Archive: Yes
Archive Date: September 27, 2000
Author's Webpage: https://www.squidge.org/~pumpkin/
Category: Romance, First Time
Disclaimer: Lucasfilm, Lucasfilm, Lucasfilm
Feedback: is always a treat
Notes: Wow, I've got to split this one up in to 2 parts - this would be considered *long* fic from the squash.
Thanks to Lil for the beta (any problematic commas that survived are my own doing) and to the usual suspects for encouragement and support.
Pairing: Q/O
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Obi-Wan participates in a ritual while visiting a planet.

Shifting restlessly, Obi-Wan came slowly awake. He was lying face down on a soft bed; the sheets were silky and warm and inviting him back into slumber. His head ached, pounding with each beat of his heart and he was naked.

Opening his eyes, he confirmed that he was alone, but when he reached out to probe the room with the Force, he found his grasp of it tenuous at best. He could feel it around him, but his control was shaky, almost non-existent. The click of the door brought his head around and he groaned as the rapid movement aggravated the pain in his head.

Letting go of the breath he didn't realise he'd been holding, he attempted a smile as his master came in, bearing a tray. Qui-Gon was fully dressed and his hair was neatly pulled back, confirming Obi-Wan's suspicions that it was well past the hour when day began.

Placing the tray on the ornate bedside table, his master sat next to him and passed the tall glass of water to Obi-Wan. Taking it, Obi-Wan murmured a quiet, relieved 'thank you' and gulped down a mouthful, which he promptly spat out.

"Your friends assure me that it will help alleviate your condition."

Obi-Wan noticed the odd inflection his master gave the word friends, but didn't comment. Instead he grimaced and, taking a deep breath, downed the rest of the vile liquid in one shot. His master continued to watch him expectantly. Obi-Wan remained silent and Qui-Gon finally spoke, his voice pitched quietly, for which Obi-Wan was thankful.

"How much of yesterday do you remember?"

Obi-Wan frowned and attempted to sort out the jumble of images and memories hiding among the jagged edges of pain in his head.

"I remember asking you if I could attend some pre-festival rituals with Jress and Jrell. We shared a bottle of something - Bletin I think they said it was - a traditional Bela celebration starter." He paused as Qui-Gon made a small sound. "That's all I can remember, Master."

"Did they tell you before they offered it that Bletin is an extremely powerful aphrodisiac and that it is likely to cause loss of control and insatiable sexual hunger?"

Obi-Wan blushed. "No, Master, they did not."

"And were you aware that they let you drink the better part of the bottle, drinking only small amounts themselves to enhance their own pleasure?"

"No, Master," replied Obi-Wan beginning to notice the way his body throbbed uncomfortably in certain places.

"And do you remember being taken to the ceremonial baths where your body was prepared in the traditional Bela customs for a joining? Anointing your body with oil, slicking your passage with sensation-enhancing lubricants as well as coating your penis with a creme designed to keep you erect for long periods of time?"

"No, Master," Obi-Wan whispered, eyes wide and worried as he watched his master's face grow darker.

"And do you remember making your choice and bringing him to this joining bed, spending the night making love in every conceivable position?"

The colour drained completely from Obi-Wan's face as he shifted. Now that his head was finally beginning to clear, he could feel every ache and pain in his body. His passage was definitely sore and throbbing, his muscles were tired as though stretched by long hours of use, and his penis was still hard.

"Master," he asked in a very small voice, "are you telling me that I'm married?"

"Essentially, yes."

Qui-Gon turned to the door as Obi-Wan burst in, face alight. "Ah, there you are, Padawan. There is enough time for some meditation before we have to get ready for the celebration."

Obi-Wan's face fell, though he covered his disappointment quickly. "Yes, Master."

"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said softly, coming to rest his hands on his apprentice's shoulders. "You were going to tell me something. I would like to hear what it was you were going to say."

His padawan hesitated a moment and then nodded. "It's just that Jress found out that today is my birthday, that I'm 18 standard Republic years, and he says that those who celebrate their 18th birthday, or 'Tarenow' as they call it, on the day of the celebration are blessed. There are rituals and a special ceremony during the celebration. I told them that a Jedi does not seek such things, but Jrell said that for me to celebrate my Tarenow during the celebration would assure honour, prosperity and long happiness for the Bela people."

