Archive: Yes
Archive Date: September 25, 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.
August 01, 2000
"Please," said the Prime Tershek, holding a silver tray laden with dark brown squares out to the two Jedi, "take one. It is b'set - a delicacy that you will not find anywhere else in the galaxy."
Obi-Wan tried not to be too eager, taking a large chunk of the b'set from the tray, telling himself he was being polite by taking one of the pieces near the edge. A quick glance at his master's face showed that Qui-Gon, at least, had not been fooled and, as Obi-Wan watched, his master took the small piece that had been sitting next to the one Obi-Wan now held.
The Prime Tershek nodded at them eagerly and Obi-Wan bit into his piece with relish. As an initiate, he had heard padawans talking about the various delicacies the galaxy had to offer: fruits covered in sugar and cooked in wines, sweetbreads with gooey fillings, and dark, rich delights that made one swoon. It had taken him five missions with his master before he was offered his first delicacy and now that he had been, he refused to feel guilty about enjoying it, refused in fact to do anything other than enjoy it.
He had chewed several times before it registered that the b'set was not at all sweet. And it certainly wasn't going to make him swoon, at least not with delight.
Obi-Wan's smile didn't falter, he even managed to continue chewing enthusiastically and nod at the Tershek's beaming look of anticipation. Twelve years of training as an initiate and the last few months at his master's side were the only things that allowed Obi-Wan to swallow the piece of b'set in his mouth and take another bite.
He looked over at his master, noticing the twinkle in Qui-Gon's eyes as he swallowed what was left of his own considerably smaller piece of b'set. Obi-Wan choked down the last of his own, his stomach roiling in protest at the bitter food.
He accepted the Tershek's offer of a drink, cautiously sipping at the pale green liquid. As soon as he ascertained that the drink was safe, he drank deeply, letting it wash through his mouth. However, the bitter taste of the b'set lingered and the awful bile that rose on a burp he discreetly hid behind his hand promised that it would be a long afternoon.
August 02, 2000
"What is this, Padawan?"
"Our new pet, Master."
"New pet?"
"Yes. Now we don't have to collect any on our missions."
"I would hardly say that we collect pets."
"Whatever you want to call them, however you want to put it, I thought perhaps if you had a pet at home you wouldn't feel the need to rescue quite so many...things."
"What's this supposed to be then?"
"It's a baby spelt. I've been told they are rather cute."
"This one doesn't appear to be breathing."
"It isn't. And we don't need to feed or water it. And it won't grow into a great, big, smelly, adult spelt, which, I understand, is most definitely not cute."
"In other words, our new 'pet' isn't actually alive."
"The best kind of pet, wouldn't you say, Master?"
"I do believe you are rather missing the point of a pet."
"Cute? Cuddly? Always there? Sits on your lap? Snowball does all that."
choking "Snowball?"
"I had originally chosen Furball, but Bant vetoed that."
"Furball?"
"If you prefer it, I am more than happy to change it back. I thought it was rather more accurate myself."
"No, no, Snowball will do." muttering "Until I can get rid of the abomination."
"What was that, Master?"
"I was just wondering where you came up with this...pet idea."
"It was something I came up with while I was explaining to Master Yoda why my boots had holes in them."
August 03, 2000
Red and sticky, the dark liquid covered his hands and stained his tunic. The cream material looked white like bones, bones splattered with blood. Obi-Wan looked at the body in front of him, watching as the dark stain spread along the ground. He knelt, unmoving, like a supplicant. Maybe he was. Don't let him be dead.
Only the stain moved. It was like a living thing, coming to him, inexorably closer with each passing moment that Obi-Wan knelt in prayer. His white leggings grew red, the knees first but the blood climbed higher, still alive, alive and looking for vengeance - I am dead because of you.
He shook his head, blood didn't talk, it wasn't alive. But still it came to him. He had to check, had to know. His hand trembled, a flash, a glint of silver caught by the flickering light. Opening his hand was hard, it was clenched tightly closed. He used his other hand to pry open his fingers, the blood making everything slippery, the blood fighting him. At last his hand was open and a clang reverberated around the room, but he hardly heard it. He was reaching again for the body, reaching for the neck. Nothing. Nothing but cold flesh. He dipped his fingers in the pool of blood that still moved toward him. It was warm. Red and sticky and staining him for all to see.
Branded.
Marked.
Murderer.
Dimly he could hear whimpering and a high-pitched keening, but they were faint beneath the roar of blood in his ears. He couldn't tell if it was his own or if it belonged to the body on the floor. But the thumping heart was his - the other's no longer could.
