui-Gon could read the surprise in Obi-Wan's eyes, though it was well hidden.
"Enjoying the evening, Padawan?"
"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan answered dutifully.
"Perhaps we should retire, we have much to do before the talks begin in the morning - we wouldn't want to be up too late."
"Of course, Master."
Qui-Gon led his apprentice casually from the room. Though he could plainly feel Obi-Wan's curiosity, the boy didn't question him, for which he was grateful. He didn't relish having to explain to Obi-Wan that the Shreeen wished to buy him.
July 24, 2000
Obi-Wan filled his master's plate with drini rice and covered it with the sweet meat sauce he had made.
"Padawan." Qui-Gon's voice was short and Obi-Wan looked up in consternation.
"What's the matter, Master?"
"I was about to ask you the same thing."
"What makes you think something's wrong?"
"That's the second plate you've filled for me."
Obi-Wan looked over at his master and, indeed, an overfull plate of drini rice and sauce sat at Qui-Gon's elbow.
"Oh." Obi-Wan felt his face go red and ducked his head. He cleared his throat twice. "There's not really anything wrong, Master. More..."
"Something on your mind?"
"Exactly."
"Well out with it, before you add a third plate."
Qui-Gon held out his hand and Obi-Wan took it with a grateful grin. His master's fingers stroked his palm gently and Obi-Wan shivered in reaction, suddenly feeling braver.
"I ran into RiNi in the training salles today. She and her master have just returned from a cushy mission to Sleduce." Obi-Wan looked up at his master and Qui-Gon squeezed his hand, indicating he should continue. "She was telling me about some of the things they saw while they were there. One of the brothels...well they were a speciality pleasure house and they had all this equipment - chains and whips and all sorts of stuff, but that's not really what I was going to talk to you about it-"
"Take a breath, Obi-Wan."
"Yes, Master." Obi-Wan took a deep breath and ventured another look at his master. Qui-Gon's face was calm, interested, but Obi-Wan thought he saw a glimmer of amusement, and perhaps interest, in his master's eyes.
"You see, one of the things it catered too, was lovers who wanted to...it's called bondage see and they use ropes and stuff, and I was thinking - it's all consensual, nobody is there against their will and well, I...well...I thought that...that-
"Obi-Wan, are you suggesting that I tie you up and make love to you?"
"Oh! Well that sounds like fun, too."
July 25, 2000
Obi-Wan sank into heat, moaning at the sensation of velvet or silk surrounded him. Arching his back, he shifted his hips, letting himself get lost in within his sense of touch.
"Obi-Wan..."
"Master..." he whispered the word, grunting a little as Qui-Gon moved, turning slightly.
"Obi-Wan."
"Sh. Don't say anything, you'll ruin it." Obi-Wan buried himself more deeply into the soft heat and let another moan slide past his throat.
"It's a waterbed, Padawan and if you keep moving like that the waves are going to toss me out of it."
"Spoilsport," muttered Obi-Wan. Turning onto his side he was unable to entirely stifle his happy moan as the bed absorbed his body, holding him in a gentle cocoon of warmth.
July 26, 2000
Obi-Wan sank into heat, moaning as the sensation of silk surrounded him. Arching his back, he shifted his hips, letting himself get lost within his sense of touch.
"Obi-Wan..."
"Master..." he whispered the word, grunting a little as Qui-Gon moved, turning slightly.
"Obi-Wan."
"Sh. Let me love you." Obi-Wan said softly, leaning down to nip at Qui-Gon's shoulder.
"What would you do if I told you not to move?"
Obi-Wan buried his face against his master's neck. He was on his hands and knees, shaft buried deep within Qui-Gon's body. They were making love.
He wanted to move. He wanted to thrust into Qui-Gon's body until they both screamed with the pleasure of it. He wanted to stroke Qui-Gon's shaft until Qui-Gon came and then he would come too. He wanted to fall onto Qui-Gon's back in an exhausted heap and whisper sweet, soft words of love. He wanted to curl around Qui-Gon's body and hold him long into the night - that's when he wanted to stop moving.
