I had done many foolhardy things in my life, I reflected, as I climbed the old bricks of the palace. As a child, I was insecure and desperately eager to prove my abilities, testing myself and learning quickly as possible to show my worthiness to be a Padawan. After I was selected by Qui-Gon, I pushed myself even harder. My venerable Master was so learned and experienced in the ways of the Jedi. I needed to absorb every lesson I could, to satisfy my insatiable curiosity and justify his pride.
I found that in the life of a Jedi, however, there were some things that I couldn't absorb, couldn't tolerate with eternal calm and politeness. Tedious receptions were one of those things. We had journeyed to this planet for the wedding of the King's beloved daughter. King Deeyan was an old friend of Qui-Gon's, though I had never met him. I knew that they had been friends when younger, after Yoda and Qui-Gon had settled a diplomatic dispute between the old King, Deeyan's father, and the democratic government on a neighboring planet. Qui-Gon visited Deeyan several times during my apprenticeship, but always when I was scheduled for specialized training.
We had not attended the marriages of the King's older two boys, prevented by other responsibilities, but Qui-Gon was the designated Knight Protector of the daughter, Marisae. If anything had ever happened to the King, Qui-Gon would have been responsible for the girl. It was an unusual obligation for a Jedi, who rarely tied themselves to individual families or promised to fulfill one particular planet's cultural duties. Qui-Gon never explained why the Council let him accept the chore but I assumed it was the King's importance. Now that she had reached her majority and taken a husband the issue was moot, but Qui-Gon's presence was a symbolic necessity at the wedding. Our other chores were shunted aside.
To my displeasure, Qui-Gon's presence had not appeared necessary throughout the reception. I searched for him once in the crowd, hoping to use his company to escape the inane chatter of this planet's young courtiers. He had disappeared. The King also was gone; I wondered if they were taking the opportunity to renew old acquaintances. Finally, feeling slightly sick from the rich wines and fatty foods, I slipped outside and started climbing. Our room was only eight floors up on this side of the building. I could reach it easily.
I challenged myself, avoiding use of the Force, relying on the power of my strong arms to pull myself up, using the crevices between the bricks for finger and toe holds. After a day spent sitting, watching the bride, groom, various attendants and family members engage in the ceremonial rituals designed to bind the two in wedded bliss, I needed this exercise. Without the cushion of the Force, I could fall and severely harm myself. Qui-Gon would scold if such an event occurred, but as long as my own strength held out, he would never know.
Reaching a balcony five floors up, I swung one leg over the railing to take a break, resting on the heavy stone. The voice of the King commanded my attention. Like Qui-Gon, his voice was exquisite; a deep baritone that he used to great effect during the wedding speeches. "Confess old friend, how would you do him?"
I had assumed correctly that Qui-Gon and the King escaped the reception together. I could see them, sitting in the room on plush couches, feet propped on a low table, holding liqueur glasses. Even in the privacy of our rooms, I had rarely seen my Master so relaxed and casual. Qui-Gon's cloak was tossed over a chair with the King's ceremonial robes. Dressed in black tunic and trousers, the King was an unusually handsome man, with dark brown hair that almost matched the sherry brown of his eyes. He was taller than I, but not quite Qui-Gon's height. Like my Master, he radiated a quiet dignity and powerful presence that automatically received respect from those around him without demanding it.
"How would I do him?" I had not understood either the King's question or Qui-Gon's avoidance of answering. I thought of entering the room but waited, hesitant to disturb a private conversation. My Master received little chance to enjoy a pleasant evening with our busy schedules. I liked the vision of this lounging, mellow Jedi. I didn't want him to feel he must return to the reserved teacher because of my entrance.
"Don't tell me you don't remember the game," the King chided. "We played it often enough. If you only had one chance - one opportunity - what position? And where?"
A sense of understanding was beginning to penetrate my brain. This was definitely a conversation I should not interrupt. Carefully I swung around, pressing my back against the wall. I could no longer see them, but the dark brown of my cloak should fade into the red brown of the aged walls better than the cream of my formal tunic and trousers. I wondered if I should leave, climb another level, but the thought of Qui-Gon playing sexual games was too intriguing. I knew he occasionally spent the night with partners, but he was so much the soul of discretion, I never visualized such teasing fantasizing.