"And you came to ask if you could participate."

"Yes, Master. But I have a duty to attend you and that is more important."

"I think I can manage on my own, Padawan. You go with your friends and we will meet at the celebration."

"Thank you, Master." Obi-Wan bowed and headed for the door.

"Obi-Wan."

"Yes, Master?"

Qui-Gon hesitated and then went to his pack and removed a small package. "I have a gift for you. Just a small talisman..."

Returning to his master's side, Obi-Wan shyly held out his hands. He turned the small blue box in his hands over and over, wondering what it could be. Over the years his master had given him small, unique gifts on his birthday. Each was connected in some way with the Force and all five were with him always - in a small pouch on his utility belt.

A rock, veined with the Force. A flower petal that never died, though it had been plucked years ago. A tiny flute no larger than half his little finger that played haunting melodies at the prompt of a small Force touch. A beetle, long dead, that had hardened to stone instead of decomposing. A small vial of water from the Rion Falls on Trianok; it was said that at the base of the falls, where the water was purest, was the source of the Force and whoever drank of the water gathered there would be forever young. His master had climbed the mountain and braved the falls himself to obtain the gift for his padawan.

Each gift had been given somewhat diffidently; the Jedi did not collect material things and Obi-Wan knew that each had been chosen by his master with care. He wondered what could be in this small box that made his master so shy to give it.

He carefully opened the small box under the watchful eye of his master. In it, almost hidden by white tissue paper, was a small yellow bead. Qui-Gon took his braid and rubbed it gently between his fingers.

"It was mine," he said softly of the bead, eyes on the braid he held, "when I was a padawan. I thought...," he paused and Obi-Wan waited, watching as a flicker of emotion passed across the familiar face. "Well, I guess I'm more sentimental than many would give me credit for. I thought you might like to wear it."

"Yes, Master, I would be honoured to. It would be like a small part of you was always with me, looking out for me when we are parted. Would you braid it in for me?" Obi-Wan asked, holding the bead toward his master. Nodding, Qui-Gon unwound the thin tail of hair, running his fingers through it before slowly re-braiding it, slipping the small bead in halfway along the tail.

A knock sounded on the door as he tied off the end and he tugged on it, smiling down affectionately. "Go on and meet your friends. I will see you at the celebration."

Qui-Gon smoothed his white tunic and gathered his cloak about him as he made his way into the Grand Hall. The room certainly lived up to its name. It was large and airy, the ceilings reaching up over 36 units. The walls were etched with scenes of Bela history and trimmed in gold and silver. Enormous chandeliers hung from the ceiling, each dancing with the flames of hundreds of candles. One wall was lined with tables overflowing with food and drink and everywhere were the Bela themselves, brightly dressed, chittering and laughing.

"Master Jinn!" Jran-Dre called out to him. The Bela's face was beaming and he held out his arms, clasping Qui-Gon heartily in greeting. "Jress tells me that your apprentice will be celebrating his Tarenow during our Festival. You honour us greatly."

Qui-Gon inclined his head affably.

"And if he chooses a Bela as his mate, well our people would take it as a sign of times of great prosperity to come," continued the politician.

"What do you mean?" asked Qui-Gon, his voice betraying none of the apprehension Jran-Dre's words had caused.

"Oh, do not worry, we know that you Jedi honour many traditions. We will not hold your boy the promise of the lifebond, but it will be seen as a sign of blessing to have him go through with the Tarenow and take a mate. He must have someone in mind or he would not have agreed. I wonder..." the Bela looked around at the celebrants, as if trying to determine which of his people had caught the young human's eye.

"Are you sure that he was aware of all the ramifications of this Tarenow when he agreed to it?" asked Qui-Gon. He could see no way to put a stop to the ritual without angering the Bela and risking their mission, but he could not believe that Obi-Wan would have agreed to it if he had been apprised of all the details.

"But of course," spluttered Jran-Dre. "Are you suggesting that my offspring would have tricked him into...I assure you that they would not do such a thing. Look, her comes Jrell now, we shall ask her and you will see that the Bela are a people of honour." He waved to the young Bela female who had just entered the Grand Hall.