"I would not move, Master." Voice soft, full of need but also of obedience.
"Then don't move."
Obi-Wan let his hands curl into the sheets by his master's head and then he locked his elbows and his knees, freezing in place. Qui-Gon began to shift beneath him, hips going forward and then back again, the movements sliding Obi-Wan's erection in and out of the long body.
Obi-Wan moaned helplessly, but he didn't move.
His eyes closed tightly shut and he breathed deeply, trying to find some sort of centre in which to ground himself - not convinced he would be able to obey his master's order.
His nose was filled with the scent of his master's hair, apples and honey, and beneath that was the scent of his master's skin itself, freshly washed with plain soap it smelled like Qui-Gon's kisses tasted -warm and subtle. Continuing to breathe in deeply, Obi-Wan concentrated on that almost elusive scent, finding his centre in his awareness of his master's body.
Qui-Gon was grunting with the effort of controlling each thrust from the bottom and the skin of his back, made slick with sweat, slid against Obi-Wan's chest with each movement.
Obi-Wan ached with the need to move, almost trembled from it, but kept himself still.
Qui-Gon's passage moved over his penis in a totally new way, caressing him with a touch that was exotic in its unfamiliarity. He could feel his climax building from the bottom of his feet - it rolled up his body in a wave, surging over him, undulating through him - moving. Outside his body remained still, but inside he writhed, wracked by shudders that strove to break out.
It felt too good to stay still. "Qui-Gon, please," he said, unashamed to beg.
"Don't move," Qui-Gon said, the words little more than shaped grunts.
Obi-Wan sobbed once and whimpered as another wave passed through him and then he was coming.
He had never felt anything like the pleasure that exploded inside of himself as he came. He could feel his seed push up into his penis, he could feel it leave his body to flood Qui-Gon's passage. The shudders that usually accompanied his orgasm were internalised, the energy usually expended in bucking hips doubled back on himself.
It seemed to go on forever and when it finally stopped Obi-Wan found himself still locked in place, panting harshly.
"Move, love," Qui-Gon prompted and Obi-Wan collapsed upon him, fine tremors passing through him, bringing with them small echoes of his climax.
His master bucked gently and Obi-Wan slid off his back, whereupon Qui-Gon wrapped him in his arms. Obi-Wan grunted with soft appreciation as heat and comfort surrounded him.
July 27, 2000
He seduces me.
With his changing eyes and his rolling walk he invites me to forget that I am his master. He glances at me, eyes like midnight and as full of promise as that dark hour and then he continues on, dutifully doing my bidding.
He seduces me.
With his leather boot covered feet and his long, swinging braid he beguiles me and I forget who I am. His boots sound against the marble floor. The cadence of my heart marked by the tap tap tap of his steps. I fancy I can hear the swish of his braid as it swings from side to side. That thin coil of hair that marks him as mine.
He seduces me.
My padawan.
My lover.
My Obi-Wan.
He seduces me and I am both debauched and consecrated.
His master.
His lover.
His Qui-Gon.
July 28, 2000
We sit under the stars, just we two - my master and I. Our trip to Brnna is not particularly comfortable, but it does afford us a privacy that we usually do not find in our lives. I watch as my master takes a bite of his ansu pie, taking the time to commit the simple act of savouring his food.
I can read the flavours in his face. The first impression is sweet -almost overly so, which makes the coming bite of sour more surprising, more cherished. He swallows, growing a smile as the flavour of betna lingers in his mouth. The spice is the secret ingredient to most of the dishes I prepare and I always carry a little pouch of it on my belt. A small taste of home.
July 29, 2000
I raise my hands toward my master, palms up, open. They want to tremble but I won't let them.
"I'd like to 'see' you first, if that is acceptable."