"One chance….one position…one place…" Qui-Gon's voice was musing. He appeared to be deciding.
"Oh no, old friend, I know you too well. Don't pretend you haven't decided long ago. How many years have you lusted after this young man?"
"Loved." My Master's correction was emphatic.
"Loved then." I could sense the King shrugging, not offended. "Something romantic? A soft bed? Candles, music? Driving him to distraction, proving your love by sucking his cock?"
A small gasp as that picture was contemplated. "You could always play this game better than I."
"And you could always carry out anything I could visualize. With marvelous skill. But you're still avoiding the question."
A smacking sound; I wondered if the King had punched Qui-Gon in the arm or on the thigh. I hadn't realized they had been lovers. Lovers, and clearly ones that had separated as good friends, without divisive anger. It explained the ease of their togetherness.
"No, not romantic. I've wanted too long. Place - in our quarters."
That "our" grabbed my attention more than any previous statement. "How?"
"The sun would be setting over Coruscant, red gold streaming onto the floor. His body would be pressed against the blank wall by the windows. I'd be fucking him, thrusting into his warm body. I can feel the tenseness in my thighs as I drive into him repeatedly, the tenseness in my shoulders as I lean down to kiss him. My arms are braced against the wall, my feet digging into the carpet so I can plunge into him with increasing vigor. I would have prepared him well, so he could accept my stiff cock without pain. I would never want to hurt him."
The King's breathing was becoming loud and harsh, slowing. Qui-Gon's faint brogue was intensifying as his words continued ceaselessly, his voice deepening. My own heart was speeding at the image he created, though I still wanted a definite answer for that "our."
"No, I would never want to hurt him," Qui-Gon repeated. "And I wouldn't be. I know because he's gasping, crying my name. His hips are jerking and bucking in response to my desire. His erection is trapped between our bodies, rubbing against my tense abdomen. I would be ready to explode but I would make it last as long as possible. Finally…" his words trailed off.
"Oh gods, don't stop." The King's sentiment echoed my thoughts.
"Finally, my thrusts go even deeper, deeper than I ever imagined possible. The entire length of my cock is buried in his slender body. I remove my arms from the wall. One hand wraps around his braid, tying him to me. With the other, I grab his erection and pump him. I'm merciless and a little rough, but he loves it. He gasps so loud, it's almost a scream. I feel his semen cover my hand so I know that he has received the ultimate satisfaction. The pleasure is so intense, his eyes roll back in his head. My own orgasm is all-consuming, heightening my tenseness unbearably before releasing it. I feel it from the top of my head, sweeping down my body, curling my toes, as I pour into him."
The braid reference confirmed my suspicions. My Master wanted me, his Padawan apprentice. Qui-Gon Jinn wanted Obi-Wan Kenobi. Not just wanted, but wanted for too long to be gentle. Not just lusted, but "loved." My Master, who obviously kept a hidden side of intense sensuality from his Padawan. My brain was being silly, chanting the words "Qui-Gon loves Obi-Wan" as my entire world was tipped upside down, shaken every way, and spun crashing through a meteorite shower. I had admired Qui-Gon for over eight years now, since our Master/Padawan relationship was first forged right before my 13th birthday. He was my father, my teacher, my mentor.
I never pictured him as a lover. It never occurred to me that he might have such thoughts.
"Qui-Gon, let me give you pleasure. You've been aching for too long."
I risked a glance into the room. The King was now crouching on the floor by Qui-Gon, one elegant hand resting on my Master's upper thigh. Qui-Gon was shaking his head. "You have never betrayed your Queen. I won't let you start now."
"She would understand. She knows of our previous relationship. We are close friends and work together for the good of our people, but we married for diplomatic reasons. There has never been true love between us, only companionship." His hand slid further up Qui-Gon's thigh, clearly intent on the bulge tenting the cream trousers.
