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First Love, Last Love

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Our first meeting, like so many others, was at a diplomatic function. Yoda was mediating between the King and the representatives of a democratic government of a neighboring planet. The Prince seemed like nothing more than an attractive young man, well-educated for his future role, outwardly charming and compassionate, capable of a certain degree of self-indulgence.

The mediations were likely to be lengthy, even with Jedi assistance. My Master encouraged me to accept Deeyan's invitation to go riding and see the planet. Yoda was a hard Master, but also sensitive. Our last several missions were intense and tiring; I appreciated his willingness to let me have some leisure. I protested at the burden he would carry alone, but he insisted and I dropped my objections.

We spent several days together, enjoying ourselves in primarily idle pursuits. Deeyan was physically active and trained in their style of hand-to-hand fighting as well as several weapon types. He would command his army into war, if necessary. Testing myself in practice sessions against a non-Jedi was beneficial to my overall training. Yoda and I had encountered several battles, but his control over the Force was so exquisite, he would usually fling back opponents, ending the situation with dramatic rapidity. My opportunities were insufficient to increase my skills against those who were not trained in the same style.

We were well-matched as long as I did not resort to use of the Force. He was only a few inches shorter and almost as strong. On occasion, I was uncomfortable when he pinned me down, struck by the mad fancy that he meant to kiss me. I half hoped he would. Then he either crowed with glee as I yielded, or I twisted out of the lock, resuming the battle. He preferred to win but he lost well, which I found a good indication of his future reign of King. I began to wonder if Yoda threw us together in the interests of strategic political maneuvering. He thought I might sit on the Council; being good friends with the leader of a rich world would be beneficial when the Jedi requested additional resources. I doubt Yoda anticipated the exact nature of that friendship.

Another interminable dinner, as the politely veiled barbs accompanied every course. The negotiations were no closer to completion, though my Master seemed undisturbed by the sniping. I retired to my room as soon as I could, leaning against the balcony railing, drinking in the sustaining freshness of the night air. Deeyan entered the room and joined me, resting his hands next to mine.

"Qui-Gon." The sherry brown eyes sparkled with excitement and an unusual nervousness. "Would you like to play a game?"

"What kind of game?" Something special was in his mind. Games were for children, but this was different. One warm palm rested on my shoulder as we turned to face each other. He didn't speak at first, but let the warmth soak through my tunic, contrasting delightfully with the cool breeze. His palm slid down my back, slowly.

"I have one chance and I tell you - what place, what position - and you tell me if it's acceptable."

I shook my head and he knew by my perplexed expression that I wasn't refusing but seeking clarification. His hand continued its journey, lingering on my waist, reaching one cheek of my buttocks. He squeezed the tight muscle while stepping closer, whispering in my ear, his breath caressing.

"One chance to have sex with you. I'll promise you wonderful, mind-blowing, toe-curling, screaming until we're both hoarse, sex. My place, my position. If you like my fantasy, you say yes. If you don't, I leave and we never speak of this again."

Astonishment as much as arousal greeted his promises of satisfaction. I had sex but only with other Padawans. Physical intercourse for the Jedi was a necessary biological fact, accepted and tolerated as a matter-of-fact practicality. It wasn't prone to erotic and carnal fantasy. Then he bit my earlobe as both of his hands cupped my buttocks and he moved close enough I could feel his erection poking against me. My bare toes started to curl against the chilly stone.

"Do you want to hear?"

I nodded mutely, permitting my own seduction. "You're here, right here, leaning against the balcony. I've stroked and excited you until your hands are clenched tightly on the stone to keep from melting to the ground. I'm behind you. I love the muscles of your shoulder blades, the line of your back. I've kissing and nuzzling down your spine, saluting every inch with my tongue. Now I'm kneeling on the ground. You're a Jedi warrior and you're about to become mine. Good so far?" That seductive voice enfolded me in his vision. I had registered when he first spoke that he would make a wonderful public speaker, but I never visualized the dizzying effect of that sexy baritone on my nerves.