"Master," he called out, but the word got lost somewhere inside him. "Master..."
August 04, 2000
Qui-Gon's skin tastes like sunshine and earth.
I lean forward and press my lips to his neck to taste again. I suck, eager to savour the flavours beneath the surface. Still sunshine and earth, but also salt and copper.
I keep sucking, looking for a hint of something more. An elusive flavour that I cannot name, that I cannot even be sure is there.
It is my master but more. It is heat and sex and love. It moves across my tongue straight to my brain, to my heart, to my shaft.
My orgasm turns me inside out.
I lie at his feet and offer him his soul in return for my own.
August 05, 2000
I finish the last movement of the Sun's kata and hold the final position, oblivious of everything but myself and the Force, until I hear my master's voice.
"Well done, Padawan." His words flow over me, rippling against nerves and muscles strung tight by my efforts.
He has often said that, if properly done, a kata can be better than sex. Since becoming lovers, I have been much more interested in laying the baseline of how sex feels than testing his theory, but today, as my limbs begin to shake with the effort of standing, as the adrenaline and endorphins rush through my body, lighting me up, I think I might understand what he means.
I feel good - no, I feel great, in an about-to-collapse kind of way. My connection to the Force is strong, my body is fulfilled, the only thing missing is my master's essence. But that is the prime ingredient and without it the katas will always fall short of the sex.
"Would you like to try the Twin Moons Kata? Your performance of the Sun Kata tonight suggests that you are ready."
I look at my master, really look at him, for it is as if he has read my mind. The Twin Moons Kata is a kata performed by two that only succeeds if the two work in perfect harmony, working together in body and in the Force.
I hope this doesn't mean we won't be having sex anymore.
August 07, 2000
Walking through the Garden of Hills, I am drawn to the sound of laughter. I turn the bend and stop, delighted by the joy that travels to me through the Force. A group of children from the crèche are spinning, turning round and round in place until they fall.
I can remember how I used to do the same thing when I was little. While I was spinning I was free, gravity's hold no longer clinging. It has been a long time since I have participated in such childish pursuits, but a sudden urge overcomes me and I hold out my arms and begin to turn in place.
Faster and faster I spin, growing dizzy and light-headed. I can feel the laughter bubbling up as it becomes harder to keep my balance, my centre thrown off.
Finally I fall.
Lying on the ground I continue to laugh, watching the tops of the trees and the domed ceiling of the garden continue to spin above me. I feel like I am flying.
My padawan's concerned face suddenly insinuates itself between me and my flight of fancy. "Master? Are you all right?"
My laughter begins anew and I take the hand he has offered, pulling myself up. "I am fine, Obi-Wan," I tell him as I help him out of his cloak. "There is something I wish to show you."
August 08, 2000
I stand by the galleria windows scanning the crowd. Hiding my yawn behind a lace-covered hand, I tune out the Third Minister's incessant babble. These affairs are so tiresome, were it nor for my hunger I would not be here. My companion clears his throat and murmurs and I follow his line of sight. I feel my satisfaction leak from my smile; I cannot help it – my prey of this evening has arrived.
The Jedi. They wear their neutrality like a second cloak, their calm like twin masks. Despite the layers and drabness of the clothing, I can see that they are quite...fit. There is also their reputation. All in all they are both worthy targets of my attentions for the evening.
I have however set my sights on the younger. The elder is finer by far, inasmuch as two male humanoids can be fine, but the innocence of the other rolls from him in waves, enticing me, calling me. So, despite that ridiculous haircut and his bare face, it is he I shall have.
They greet our First Minister with polite bows, little more than an inclination of their heads. You shall show me more respect than that little one when I have you trussed up, tied across my couch and laid bare to my every whim. Your innocence will not be so apparent when I have finished with you, though if what I have heard of the Jedi is true you shall at least be alive.
They move away from the First Minister's group and the young pup looks straight at me, as if he felt my focus. I manage not to gasp, but I do take a step back and tear my gaze from his, pretending renewed interest in the Third Minister's banalities.
His eyes belied that calm, neutral mask they have worn in the days they have been here. Innocent he might look, but his eyes have seen much and much of it not in the great halls of the elite. He appears far too young to own such eyes.
I feel suddenly provincial.
I take the Third Minster's arm and interrupt him with a hungry purr before sweeping him from the room as if he were my intended morsel all along.
August 10, 2000
He moves over me like a sleek beast; corded muscles covered by glistening skin. His hand hold mine above my head, gentle yet firm. He takes me deeply - his thrusts pushing us closer and closer to our mutual goal.