I decided it was time to take action. I didn't know what I would do with this new knowledge. I wasn't even sure if I wanted to know the truth of Qui-Gon's feelings. I did know that I would not accept another man stroking or sucking off my Master after he had aroused himself with a vision of fucking me. Perhaps it was un-Jedi of me, but I could be very possessive of his attention.
Swinging off the stone railing, I stood in front of the balcony doors, sending a tendril of the Force on as tight and directed focus as possible. I needed to balance this carefully - enough Force to capture the King's attention, but not enough to alert Qui-Gon too soon. I succeeded. The King looked up, saw me on the balcony, saw my glare, saw me shaking my head. Qui-Gon started to follow his line of sight, but I leaped up, grabbing at bricks, feet landing on the stone latticework over the arch of the doorway. "Was someone there?"
"No, no one. You are right. This would not be fair to my Queen, even if I did not satisfy myself. It's my daughter's wedding day and I have been selfish, ignoring all those damnable courtiers for a visit with you. We should return for the final toasts."
I waited until I heard the rustling of a cloak being placed on broad shoulders, ceremonial robes snapped into place, the door open and close as two sets of boots walked into the hallway. I began climbing again. I had much to contemplate.
I took no action that night. I needed to meditate on my new knowledge, to contemplate possibilities from every angle. Perhaps a little analytical of me for such an emotional situation, but I had to be fair to both Qui-Gon and myself. If I approached him and was receptive to his love, then discovered I did not truly return his feelings, it could destroy both of us. Our Master/Padawan relationship could be irrevocably damaged. I might never become a Knight; his reputation among the Jedi would be destroyed. But if I did not approach him, could I be comfortable, letting him hide his emotions for several more years? My trials were a long time off.
I wondered if it would be fairer to request a new Master if I could not love Qui-Gon. At least, I would remove myself from his presence. From the longing in his voice as he described his fantasy, I could tell he had dreamed of me often. I knew I cared for him enough that I did not want to cause him the gnawing pain he must suffer from seeing me every day. Again, that line of thought slammed against unpleasant realities. I could not request a new Master without explanation. A lie would be discovered and the truth would reflect badly on Qui-Gon. Even if I was willing to damage his position, I could think of no better Master. He constantly challenged and educated me. Our relationship had always been a joy. I didn't know if I could bear to leave him. But under what conditions could I remain with him?
I stayed awake thinking until he entered our room. The Palace was crowded with visitors, so we were sharing a room, a fairly common occurrence when hordes of diplomats were brought together in one place. I had disrobed and was sitting up in the small cot found for me, pretending to study information on our next mission. My Master seemed calm, taking his sleep trousers and entering the bathroom. I could hear him change his clothes, wash his face, brush his hair, and I realized why he rarely undressed in my presence. I was casual about nakedness, as were many Jedi. We trained and sweated together while developing our athletic skills. Being modest among the Jedi was difficult, but my Master managed it. At least, he had achieved a tactful prudery in my presence for the last few years.
Qui-Gon left the bathroom, nodding to me and asking if I had enjoyed the wedding and the following reception while tucking himself into the bed. I complimented the beauty of his surrogate daughter and gave him my standard grousing about silly conversations and over-abundant food. He counseled patience and acceptance, that non-Jedi had many rituals we must tolerate to be effective diplomats. It was a dialogue we had shared many times and undoubtedly would share many more times.
If we stayed together.
The King snagged me as I started to enter the breakfasting hall. My sleep was disturbed and I had risen late. Qui-Gon was already gone from the room. Taking one elbow in his hand, he escorted me into the gardens, to all appearances the head of state thanking a Jedi. The fingers digging into my flesh were not obvious to the casual viewer.
"Qui-Gon doesn't seem particularly relaxed this morning." He was not happy.
"No." I replied tautly. I resented his interference. I had known for a long time that I could be jealous of Qui-Gon's time. I cherished our closeness. Whenever we were on Coruscant, he helped other Masters with training younger students. I always felt unsettled when he singled out a student for special teaching, even though I was generally roped in to assist. I didn't like sharing Qui-Gon's attention with this man and I didn't like being scolded on his behalf.
