Obi-Wan groaned, squeezing his eyes against the light, as consciousness slowly returned to him. He reached back, finding the wound on his back and side, hissing in pain at the motion. A few ribs were definitely cracked, and, in his effort to stem any internal bleeds with the Force, he had neglected a puncture from a large piece of shrapnel. He'd passed out from blood loss and pain before he could pull himself into a healing trance. His energy reserves were almost completely depleted as it was. The Lothal temple took a great deal of energy to open. He sighed and fell back on the bed, eyes closing again. A fine mess he’d gotten himself into this time.
He could not die here.
He had to get back to Tatooine. He had to get back to Luke. He'd already had to leave him unprotected for far too long, but he hadn't been able to resist this chance to help. Just this once more. Fighting was in his blood. It was what he knew, fighting against injustice was what the Order had taught him all his life. It had to be the last time. He couldn't afford it. Luke had to be protected from Vader. He couldn’t fail him as he’d failed Anakin...
There was a quiet clatter in the distance and Obi-Wan's eyes snapped open. Immediately fully alert. He layered as much of the Force as he could muster over the wound to keep it closed, he couldn't reach it to patch it up properly, and he slid out of the bed. No one should be here. This temple had been completely abandoned. Hell, it had barely been occupied before the Empire, very few Jedi could even enter the Lothal temple by themselves. It took two Force users to open it, or one very determined Master. Obi-Wan pushed his pain aside and searched for the source of the noise.
Finally, he reached the Salle and found the most unexpected thing there. It was a Jedi. Training. And admirably at that; moving his way through the fourth form, Ataru. Obi-wan knew it well, it was his master's preferred form. The familiarity of the movements made Obi-Wan's breath catch. Unfortunately, that pulled at his wound. He hissed in pain and the man turned around toward him quickly at the sound, saber at the ready. Obi-wan couldn’t blame him for being jumpy. This place was supposed to be empty. The man deactivated the green blade after he saw him though apparently deeming him not a threat. Then, an all too familiar voice rang out across the matts.
“I apologize, I didn't realize there was anyone else in the temple.” The man said and Obi-Wan could only stare at him, speechless. He was young, perhaps thirty at the oldest. His hair was shorter and darker than Obi-Wan had ever seen it, curling lightly at the ends; where Obi-Wan could only remember it shoulder length, straight and bronze, then graying. No matter the changes though, it was undeniably Qui-Gon Jinn. Beautiful and whole and breathing, standing not ten feet from him.
“Master?” Obi-Wan gasped and his legs chose that moment to give way beneath him. He wasn’t not sure if it was the mental or physical shock that caused it. The last thing he felt, before his consciousness slipped out of reach again, were strong arms lifting him off the cold tile with impossible gentleness.
Obi-Wan came to when he felt his tunic being peeled back off of his wound. Sticking and pulling to because of the blood. One hand flew to his lightsaber and the other latched onto the wrist of the hand on him.
“Shh... it's all right. You're safe. I promise.” Qui-Gon said and Obi-Wan relaxed in spite of himself. His instincts taking over through years of training as Qui-Gon's padawan, telling him to obey that gentle voice without question. He let go of the man's wrist and allowed him to cut away his bloodied tunic, his hand sliding back to the med bed. Obi-wan cracked his eyes open, watching him through his lashes, still trying to believe he was really here.
“I take it you've lost quite a bit of blood.” Qui-Gon observed as he rested one broad hand on Obi-Wan's chest. He didn't apply any pressure, which Obi-wan's sore ribs were grateful for. It was only there for balance while he took a closer look at the wound. The heat he could feel coming from him made Obi-Wan realize just how cold he was. “I am Knight Qui-Gon Jinn, by the way. Not a Master at all. Not yet anyway.” The man told him with Qui-Gon's small smile on his face. A smile Obi-Wan had been missing for so very long.