Despite his youth and his sleek, muscled body, there is no question that I am stronger, faster, more adept within the Force. And yet, his mastery of me is complete. I lie here and I am his in body, mind and soul.
As I look up at him his eyes open and I see within their changeable depths my own possession. And his.
August 12, 2000
Obi-Wan lay on his stomach, chin resting on his folded arms. The far away suns of Cilkor shone down brightly, warm in this season that found them closest to the planet. He focussed on a single blade of common grass in the sea of blades he lay among.
The slender stalk moved with the light breeze that blew, bending to its will and straightening again when it grew calm. The blade was so fragile and yet it survived against rain and wind, heat and darkness. It even survived being cut down and being trampled upon. A single small blade that nonetheless made a contribution among its brethren.
Obi-Wan felt himself slip into a light meditation, the Force trying to tell him something, but when he reached out for it, it was gone.
Clearing his mind and drawing deep breaths to begin anew, he was interrupted by his master's presence in the garden. Qui-Gon came and sat beside him, one hand playing idly with his cropped.
"We have a mission. A trade dispute. Our transport arrives from Coruscant in an hour. I'll meet you at the Regent's landing pad in 50 minutes."
"Yes, Master." Obi-Wan watched as Qui-Gon stood; the piece of grass he'd been contemplating disappearing beneath one large boot. Qui-Gon strode away, releasing the slender blade which slowly unfolded and stood once more.
"Master," he called out. At the edge of the garden Qui-Gon turned, meeting his eyes across the sea of grass. "I love you, Qui-Gon."
Qui-Gon smiled and Obi-Wan could feel the wave of his master's love flow over him, warmer than the heat of the sun. He watched until his master's long body disappeared from sight.
August 13, 2000
We'd been told the Star Jumper had been stripped of her weapons and was virtually defenceless. Boarding her would be easy and then we could kill the Dagan brats - four children, the last of their line. Purity would be restored to our people once more.
The boarding had not been as easy as we had been led to believe, but only one of us was killed, gone to Dursa a hero. I now search the broken ship eagerly, feeling the rush of my mission thrill through me. My Drogarnil is heavy in my hand, as eager as I to spill the blood of my enemy - the last of them in the entire universe.
I follow the halls, taking the turns instinctively - Dursa is leading me to my destiny. I find myself in what looks like the galley - they are here, I can feel it in my bones, in the way my Drogarnil vibrates. There are lot of places to hide here, but I go to the short door of the pantry, my blood singing eagerly in my ears, it's song growing stronger as I near their hiding place.
I open the door and step in, my nose flaring at the smell of the Dragan scum. Yes, they are here, cowering in the dim light behind a pup barely older than they are. I lick my lips in anticipation, already tasting the exultation of my kill. This is going to be an easy victory.
August 14, 2000
"What is it, Master?" Obi-Wan eyed the electric blue and screaming orange bundle with a great deal of suspicion.
"I'm not entirely sure," replied Qui-Gon, contemplating the same bundle from a safer distance across the room.
Unclipping his lightsaber from his belt, Obi-Wan used the silver and obsidian handle to poke delicately at the pile of...colours in the middle of Qui-Gon's bed. It gave way beneath his touch, the colours settling into a new pattern. "It doesn't appear to be alive," he said.
"Or so it would have us believe," answered his master, the corner of his mouth quirking for an instant before settling back into calm facade.
"I'm glad you're finding this amusing, Master, because there's another one on my bed that I'm going to let you deal with."
"I'm not worried, Padawan, it cannot possibly be worse than this one."
Obi-Wan felt the smile trying to break out and kept it from his face by morphing it into a stern frown. "Do you remember the day the temple dining hall served the traditional dish of every species in the temple and the Hoth sleeots were off?"
He couldn't be sure, but had his master's face paled slightly at that? Obi-Wan lost his battle with the smile. "That's what the other one looks like."
"Perhaps," suggested Qui-Gon, "there might be a small accident with your lightsaber. There isn't really enough room in here for katas, but you were restless and performed one anyway. It's a shame that Antusian Snakeskin is so flammable and that the only thing I had at hand to throw on your traditional costume in an attempt to put it out was my own."
Obi-Wan's smile turned into a grin. "Do you think they'll believe it?"
Qui-Gon drew himself up, radiating quiet dignity. "I am a Jedi Master, Padawan. Of course they will believe me."
Obi-Wan lit his lightsaber, the bright blade hissing as it touched the blue and orange bundle on the bed, igniting it immediately.
"Indeed," remarked Obi-Wan, "you do tell the truth - Antusian Snakeskin is extremely flammable."
