Author's Notes: Guess I should put in an angst warning too, can't get away from this stuff
DISCLAIMER: Star Wars and all publicly recognisable characters, names and references, etc are the sole property of George Lucas, Lucasfilm Ltd, Lucasarts Inc and 20th Century Fox. This fan fiction was created solely for entertainment and no money was made from it. Also, no copyright or trademark infringement was intended. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. Any other characters, the storyline and the actual story are the property of the author.
Time is indeed a universal invariant. It does move, but is perceived by us only under the influence of our own center, our own focus. Earlier this evening, time crept. Now, for you, it stands still. You feel as though the planet has ceased to turn, that the clouds simply hang instead of drift in the sky, and that the waves hold. There is nothing but his mouth and his presence in your mind.
Qui-Gon’s hair sweeps across your sides, less coarse than the sand crystals, but as flowing as they are as they brush your skin. His mouth moves down your body, drawing lines of warmth. Bypassing your navel, he sweeps his tongue over the swell of your abdomen to the crease where your thigh meets your body. He is returning to his artist’s roots – drawing pictures of passion on your skin, painting with his lips and tongue, as if you are an empty canvas for his ardent work.
Down your leg, his mouth runs, lapping at the skin that he finds. So gentle, so….you jerk in a laugh as his lips finds the inside of your knee. His answering chuckle is almost lost in the crashing of the waves. His mouth continues further down your leg to lay an open mouthed, steamy kiss on the instep of your foot as he cradles it in his hands. The roughness of his callused hands against your soft arch of your foot is enough to make you squirm with thankfulness of the differences between men and women.
“Under the stars, again, my love.” He states lowly, climbing your body to kiss at your lips. The lips are cooler from the time that they have spent away from yours, but you eagerly strive to warm them as they pull at yours again. Your body arches as his hands grasp and climb your body to lodge in your hair. You allow him to sip at your lips for a few moments before you press on his shoulders.
“Lie down, warrior, enjoy the view.” You whisper, gently running your hands down his chest. “Let me.”
“If you so wish,” he answers, kissing your lips with the barely there touch that he perfected years ago. They sweep over your lips and raise the sound level of your rushing blood until that is all that you hear. Pulling away, you only see the depths of his blue eyes gazing at you with want and love, before he rolls over you and lies on his back.
A nearby crashing waves sprays you both with mist and the smell of the living sea coats the sand around you. You rise and smile at his relaxed position on the sand beside you. He IS larger than he was two years ago – there is more bulk there, more strength, more power. His shoulders are still the pillars of strength that they always were, his arms still the massive show of power they always were. His chest has a few more scars, but they too are the bronzed honey that the rest of his body is instead of the white that they used to be. His hips still show the pelvic bone, as his stomach is flat and muscled. His cock is still large and smooth, proud and thick, eagerly awaiting a touch. His legs are still strong as tree trunks, and yet pliable under your hands. If you didn’t know this man, his size would intimidate. But you know he would never hurt you.
“Come love,” he sighs, his hand rubbing you legs. “Join with me.”
With a sigh, you rise on your legs and move to straddle him. You sit on his thighs - his strong muscular, long thighs. A tentative hand runs up the plane of his stomach to trace the hair patterns on his chest with surety. This man is yours, as you are his. Friends as children, confidants as teens, lovers as adults, you will always be with this man as someone that he treasures.
Slowly you rise on your hands as they brace against his chest. His hand guides his member to your entrance and you sink on top of him with a light groan. You have been ready for him since he leaned in the window this evening. You press your hands into the pliable skin of his chest, kneading the muscle there as you balance.
His hands clench at your hips as his head thrusts back in the sand. Your head falls back on your shoulders as you feel this man connect with your very soul. His hands lift at your hips momentarily and you rise only to drop slowly down.
You hear a guttural groan escape your lips. He is so deep inside of you. So good. Soooo..
He lifts you with an ease you have forgotten, and eases you gently back, until your inner thighs are scraped by his coarse hair. His width is…oh Gods. You have forgotten what he is like… there is no way to remember the complete tactile experience… Gods. A slight scratchy sound occurs behind you and you know that he is digging his heels into the sand to gain leverage. Another wave crashes, even closer than the last. The water rushes at your bodies, only to be recalled at the last minute.
You lean back on your hands, bracing them against the thighs behind you. Your back arches and sighs erupt. The rising and falling of your hips on his cock becomes apart of you, not a conscious action, but a movement that only one being can coordinate. You adopt a rhythm that is only matched by the tide. Constant, pounding, never ending, you rise and fall. His hands venture up your sides from your hips to grasp at your breasts making you groan and interrupt your ride momentarily.
“I assure you,” Qui-Gon gasps, his head rolling on the ground, “that the view has never been more beautiful, love.”