"I thought we had an agreement last night. You failed to carry out your side of the bargain." Maybe the King thought I had known of Qui-Gon's feelings for some time, that they had not been a total shock to me. He clearly assumed I would be immediately aggressive, that I wouldn't have to work through my own confusion.
"I have to meditate. I must do what is best for both of us." I didn't want to explain myself, but I was conscious of his power, both as Qui-Gon's oldest friend and the leader of a fabulously wealthy world. The first worried me more than the latter.
"Qui-Gon is the best man I have ever known. Anyone would be fortunate to be the object of his love, and would never suffer for it." The plainness of the King's feelings only infuriated me. This man made me think of a young Qui-Gon with a handsome Prince, meeting on a diplomatic mission, spending time together, maintaining a friendship despite time, distance, and their advancement to Jedi Master and King.
I shut my mind to that vision of young lovers becoming old friends, staying stubbornly silent.
"You have a month. One month after you return to Coruscant. I expect a happy communication from my dearest friend, expressing his delight when his Padawan leaned against that blank wall and begged to be taken. Or dropped to his knees in front of him and declared undying love. You can pick your own scenario." He snapped out both his command and his permission to be creative.
"And if I don’t?" I knew I was being stupid, egging a King into threatening me. I definitely needed to meditate. Just thinking last night hadn't helped.
"I'll find a pleasure slave, about so high," his palm briefly rested on the top of my head, "with brownish blonde hair and gray eyes and a muscled form and the most amazingly talented mouth in this universe. And I'll send this handsome young man to my old friend as a present. No one denies a present sent by a King. Not even a stubborn Jedi Master."
I don't know how I would have retaliated, or even if I would have been that idiotic. I thought the image of a young Qui-Gon with a young Prince was aggravating; Qui-Gon with a pleasure slave resembling me made the blood race through my veins and for an instant, I knew the temptation of wanting to smash something, preferably the King's probing gaze.
Then the commotion broke out. A woman's scream from the Palace; the Queen. Angry voices. The King and I rushed in, threats and possible retaliation shoved aside but not forgotten by either of us.
Marisae and her new husband were gone, kidnapped on the way to their honeymoon. By tradition, they had spent the night at the Palace, then risen and mounted an old-fashioned carriage, drawn by the power of animals rather than an engine. Everyone had seen them off while I was yet dozing. An honor guard escorted them. They were to leisurely tour through the countryside so the people could view the royal couple. The days would be spent traveling, the nights staying with important dignitaries. Eventually, they would reach an undisclosed location to spend a blissful month cementing their love with the physical expression of their bodies.
None of that would happen now. The trip through the capital city was fine; crowds gathered along the route to cheer them. Outside the city, where buildings gave way to fertile fields, they were attacked. Marisae and her husband were spirited away and all but one of the honor guard was slaughtered. A ransom demand was tucked into the surviving member's pocket and he was tied to one of the animals, blood flowing from various wounds. Though almost unconscious, the guard raced to the Palace as fast as his pain allowed.
The Palace Guard was dispatched, the local police authorities alerted. The area around the attack was studied, but the kidnappers were clever. All signs to indicate their route were carefully erased so the troops were forced to follow every likely avenue. Given the flatness of the surrounding geography, too many possibilities existed.
We gathered in the Royal Quarters, the King, the Queen, Qui-Gon and I. The Queen was calmer now. She knew the demands of royalty well, and hysteria was not permitted. The three of them sat on the plush couches, the same couches where I had watched Qui-Gon and the King last night. I stood at one side, respecting Qui-Gon's conversation with them.
"It doesn't make sense, Deeyan," said my Master, as he examined the ransom note. "Your people love you. A large group of men could not hide out indefinitely without discovery."
"I know," the King replied bluntly. "Do you not think that petrifies me? There must be more than money involved."
"That many men, to slaughter the guard," the Queen said softly. "The ransom is not enough. Not when divided."
"No. It's not enough. Not for the risk they have taken." Much as he would like to, the King could not deny the accuracy of her observation. His Queen was a strong woman, accustomed to coping with reality. He bent his head to hers. "We will get her back. I swear to you, my love." One large palm rested on her belly. "I remember when you carried her, the joy of her birth, the years of her growing up. These men will pay for this," he vowed.