"I'm pressing my face to your buttocks, licking them. Your muscles tighten with passion as I lick between. I slide a finger into you, loosening you, preparing you. Another finger, stretching the tense muscle. You're ready to have me. I'm rising behind you, entering you as gently as I can tolerate, but I've waited all week and the pressure had built. Finally, I'm buried in you and you're tight. I'm thrusting and you're shoving your hips back against mine, growling, demanding to be taken harder."

He had waited all week. That wasn't fantasy. I knew suddenly that he would have made love to me the very first day, that a large part of our exercising together was to increase my comfort level with his body. He was an intelligent man, and in many respects a calculating one. Casual flings weren't common for the Jedi, so he waited and became friends before pouncing.

"Your orgasm hits first, because I've excited you so much. You grab your own cock, rubbing your come into your skin, rough with yourself. Mine follows quickly as I release myself into your body. We're exhausted, but satiated. I collapse against you, pressing our sweaty bodies close. Is that acceptable?"

I shook my head, licking the dryness of my lips. He waited, seeing by the dilation of my pupils that his words affected me. The noise that emerged from my voice was barely recognizable as words. "Too public."

"Ah," he smiled. "Jedi are discreet. There's no one in the gardens at this time of night. No one will see."

I shook my head again. "You can't be sure."

He sucked my earlobe into his mouth, wetting it before releasing it to whisper, "Where then? I'll compromise. My fantasy, my position, your place."

It was madness, total madness. I should send him away and meditate. I should suppress my need and wait until reaching Coruscant to have matter-of-fact casual sex with another padawan. "The dresser," I said. I couldn't disappoint him. I couldn't lose this opportunity.

"With the mirror. I can watch you, you can watch me. We'll see each other's faces when we perish from the pleasure. What a creative start--you're going to be a great game-player." His voice purred, rippling the hairs on my skin with sound. He tugged on me, guiding me into the bedroom.

I still might have broken his spell if he had simply pushed me toward the dresser, but Deeyan was a connoisseur. He tasted my mouth as if it were a fine wine, sipping every nuance of its flavor. My body was a sculpture, every curve to be traced with wandering hands. I was a willing participant by the time he placed my hands flat on the top of the dresser. The last shred of my Jedi restraint demanded that my eyes close when he kneeled on the floor and fulfilled his promise. My own face was too expressive to watch. I opened my eyes when he began thrusting inside me. The swing of my braid fascinated me as I moved with his tempo. The braid flowed from my chest to touch the mirror and back again, filling my vision as the world went wild and I experienced the most intense ecstasy of my life.

Yoda found me the next morning, meditating in the garden. I rose with dawn and desperately needed to understand what happened. I was cross-legged on the ground, needing the touch of solid earth, the hard line of the bench across my back. Yoda settled on the smooth stone, his cane in his lap.

"Disturbed, are you?" Yoda always deciphered my emotions with frightening ease.

"Yes. Deeyan and I - " I stopped. I couldn't explain, not in detail, and without detail, I couldn't convey my confused state.

"Enjoyed it, did you?" My Master appeared far less disturbed than I.

"It was - erotic. Carnal."

"Think you passion leads to the dark side?"

"There is no passion; there is serenity." I quoted the Code at him. No other answer presented itself.

"And when passion there is?"

Yoda was an amazing Master, but he choose to be cryptic at the most annoying moments. He gave me direct answers when I didn't need them, and confusing questions on those rare occasions that I wanted to be told what to think. I shut my mouth and closed my eyes, waiting until I heard the quiet rustle of Yoda's robes as he left. Then I rose to search for Deeyan.

We spent the rest of the time together. Our passion was as mad as my meditations were intense. I never dreamed such sensuality, such erotic joy in the physical exploration of bodies and mind games could exist. Yoda stayed obstinately silent and I reciprocated. When the last subclause of the treaty was agreed and the formal signing ceremony completed, I expected the relationship to end. Deeyan and I kissed in private, shook hands in public, and Yoda and I headed for our ship. I forgot he was a Prince, with little to do but wait for his father to die.