You lean forward suddenly, to kiss at his lips before rocketing back up on your thighs. He groans with you as the change in direction causes his cock to press ever deeper into your body. He is sooo….there, oh there, love, there. You groan as the thoughts push through your mind. His large cock brushes your bundle and your sweet spot at the same time. Sensations of pure pleasure erupt and travel your body. It is only…a…matter…of…time.
The warmth and roughness of his hands encase your breasts, protecting them from the sea breeze and mist. Your hands grasp at the air surrounding his skin, wishing to gain…some…grounding… Gods! Your eyes widen as you feel your orgasm gathering around you. Your head is back on you shoulders, the stars…oh how bright… waves…ohhh.
“Soon, love…” he pleads, “it has been so long.” His long hand travels to between your thighs with purpose. You can feel his fingers encountering your flesh, searching for your nub. You reach down and grasp at the hand and fold it in your own, swinging your head to look at him.
“There is no need, Jedi.” You answer as you feel the pleasure increase.
He nods, watching you with love. His grunts and moans are low, and unable to be contained, regardless of his training and control. You lean forward and throw your head back as his hips begin to thrust in time with yours. You can feel your hair trailing over your back, tickling your knees….Gods…oh oh…
Qui-Gon can tell and thrusts hard one last time. You scream your pleasure, as the first wave grabs at your feet. The stars have no hope of hanging as high in the sky as you are at that moment. Rocketing past their twinkling beauty, you feel Qui-Gon soar with you. Spiritual. This is spiritual…deep, incredible…
The inside of the house is cool from the loss of the heat of the day. The sheets are refreshing, even though they are still sandy from the evidence of nature that you carried in from outside. The door stands partly open from where Qui-Gon forced it with his lightsaber. Nothing will stand between that man and a soft bed. Never has, never will.
The lemon tree citron floats in through the window, mixing with the rose petal smell from the bush outside your window. But, by far the most powerful smell is that of the man next to you. His tangy, male smell permeates your nose as you lay on his chest. His warm arm about your shoulders is comforting.
“Come to Coruscant, dearheart,” he sighs, clutching at your shoulder. “I don’t want to be away from you like this again.”
“I can’t, Qui-Gon…I am needed here.” You rise and fix him with a stare. His blue eyes are endless with love and sadness this morning. You can see forever in them. A forever that you want. “It would detract from your life. The path of a Jedi is…”
“…never easy.” He finishes with a grimace. “I know, but it does not say that we should be without love.”
“You are never without that, love.” You answer, sighing as you kiss his chest. “You made no promises, remember…and I asked for none. Just return to me when you are able, and know that you are always welcome. We each have our lives. Both to serve.”
He nods quietly with a loving sigh. His hand pushes you down onto his chest with a grunt. “I wish sometimes that I could just remain here…away…”
“You would be bitter without the duty, Qui-Gon, you are a Jedi until you die.” You smile, brushing grains of sand from his chest hair.
He nods against your head and you push to sit up. His hands fall from your body like a receding tide. The sea breeze presses the curtains inward, catching the sunbeams and making them dance in the fabric. You smile at the image that he presents.
“Stay in bed, Qui-Gon. I will bring in breakfast.” You grin. “You are on vacation, you know.”
He smiles, as you rise and put on your cover. His eyes rake your form with appreciation. You smile in return and lean down to kiss him.
As you stand in front of the old fashion cooking apparatus in the kitchen minutes later, you sigh. Reaching into the pocket of your robe you draw out an old weathered still holo. You are holding a baby, a big baby, with powerful blue eyes and your hair. The edges of the holo are worn from where you have traced it over the last year.
He will never know.
You will never tell him.
It would have caused him to leave his duties and that is something that you will not stand for. He would be bitter, angry eventually, and feeling less of what he is. No, it would tie him to you in a way that you would not allow. He, as a Jedi, must be free.
The holo was taken the day that your son was taken to the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. A very high count, is what they told you. Who is the father, they asked. I don’t remember, you answered. They had accepted, taking him to the temple and giving you permission to visit if you so wished. Oh you had wished, but to do so would let Qui-Gon know. No, no… your son was better off with the life that was given to him, albeit inadvertently, by his father.
You switch off the holo gently, a stubborn tear hanging in your eye. This way, you think, as you watch the sun through the leaves outside, his father might have a place in his life one day. You sigh as the water boils and you remove the old pot from the apparatus and place it on a tray next to the fruit.
As you move to step through the door, you sigh. Yes, you hope that some day, his son will be with him. You stop and make sure that the holo is switched off and sigh, running your hands over the name printed on the back of the metal. Obi-Wan. Your son. And maybe, someday soon, a person that would mean something to his father too.
You step through the door a little slower than you used to, a little less bubbly. The sun still arches through the leaves, the smells still hang in the air, the man you love still lies on the bed beyond. A man you will love forever. Love enough to allow to remain free.