She waved gaily and drifted over to them. Her eyes were over bright and her smile lopsided. "Father, Master Jedi." Her voice was somewhat slurred, her curtsey definitely off-centre.

"You've been into the Bletin," accused her father. She shrugged gracefully.

"Just a sip or two; we let Obi-Wan drink most of it. He's so cute when he's drunk."

Qui-Gon banked down his anger and let the Bela continue his questioning.

"Master Jinn was concerned that his apprentice was not fully aware of all the aspects of the Tarenow rituals and ceremony. I informed him that you and Jress would not have tricked him into doing this."

"Of course not, Father!" Jrell looked affronted for a moment before collapsing into giggles. "Though we may have neglected a detail or two."

"You did tell him that the Tarenow involved choosing a mate and consummating that choice."

"Well...Jress is telling him now."

"But the ceremony is minutes away! To discontinue now will bring much fear of bad luck and hard times!"

"Oh, he's had enough Bletin I'm sure he'll want to go through with the ceremony. His body is prepped, he's going to want it very badly." She giggled again, seeming impervious to Qui-Gon's anger, which he was having a difficult time controlling.

These people were using his padawan for their own ends and while he was sure that Obi-Wan was no blushing virgin, the boy deserved the same respect as anyone else, including the ability to make an informed choice as to when he had sex and with whom.

Jran-Dre dismissed his daughter with a wave of his hand. Leaning in towards Qui-Gon, he spoke softly, but earnestly. "I am truly sorry, Master Jinn that my children have tricked your apprentice into the Tarenow. It brings much dishonour to my people in the face of the Jedi. But to stop this before it goes any further will guarantee that our negotiations will fail and to be honest with you, between the Bletin and the cremes and oils in the baths, your boy will be needing release."

"His choice to participate has been taken from him!"

"If he truly does not wish it, the aphrodisiacs will not compel him to agree. They just aid in the abandonment of his inhibitions and enhance the experience for him." The Bela lowered his eyes. "Please, Master Jedi, if he agrees, let the ceremony continue, I beg of you."

Qui-Gon considered the matter, weighing Obi-Wan's free will and the success of their mission. "He will be totally free to take the mate of his choosing?"

"Oh, yes, he may choose the one he wants; no one will do more than try to catch his eye."

"And he will not be held to the lifebond that usually accompanies this choosing?"

"No, I swear it."

"Then I will not interfere-"

"Oh, thank you, Master Jedi," gushed the Bela, hands clasping Qui-Gon's between them. "My people are forever in your debt."

"I will not interfere unless it seems that my conditions are not being met."

"Of course, of course." Jran-Dre fawned and preened, linking his arm with Qui-Gon's and walking him toward the small dais in the centre of the Hall.

The other celebrants gathered around the dais until it was completely surrounded by a circle many deep. A gong sounded and Jran-Dre made his way to the dais, standing in front of the small elevated circle. He raised his arms and the Grand Hall grew quiet.

"It is the night of Festival."

"Hail to Bela, Jewel of the Sky."

"It is the night of renewal and hope. It is the first night of the new year."

"Hail to Bela, generous and bountiful."

"Tonight we are doubly honoured. Not only have the Jedi agreed to celebrate our Festival with us, but one of them is 18 today and has agreed to take his Tarenow among us." A cheer went up from the crowd and they stamped their feet in approval. "Bring forth the child who is to become this night a man. Bring forth the one who will join tonight with his mate."

A door opened and the crowd parted to reveal two youths slowly making their way toward the dais. One was Jress, dressed in tight silver pants and a matching vest. He supported and guided Obi-Wan, who was not quite steady on his feet. Qui-Gon drew in a breath as he watched his padawan make his way slowly toward the dais.

Obi-Wan was dressed in a pair of loose silk trousers the colour of wheat. His vest was deep red and open, the skin beneath it pale and gleaming with oils. As he came nearer, Qui-Gon could see that his nipples were raised and hard, his shaft full and leaking, a small spot staining the front of the silk trousers.

Their eyes met as Obi-Wan passed him. Qui-Gon could read them easily - they were full of lust, arousal, desire. There was nothing in them to suggest that Obi-Wan had been coerced, if one discounted the slightly glazed quality which spoke of the aphrodisiac he had been fed.