“I'm...” Obi-Wan struggled a moment. This Qui-Gon was too young. He hadn't met young Obi-Wan yet. He would bet he hasn't even taken on Feemor as an apprentice, if he was even real to begin with. “Master Ben … Lars.” He settled on and laughed faintly at using the hodge-podged name. “I don't... I don't make it to the Coruscant temple much any more.” he managed, wincing as gentle fingers cleaned away his blood with a cloth. Obi-Wan really had no idea why he was sitting here hallucinating about his dead master, decades younger than he was in Obi-Wan's memory. But Qui-Gon's hands were warm and comforting, in a way Obi-Wan had been certain nothing would ever be again. The man was gently pushing force healing into him and Obi-Wan was so afraid that the moment would break and he'd be alone again bleeding in an empty temple that echoes with death and memory.
“A pleasure to meet you, Master Lars.” Qui-Gon said, pulling Obi-Wan out of his quiet spiral, and looked down to meet his eyes. “I'll have to stitch this wound up.” He told him.
Obi-Wan nodded in response. “All right.... after you do there are two patches on my belt. Bacta patches, put them over the stitches. I couldn't reach it myself.” Qui-Gon nodded as well. In deference, Obi-wan realized slowly. From Qui-Gon's perspective Obi-Wan is the older Master. He swallowed and looked up at the ceiling, his mind reeling a little at that. “And please call me Ben, we should be on a first name basis, I think, after you scraped me off the floor and took my clothes off.” He tried to lighten the mood. It was an old game, trying to get Qui-Gon to smile. Though Padawan Kenobi would never have been so bold as to imply he was in a sexual situation with his Master. Not to say he'd never thought about it. In fact, he'd thought about it far more after his master’s death; thought about how much Qui-Gon had meant to him. How much he had loved him.
He's rewarded with more than a smile, but also a laugh. “Well, Ben. It's not so bad. I think you will live. My force Healing isn't it's best, but the two of us together should have you on your feet undressing for whomever you’d like soon.” He said and then actually smirked at Ben. Obi-Wan flushed under his beard at that, though thankfully he'd lost enough blood that it probably didn't show much. He sighed in bliss when Qui-Gon used his momentary distraction to apply a local anesthetic to numb his wounds before he started the stitches.
“Oh thank you.” Obi-Wan breathed, eyes slipping closed. He honestly hadn't even thought of numbing the area, he'd stitched himself up so many times during the war. It wasn’t the worst wound he'd ever received, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt like a bitch. The debris he'd been hit with had punctured right through the muscle. It had likely very narrowly missed anything vital. His ribs were mostly healed from his earlier Force work but, he seemed to have used up the last of his energy patching the internal bleeds. He soon felt one of Qui-Gon's hands on his stomach, holding him steady while he efficiently stitched it closed on one side. He found the Bacta patches on Obi-Wan's belt and put one on the front. Obi-Wan's eyes opened when he felt Qui-Gon's hand slide over his bare side.
“You need to turn over so I can stitch up the back.” Qui-Gon said, voice gentle when he realized he’d startled him. Ben turned, pushed himself over onto his stomach, trying not to shiver when Qui-Gon steadied him with his hands. He must really be out of it if he's lacking this much control over himself. Touch had never felt quite so good. He’d been in the deserts of Tattooine just over a year with no company but himself. He wasn't used to this much of Qui-Gon's soothing touch. Often times during their missions it had been the other way around, Qui-Gon was always needing patching up, always ready to take the hit for his padawan, or any other life form they'd picked up along the way. He let the touch relax and calm him though and between one breath and the next he fell asleep.
Qui-Gon couldn't help feeling a bit grateful when Ben passed out again. The man was clearly used to pain; but it was a relief that he is resting. Qui-Gon would need to shore up his energy a few hours then try to help Ben finish closing the wounds. This man must have lived with pain everyday, the living force around him seemed as wounded as his body. Quite unconsciously Qui-Gon reached out and smoothed his hand over Ben's hair, trying to provide some small comfort, wanting to help. His hair was a faint auburn color, bleached blond by long periods in harsh sunlight and beginning to go white at the temples. He seemed too young for white hair yet, but a life as a Jedi was stressful one and that often took it's toll. The way Ben had spoken to him; Qui-Gon had found himself echoing the easy familiarity of it. It felt like talking to an old friend.
