Dedicated: To Fangrrl, whose image inspired it. Hope you like it, even though it's my own universe and not your rpg universe.
Despite years practicing the vaunted Jedi calm, Obi-Wan was worried. Curled in the window seat in their spacious rooms in the diplomatic building, he closed his eyes and concentrated on the living Force, trying to wash away his growing concerns in its powerful presence. He and his Master had been on Valon for almost three weeks now, attempting to mediate a tricky squabble over mineral rights. Normally, the Jedi would not have participated in such detailed discussions of archaic contracts, preferring to handle serious diplomatic issues likely to result in hostilities. Valon had specifically requested Jedi assistance and as a relatively new member to the Republic, the Council had thought it wise not to decline their very first need.
No, thought Obi-Wan, not Jedi assistance. Qui-Gon’s assistance, by name. The Council had recommended other Jedi with more background in mineral rights issues, but the Valon had wanted Qui-Gon Jinn. During their time on the planet, Qui-Gon had become increasingly…distracted, distant. Obi-Wan had expected a certain level of concentration, since his Master had much to learn in a short period of time, but the almost total neglect of his padawan was new. Never had he let a mission prevent him from working daily with Obi-Wan, even if only for a brief time. He rarely talked to Obi-Wan, though Obi-Wan caught him staring on occasion, his deep blue eyes seeming mesmerized by his young apprentice. His physical actions also were becoming erratic. Like many of the Valona, he was sleeping during the day and working at night. He was eating little but drinking more frequently of the blood-red wine favored on this planet. There was a coldness, an impenetrable shell growing around him.
Obi-Wan sighed and stretched. Meditation was beyond him today. He wished that he could contact the Council for assistance but realized he would look ridiculous. “Excuse me, Master Yoda, but my Master stares at me too much.” No, he would have to stay calm and trust that the negotiations would finish soon and the two could leave this disturbing planet.
“Obi-Wan, are you ready for the banquet?” The padawan jumped as he heard his Master’s voice immediately behind him. All Jedi learned camouflage, to walk stealthily, and blend into shadows. Qui-Gon’s increasing use of those skills while in their own quarters was another unnerving change.
“Yes, Master. I just need my cloak.”
Qui-Gon nodded briefly and turned to leave. With a sigh, Obi-Wan grabbed his cloak and followed him from the room for another interminable banquet before the resumption of tonight’s talks.
Obi-Wan came to consciousness slowly, his head fuzzy. He tried instinctively to sit up, and found his arms and legs bound with metal clasps. Opening his eyes, he glanced around the room. From the heavy stonework, he could tell he was no longer in the diplomatic building. Vaguely, he remembered the unpleasant lassitude that had come over him at the dinner. He had excused himself to find fresh air and remembered no more.
A Valon entered, followed by two guards who took positions on each side of the door. “I see you are awake.”
“What do you want with me?” Obi-Wan’s voice was strained and he tried to swallow to relieve his dry throat.
“We want nothing with you. You are merely an expedient device to ensure your Master’s change.”
“My change into what?” came Qui-Gon’s demand, as he stood in the doorway. The two guards turned abruptly to face him, and with one casual flick, Qui-Gon ignited his lightsaber and sliced them into two. Neither guard even managed to raise his weapon. Obi-Wan had never seen his Master so fast in movement or so casual about killing.
The Valon backed away from the table holding Obi-Wan, placing it between himself and Qui-Gon. “Into the greatest of us, Qui-Gon. Your mother was born of our people. Only one of a thousand in our race will turn into a true demon of the dark. You are destined to be one of those.” The Valon ran one hand lightly over Obi-Wan as he continued backing away toward the door in the other wall. “Look at your apprentice, Qui-Gon. Kill him and drink his blood. You will be more powerful than you ever imagined.”
Qui-Gon gazed down at his young apprentice, torn between vengeance against the Valon who had dared kidnap and concern for Obi-Wan' physical state. His hands and legs had been pulled tightly before being bound, so his body was tense and slightly arched. The sight distracted Qui-Gon, drawing erotic images in his mind. While he had loved and desired Obi-Wan for many years, he had always been able to rein in his emotions. He felt his mental walls shattering. The Valon took the opportunity to flee.
“My apprentice,” he murmured. With a snap, the blade of his lightsaber disappeared and he reattached it to his belt. One hand drifted down, stroking his fingertips lightly along the pale throat.
“Qui-Gon, please, whatever is happening here, you can be strong enough to stop it,” Obi-Wan pleaded.
“No, Obi-Wan, I don’t think I can.” Qui-Gon's hands cupped Obi-Wan's cheeks, his thumbs smoothing the strong cheekbones, the biology of his mother surfacing and dictating his actions. Leaning in, he sealed their lips together in an eating, lingering kiss, his broad tongue tasting every inch of Obi-Wan's mouth. Obi-Wan fought surrender to the sweet ecstasy of finally knowing his Master's touch, concentrating on the Force to break the metal links. Still too drugged and dazed, his attempt failed.
Qui-Gon's fingers played in Obi-Wan's loosened hair, running through the short brown-gold strands. Breaking the kiss, he nuzzled his face against Obi-Wan's, breathing of his musky scent. With fingernails grown sharp as talons, he ripped at Obi-Wan's tunic, shredding the thin fabric. Obi-Wan flinched as the sharp tips sliced his chest, leaving faint but bloody ridges. Purring gutturally, Qui-Gon rubbed his cheeks against the blood before licking up the red drops. He licked at the tight brown nipples, rolling his tongue and wallowing in the exquisite peaks.