Jress led Obi-Wan to the centre of the dais and, after steadying him, left him alone in the middle of the raised circle.

"Are you Obi-Wan Kenobi, Padawan of the Jedi?" asked Jran-Dre.

"I am."

"Is it your wish to take your Tarenow here and now?"

"It is." Obi-Wan's voice was firm, without a trace of apprehension or fear. Qui-Gon wanted to snatch him from the stage and lead him away, to save him from this ceremony that had not been entirely of his own choosing. But he had agreed not to interfere if it appeared that Obi-Wan had no objections and was not being coerced. Standing still after Jran-Dre's next words was the hardest thing Qui-Gon had ever done.

"Then stand forward and select your mate. Take the one who holds your heart to you and let the two of you be joined. Make your choice."

The noise in the Grand Hall was loud in its quiet. Sons and daughters had been jostled to the front of the circle, each wearing as little as possible, sparkles and colour highlighting their skin and hair. Jran-Dre himself held his children, one beneath each arm, his hope clear on his face.

Qui-Gon felt a stab of envy pass through him. He acknowledged the feelings - he was jealous of Obi-Wan's chosen one. For several years he had harboured the hope that when Obi-Wan became a man he would come to Qui-Gon with declarations of love. He knew it wasn't a very realistic hope and he crushed it now, releasing it along with the jealousy, letting the Force have them both.

Obi-Wan stepped down from the dais and walked slowly toward his master. Or so it seemed, though Qui-Gon knew well that it was Jress or Jrell toward whom Obi-Wan stalked with such purpose. Obi-Wan stopped in front of Qui-Gon, looking up into his eyes.

"Master," he began.

Qui-Gon placed his hands on his padawan's shoulders, squeezing lightly. "You don't need my blessing, Padawan, though if you want it it is yours."

"But I do need it, Master. I cannot have you as my chosen unless you agree."

Qui-Gon felt heat bloom in his face. The desire he'd so recently released came flooding back to him, bringing him to instant hardness. He couldn't speak and instead brought his hands up to gently cup his padawan's face. Obi-Wan's eyes glittered up at him like a pair of jewels.

Beside them Jran-Dre choked and sputtered, muttering under his breath. After a moment or two he cleared his throat and completed the ceremony. "Obi-Wan Kenobi, Padawan of the Jedi, is this your choice?"

"It is." Obi-Wan's voice was low, sultry and Qui-Gon shivered as he heard it. Obi-Wan removed Qui-Gon's hands from his face, taking them in his own.

"Is this your heart?"

"He is."

Jran-Dre turned to Qui-Gon for the final question. "Do you accept Obi-Wan's Tarenow?"

"I-" He cleared his throat and repeated his answer loudly and clearly, so that all could hear him accept Obi-Wan. "I do."

"Take them away," said Jran-Dre imperiously, clapping his hands twice. Two servants, a male and a female slid forward and led the two Jedi from the hall.

The room they were taken to was warm and humid. A shallow pool dominated it. The blue walls reflected the water and soft pink columns rose in each corner. The Bela female led Obi-Wan to a marble bench at one edge of the pool while Qui-Gon was led into the water. Resisting, he tried to undo the sash of his dress uniform while the servant fought him.

"It's okay, Master, they did the same to me. Jress assured me there's nothing in the water to spoil the linen."

Qui-Gon refrained from commenting on the wisdom of accepting anything Jress might have said at face value and let himself be led into the pool.

The male servant turned him three times and, using a large pot, poured water over his head. It was warm and smelled sweet, but his wet clothing hung uncomfortably, feeling clammy against his skin. He moved to untie his sash, but the servant's hands batted them away, taking them and holding them against his sides.

"Okay, okay," said Qui-Gon. "You can do it."

Obi-Wan laughed softly and Qui-Gon looked up at him, breath catching at the enchanting sight. Lights recessed into the ceiling reflected off the water, playing over the silk of Obi-Wan's clothing and making his oiled skin shine. His hair twinkled like it had been sprinkled with stars and his braid hung down to just past one enticing nipple. Qui-Gon's bead and the usual small red tie were the only adornments in the plait.