He appeared several more times that year. He always had a good excuse, a valid reason for being in the vicinity of our mission. The local dignitaries would welcome him out of respect for his title. How he discovered our location was his secret, as Jedi travel plans aren't made public. I waited Yoda's permission, which sometimes was granted and sometimes withheld, depending on the severity of our task. The verbal games continued. I lost track of how many scenarios he envisioned and fulfilled, as he taught me to dream my own, unleashing a side of me that had never existed within the sterile confines of the Academy. He could sit at a table at an outdoor café, sip the local wine or coffee, and whisper the most outrageously provocative suggestions. He taught me much about poise in public. Yoda's signals were subtle, but he was not pleased with my obsession for the lessons I was learning.

The break arrived through outside intervention. Deeyan was tense and unhappy as he approached us, looking at Yoda for permission. He was good at hiding emotional signals, well-prepared to be scrutinized by his subject and other leaders, but our relationship was too close for me to be deceived. "Master Yoda, may I steal away your Padawan?" Respectful, as ever, in the other Jedi's presence. Yoda sensed his turbulence too and gave his approval with the merest flick of his ears.

We walked without speaking until reaching the guest quarters I was assigned. His kiss was almost brutal, shoving me back against the closed door. I didn't resist, but I didn't respond. We had to talk.

Flinging himself away, stalking over to stare out the windows. "I'm getting married. Next month."

"Tiasha?" I asked. Mentions of her were casual, but I had realized she was the perfect future Queen.

"Yes. Father is ill. He wants an immediate marriage, though the organization for a royal wedding within that time will be insane."

"Then this end us." As I spoke, I didn't question the rightness of my words. I comprehended part of what Yoda had tried to tell me. Passion wasn't necessarily bad. Eroticism didn't start a slippery path to the dark side. Deceits in the pursuit of passion would be different. I still didn't understand the full quote, but understanding was coming.

"You say that very easily." That voice which so often caressed me hated me, hated my ability to be detached and accepting.

"Deeyan." I approached him, turned him to look at me, rested my hands on his shoulders, hoping physical reassurance would convey my message. "You know what you mean to me. But we also both know what our lives mean to us. You will be a King, you will do your duty. I will be a Jedi, I will do mine."

"We could still see each other." He was definitely sulking. All his life, he got his own way, either through his position or his own manipulative skills. A few disappointments might have been better for his character, but it seemed tactless to mention.

"Tiasha wouldn't cheat on you, she doesn't deserve to have you cheat on her."

"She doesn't love me, you know. We're good friends, but we're both bound by duty."

"And we don't love each other enough." It was the first time that fact occurred to me through the haze of our desire. "If we loved beyond all reason, you would give up your kingship for me and I would give up being a Jedi for me. Neither of us will." He didn't argue. Our lives were directed toward goals and nothing would make us lose track of them. "Love may grow in time. She's a beautiful woman."

His smile was both sad and bitter, but he wouldn't fight my decision. "A kiss to say good-bye?"

That kiss ended our physical relationship, but began a life-long friendship. An invitation to the wedding, and announcements of the death of his father, his coronation, the birth of three children were duly sent. In return, I sent an invitation to my Knighting ceremony, but Jedi celebrate fewer events than royalty. More invitations for the annual celebration of his reign, the children's coming-of-age and various graduation ceremonies arrived. He appeared at my ceremony, smiling with pride. Yoda and I attended some events and missed others, a tradition I followed as a Knight, trailed by own Padawans. The King officially requested I fulfill the role of Knight Protector to his daughter Marisae and I was allowed to formally accept. Our contact was sporadic, but the connection was still present. The length of the separation didn't matter; we could always talk easily as old friends. I was glad the relationship survived.

Then my Padawan Xanatos betrayed my trust and turned to the dark side. I went to Deeyan to escape the well-meaning rhetoric of the other Jedi but couldn't release my anguish. He worried at my attitude and scolded me, complaining that I should not dwell on one student's actions. I had done my task to the best of my abilities. Xanatos' deceit and his seduction to the service of evil was beyond my power to control. The Jedi Masters echoed his words after I returned to Coruscant and brooded more. I listened to none, performing missions with exceptional skill, increasing my growing reputation as a superior Jedi mediator with a maverick streak.