August 15, 2000
Obi-Wan slid the night-shirt over his head, a quiet murmur of pleasure passing through his lips as the soft material slid along his skin and settled against him. He grinned at his master as his penis began to firm, the brush of the silky shirt over his quiescent genitals bringing them quickly to life.
"It feels wonderful, Master. Thank you for the wonderful gift."
"I have to admit that I feel a bit selfish giving it to you."
"How can giving me a gift make you selfish?" asked Obi-Wan as he ran his hands along his arms, eyes closing to half mast as the material slid beneath his hand with sensuous ease.
"Because I knew the effect it would have on you."
Following his master's line of sight, Obi-Wan grinned as he looked down at his own groin. His shaft strained away from his body, tenting the night-shirt at his middle, leaving a dark, wet spot where the tip rubbed against the silky softness.
It was almost as soft as his master's passage, though it lacked the heat and the tightness that caressed him so thoroughly when he was buried deep within Qui-Gon's body.
Looking up, Obi-Wan found an answering hardness tenting Qui-Gon's clothing. He wondered what it would feel like to sink into his master while wearing the shirt. Silk all around him, around his chest and his back and his arms and around his penis.
"You are right, as usual, my Master," he said quietly as he backed slowly toward the bed, Qui-Gon matching him, step for step.
"How so?" asked Qui-Gon, hands pulling at his belt, sliding the sensible, plain tunic over his shoulders and letting it drop to the floor.
"It was a very selfish gift," Obi-Wan replied as he climbed onto the bed and lay back amongst the pillows. "And I hope you're even more selfish next time you get me a gift."
Anything more he might have said was smothered under the weight of his master's kiss.
August 16, 2000
"I don't see why we can't experiment while we are at the temple. Perhaps we should continue this conversation later this evening?" suggested Qui-Gon.
"Yes, Master. Thank you, Master."
"Now why don't we eat."
He watched as Obi-Wan nodded and dug into his food. His padawan was clearly feeling more at ease now that he had broached the subject. Qui-Gon chose the first plate he had been served and took a mouthful. "This is very good," he complimented. Obi-Wan beamed and continued eating.
He wondered how exactly the conversation between Obi-Wan and RiNi had gone and he was going to have to talk to Master t'ffal about this latest mission - he was sure there was a story there.
He glanced back at Obi-Wan. The lad was concentrating on eating and Qui-Gon took a moment to study him. His eyes ran over the familiar form - the boy had grown into a man, had been a man for awhile now and there wasn't an inch of his body that Qui-Gon had not touched, smelled and tasted. But there were obviously corners of Obi-Wan's mind that he had yet to explore.
His padawan wanted to tie him up.
A frisson of excitement went through him, warring with his initial negative reaction. A master had a certain dignity to maintain and the very Jedi part of himself insisted that to let his padawan tie him up for the purpose of making love to him was wrong.
But as a man...as a man he was intrigued, and, if he were honest with himself, somewhat delighted that Obi-Wan wanted to take a more dominant role in their love-making. Not that Obi-Wan was ever reticent, but there was a certain amount of overlap between their roles as master and apprentice and their roles as lovers.
When Obi-Wan had mentioned bondage, the picture that had flashed through his head had been of his padawan bent over a chair, hands and feet tied to the legs, totally at his mercy. It had definitely been arousing. But now, a new picture was forming. One where he was the one left helpless, at the mercy of his lover, unable to move, forced to accept whatever his lover chose to do.
He would have to promise not to call on the Force. It would be the first time in a very long time that he was not in control of a situation.
Scary.
Intriguing.
August 17, 2000
"Ready?" asked Master Bosil from the observation deck.
"Yes, Master," replied Obi-Wan, forcing the air from his lungs. 'Breathe' he told himself sternly. Passing out from lack of oxygen would ruin everything and he'd been looking forward to this for months.
There was a soft thud and, for a moment, it felt as though a giant was pushing down on Obi-Wan's shoulders, forcing him into the floor. Abruptly the pressure disappeared and Obi-Wan felt light, his arms rising gently of their own accord. It felt as if his body were trying to rise, tugging at the restraints that held his feet firmly to the floor.
He bent over carefully, body responding easily, and undid the clasps that held him in place. Slipping his feet from the moorings, he pushed against the floor with his toes and rose like magic into the air. Laughing, he swung forward, somersaulting mid-air. He did it twice more before his gentle momentum brought him to the ceiling.
Obi-Wan grabbed at the ring embedded into the stone and used it to push himself back into the open expanse of the room. Holding his arms out to the sides, it felt as though he were flying. He continued to spin and leap and roll in the air, feeling light and joyful. All too soon, Master Bosil was speaking again, interrupting him in the midst of a spiral.