Continuing his explorations of his apprentice's young body, Qui-Gon methodically shredded the rest of Obi-Wan's clothes. Like a wild beast, he marked Obi-Wan's body as his own, nuzzling his face against the solid muscles, licking and tasting the soft skin, nipping and biting with his white teeth. Fingers were sucked into his mouth, wetted and devoured. Obi-Wan was torn between fear for his life and unbearable excitement, covered with traces of blood and saliva. Qui-Gon's long brown hair draped over his body, adding another potent caress. Reaching his cock, Qui-Gon rolled his tongue over the head before taking the erect length into his mouth, letting it slide back out of his mouth while scraping his teeth lightly on the sensitive skin. Burying his face in the hair surrounding Obi-Wan's groin, he mouthed the soft sacs underneath.
Qui-Gon proceeded down Obi-Wan's right leg, staking his claim to every inch of skin. The powerful thigh and calf muscles were massaged, the toes sucked and devoured as eagerly as the fingers, his boots pulled off before the arches of his feet could receive tense bites. As Qui-Gon circled the table and started up his left leg, Obi-Wan drowned in both ecstasy and despair. His cock and testicles were drawn even deeper into Qui-Gon's mouth, the tongue savoring the drops of pre-ejaculate leaking from the tip.
"Please, Master. I could think of no better place to die than your arms. But don't let them win like this. Don't let them force you to change into something you are not." Obi-Wan stared desperately into his Master's eyes, searching hopelessly for a flicker of sanity. For a moment, he thought he saw reason return. Then Qui-Gon grabbed one side of his cloak, raising it high as he settled on top of Obi-Wan's lithe form. The dark brown cloak draped over both sides of the table, covering them completely, the soft fabric of Qui-Gon's Jedi uniform soothing Obi-Wan's sensitized flesh. Qui-Gon slid his hands underneath Obi-Wan's neck, raising and stretching it. His mouth opened and Obi-Wan was arrested by a flash of the light off fangs before they sank fiercely into alabaster skin.
The pleasure/pain in his neck exploded down to his groin, white hot flames racing throughout his body. Obi-Wan stopped his mental fight and surrendered totally to the dark excitement. He thrust his hips forward, pressing his cock against Qui-Gon's erection. "Please Master," he gasped, fighting for breath as he felt his blood being drained from his body, "my legs…" A casual thought from Qui-Gon and the metal bands flew off Obi-Wan's feet, smacking into the wall. Obi-Wan raised his legs, tightening them on each side of his Master's slim hips, planting his feet on the table, and thrusting their hips together even faster. Qui-Gon growled deep in his throat, in approval and dominance. The final excitement painfully ripped through Obi-Wan's body as his cock erupted, semen spattering the front of Qui-Gon's breeches, feeling the answering fluid response from Qui-Gon. His mind lost to a rapture too intense to be borne as the blood drained from his body and was swallowed hungrily by his Master, Obi-Wan passed out for the second time.
Obi-Wan woke to a clear mind and a cool liquid being smoothed on his body. At least I can remember why I passed out this time, he thought. And my arms aren't painful, recognizing that the metal bands had been removed and his hands placed at his sides. Opening his eyes, he saw his Master's tall figure standing by the table. Holding shreds of Obi-Wan's tunic moistened with water, he was systematically washing Obi-Wan's limp figure.
"You're awake. Good. How do you feel?"
"Like I went through a supernova. You didn't…" he raised one hand to feel his throat, fingering the puncture wounds.
"Your willingness to die for me humbles me, my padawan, much as it did on Bandomeer, six years ago. I managed to stop myself in the end, but you will be weak from blood loss for many days."
"Happened only partially, as far as I can tell, if your death was required." Qui-Gon carelessly waved one hand, showing the razor talons of his nails and opened his mouth to flick one tongue against the fangs. "Or maybe completely. I'm not sure. Descriptions of these 'demons of the dark' were not provided to the Senate when Valon accepted for membership." Obi-Wan was delighted at the dry tone of his Master's voice, realizing that his control was restored enough to joke of his predicament.
"Obi-Wan…" Qui-Gon was reluctant to speak, fearful of the reaction he might receive. At his padawan's accepting gaze, Qui-Gon continued. "I still feel urges, drives, feelings I have never known coursing through my body. Memories of your generosity and honesty are the only things keeping me sane. I cannot let you go until I can reverse this transformation."
"I understand, Master."
"I cannot guarantee my future actions. I cannot swear I may not attack you again. I must cherish and love you. Having tasted you, marked you as my own, I cannot be celibate. And I know if you try to leave me…" placing the cloth on the table, Qui-Gon's hands rested on Obi-Wan's neck, and said with devastating honesty, "this time, I would rip your throat out. You are mine. Only mine."
Obi-Wan acknowledged his Master's confused and turbulent emotions with a slight nod. "We will be together, Master, as long as you need me and if you allow, to the end of our lives."
"Then let us return to Coruscant. I wish to speak to Yoda of my past and seek the counsel of Jedi healers. I mistrust these people, even if they are my heritage." Qui-Gon lifted Obi-Wan easily into his arms, covering his naked body with his own cloak. Obi-Wan rested bonelessly in his secure arms, content to trust his future with Qui-Gon as they sought for answers from the past.