He glanced down at the scars littering the man. He'd certainly seen War, though what war this Jedi could have been involved on to such an extent Qui-Gon wasn't sure. He made himself draw his hands away and shook his head. He should leave the man to rest. He injected him with a painkiller before he pulled further back. Perhaps he could find them some food.
Qui-gon returned a few hours later with a plate of food for them and Ben was sitting up in bed. He'd not quite prepared for the immense relief that poured off the man as soon as he saw him. It made him pause and look Ben over, blinking at him. He felt relief shift to embarrassment and perhaps a bit of sadness and longing. He didn't get to read much more before Ben began shielding again.
“For a few moments; I had thought I dreamed you up.” Ben confessed to him with a wry smile when he saw that Qui-Gon had caught his feelings. Qui-Gon felt his own expression soften as he came over to him, setting the tray at the end of the bed. “Thank you for patching me up. I'm sorry I keep fainting on you.”
“That's all right. I get the feeling you need the rest. I assure you that I am real. Though, we seem to be the only ones here at Lothal Temple.” Qui-Gon said lightly, smiling back at him. “I brought food if you think you can stomach it.” Ben immediately moved to uncover the tray. Clearly someone was hungry.
“Lovely.” He sighed and looked back at Qui-Gon. Qui found himself moving to touch the man again, placing a hand on his shoulder. He couldn't seem to stop himself, something kept drawing him toward him. Ben picked something off the tray. “Thank you Qui-Gon.” Ben said and turned a bright smile on him. It seemed to nearly light up the Force around him. The man really was gorgeous. Qui-Gon blinked at himself a bit, swallowing.
“You're very Welcome, Ben. So we really are on first name terms then?” He asked him, smiling to cover his momentary distraction, and leaning in to snag something for himself off the plate.
“I think so, unless you'd rather I call you 'Knight Jinn'; After all, there's no one here to call us out on proper decorum. And you have a very nice name. I like to say it.” Ben said with a different smile, this one warm with affection. Qui-gon found himself staring again. Then, Obi-Wan lifted a hand to his head and frowned, seeming surprised that the last bit had come out of his mouth. “You gave me something for the pain?” He asked him and Qui-Gon nodded.
“I'm afraid so Ben.” He said and smirked a bit. “You might be a little loopy, but you're not in agony any more. I will forgive you if you are a bit more honest than you normally would be. It won't be too long before it wears off, but I was planning another Force healing boost. That with your Bacta patches should have you feeling better.” Qui-Gon assured him and squeezed his shoulder gently. He was a bit delighted to see the Master blushing from his small slip of the tongue.
“Yes well... I hope I'm not too honest.” He said and cleared his throat. Qui-Gon drew his hand back, still smiling.
“Why not? I thought you were in favor of letting go of proper decorum.” Qui-Gon’s smile widened as the man's flush darkened. Flustering the man was becoming intoxicating. It made the Living Force flowing around him ease as the man forgot his troubles. It was rare for Qui-Gon to feel so much about a person he didn't know. It took a long time for him to trust himself with people, a habit he'd learned from his Master. But there was an immediate connection with Ben. It was a feeling like he had with Tahl, a comfortable connection that they'd built since they were friends as children. He'd never felt it with a stranger.
Somehow, Obi-Wan had never realized that his Master might have been a flirt in his younger years. Though he'd never much considered that his Master had flirted at all. It was strange, as many times as he'd wished he'd realized his feelings early enough to confess them to Qui-Gon while he was alive; He'd never considered how it might have been if Qui-Gon had returned any of those feelings. He's never thought his Master might flirt with him. Though, this wasn't really his Master flirting with him. This was a young knight flirting with an injured older master. Qui-Gon always had been a rebel.
Obi-Wan's smile turned wistful and he looked Qui-Gon over. With his head a bit foggy from the painkiller, this scenario was seeming more and more unreal. Has his mind conjured this up? Or was it something more? Qui-Gon's touch had been real and tangible; His hands, just as warm and callused as Obi-Wan remembered. Though he often forgot the lesson, Obi-wan had been taught not to question it too much when the Force gave you a gift.
“May I ask how old you are Ma- Qui-Gon?” Obi-Wan asked him, shaking himself a bit, trying to get his head to clear. He'd almost called him Master.