Until Obi-Wan.

I lived in a self-belief that I was being logical and rational by refusing another padawan, that I was not an appropriate Master and was not capable of training another young student. In reality, I lived with fear and self-pity, terrified of a similar failure. Obi-Wan's stunning courage, announcing his willingness to die for me, that I might save the lives of others, made me face the truth of my selfishness. He was only 12, but displayed more bravery than most adults. I accepted him as Padawan. I could not have denied him any more than I could have made my own heart stop beating.

Once the first chink appeared in my armor, Obi-Wan swarmed the rest of the way into my heart and soul. Initially, he was my pupil, my son. I was so proud of his accomplishments, the way he tested himself, learned quickly, demanded that I satisfy his insatiable curiosity. The next few years passed speedily. Our lives were full with perpetual diplomatic quarrels and Obi-Wan's padawan lessons. I was happier than I had ever been, living every day with him at my side, never analyzing that bliss.

On the surface, everything seemed the same as Obi-Wan matured, but inside, everything was shifting in my mind. He grew in spurts, as all young people do, not reaching my height, but seemingly overnight an engaging child became a handsome man. Like most young men, he showed a positive disdain for clothing in our quarters, wearing only his undergarment when studying, sprawled on the cushions. Given his reserved air in public, many would have been surprised by the picture he presented, stretched out, the sun from the windows touching his skin, coating his mostly naked body with warm gold rays. I began to find those days uncomfortably disturbing, reminding me of those hesitant feelings when Deeyan pinned me down in wrestling matches.

Obi-Wan's own sensuality broke my blindness. I was gone a few days on a minor diplomatic mission. The night was late when I arrived home, so I entered stealthily, leaving the lights off, moving toward my room. I heard the sounds of moaning, stopping just before entering. I could see them, Obi-Wan and another Padawan, making love in my bed. He paused, not moving his hips but kissing her, building the tension until she broke her lips away to plead. I looked at that luscious skin, the long healthy limbs, the thrusting hips, the flex of his buttocks. I desired him. I loved him so deeply. I wanted to go to him, push her away, lay my body on his, invade his mouth with my tongue, fondle him, bare and exposed to my gaze and hands. I retreated to the Temple gardens to meditate and wait, pretending to return home the next morning.

I was embarrassed and frightened that I would revolt him by my feelings. I was jealous and angered by his obvious experience. Masters are not supposed to love their Padawans, and certainly not experience my level of lustful thoughts. My life had not been celibate, but my liaisons were discreet and fairly restrained. The Jedi of my generation still treated sex too matter-of-factly for my tastes and I didn't relish being a notch on a diplomat's bedpost who wished to explore intriguing rumors of Jedi stamina and strength. The memories of those wild months with Deeyan flooded back and new erotic images, myself with Obi-Wan invaded my mind. At the next opportunity, I sent my Padawan on specialized training, though he protested. No one enjoyed learning how to navigate swampy terrain, but the skill could be useful. I suffered through Master Zizz-elle's instructions when a Padawan; Obi-Wan could bear it too. I went to Deeyan.

I confessed all, my mixture of reverent admiration and lecherous desire. Deeyan understood. After so many years, he was glad that I found someone to love, though a twinge of jealousy pervaded his words. He didn't understand my reluctance to express myself. In his mind, we were perfect together. We were both Jedi. The conflict of opposing duties was meaningless. Jedi tradition was hidebound and useless if it interfered. I admired many of Deeyan's qualities, particularly his devotion to his people, but his indulgent streak was still strong. He would have taken me as often as he could during his marriage and only my own reminders of our honor stopped him. Comprehending my obstinate lack of action was beyond him.