"I'll be turning the gravity back on in a moment, Initiate."
Sighing, Obi-Wan looked around, trying to decide which of the six walls was the floor. They each held mooring rings - the real training was not how to manoeuvre without gravity, though that was important too, but in being able to orient oneself and function once gravity returned. Closing his eyes, he let the Force guide him to the correct moorings and locked his feet within them.
"I'm ready, Master." Obi-Wan braced himself, knowing that if he'd chosen incorrectly he'd be pulled strongly toward the real floor.
Gravity's return almost crumpled him. It seemed that he'd chosen the right wall and instead of being pulled strongly away from the fastenings around his feet, he was pushed toward them. He flowed with the downward momentum, undoing the clasps and freeing his feet. He continued down, rolling over in an ungainly summersault, missing the easy mobility of the gravity-free environment.
Up on his feet once again, Obi-Wan slowly walked around the room until his body felt fluid and free once again, shaking the feeling of being slowly crushed under the sudden weight of the air.
"Well done, Obi-Wan. We won't need to see you again until you become a padawan."
"Thank you, Master." Obi-Wan hid his disappointment, focussing instead on the possibility of returning in a year or two with a master of his own in tow. He could imagine how much fun it might be to spin and roll and fly with someone else instead of on his own.
August 18, 2000
"How are you doing, Obi-Wan?"
"I'm hungry, Master."
Qui-Gon managed to hold back his chuckle - it wouldn't do for his new apprentice to think that his master was laughing at him, even if said apprentice made it sound like he'd been starving for a week rather than fasting for the 24 hours required by the Quazten ritual they were observing.
"It won't be much longer, Padawan."
"I know, Master. I just can't seem to stop thinking of food. At first it was just stuff like sweet breads and sugarpies, but now even the thought of a bowl of plain grains sounds wonderful and it's as if I can see it in front of me, steaming slightly..."
"Meditation often-"
"I've tried that, Master, but every time I begin my stomach interrupts in order to complain. Why do we have to fast anyway? It's not our sacred day or our god."
"No, but we are here as peacekeepers. If we wish to be taken seriously, we must first demonstrate that we take them seriously, that we honour their ways. Do you understand?"
Obi-Wan opened his mouth to respond but his stomach chose that moment to growl loudly, the sound making him giggle.
"I'm sorry, Master, but you must admit - my stomach's got timing."
"It does indeed," replied Qui-Gon, permitting himself a warm smile but keeping the laughter inside. "Perhaps if I sit with you, you will have more success in your meditations. I think we should focus on the nature of hunger."
"Yes, Master."
August 19, 2000
Hungry. I'm so hungry, the feeling like a blow to my stomach, leaving me aching.
I prowl, restless, around our rooms, opening and closing cupboards, looking again and again into the cooler, though I know what I want and that I won't find it there.
Qui-Gon has gone out, left the Temple for some reason and though I can still feel him with me, he isn't with me and I ache. Only his touch can soothe my pain, only his kisses can slake my thirst. Nothing less than the flavour of his skin will assuage my hunger.
It is not a state for a Jedi to be in - where is my control?
I go to my room and kneel in front of the window; using the horizon of the endless cityscape as my focus I slip into meditation, determined to conquer this overwhelming need before my master or, worse, another sees it and assigns correction.
I come back to myself in time to hear the door to our quarters slide open - my master returned. My solution is clear...abstinence will not for even one moment be easy, but ten rotations with my master so close yet unable to touch him will either send me to the Dark Side or teach me what I need to control the hunger that even now rushes through me, eager to make a banquet of the man in the other room.
August 20, 2000
A self-imposed ban to control his appetites.
Really, I should be proud of my padawan; he recognised the problem and did not shirk when he formed his solution. But it has been eight rotations since I returned to our quarters, eager and ready for my lover of only a few weeks, only to have him announce a period of abstinence so that he could learn to control his needs, so that he could learn to rule them rather than be ruled by them.
Did he realise then that he condemned me to the same period of chastity? Or that I had need myself of this exercise in control? If he did not then, he does now - I am afraid I have taken this enforced celibacy far harder than he, having spent more than my share of time grumbling with discontent.
It grows no easier to be unable to touch him, but control is no longer something I must seek, but there at my command. The body still wants but the mind and spirit rule over it.
And so we are vouchsafed, our passions will not rule us.
My smart padawan. My insightful padawan. My beautiful padawan. My sexy padawan. And in only two rotations more, my extremely well-loved padawan.