“I'm twenty five standard.” Qui-Gon told him and laughed a bit when Obi-Wan stared at him.
“Twenty Five?” Obi-Wan repeated and blinked at him. This was the year Qui-Gon met Xanatos as a boy on Telos VI. “I was still a Padawan at twenty-five.” He said to cover his being lost in calculations. “You haven't been a knight all that long then.”
“A few years now... I had a head start though; I became a Padawan when I was ten.” Qui-gon told him. “But fair is fair.” he went on, a sly smile coming over his face, “How old are you Master Lars?”
Obi-Wan looked him over and laughed. “Forty, I'm afraid.” He told him.
“Forty.” Qui-Gon repeated and gave Obi-Wan a look that he couldn't quite read, but still made his heart rate pick up.
Qui-Gon came closer to him when they both finished eating and Obi-Wan tried to keep his breath from catching when the man touched him again, laying his hands above and below the wound through Obi-Wan's back and side. Obi-wan felt the shift in the Force when Qui-Gon began to gently push Force healing into him. Obi-wan couldn't actually feel the Force accelerating his healing with the pain killer in effect, but he did feel himself strengthening. Qui-Gon had always denied he had much gift for Force healing but Obi-Wan had always felt that had more to do with his Master trying to avoid being recruited by the Healers at the temple. His Master had patched himself up so many times on missions.
He wasn't completely healed but he'd be able to manage the rest on his own and with his limited supply of bacta. Qui-Gon smiled and started to draw back. Obi-Wan suddenly found himself loathe to lose the contact. He put his hand on Qui-Gon's arm before he could move further away.
“Thank you again, Qui-Gon.” He said to him. “I expended far too much energy just getting the door to the temple open. Whoever built the Lothal temple didn't make it very user friendly.” He laughed then blinks when Qui-Gon frowned thoughtfully.
“The doors opened for me as I approached.” He said and tilted his head. “I was curious if I would even be able to get inside. I had heard you needed two Force users.” Qui-Gon smiled at him then, bright and knowing. “The Force must have let me in to help you. It seems we were meant to cross paths.” Qui-Gon's hand slid over Obi-Wan's arm until their palms settled together.
“It seems that we were.” Obi-Wan said softly. Qui-Gon was giving him that look again, his heart raced accordingly. He made a quiet, broken noise when Qui-Gon leaned in and kissed him once. It was brief and entirely chaste but it still made Obi-Wan catch at the blankets. “You barely even know me.” Obi-wan commented, his voice strangled as Qui-Gon pulled back.
“And yet you seem to know me quite well... The way you look at me. You look at me like you know me. I get the feeling that you do.” Qui-Gon shook his head. Obi-Wan gave another pained noise yet still brought his hands up, burying them in thick hair and tugging Qui-Gon into another kiss.
This one was far less innocent as they both opened their mouths to taste each other. His breath caught and he tried to get closer. Qui-Gon accommodated him by moving up onto the bed with him. Obi-Wan pulled back, breathless. He touched Qui-Gon's face reverently, looking him over.
“See? That look.” Qui-Gon said and reached out, touching Obi-Wan's sides, careful not to stray near the wound. “No one has ever looked at me that way before. Like you've been missing me.”
“I have been.” Obi-wan said quietly then surged forward, pressing Qui-Gon back against the medical bed and leaning over him for another kiss. He missed but just continued, letting Qui-Gon take his weight as he dragged his mouth along the stubble on Qui-Gon's jaw, not quite the beard he remembered yet. Qui-Gon smelled just the same though and the sense memory has Obi-Wan burying his face against his neck, sighing. He felt Qui-Gon's hand slide through his hair and down his bare back. He felt a tendril of the Force push gently at his shields, asking permission. It had been so many years since he last let someone in. Not since Anakin. And then not for anything nearly this intimate.
For a moment he couldn't breathe at the thought of touching Qui-Gon's mind again. It was a moment too long; he felt Qui-Gon draw back, face apologetic. Obi-wan shook his head and moved up, kissing him again and began lowering his shields enough that they would be able to sense each other. Qui-Gon wasn't quite the same. His Master had been strength and comfort and affection. This Qui-Gon was all passion and pleasure and an underlying want to protect. It was wonderful in it's own measure and it made Obi-Wan shudder against him.