The devotion in their eyes ensnared me. Much as the King may love Qui-Gon from his youth, his marriage had become much more than a political convenience. I wondered if he had ever admitted his feelings to himself, or if like me, he was still trying to decipher the truth of tangled emotions.
I stared at the bent heads, his dark brown touching her blond. Had the love grown over time? Or had hers existed from the beginning? I thought of Marisae, adored and cherished by both her parents.
I remembered her from the wedding. The light brown hair, a combination of both parents. The beautiful sherry brown eyes, a genetic gift from her father, shining into her new husband's face. The couple was blessed with a love match, not a political alliance.
I thought of her fear and alarm. She would be crying, hysterical, but attempting to duplicate her mother, calming her emotions rather than be weak in front of others. I pictured her, dragged into a building, an isolated but expensive private house near mountains, miles from the attack, her husband unconscious.
"Obi-Wan! Obi-Wan!" Qui-Gon faced me, snapping his fingers in front of my face. "Obi-Wan!"
"Yes, Master?" I didn't know when he had left the couch and walked in front of me. From the concern in his expression, this was not his first attempt to get my attention.
"You were in a daze."
"I had a vision, Master. I hope it was a true vision." Qui-Gon escorted me to the couch and I sat, numbly taking the drink he pressed into my hand. I described every detail I could recall. From the shocked gasp of the Queen and the tight expression of the King, my vision was at least a reasonable prospect.
"It's a hunting lodge, owned by a young Count, once a suitor to Marisae. She almost accepted his offer but then Hule finished his university degree and returned home. It was love immediately. The Count pretended to be happy with her decision. He is very wealthy. Hiring those men would not be difficult for his resources."
Qui-Gon listened to the King's explanation, turning his words over in his mind. I could see him evaluating the circumstances. A rejected suitor, the ransom note a pretense to hide his true intentions. Unless action was quick, Marisae and Hule would both die, victims to jealous rage. Or Hule would die and Marisae would be kept alive, a secret captive.
"I think Obi-Wan and I should handle this. Please, hear me out," he stifled the King's objections before they were spoken. "Her life may be in danger if he is alerted to an armed troop in the area." Qui-Gon didn't observe that her life was already in mortal danger. These parents needed no extra fear. "The hunting lodge is too far away to be encountered in a normal search pattern. Obi-Wan and I can be stealthy, rescue Marisae and Hule before the kidnappers realize they are gone. If it is a spurned suitor, he may even have paid off the majority of the kidnappers and sent them away. And if not - Obi-Wan and I have handled greater numbers."
The King looked at me, and I knew the direction of his thoughts. He didn't know if he could trust me with Qui-Gon's love; he certainly didn't want to trust me with his daughter's safety. The vision was mine and I knew my duty. Dropping to one knee, I added my request. "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 made the words formal, hoping that the King would trust my sincerity. Above all, I was a Jedi.
The King and Queen shared silent communication, hands clasping as if physical touch strengthened them. Both nodded before the King spoke, "Let me take you to a skimmer and give you the location. We will keep the troops searching in case this is a false vision, or to make sure he isn't alarmed. This will be our secret. We pray for you and your success and will await your call."
We were not as lucky as we could have hoped. The kidnappers were present and annoyingly vigilant. The battle was violent; blasters against lightsabers. Qui-Gon and I had always worked well together. Even when I was only 13, I could coordinate with his speed and style. We easily slipped into our battle rhythm, protecting each other's back, deflecting blaster bolts, slaying the kidnappers with little consideration. I didn't know the punishments on this world, but I doubted much leniency would be shown to the attackers of a Royal Princess.
Somersaulting during the battle, repositioning myself to meet another threat, my attention was diverted by the sight of Qui-Gon. His striking speed, his elegance, his ruthless power, long hair flowing with the twists and turns of his lean body. He was not only the elder Jedi who had raised me - he was masculine beauty in its purest definition. My Master, who had loved and lusted after me for years, mute out of deference for my youth. I thought of the different degrees of caring, and wondered when admiration first became love. I had known my own possessiveness and never analyzed it. I was as blind as the King.