Though part of his strict abstinence includes keeping such feelings from our bond, it is as if he hears my thoughts regardless and the smile he gives me tells me that I will only succeed in taking him if he doesn't manage to take me first.
It would seem there are more advantages to this ban than I had first divined.
August 21, 2000
I run my hand slowly down his back, watching his muscles ripple in the wake of my touch. I observe the way his flesh seems so pale in contrast to my own weathered skin. As my fingers dance over his flanks I realise that they seem longer when they are moving into his body, penetrating him.
I bring my hands down to his buttocks and grasp them, holding them apart to observe the point where our bodies join, where my phallus disappears into him. I touch where we are joined, rubbing both the base of my own penis and the stretched ring of his muscle. His whimpers grow louder, his voice finding words.
"Please...please, Master."
"Sh." I say it softly, gently and the sound hisses along my own nerves. "Easy, Padawan." Softly, gently, as if my own body isn't screaming at me, insisting that I move, that I begin the dance that will take us beyond our bodies.
I continue to finger the place we are made one, while I let my other hand drift over his hip. I have to bend forward slightly to reach his sack and the movement pushes me deeper and my hips rest tightly against the rounded flesh of his bottom. His testicles are heavy, drawn tightly against his body, ready for the signal from his brain to release their flood. The signal I am withholding in my refusal to move.
I touch his erection, barely allowing my fingertips to brush over it, feeling the heat and silk and steel of it nonetheless. He sobs once and begins to move, pulling away and moving back - impaling himself. I take his penis in a firm grip and let him slide into the tight tunnel of my hand as he moves forward. I surround the base of my own penis with my thumb and forefinger, allowing the rest of my fingers to brush his sack.
I watch as his skin grows wet with sweat, as the muscles of his back ripple and those in his arms clench and bunch . I watch as his sides heave with each breath, telling myself my watching is a lesson in control. Telling myself that I am in control.
His movements speed and my body is jarred with each backward lunge, though it hardly registers as his shaft moves within my hand. If I am in control, how come my awareness has dimmed to encompass no more than the channels of my hand and his body and the two shafts that glide within them?
In and out and out and in until in is out and out in and there is heat, heat within and heat without and he is coming and I am coming and I am collapsing over him, my weight carrying us both down and there is floating.
Control...I was thinking...there was something about control.
August 22, 2000
"What happened to you, Padawan?"
"Nothing, Master."
"Nothing?"
"Nothing."
"But you're wet."
"Yes, Master."
"And muddy."
"Yes, Master."
"What did you do?"
"Nothing, Master."
"Then why, may I ask, are you both wet and muddy?"
"Master Yoda's council chair has gone missing."
silence
"I beg your pardon, Padawan?"
"I said - Master Yoda's council chair has gone missing."
"I afraid I fail to see what this could have to do with your being wet and muddy."
"Master Yoda didn't believe me when I said I'd done nothing either."
August 23, 2000
Obi-Wan had never had any trouble sleeping. Certainly there were times when the Jedi could not sleep, when they dared not for even a moment drop their guard, but sleep, once courted, was an eager lover. He would slip, tired and heavy-lidded into its grasp and when he left the comforting embrace he could find himself refreshed and ready to face whatever the Force wished to send his way.
August 24, 2000
I can hardly walk, I certainly have no concept of exactly where we are or how to get back to our rooms. If Qui-Gon were not holding my hand, surely I would be walking into the walls.
Tonight is the night I give him my body - only fitting as he already holds my heart and has done so for a long time now. I have long anticipated this moment, more so in the last few weeks since I knew it would become a reality.
I know the things human males can do to pleasure one another and I want to try them all, but most of all I want to hold him and be held in return.
And to share another kiss like the one that turned my world into a universe.
August 25, 2000
As we walk hurriedly through the familiar hallways, I can't help but anticipate the evening. "Live in the moment" I have often admonished my padawan, but seem unable to take my own advice. This moment is fraught with anticipation that has grown in the weeks since we declared our love and fuelled by the kiss we have just shared.
Perhaps we have waited too long, perhaps not long enough.
Tonight I make my padawan's body my own. His heart and his spirit he gave to me all those weeks ago and the joy I have felt since is incomparable. Still, though I wear the guise of a Jedi Master, I am only human, with a human's needs. For the first time I shall indulge those needs without regret, without hesitation.
I guess a part of me has always waited for Obi-Wan.
August 26, 2000
Obi-Wan's breathing slowly returned to normal in the aftermath of his orgasm. The small of Qui-Gon's back was warm beneath his cheek, moving almost imperceptibly with each breath his master took.