He felt a bit wicked as he started to sense that Qui-Gon very much likes this position, With Obi-Wan's smaller frame draped over Qui-Gon's broad one. Qui seemed to also very much like the rasp of his beard as he kissed his way down the long column of his throat, nipping at his adam's apple along the way. The bite had the younger man arching against him, lifting them both up off the medical bed. Obi-Wan swallowed. He was very strong. He pretended his hands weren't trembling just a bit as he slipped one hand inside the V of Qui-Gon's tunic, feeling warm, dry skin and chest hair beneath.
Qui-Gon sighed and moved his hands down to undo his belt, helping Obi-Wan open up his robes. Obi-Wan spread his palms out over that broad chest, chasing his hands with his mouth, trailing kisses and fire along his skin. “Qui.” He breathed against his skin, humming when the man grabbed onto his hair just a little too tightly. The pull of it grounded Obi-Wan and he took a moment to breathe out against him, steadying himself.
“Is this too much?” Qui-Gon asked him, cradling Obi-Wan's skull him his hand and tilting his face toward him. Qui-Gon's face was open and concerned for him.
Obi-Wan gave him a smile. “Absolutely.” He told him, “But I need this, if you do as well.” He went on and idly slid his hands over Qui-Gon's skin. It had been a very long time since he touched anyone, even longer since he'd let someone touch him. Qui-Gon reached up, gently pressing two fingers to the mole on Obi-Wan's left cheek. The gesture so like his master that Obi-Wan finds himself suddenly fighting tears. Qui-Gon smiled at him and nodded, bending down to kiss him again.
“I need this too.” The man assured him. Obi-Wan was fairly sure that's not entirely the truth but he finds he doesn't have the strength of will to argue. He swallowed the lump in his throat. He could feel Qui-Gon's want anyway and want was what he needed right now. This wasn't quite the man he had loved, but it was a piece of him. A gift to treasure when he returned to his self-imposed solitude.
Qui-Gon could barely concentrate on anything else now that Ben has lowered part of his shields. He'd had lovers in the past now and again. Attachment was forbidden, but sex and affection certainly aren't. He'd had many partners, usually friends and fellow Jedi.
This wasn't like those encounters.
Ben loved him. Inexplicably, impossibly; Ben loved him. There wasn’t really any hiding it. Actually Qui-Gon wasn't sure Ben even noticed how much it showed in every kiss and gesture. Qui-Gon had no idea why, but there is no denying it, it was pouring off the man in waves that threaten to drown. It was intoxicating in a way Qui-Gon had never known.
His whole body went taut as Ben bit down gently on his nipple. The sharp pain of it combines with the surprisingly soft feeling of Ben's beard on his chest, melting together into pleasure. He felt himself scrambling and gripping Ben's hair again. Ben just hummed and pressed flush against him, rocking his hips a bit. There wasn't a whole lot of room for two people on one medical bed, but somehow the Jedi master on top of him was making it work. Qui-Gon groaned as Ben's mouth makes it's way across his chest, then down the flat plane of his stomach. Qui-Gon looked down at him, gasping when he saw pale blue-green eyes look up to meet his. Ben placed a very deliberate kiss below his navel and reached to pull down Qui-Gon's leggings. Qui-Gon nodded his assent, unable to tear his eyes away. He could feel Ben's pleasure at that, then felt the man nuzzle at the dark trail of hair that disappeared into his underwear. His cock twitched hard at the sensation and he was far too pleased to hear Ben chuckling against his skin. Qui-gon let his head fall back and grinned at the ceiling.
“You are... so beautiful.” Ben sighed then nuzzles his cock through his underwear. He hummed again and licked the fabric. Qui-Gon could barely stop his hips from bucking and throwing Ben off the bed on accident. Ben just seemed to take this as encouragement. He dragged Qui-Gon's leggings and underwear the rest of the way down his hips then groaned as he licked away pre-come and took him into his mouth. Hot slickness and the slight rasp of beard on the underside of his cock made Qui-Gon jolt. He made a noise he didn't quite recognize and felt more than heard Ben hum in pleasure.