I wait for his answer, each second that he does not speak an eternity in my darkness. I can feel the air moving around me, lingering on the skin of my face and hands, much as I imagine his eyes do. Finally he makes a soft sound and I brace myself for his refusal, realising in the face of it how important doing this has become to me.
"Yes, it would be acceptable." His voice is gruff and I imagine that he is angry at my request - upset that it looks as if I am accepting my blindness. It is amazing how much I have counted on my eyes to give me the details that would clarify such things. He takes my hands in his own, the large palms warming my skin and his fingers hold my wrists gently as if I am made fisili glass. As he guides them to his face, I realise that he is not angry or upset - some other emotion thickens his speech.
I touch him.
My fingers meet his skin and I can feel the Force - he is brilliant with it, a light to ward off the darkness in my eyes. I trace the line where skin and hair meet, without my eyes there is no brown and silver, only soft hair.
I let my fingers slide down to his eyebrows, tracing their shape. How many times have they told me of his feelings, expressing what his words have not?
I find his eyes closed when I move on to them. I brush my thumbs over the lids several times, letting the long lashes tickle me. These eyes will be my guides until I am once again using my own.
I move on to his nose, tracing its length, mapping the uneven territory, lingering over that bump where it was broken. One day I will make him tell me the story of that break but not today. Today I have too much of an advantage over him.
Beneath his nose are the short hairs of his moustache. They seem so soft beneath my fingertips until one finger grazes across his lips. I come back to that warm softness again, letting each finger have a taste of it before carding through the hair along his cheeks and his chin.
I follow the beard down to his neck, my fingers combing through it until they brush against bare skin. Letting my hands drop, I resist the temptation to explore further.
"Thank you, Master."
His hand briefly strokes along my left cheek and I resist the urge to echo the touch. As it is the feeling of his skin under my hands sparks along my nerves, painting a vivid picture of him in my mind.
July 30, 2000
Obi-Wan peeked out from behind the shelter of his master's back. Another roar split the air, making him flinch slightly, though he felt fairly safe squeezed as he was between the rock face and his master's large, solid body.
"What do you think it is?" His master's voice was calm and Obi-Wan had to stifle a nervous giggle at the thought of his master continuing to quiz him while being made a meal of by the beast. He realised his laughter was born of nervous fear and he did his best to let the Force have those feelings.
"Well, Master, there were no pictures in the temple database associated with Trialt, but the descriptions were quite detailed." Obi-Wan was pleased that his voice remained even. "This animal's size and colouring, combined with its roar and ability to stand on its back legs fits the description for a gara and a bolpe. But the database said that bolpes were extremely rare, almost extinct, so this is much more likely to be a gara."
"And if it is a bolpe?"
"Due to their rarity it would be better not to harm this one." Obi-Wan grimaced as he followed the thought to its natural conclusion. "Given that we cannot be sure if this is a gara or a bolpe, we'll have to make every effort to preserve its life."
"Indeed, Obi-Wan." The beast roared again, long lines of saliva dripping from its open mouth. "Which leaves us standing here with a bit of a dilemma."
They were close enough to the animal now to see the large brown teeth with their pointed ends and to have the beast's warm breath wash against them, the foetid smell making it clear that it was a meat eater. Obi-Wan's hand went automatically to his lightsaber, comforted by its weight against his hip and the feeling of the cold metal in his palm, even if they couldn't use it. Even if his unfortunate dip into a bog had shorted out the electrical components, leaving it temporarily non-functioning. He needed something to distract himself from their situation.
"Both garas and bolpes hibernate during the sacal months," said Obi-Wan, trying on his master's casual mantle and finding the illusion helping him stay calm. "I wonder why this one is awake?"
"Perhaps we ourselves have woken it with our bumbling about."
"I am sorry, Master. I should have been paying more attention to where I was going. And then when I disturbed that nest of stingers I should not have panicked and run blindly. And I'm sorry you had to follow me into the bog to rescue me."
"The bog did have the advantage of driving away the band of vicious kilbun that had taken after us."