Running the fingers of one hand over Qui-Gon's buttocks, tracing each cheek down to the crease where it met thigh and sliding along the shadowed cleft with light pressure, Obi-Wan let his mind drift on the easy languor of satiation. His limbs were heavy with that pleasing lassitude that spoke of physical gratification. He contemplated settling in for the night, curled around Qui-Gon's lower body.
A deep, rumbling sound drifted to his ears from his master's chest and Obi-Wan reluctantly left his warm pillow. Qui-Gon turned and large hands encouraged Obi-Wan to slide up into a strong embrace.
Their mouths met in a long kiss, Qui-Gon's tongue stroking over Obi-Wan's, pulling it into his mouth and sucking until Obi-Wan moaned, hips stirring restlessly against his master's body. It was Qui-Gon who broke the kiss, pulling back to run his tongue over Obi-Wan's lips.
Obi-Wan let his head fall back as Qui-Gon began to nuzzle his neck, placing soft kisses on the warm skin.
"Where did you learn to do that?" asked Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan could feel his face grow warm at the gentle inquiry.
"Did you like it?" he asked softly, shyness stabbing through him.
His master chuckled and then pulled him closer, purring his answer into Obi-Wan's ear. "Oh yes, very much."
Obi-Wan's face grew warmer, this time pleasure colouring his cheeks. "It was something I saw on a mission and when we returned I looked it up in the temple database."
His master laughed again, the sound full and rich, like a caress of its own. "Well I'm glad to see that our becoming lovers has not hindered your thirst for knowledge."
August 27, 2000
Obi-Wan knelt behind his master, running the occasional caress along his lover's back or over the rigid member that hung beneath the kneeling body, straining toward Qui-Gon's abdomen. He was hard himself, his breathing loud in their chamber, his shaft aching with the need to slide into Qui-Gon's body.
Obi-Wan slid a single finger along the dark crevace between Qui-Gon's buttocks, watching as his master's body shuddered. Cupping each cheek in one hand, he spread them, exposing the tight bud of his master's opening. He blew softly, the muscle clenching in reaction and then slowly relaxing again. He wet his own lips with his tongue, contemplating the small entrance to his lover's body.
He remembered a mission they'd been on some time before he and his master were lovers. A small planet, Rimee was one of the oldest Republic members, and when they had required negotiators in order to quell and anarchic uprising, the Jedi had responded with one of their best teams. What Obi-Wan remembered the most about the mission was his near constant state of surprised embarrassment. The Rimee people were an affectionate race for whom a long, deep kiss was as acceptable as a handshake and very little sexual activity was hidden behind closed doors. Obi-Wan had spent a good deal of the mission alternating between averting his eyes and staring. It wasn't so much that he was a prude, but rather his upbringing had not included spontaneous public acts of affection and to see passions celebrated and acted upon rather than controlled, and in such a public manner, was shocking.
One of the acts he'd witnessed had involved one partner licking the other's anus. It had both fascinated and horrified Obi-Wan and when they had returned to the temple he had furtively searched through the database and discovered all there was to know about rimming.
Since he and Qui-Gon had become lovers he found himself thinking more and more about the rimming he had witnessed. The receiver had been writhing and shouting with passion, but the giver had also seemed to be quite enjoying performing the act. So he had re-read the data available and decided that tonight was the night. He would surprise his master with this gift.
Qui-Gon shifted restlessly, a soft moan reaching Obi-Wan's ears and he realised he had stopped moving altogether while he contemplated rimming his master.
"Obi-Wan?" The way Qui-Gon said the name made it sound part plea, part question, all needy and Obi-Wan ran his hands up and down the long back before him. He leaned over to kiss Qui-Gon's shoulder blade.
"I love you, Master."
Qui-Gon rumbled, his words indecipherable and he cleared his throat and tried again. "Love, b-wan." Soft and husky, aural velvet, and Obi-Wan purred in response before slowly moving down Qui-Gon's body until he was once again faced with the small pucker of Qui-Gon's anus.
Touching Qui-Gon's skin lightly with his tongue, Obi-Wan circled the little opening. His master's reacted immediately, surging away from the touch with a startled shout, his entire body tightening.
"I'm sorry," whispered Obi-Wan, backing away, wondering how it could have gone so wrong so quickly.
"No. No." Qui-Gon pushed back. "You surprised me, but please, don't stop."
"You liked it?" Obi-Wan asked, somewhat shyly. Qui-Gon turned to look at him, eyes almost black and slightly wild. "Oh, yes."
Obi-Wan shivered at the way his master said the words, his own arousal spiking sharply. He tried again, gently parting his master's checks and pressing a little harder this time. Qui-Gon pushed back toward him, a soft moan on his lips. Growing bolder at this response, Obi-Wan continued to lave the small pucker.