Life continued, though I was trapped in an agony of unfulfilled desire. I repressed and ignored it, fantasizing only when Obi-Wan was sleeping or separated from me. I gave Obi-Wan more opportunities to stay on Coruscant and was secretly relieved whenever he declined, insisting on accompanying me. I grew even more conscious of his lazy sensuality, the slinkiness to his stride. He was a man, comfortable with his sexuality, exploring his passion but not possessed by it. I could identify his partners, both female and male, and was gratified that he was discriminate enough to choose for intelligence and personality as much as physical beauty. Somewhere along the way, the young generation of Jedi changed. Things were not the same as the good old days of my youth. While it wrenched at me that Obi-Wan was having sex with others, my joy that he would not live with repression was real.

I broke after Marisae's reception. She was so beautiful, so happy. We hadn't been particularly close, despite my honorary title, but I was proud of her. Watching two young people in love, wondering if I would ever see that expression on Obi-Wan's face, dreading that someone else would cause it, not his respected teacher. Deeyan and I slipped away to the royal quarters.

The issue of my love for Obi-Wan arose. It always did when we were together. Deeyan was the only person who knew my true thoughts about my Padawan. He brought up the game and this time I succumbed, though I feared it would leave me aching and frustrated. Obi-Wan and I were sharing a small room. Agitating myself before such close proximity was foolish, but I was too weak to resist. I described my fantasy, how I would take Obi-Wan against the wall, losing myself in the detail, mentally picturing his face, contorted while responding to my lust, heard his voice, panting in pleasure, felt his capable hands clenching with desperation at my skin. In my mind, he was so beautiful and he was mine. I could imagine no greater satisfaction.

Deeyan dropped to his knees by me, wanting to give me release. I denied him, expecting a protest. Surprisingly, he didn't argue. I felt a touch of the Force, thought I imagined it. Following Deeyan's distracted gaze, thought I saw a pair of boots disappearing. Could Obi-Wan have seen us, heard me? And if he had, how much? Did he know I loved him or only that his old teacher yearned for his body? He was fool enough to climb the palace walls for exercise and regrettably tended to evade diplomatic functions when possible. My friend said nothing and I was reluctant to ask. That my Padawan might accidentally discover my feelings and return them was a day dream fantasy, not a likely reality.

Obi-Wan seemed thoughtful that night but our conversation was casual. His dreams were restless. I left him sleeping to admire the happiness of Marisae and Hule as they departed on the traditional bridal journey. Afterward, I sat in the garden meditating, my reflections interrupted by the Deeyan's deep voice, interspersed with Obi-Wan's.

Those boots had been Obi-Wan's. My apprentice definitely heard our conversation last night. Maybe not the entirety, but enough. What bargain he and Deeyan made, or when they had made it, I didn't understand. Though his words might seem measured, Deeyan was furious at Obi-Wan. My Padawan virtually snarled back. Deeyan demanded that Obi-Wan love me, threatened to send a pleasure slave to me if he didn't. I was elated at the realization that Obi-Wan didn't flatly tell him to do so. I was familiar with Obi-Wan's responses to many situations. If he was averse to an idea, he plainly stated his objections, generally politely, always firmly. To me, his sulky temper indicated his potential willingness. I hoped to receive my love rather than just my lust.

Then the commotion, a woman's scream sent them running to the Palace. I waited another minute before following, to discover it was my turn to be enraged.

My surrogate daughter and her husband were kidnapped, practically under my nose. So much for being a protector. We canvassed the area of the attack, sent out troops to search in a geographic pattern, headed back to the capital city, disappointed and worried. I called upon the Force to calm myself and could sense Obi-Wan doing the same.

The four of us gathered in the Royal Quarters to examine the ransom note and plan. Watching Deeyan and his Queen together, it was plain he had been a fool. She adored him, loved their life together, and he cherished her. They instinctively turned to each other for support. Companionship and duty had blossomed into mature love and he had been blind, treating her as an obligation rather than a gift. Obi-Wan was overcome with a vision, a reason for the kidnapping, a location to check. I begged to be responsible for saving Marisae, needing redemption. Her loss wounded me horribly. Deeyan searched my Padawan's eyes. Their issues were not resolved and he was reluctant to trust both of us.