The wound was completely my fault. My attention distracted, the blaster shot I should have blocked hit Qui-Gon in his abdomen. I screamed in rage, and the last of the kidnappers fell to the fury of my saber.
Despite some bangs and bruises, Marisae and Hule were fine and escorted directly to their honeymoon location as soon as the Palace Guard arrived. The traditional bridal parade would be done on the return trip. For now, they wanted private togetherness. Fortunately, the blow to Qui-Gon's body was only glancing. His wound was rapidly tended and it was pronounced that he also would be fine, to my relief. A servant removed my cot so the nurse could check his vitals easily as he recuperated at the palace. The King pointedly remarked that I could sleep in the quarters next door now that they were unoccupied. With the end of the wedding festivities and the potential tragedy alleviated, the majority of guests had departed. I glared at him and made my position plain by crawling into Qui-Gon's bed, announcing that my place was at his side until he awoke. The Queen giggled. I wondered if she was more relieved at her daughter's rescue or the old lover's clearly jealous new lover.
Several hours passed before I could hear the difference in the tone of his breathing. His eyelids fluttered and his tongue moistened his lips. Propping him slightly, I helped him drink water. He needed plenty of fluids to replenish the blood loss. I intended to ensure that he received every care for a speedy convalescence.
I knew the questions he would want answered. His first concern was never for himself. I reassured him of Marisae and Hule's condition, of the King and Queen's happiness, of the Count being captured. I confessed my shame at missing the shot and admitted my rage. I didn't yet reveal the secret of my distraction, but I promised hours of meditation for my anger.
In my arms, Qui-Gon smiled and fell into a restful sleep.
The Queen herself brought me a meal and I left the bed long enough to eat. She was charmingly delighted by my watchful actions. I didn't explain that Qui-Gon didn't know of my love, but I spoke to her sincerely of how admiration and friendship had altered into more intense emotion. I told her what I could extrapolate of my Master's feelings, pretending I had heard the words from his own mouth. I would definitely have to meditate on my sins, but the deception was small and hopefully ultimately beneficial. Qui-Gon was sleeping heavily when we finished conversing, so I took the opportunity to shower. Stinking when I confessed my love didn't seem romantic.
I was back in his bed, my arms around him, when he woke for the second time.
"I had a nice dream." From his pleased expression, I wondered if he heard my confession to the Queen and placed it within his sleeping memory.
"What was it?"
"Oh - nothing. Dreams are so hard to remember." He seemed to register the surroundings and that he was enfolded in my arms. "Have you been here the whole time?"
"That wasn't necessary." Qui-Gon was a bit surprised. I had cared for him in the past but never by crawling into his bed.
"I wanted to. Besides, it's given me an opportunity to think."
"Yes? What have you been thinking about?" The question was careless, his normal rote inquiry into his Padawan's thoughts. Despite my arms around his body, he wasn't expecting any particular surprises. I decided to go for straight shock. Perhaps it was mean of me, but I could tell from his fantasy that Qui-Gon liked to be sexually dominant. Unfortunately, so did I. If we were going to be together as both Master/Padawan and lovers, I meant to keep him off-balance.
"I was thinking - one chance - one place - one position - with *you*." I purred, rumbling the noise through my chest and nipped at his lobe. His stunned look couldn't have been worse than if Yoda had walked into the room wearing high heels and black silk stockings. But he was a Jedi Master; he recovered with devastating speed.
"Really, Padawan? And what place and position would those be?" His tone was mild, but my hand was on his chest. I could feel the beat quicken. My blunt thumb rubbed at his nipple as I spoke. "Place is that little secluded garden behind the Palace, because I don't intend to love you for the first time in a boring transport ship, and I don't intend to wait until we reach Coruscant. It's beautiful in the garden, and the gate locks. There's the smell of flowers in the air and the sound of small flying insects buzzing. Bright sunlight shines down on you, casting a golden nimbus over your hair."
"That sounds like a good place." His sexual excitement revealed itself not just in the peaking nipple but in the presence of his brogue. I always liked that brogue, though I never knew where he picked it up. No one else on Coruscant talked with the same distinct accent. It appeared in times of stress and apparently sexual arousal. I guessed I would be hearing a lot of it from now on. I could cope. "And position?"