Divining where Qui-Gon's thoughts were, Obi-Wan raised his hand to play with the braid, taking the yellow bead and rolling it between his forefinger and thumb. Turning his head, though keeping his eyes on Qui-Gon's, Obi-Wan brought the bead to his mouth, the tip of his tongue sliding across his lips to lap at it. Qui-Gon closed his eyes as arousal lit through him, his genitals beginning to ache with sweet desire.

When he opened his eyes again it was to find Obi-Wan sucking on the bead, one hand massaging the prominent bulge at his own groin, while his changeable eyes feasted hungrily on Qui-Gon's body as it was slowly revealed by the servant removing Qui-Gon's clothing. Qui-Gon felt no embarrassment as his leggings were pulled from his body, his shaft eagerly escaping its confines and curving proudly toward his belly.

Obi-Wan moaned and slid his hand beneath the waistband of his silken trousers, working his erection vigorously. Qui-Gon touched himself, gasping as he began to mimic Obi-Wan's movements. Shifting on the bench Obi-Wan released his shaft, hissing as the silk brushed across the tip.

A cup was held up to Qui-Gon's lips and he drank the overly sweet liquid without comment. Almost immediately his member became harder. The female servant waded into the water, joining the male servant, and the two of them rubbed oil into his body, hands sliding sensuously over his skin, massaging his muscles.

Obi-Wan watched avidly, hand moving more quickly over the length of flesh at his groin. Hands covered Qui-Gon's shaft, working a cool creme into the heated length. He moaned as the continued friction heated the lubricant, intensifying the sensation of fingers moving over his flesh.

The servants were chanting softly, the sound not forming words, but adding to the coil of pleasure that wrapped around Qui-Gon's body, holding him still where he was. The water of the pool lapped softly at his thighs, tugging gently at the bottom of his testicles; his breathing came in shallow hitches, his control on the verge of becoming totally shattered.

More creme was smoothed along Qui-Gon's cleft, fingers sliding easily along his skin, rubbing over the tight bud. It heated quickly, leaving him trembling and wanton with the need for touch. Qui-Gon spread his legs slightly, his testicles becoming enclosed in the water that moved against him.

Two fingers slipped into Qui-Gon's passage as Obi-Wan's body jerked, ejaculate pulsing onto his body and staining his vest a deeper red. Qui-Gon's own body jerked, semen flowing from his penis, caught in a bowl by the female Bela. Qui-Gon stood unsteadily on his feet, moaning as the manservant's fingers slid from his anus, the creme they'd inserted heightening each sensation.

The female servant brought the bowl of Qui-Gon's essence to where Obi-Wan sat and anointed his padawan with it, touching it to his forehead, lips, chin, nipples, belly and the tip of his still hard penis. She held the bowl aloft and Obi-Wan dipped his fingers into it, bringing them to his mouth and tasting the pale fluid.

Retrieving a second bowl from beneath the bench, the servant collected the ejaculate from Obi-Wan's orgasm, wading back into the pool to repeat the anointing on Qui-Gon's body. When she held the bowl aloft he dipped his fingers in, tasting as Obi-Wan had. The flavour filled his mouth, bitter but also sweet.

The small ritual had bound them somehow; he could feel the connection thrumming gently through the Force, tying him and Obi-Wan together.

The male Bela led him from the water and dried him gently before dressing him in clothing similar to his padawan's, but Qui-Gon only had eyes for Obi-Wan. He watched, jealousy raging unreasonably through him as the female servant touched Obi-Wan, helping him to stand and rearranging his clothing. He moved quickly to his padawan's side.

He joined hands with his padawan, head lowering for a kiss, but the servants split them apart, and Obi-Wan chuckled ruefully.

"I don't believe we're allowed to do more than hold hands until we are sealed in the mating chamber."

"Then by all means, let us go there quickly."

He could barely keep his hands off Obi-Wan and he didn't know how the younger man was managing to appear as calm as he did. Qui-Gon had only been given a single glass of the liquid he assumed to be Bletin, the same aphrodisiac Obi-Wan had consumed. By all accounts, Obi-Wan had drunk the better part of a bottle on his own.

The oils and cremes were not helping matters; despite their earlier orgasms they were both still hard, and Qui-Gon's skin transmitted each touch to his genitals, even the slightest movement of air against him. He could feel the blood pulse along the walls of his anus and he craved to be filled.