Obi-Wan dropped to one knee, giving the King and Queen an unusual mark of respect. Jedi typically only bowed. "Please, your Majesties, let us bring Marisae back to you. It is Qui-Gon's responsibility as Knight Protector to defend her, and mine as his Padawan to support him." I have never been so proud of him, of his character and dedication. Regardless of his personal feelings, he supported me. Above all, he was a Jedi.

Locating the Princess and Hule was easy; rescuing them was not. The kidnappers were armed with blasters and willing to kill. Obi-Wan and I fought supremely together, attacking and defending in a smooth, relentless pattern. Then his attention faltered for no apparent reason I could discern. I was struck by a glancing shot and Obi-Wan screamed in rage as he slaughtered the last of the attackers. I held onto consciousness, feeling his arms cradling me, hearing his frantic call into the communicator. Though not a healer, he poured force energy into my wound, pleading for forgiveness for his lapse. The emotion and concern on his face was so intense, so real. I prayed that it signified more than a student's love for his teacher as I slipped into oblivion.

Drugs controlled the pain when I woke, but couldn't eliminate the severe exhaustion. Obi-Wan's strong arms still cradled my body, though I was back in bed at the castle. Reassurances from him, everything was fine, promises to meditate on his anger. No explanation for his distraction given. Oblivious healing sleep took me.

The comforting arms were missing when I next opened my eyes. I thought I could see Obi-Wan eating, talking with Tiasha at the reading table near the windows. Her attention was rapt on his words. I must have dreamed, hearing what I craved to hear.

"I will never forget when I heard him say that he loved me. I didn't accept it at first. He's been my teacher, my father. I hadn't contemplated a more physical relationship, but I searched my feelings and realized I loved him."

A little happy noise from Tiasha, a woman enjoying a romantic tale. I smiled. Dreams always seemed unusual and bizarre when remembered in the morning, odd things happening and people behaving erratically. This was better than a dream.

"He loves me intensely and has for years, but he's been unwilling to disrupt my teaching. His selfishness and concern are two of the things I admire the most. We haven't - "

His voice stalled. I could almost imagine him nibbling at his lip or blushing. Obi-Wan was normally an honest man, but his talent at dissembling had forestalled many a scolding from me at his reckless behavior.

"Forgive me, your Highness, I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

Another little noise from Tiasha, a protest. She needed the end of the story.

"We haven't been fully intimate. Perhaps it's selfish but I want him well soon because I can hardly wait to give him pleasure. You're a married woman, you've experienced the joy when you please your partner, feeling him squirm with excitement, gasping your name. I know it will be more exciting than my own gratification, to think I've fulfilled his passion, that I've made him happy."

Tiasha's noises were wonderfully expressive. This one was half-shock, aghast at his confession, half-delight at the sexually romantic image. I figured a dream couldn't become any better and lapsed unwillingly into a different one.

When I woke next, I was surrounded again by my Padawan's comforting presence, that cherished feeling of security as he held me. Then he led me down the path I yearned to walk with him. His exciting words in my ear, his voice caressing, throaty. Yes, he had watched when I played the game with Deeyan and he was an apt pupil. One callused thumb rubbing my nipple. My protest gained his hand on my cock, stroking me, making me squirm, pleasing me. With only his erotic fantasy, his clever hand, and the feel of his lean form pressed to mine, he brought me to climax. He kissed me, taking my breath as I fainted. I promised myself that some day he would make me faint with only pleasure and not partially because I was weak from blood loss.

I recovered quickly under his care, as he pampered me and attended to my every ache. He kissed and caressed me, sleeping with my long body in his arms. He didn't attempt anything further, whispering guiltily that I must concentrate on healing.

As much as I had craved this situation, I considered the ramifications seriously as I healed. I adored Obi-Wan; I cherish this caring side. I could easily become enraptured by him. I pledged to never neglect his training, to never let the lover overwhelm the Master. I would not do him that disservice.