"I'm on my knees in front of you." Admittedly, not a very dominant position, but it would seem so after my description. "I've lowered your trousers and they are trapped around your calves. I didn't remove your boots. You can't move without tripping. You're leaning against a tree. You don't know whether to clasp the rough bark to have a steady support, or wrap your hands in my hair, hanging onto the braid."
His tongue moistened his lips. I could see the fine tremor of his face muscles. "Obi-Wan, maybe you shouldn't continue right now."
"Why not, Qui-Gon?" The "Master" would be dropped in bed, unless necessary in a particular erotic fantasy. Maybe I would get him to call me the term. I approach life wholeheartedly and didn't intend to shortchange any aspect of our new relationship.
"I'm not in any shape to respond."
"Really, Qui-Gon?" I said mockingly, stroking my hand from his nipple to his penis. He was hardening, lengthening, responding to my verbal caress. "You feel to me as if you're in a fine shape to respond. Just relax. I'll take care of you."
"That wouldn't be fair to you," he whimpered.
"I understand that I haven't been fair to you for many years, strolling around our quarters half-dressed. I'll survive tonight."
He didn't say a word. I took that both as acceptance to continue and the number of times I must have unintentionally caused an erection. "I've opened your shirt, so I can see the firm muscles of your chest, but it's not your chest that fascinates me. It's this." I squeezed his penis, highlighting my words. He moaned and I hid my smile. I could like this game. "You're already erect and desperate for me, ever since I dropped to my knees. You've wanted me so long, but you haven't a clue what I can do with my mouth. I pull back the foreskin, so I can see the head and my tongue tastes your pre-cum. It's the most delicious flavor in this universe because it's you, wanting me, on fire for me. I flick my tongue around the head and open my mouth, sucking you in."
He moaned and his throat arched. His eyes were already beginning to roll back in his head, much as he had described mine. Even in his weak state, Qui-Gon was staggeringly easy to arouse. I mentally speculated on whether this speedy response was normal or reflected the years of craving me. I would find out within the next few weeks whether he was always randy or if I would have to be creative to make him match my pace. Like most things with Qui-Gon, I looked forward to learning.
"You're trying to thrust, but I don't want you to choke me. My palms are on your hips, pressing them against the tree, stopping movement." In reality, he was thrusting his hips, his penis sliding back and forth in my massaging hand. I tried to keep his motion slow, but I wasn't as effective in real life as in my fantasy. "You're crying in agony with your pleasure as I suck you all the way into my mouth. I'm controlling my throat muscles so your entire length can fill me. I never realized you were so large, but I'm determined to have every inch. I'm rippling my throat, caressing your sensitive skin. My tongue is constantly in motion, my teeth gently nibbling, enough to thrill but not to hurt."
I didn't finish my fantasy. Qui-Gon was already exploding, hips jerking powerfully, hands clenching at me. I accepted the flow, his milky fluid spilling out of my hand. I kissed him deeply, stealing his breath as he struggled to force air into his lungs. He was sleeping before I released his lips, exhausted from his orgasm and his wound. I pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. I should begin my meditation on my jealousy and rage, but right now I needed to nap with my lover.
Qui-Gon was hungry for food when he woke. His wants had been anticipated; broth was sitting on a tray over a portable warmer. The King was waiting, studying his reflection in the polished silver cover.
"I gather I don't need to start researching pleasure slaves," he commented dryly. I could truly like this man now, appreciating his loyalty to my Master.
"No. He'll never be deprived in my arms," I promised. "Your Highness, perhaps - " I stopped. I hadn't been shy with Deeyan, but maybe the personal life of a King was a line I shouldn't cross.
"Perhaps I should resolve some issues within my own house?" He followed my thought. "Despite all that has happened, this has been a good visit. We both needed to face our feelings. It is long past time that I had a conversation of my own with my Queen."
I bowed deeply as he walked off down the corridor. I wished him success with his love. I knew where my life was headed - anywhere, as long as it was at the side of my Master, my beloved Qui-Gon.