They were led through a dimly lit hall, usually used by the servants to get from room to room without cluttering the hallways of the palace.

"We aren't to be seen until the mating is complete. It's bad luck apparently," Obi-Wan spoke quietly and there were promises in his voice beneath the mundane words.

"For us or those seeing us?" asked Qui-Gon, pretending he wasn't aching to hold his padawan in his arms and make love to him until they could no longer move. Obi-Wan made no answer as they were led into the room prepared for their mating.

The curtains were pulled, the only light coming from a large fireplace. The flames lit the room with a warm glow, leaving dancing shadows on the walls and ceiling. A carpet of deep green covered the floor, matching the curtains that hung around the bed. The bed itself was the centrepiece of the room. The large frame was ornately carved and painted dark gold. The sheets were also gold, etched with burnished highlights, and the pillows were piled high at the head of the bed.

The servants bowed to them and left, closing the door behind them. Qui-Gon's attention returned to the bed as Obi-Wan moved to sit on it, bouncing. "It's as soft as it looks..."

All of Qui-Gon's need rushed to the fore. He was filled with the urge to throw himself upon the softness of the bed and beg his padawan to fill his body, to make him whole.

"...and if you don't get over here now, I'm going to jump you where you stand and make love to you on the floor." Obi-Wan's growl galvanised him into action and Qui-Gon strode across the room, cupped Obi-Wan's face between his hands, and took his first kiss.

No chaste meeting of lips; they met open-mouthed, tongues duelling, pushing in to explore each other's mouths. Obi-Wan tasted so sweet, yet tangy, the contradiction intriguing, addictive. As were the small, needy sounds his padawan was making and the feeling of the restless fingers that explored his torso, pushing beneath the open vest.

Obi-Wan's arms slid around him, pulling him against the wiry body. Qui-Gon moved his hips, rubbing his shaft against the hard muscles of Obi-Wan's stomach. Breaking the kiss, Obi-Wan's lips surrounded Qui-Gon's nipple, sucking with considerable force. Sliding his fingers into his padawan's short hair, Qui-Gon tugged him away from the sensitive nub. Obi-Wan looked up at him, all but glaring.

"Too much more of this and I'll come."

"Then come, Master. This night is designed to bring us to ecstasy."

Obi-Wan's hands moved to Qui-Gon's hips, pulling his master closer to the heat of his body and encouraging the narrow hips to resume their movements while he latched onto Qui-Gon's other nipple. Qui-Gon cried out, hips pumping rapidly against Obi-Wan's abdomen. His hands tightened their hold on Obi-Wan's hair and with a low growl, he came, his seed soaking into his silk leggings.

It had been a long time since he had been so eager that he'd come in his pants. There was, however, no time for reflection. Obi-Wan was pulling him onto the bed, twisting their bodies as Qui-Gon tumbled.

Encouraging him to lie on his stomach, Obi-Wan took one of the pillows from the head of the bed, sliding it beneath Qui-Gon's hips. His leggings were pulled from his body, the silk tearing easily and before he could get his bearings, Obi-Wan pushed into him, sinking deeply into his body until Qui-Gon could feel the silken glide of material against his bottom.

Obi-Wan pulled out slowly and plunged back in, stretching Qui-Gon. He ached, the stretch translating into a burning sensation. Another thrust and the burning sensation also morphed, leaving sweet pleasure in its stead. Obi-Wan thrust again - more slowly, then again. And then his control broke and he began to pound into his mate's body, hands gripping Qui-Gon's hips tightly.

"Master!" Obi-Wan shouted. Qui-Gon could feel the pulse of the erection inside his body, the liquid heat of ejaculate against the sensitised skin deep within him. Obi-Wan collapsed onto Qui-Gon, chest moving as he gasped for breath. Qui-Gon lay still, enjoying the sensation of his padawan's body covering his own. Obi-Wan's skin was hot and the edges of his vest tickled at Qui-Gon's sides where it hung down. The silk of Obi-Wan's leggings was smooth against his buttocks and legs, almost cool compared to the heat still pressed within him.

They were both still hard.

Obi-Wan groaned and covered his face, his headache coming back full force as memories of the night before flooded back into him.

"At least I haven't bound myself for eternity to a Bela. I would imagine that would cause quite the incident."