“Sith-Fuck!” Qui-Gon choked out, arching up off the bed when Ben sealed his lips around him and sucked. “Please.” He said, having no idea what he's asking for. He was not at all ashamed that he whimpered when Ben pulls off him. The man was amazingly good with his tongue.
“I'd like you to fuck me actually.” Ben told him, his refined voice saying 'fuck', faintly roughed from what he'd just been doing, made Qui-Gon shudder. He focused on the older man, who was sitting up on his knees now and smiling down at him with warmth and affection. That feeling of love nearly overwhelmed him again. “I'd love to ride you but I don't think my stitches will allow.” He continued and Qui-Gon groaned, throwing his arm over his eyes.
“If you keep saying things like that I won't make it far.” He told him, lifting his arm to give a mock-glare. Ben smirked and grabs his cock firmly, making Qui-Gon cry out and curl up toward him.
“You're still a young man. I'm sure I could convince you to rise to the occasion a second time.” He delivered the line casually. Qui-Gon groaned both at the idea and at the pun. He surged forward and pulled him into a hard kiss. He curled his arms around Ben's waist and switched their positions, laying him back against the bed. He pressed kisses across his shoulder and the various scars he found there.
“I have no doubt you could.” Qui-Gon assured him. “You're not like any lover I've ever had.” He dropped a kiss to the man's sternum, right beside a long scar. “But why don't we try it this way first.” He made himself move away, quickly locating some medical grade lube. When he turned back to looked at Ben the man had removed the rest of this clothing and was sitting on the end of the bed. Qui-Gon stareed at him and swallowed. He was the one that was beautiful? Honestly.
“Come on.” Ben said and smiled at him, that heart-stopping, rather boyish, smile. He reached out his hand for Qui-Gon. When Qui-Gon stepped forward to take it, Ben pulled him close to stand between his spread legs. He took both Qui-Gon's hands in his and brought them down to his thighs. Qui-Gon pressed his thumb over a circular scar there then leaned down, kissing him again, licking his way into his mouth. He opened up the lube, coating his fingers. Ben must have decided he was taking too long when he grasped Qui-Gon's wrist and pulled it down to where he wanted it. He laughed against Ben's mouth and pressed his fingers into him. Two at first. He winced when Ben's breath hitched.
“Sorry.” He said and kissed across his face, urging him to lean back gently.
“No, no, it didn't hurt... I just... gods your fingers are long.” Ben panted and squirmed, rocking back against Qui's fingers. Qui-Gon found himself flushing at that and leaned over him to kiss his throat.
“I'm so glad you approve.” Qui-Gon chuckled softly. He scissored his fingers opening the man up and seeking out that certain bundle of nerves, eager to see more of Ben's reactions. He wanted to take his time but he found he was far too eager to be inside him; to feel him. He added another finger and Ben moaned, moving and trying to impale himself further onto those fingers. Qui-Gon licked his lips. “I thought you wanted to spare your stitches.” He teases, smiling. Then, he reached out with the Force to pin him in place. Ben gasped and those pale ever-changing eyes snapped to his own.
“I don't think the council would approve of that use of the Force.” Ben said and smiled back at him, Qui-Gon felt a bit like he was in on a joke from the look on his face. “Now that's enough prep.” He said firmly and broke the Force hold, grabbing Qui-Gon's hair, pulling him in close. “Fuck me please.” He breathed against his mouth then kissed him. Qui-Gon groaned into his mouth and slicked himself with the excess lube on his fingers. He lined himself up and startd to press against his entrance. He moaned when Ben pulled at his hair, gasping. The feel of it spurred Qui-Gon on and he thrusted the rest of the way in, far faster than he'd intended to. Ben let out a little broken noise that had Qui-Gon biting the inside of his cheek and trying to remember his Creche lessons so he could keep control of himself and not come. He did his best to hold still until he felt Ben's legs wrap around his waist and his hand touch his cheek.