"Do you think it was the noise we made or the way we smell after the bog and the downpour that disturbed this animal's sleep?"
"A tough call, Padawan."
At that moment the second moon finally broke from its prison of clouds and Obi-Wan resumed his aborted search for a likely escape route, eyeing the forest and rocks that surrounded them.
"There, Master," he said, unable to keep the excitement from his voice. "About 18 units up and three to the left is a ledge that looks as if it will hold us both."
Obi-Wan kept his eye on the large animal that had finally stopped roaring, seeming content instead to pace back and forth in front of them, while his master gauged the distance and relative safety of Obi-Wan's ledge. He could feel his master briefly touch the rock with the Force, testing its stability.
"Good choice," said Qui-Gon. "You first, I'll be right behind you."
"Yes, Master." Obi-Wan pulled his cloak up, holding the mud-soaked garment tightly around his waist. Taking a deep breath, he centred himself in the Force, imagining himself flying up from the ground and landing safely on the outcropping. Another deep breath and he leapt, letting the Force buoy him. He landed softly on the ledge, moving forward to hug the rock face. A soft thud behind him heralded his master's arrival.
The beast they'd left below bellowed deafeningly and then the noise settled into an annoyed sounding growl that eventually faded. Obi-Wan looked cautiously over the edge of their outcropping. The animal lay directly below them, lifting its head at the movement from Obi-Wan and resuming its growl.
"Do you think he'll wait all night, Master?"
"He certainly seems prepared to outwait us and considering that he has nowhere to be for another few weeks while we are expected back in the capital city at first light, I do not wish to test his endurance."
"There's another ledge almost directly above this one - about 30 units up." Obi-Wan felt his master once again touch the Force as he tested the outcropping above them.
"Very well, after you, Padawan."
Following the same procedure as before, Obi-Wan leapt to the ledge, realising immediately that the far rock wall was much closer up here than it had been below and there was not enough room for his master to land behind him. Before he could turn and warn Qui-Gon, he felt a his master's weight land against him and then the two of them were falling backward, arms flailing as they went down. Their efforts to right themselves only succeeded in loosening rocks from the cliff face and Obi-Wan reached for the Force to cushion the impact as he began to slide down the steep slope, stones and dirt and rocks coming with him. He could feel his master's presence, tumbling ahead of him and he was vaguely aware of their hunter fleeing from their noisy decent.
Obi-Wan reached the bottom of the cliff, the impact of his landing forcing the air from his lungs.
"Ompf," said the surprisingly soft rock he had landed on. "Get off, Padawan."
"Yes, Master," he replied, mortified. He scrambled to his feet, eliciting another grunt as his foot connected with his master's stomach. Obi-Wan wiped helplessly at the dust and small rocks that clung to his master's robe as Qui-Gon stood. "I am so sorry, Master."
"Yes, well, I suppose we should have expected it, given the way our day has gone. Come on, Padawan, I suggest we move as quickly as possible before we run into any more of the local wildlife."
July 31, 2000
Obi-Wan's body went lax and he lay there, quiet, unmoving. He could barely force air in and out of his lungs, much less open his eyes. Or speak. Or move.
The sheets were blessedly cool against his fever-hot skin and his head was turned to touch one burning cheek against the moonlit caress of cold silk.
His lover's body slid up the length of his own, the heat inflaming him despite his utter languor. Qui-Gon settle next to him, his heavy breathing blowing air over Obi-Wan's hair, cooling his sweat-soaked scalp.
Obi-Wan attempted to speak, a soft sound the only noise to make it past his throat and Qui-Gon chuckled, the big body moving slightly with the noise. One of Qui-Gon's hands slid over his own, entwining their fingers and Obi-Wan found enough energy to squeeze slightly.
"I love you, too." Qui-Gon's voice was low, not quite a whisper. The sound of it wound its way into Obi-Wan's dreams as he let go his hold on his body and slid into sleep.
On to August 2000's Snapshots