"Well, I guess you're going to be all right if you've rediscovered your dubious humour." Qui-Gon teased him gently.

Obi-Wan chuckled ruefully, sobering as he tried to figure out what to say to his master regarding his behaviour the previous evening. Some of the things he remembered made his face grow red. His body tingled, penis still hard and throbbing as he remembered his master kissing him in the most intimate of places. He had returned the favour, tentatively at first, but with growing pleasure as his soft licks and quick stabs had left his master quite literally begging for more.

Qui-Gon's hand cupped his face, tilting it until their eyes met.

"It was an exhausting but fulfilling night. I was honoured that you chose me, though I realise that you took the graceful way out of the situation."

Obi-Wan's brows drew together in puzzlement.

"Jrell confessed that she and her brother hid the exact nature of the Tarenow from you until you were already under the influence of both the aphrodisiac and the various cremes they had massaged into your body. Not to mention that to withdraw at that late hour would have insulted the Bela, despite their keeping the exact nature of the Tarenow from you. You made a good job of a bad situation and I am proud of you, Padawan."

"Only proud?" Obi-Wan asked, looking shyly at his master.

"Not to mention amazed at your flexibility."

"Master!"

"Don't be a prude, Obi-Wan."

"I'm just surprised that you're taking this so well."

"I very much enjoyed making love to you, Obi-Wan. Would you be more comfortable if I didn't share that?"

"No, Master. I... I very much enjoyed making love to you too." Obi-Wan turned his face, kissing one of the palms holding his cheek, letting his tongue slide against the warm skin. He nuzzled the familiar palm, tongue tracing the soft flesh, mapping the size and texture of calluses - skin made thick and hard by a lifetime of training.

He breathed deeply, pulling his master's scent into himself. Qui-Gon hissed and Obi-Wan drew the sound in and built his courage around it. He turned to his master, eyes fastening on to the gentle blue.

"I love you, Master - Qui-Gon. And I will be forever grateful to the Bela and their Tarenow for allowing me to choose you as mate, for being able to express the sentiment out loud and not just in my heart. Even if we never speak of this again, I will always have one night to remember, one night where there was only you and I, our bodies and love, mingling freely."

Qui-Gon's hand had tightened while Obi-Wan spoke and he held his master's eyes when he was done, heart thudding anxiously in his chest as he waited for Qui-Gon's response.

"Oh, my Obi-Wan," said Qui-Gon, his other hand touching Obi-Wan's face, sliding to cup his cheek. Obi-Wan let his master tilt his head, hardly needing the words that followed, but cherishing them nonetheless: "You are my very own heart," whispered against his lips.

Just a kiss, a single soft touch of lips, sealed them together. It spoke louder than any drug-induced lovemaking. As simply as that, their vows were made in the Force.

Qui-Gon rested his forehead against Obi-Wan's, his hands moving to link with Obi-Wan's own. They sat like that for a long time, foreheads leaning one against the other, noses pressed together, lips barely touching, the same air sustaining them both.

"I need a shower," said Obi-Wan as the moment passed and he realised that while his master smelled sweet and sort of like gnorfruit, he himself smelled like he'd been covered in oils and spent the night rutting.

Qui-Gon laughed and Obi-Wan marvelled at the sound. He had heard his master laugh before - the polite titter of politics, the rueful laughter of a bad joke shared with his padawan, even the laughter of shared joy with friends. But this, this husky chuckle that came from somewhere deep inside Qui-Gon's chest, this was the gentle laughter of a lover, happy to be alive and with his beloved.

"Share it with me," Obi-Wan suggested softly, watching his master's face.

"I am clean."

"I wasn't thinking of washing you..."

"In that case it would be my pleasure."

Qui-Gon stood, holding his hands out, and Obi-Wan took them, letting his master pull him up from the opulent bed. He was led to an alcove near the front of the room that opened into a large marble shower, black stone shot through with white and yellow.

"It's too bad we didn't know about his last night," murmured Obi-Wan as his master turned the faucets until he had adjusted the temperature and flow to his satisfaction. Backing away, he motioned to Obi-Wan to go in while he removed his own clothing.