His master's moans became louder, Qui-Gon's body pushing back into the licks and Obi-Wan grew brave and pointed his tongue, the slick organ penetrating his master's body.
Qui-Gon shouted again, body bucking back toward the stimuli. Obi-Wan pressed his face tight against his master's flesh, pushing his tongue in as deeply as he could, repeating the caress again and again, thrusting into his master's body. His own hips pumped air as his arousal continued to grow under the twin onslaught of the noises Qui-Gon made and the feeling of the softer-than-silk walls that clenched around his tongue.
They continued to move together, Qui-Gon rocking back into the intimate touch. Obi-Wan moved faster, responding to his master's voiceless commands. He could feel Qui-Gon's thighs beginning to tremble and knew it wouldn't be long. Precariously balanced, he reached his hand down to stroke his own member and when Qui-Gon came, shouting loudly, the satin channel clenched his tongue tightly. Obi-Wan convulsed, his own orgasm washing through his body like an extension of his master's.
Qui-Gon collapsed onto the bed and Obi-Wan followed, his head cushioned in the small of his master's back.
August 28, 2000
"I don't think it's going to fit, Master."
"Just push it in, Padawan."
"Are you sure?"
"What did I just say?"
"I don't want to force it. What if I tear it?"
"You won't."
grunt
"It's awfully tight, Master. I don't think it's supposed to go in that hole."
"Then what hole would you suggest you put it in?"
"Well this one here is-
"Far too big. And none of the others is the right shape."
"I'm sorry, Master, I just don't think this is the right one. Maybe we should just admit defeat - I heard they're serving nalnym tonight."
"And what would our gracious hosts think if we let a child's toy get the better of us? There is a key to this and once we figure it out, all the pegs will fit into a hole of their own. Concentrate, Padawan, we are not going to dinner until we've figured it out."
"Yes, Master."
August 29, 2000
He kneels before me, waiting for me to take him.
Instead, I capture his braid, tugging on it until he turns his head to the side. I lean down over his body, taking his lips with my own. I slide my tongue slowly into the hot silk of his mouth. Pulling my tongue away and pushing it forward again, I begin to plunge it into him.
I take his mouth in the manner I plan to take him.
August 30, 2000
Obi-Wan walked into the circle of the stones, moving unerringly toward the triumvirate of elders. He walked straight, unbending, naked but for the tiny points of blood that covered his skin.
Bowing low and deep in front of the eldest of the three he spoke; his own voice sounded loud in the silence he had learned to be a part of. "I was not accepted." Sorrow and apology threaded through his words like steel through gold.
"You tried," replied the oldest one, his voice was sad, resignation and bitterness making it sharp. His hand fell on Obi-Wan's shoulder; it felt like a stone, cold and heavy. Then it was gone, though the weight of it remained, bowing his shoulders.
His master came; a cloak sliding around Obi-Wan's body, bringing warmth and scent - both belonging to his master.
"We had hoped the Jedi would be strong enough..."
"She needs a mate or she will continue her rampage..."
"We cannot survive it..."
"He did his best." His master's voice cut across those of the elders and his hand dropped to Obi-Wan's shoulder; it felt like a river, refreshing, flowing with strength to spare.
"What is done is done," said the eldest. Obi-Wan waited, his master waited, but nothing more was said, nothing more given, and they turned to go.
"Thank you, Jedi." The words stopped them just before they left the circle of the stones and Obi-Wan bowed his head in acknowledgement.
As he left the circle he could feel their thoughts chase him like a band of wolvines, howling in the wind.
Unchosen.
August 31, 2000
The wind cut across his skin like shards of glass, taking tiny bites from his flesh. He could feel the others; their life forces links in an unending chain. All laid bare to the elements: protection, sacrifice, unlikely saviours weathering whatever the planet chose to give them. Not all would survive. It was an honour to be chosen.
The wind came again; rush of sound moving toward him like a wave through leaves, over grass and wood and rock. He braced himself for its razor touch and nearly cried out when instead it whispered around his body like a new lover learning his sweet spots. It lingered, capricious. His braid danced with it, leaping over his shoulder and tapping along his neck. Sound slid to silence and it was gone. He waited.
A third time he was touched. Wind, only wind, warm, soft against him. He took a step back. And another, the touch of others against his mind fading as he left the line. Turning he walked back to the circle of the stones where the elders waited. Where his master waited. The sun played over his skin, the wind blew against him.
Only sun.
Only wind.
Unchosen.
End.