I also pondered our relationship. Perhaps it seems cold that I wondered how two new lovers would interact, but Jedi are taught to be the most analytical people in the universe. We deal daily with politicians, warriors, bureaucrats, and others who mix the concerns of their constituents with their own selfish desires. Our actions may affect thousands, nay millions of lives, as well as the tide of history. Part of me could not ignore the training of a lifetime.

In many ways, Obi-Wan and I were much alike; much like all other Jedi. We are required to constantly make careful, instantaneous decisions. We are humble and serve the Light, but we are confident. It may seem a contradiction, but neither a weak, overly self-effacing or an arrogant Jedi could be effective under the stress we face. Obi-Wan was insecure as a boy but under my tutelage, he had grown into a self-assured man who would be one of our greatest Jedi ever.

I had rarely seen Obi-Wan with his sexual partners, but I could make a reasonable guess based on my knowledge of his character, his drive for perfection, that he would like to be sexual dominant. Deeyan had taught me the excitement found in both leading and being led. Overall, I prefer to lead. I knew Obi-Wan and I would have some battles over control.

Deeyan and Tiasha visited several times as I healed. The King confirmed my suspicions. He leaned close one time, brushing a kiss on my forehead, and murmured, "You must thank that imp of a Padawan for me. You had better watch him, Qui-Gon. He'll be a handful." I remembered my dream. Only Obi-Wan would meddle in the sex life of one of the most powerful royal couples in this universe.

Obi-Wan won the first round in our love, driving me to orgasm as I could only moan and allow him to take liberties with my body. I planned my opportunity to reverse the tide with strategic calculation. The night was late. I knew no visitors would arrive to disrupt my plans. As usual, Obi-Wan was collecting his sleep pants, preparing to enter the bathroom to change. His respect for not exciting me in my weakened state was almost amusing. He wasn't tired yet but he would crawl into bed with me so I could fall asleep in his arms. It was a routine we developed these last few days.

Only I wasn't tired tonight.

He started to walk across the room. "Obi-Wan."

"Yes, Master." He crossed to my side, waiting expectantly to fulfill some request.

"I have a fantasy, Obi-Wan." My voice lowered, the brogue asserting itself. Obi-Wan's eyes were bright and clear, but that slight trace of desire was hazing them as soon as my words registered.

"Yes, Qui-Gon?" Yes, he liked to be sexually dominant. I would have to work on regaining my right to be called "Master" at all times.

"A fantasy of what I would like to do to you, my Padawan." I reached out, capturing one hand, carrying it to my lips. I delicately nipped at his thumb, rolling my tongue around the end, taking it fully within my mouth, sucking strongly. My meaning was crystal clear.

"Aren't you supposed to start with the place, Qui-Gon?" He was trying to control his breathing, maintaining its even level. He was a beautiful Lisian race horse, wanting to champ at the bit as he waited at the gate, pawing the ground, but knowing he couldn't expend his energy needlessly. I didn't mind. He could control himself as long as he wanted - until I was ready to push him over the finishing line.

I pulled my mouth off his thumb, deliberately making a slurping noise as I released the digit. "Place is here, of course. It starts with you, undressing yourself for me." Our eyes met intently, challenging each other, mine daring him to play my game. I brought his thumb back to my mouth and with a low moan, engulfed it in the furnace of my mouth.

He didn't respond, dropping the sleep pants still held in his free hand, yanking at his sash. It fell to the ground. Shrugging his shoulders, he liberated one arm from the sleeve, his tunic draping over the other arm, trapped by my hands holding his, my tongue teasing his thumb. I released his hand, both of us contributing a Force push to send the tunic flying across the room before I resumed sucking.

He placed one boot on the bed, undoing the straps, repeating the action with the other foot. They were difficult to remove with only one hand, but he managed. The trousers were easier. As he stood in front of me, wearing only his undergarment, I freed his thumb. "Oh my love, the number of times I tried so diligently not to stare at you."

"Yes, Qui-Gon?" he smiled, smirking.

"Yes, Obi-Wan." My voice scolded, which only accelerated his smirk. "The way you sprawl around our quarters. Or when you would sit on the floor, back against the couch, legs bent and separated, and I had such a good view of this." One hand coasted down the bulging erection.