Stepping into the spray was like walking into a healing. The warm flow of water eased his muscles and soothed his aches; he breathed a sigh of relief when his penis softened as the last of the crème was rinsed away. Obi-Wan's headache receded completely for the first time since he'd woken, leaving him clear-headed. He was aware of the instant his master joined him in the shower, his body tingling at his mate's proximity.

His master turned him, lowering his head to give Obi-Wan a deep kiss. Their mouths met and clung, each loath to lose the contact. Their tongues danced together; pushing, pulling, following, leading, twining together.

"There is a large choice of soaps," said Qui-Gon as he moved away, his arm swinging in an arc to encompass the shelf that ran the length of the room. The little bottles and pots glistened through the moisture-laden steam that was beginning to fill the room.

"You smell wonderful, Master. I want the soap you used."

Qui-Gon chuckled and reached for a small jar at one end of the shelf. "It was the only one without a scent," he murmured as he poured the liquid into his hands and rubbed them together.

Obi-Wan stepped out of the flow of water, head falling back with a soft moan as Qui-Gon's hands ran over his body, transferring the soap bubbles from the large palms to Obi-Wan's own skin. Qui-Gon's touch was efficient but far from impersonal.

Obi-Wan enjoyed the solid, knowing touch. He spread his legs, bracing himself as his master slowly and deliberately touched every part of him. He put his hands on Qui-Gon's shoulders when his master knelt to clean his legs, his thighs, hips, genitals, buttocks.

A soft, breathy moan left his lips as the touch became more intimate. A single, soapy finger ran along his crease, sliding teasingly past his opening several times before pressing inside. Obi-Wan gasped as the long digit entered his body, pressing inexorably deeper. He shifted, allowing Qui-Gon easier access, and moved his hands from the shoulders in front of him to the shower wall.

The marble was cool under his hands and damp from the steam that hung around them. Hot water swirled around his feet on its way to the drain and the rush of water against the stone floor was in loud competition with the sound of his own blood rushing through his veins.

His master's touch continued, the single finger sliding in and out while Qui-Gon's other hand cupped his testicles, fondling them gently before sliding along his penis, the soap slicked hand moving gently, bringing him slowly to hardness.

"No," Obi-Wan gasped as his master stood, leaving him gently aroused. Although he knew they had made love most of the night, his recollections were, on the whole, incomplete - just flashes of two people having sex, somewhat hazy and unreal, as if he were a watcher and not a participant. It was no doubt a side-effect of the aphrodisiacs and performance enhancers. What they were doing now was far more real than anything they had done the night before.

He let his master push him back into the flow of water. Qui-Gon's hands moved over him again, encouraging the soap away. Obi-Wan shivered as their eyes met. Qui-Gon's had gone dark with desire; they shone with his love, and Obi-Wan felt his knees buckle.

His master dropped to his own knees and his arms came around Obi-Wan's waist, holding him up and making him feel even more unsteady all at the same time. He watched, body shivering, as Qui-Gon's rubbed his face against Obi-Wan's groin, the beard tangling with his pubic hair and scraping over the sensitive skin of his erection.

Small kisses were placed along his penis from base to crown and Obi-Wan moaned, his skin becoming more sensitive with each kiss. He could feel the water hitting his skin, each drop sliding over his flesh, joining other drops and falling from his body. He could feel the heat of his master's hands wrapped around his hips, each finger like a bolt of electricity against him. And when his master's mouth closed around the top of his erection, he could feel it in his blood, in his bones, in his heart and soul.

He jerked forward, crying out as his phallus slid deeply into his master's mouth, Qui-Gon's hands loose and leaving him free rein. Hips pistoning twice, he came, his master's name on his lips like a prayer.

His knees finally gave way and Obi-Wan dropped down into his master's arms. Their mouths met again and Obi-Wan tasted himself on his master's lips, the salty, bitter flavour mingling with Qui-Gon's own earthy taste. Reaching down, he found his lover's penis flaccid, but when he pulled back, Qui-Gon's eyes were twinkling. "I came when you did," he said softly, voice rough and low, husky with satiation.

Obi-Wan cupped his face and brought there mouths together for another kiss.

Their lives were sealed together now. Not because of the Tarenow, but because of the love in their hearts. Teacher and Apprentice, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan, Master and Padawan, it mattered little what they were called, for in their own minds they were each the other's soul.

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