"Not in quite this condition, though," he murmured.

"That didn't make it any easier on me." I think he realized he shouldn't delight in my agony, attempting to restrain his grin. He failed.

"This is my fantasy, to do this." I slid his undergarment off his hips, down his thighs, and he kicked it the rest of the way off his calves. He stood naked before me, the marble of his skin broken by the hardness of his nipples, a light dusting of body hair, the curlier hair around his groin, his enflamed hardness pointing at me.

My hands holding his hips guided him closer to my mouth. I stared fixedly at his erection, so stiff and ready with just the encouragement of my sucking. "Oh yes." I kissed the tip, a dozen soft gentle kisses, before rolling my tongue around the head, savoring his taste. "You are the finest wine, the most delectable nectar."

"Is this the fantasy or the reality?" His control was slipping, eyes glazing, breath deepening. My Lisian race horse, with his muscles tensing under my hands, preparing to explode out of the gate.

"Both, oh both." My warm tongue ran down the length, lapped at the head again. I rolled his testicles with my fingers, their heaviness a precious weight. "Deeyan said you would be handful. You're definitely more than a mouthful." With that mocking comment, I swallowed as much of his erection as I could, filling my mouth. He shouted, hands burying into my hair. The pressure of my hands forced his body to stillness as my mouth worked magic on his senses.

I played with him, with my tongue, my lips, my teeth, the warm cavern of my mouth, alternating sucking, licking, nipping, keeping him off-balance. When his groans told me he was getting desperate, I would stop, no more than one finger stroking his length, until he quieted. Then I would resume. I wanted him frenzied.

"Qui-Gon!" He was virtually incoherent.

"Yes, Padawan?" My breath caressed the tip. He knew what I wanted.

"Please, Master, let me move. Please." The pressure of my hands softened, signaling my permission. He was insane, hips jerking, bucking into my mouth, hands twisting in my hair, sweetly satisfying moans above my head. My hands gliding over the smooth skin of his thighs and abdomen inspired him to faster thrusts. The slickness of my mouth became a conduit for his explosive energy. I drank as much of his release as I could, my throat muscles working rapidly.

He collapsed on me, muscles trembling. My race horse had expended all his stamina in his last dash to completion. Raising the covers, I tucked his unresisting form next to mine, giving him lingering kisses. He tasted himself and asked for more, his tongue exploring my mouth, seeking the last traces.

"Master - " He halted his words. We kissed more, bodies burrowing together, as if we could merge into one skin, long legs entwining, arms wrapped around each other's torsos. "Qui-Gon. You aren't satisfied."

"Yes, Obi-Wan. I'm very satisfied. But still too tired for more." He would be a challenge for me, I hoped for many years. I wouldn't broach the issue of bonding tonight, but I knew I would eventually. Or more likely, he would beat me to it. I wanted to tell him that I could stop being a Jedi for him, if I had to, but I didn't want to overwhelm him. His head nuzzled into the curve of my shoulder and neck. With a flick of the Force, I extinguished the lights.


"Yes, Obi-Wan?" He was replete and sleepy, the heavy laziness of his satiated body an agreeable sensation against my own.

"I never have quite understood the part of the Code - there is no passion; there is serenity." Nervousness filled his confession.

I laughed. Obviously, every Padawan must struggle with this concept. Sometimes I wondered if any of us understood it. Maybe we all pretended, afraid to question a maxim set in the stone of time. "For you, Obi-Wan, it should be - when there is passion, there is serenity. Because I feel astonishingly serene at this moment."

He yawned as he drifted off to sleep, happiness in his tone. "That shall be our personal version. For all our years and years together."

I stroked that beloved head, fighting sleep myself, wishing to relish this peaceful time, my beautiful lover in my arms. Our years and years together sounded very good to me. Obi-Wan Kenobi and Qui-Gon Jinn, Master and Padawan, lovers, eventually to become Master and Knight, bondmates. "Yes, love, just for us."

The End