“I'm fine. Deep breaths, Qui-Gon.” Ben said, his voice teasing with the underlying rasp of lust. He arched up against him and Qui-Gon hastily moved his hands to his hips trying to still him and steady him. “Oh but please move.” Ben demanded, writhing under his hands. Qui-Gon gave him a stern look and stilled him again with the Force. Ben paid him back by returning the sensation, making Qui-Gon feel invisible hands all over him.
“F-fuck” He stuttered and pulled back, thrusting in again, starting a pace that was eager and fast, unable to hold back any longer. He felt Ben's satisfaction at having broken his control and the Force projected hands retreat. He held onto him tightly while Qui-Gon changed his angle, trying not to get lost in his own wants. It was a bit difficult when Ben seemed to delight in his every response.
He knew when he had found the perfect angle because Ben let out a curse in some harsh language that Qui-Gon wasn't familiar with. It figured, he seemed like a man who would have a gift for languages. Not that Qui-gon had any wish to focus on that now with Ben squeezing him inside and out. Qui-gon fumbled for the Force and used it to curl pressure around Ben's cock as he pressed harder against prostate with each thrust. That earned him another curse and a messy desperate kiss. Qui-Gon could feel the telltale signs of his own orgasm approaching all too quickly. He tried to warn Ben by sharing the sensation very deliberately with him. Ben gasped and pulled his hair, sending him right over the edge with the shared sensation. Qui-Gon felt hot liquid splash between them and Ben tightening around him, dragging him right over the edge with him. He moaned loudly then muffled himself with Ben's shoulder, leaving a bite mark in his wake.
He just barely caught himself from slumping forward onto the man under him, catching himself on his arms. Ben looked up at him and smiles muzzily, before scooting to one side and patting the med bed beside him. Qui-Gon couldn't move for a moment, staring at Obi-Wan. The man looked almost incandescent in the afterglow, the living force around him was thrumming with his pleasure. He bent and kissed him again before settling beside him. He was far too broad to lay beside him on the narrow bed and he grunted faintly before turning on his side. Ben laughed at him as he wiggled then leaned forward to rest his head on Qui-Gon's outstretched arm.
Ben rested his hand on Qui-Gon's chest and the two of them sat in silence for a long moment.
“Thank you.” Ben said, then Qui-Gon was shocked to feel the layer of force suggestion pulling him under to sleep; With his shields still lowered from their joining it took hold immediately.
By the time he wook up, Ben Lars and all traces of him were absent from Lothal temple. If it wasn't for the aches in, and marks on, his body Qui-Gon would be concerned it had all be some sort of elaborate force vision, too real to be a dream.
Obi-Wan looked over Qui-gon’s sleeping form. He reaches up and scrubbed at his face, He wasn’t crying. He was grateful for that. He paused though, touching the mole on his cheek and remembering Qui-Gon touching it briefly. That same touch. It had been so very familiar.
He could remember the last time had been while his Master died in his arms. One final moment of comfort to his breaking padawan. He wanted to tell Qui-Gon absolutely everything. He wanted to cry and beg and demand that this time Qui-Gon wait for him that he not face the Sith alone. His shields trembled under how much he wanted.
But the moment passed; the sensation dulled until it felt like something blunt and hard in his chest.
He wanted it. But he couldn't really change anything here. This was a gift from the Force. And gifts like this came with a price. The price was letting the man he loved die again. He touched Qui-Gon’s face one last time then Obi-Wan coiled in on himself and pushed away the last bit of urge. He had to get back to Luke. He'd made too many mistakes to pretend his life was his own anymore. He gathered his things and went back to his ship.
When Obi-Wan reached Tatooine once again he spent hours just sitting on the ridge above the Lars homestead, watching Beru and Owen go about their day, with occasional glimpses of Luke's blond hair when the child wondered got too close to a doorway. All during the day his fingers pressed to the fading, but very real, bite mark Qui-Gon had left on his shoulder.
The next day in meditation he heard his master's voice clearly for the first time since arriving in this barren wasteland and his training began again.
When Qui-Gon returned to to to Coruscant Temple he searched every database he can think of to find mention of a Ben Lars in the Jedi order. His results had turn up nothing, save for the information that many strange things have been reported happening at Lothal temple.
When he first saw Obi-Wan Kenobi the boy was twelve and a fierce and angry fighter. He denied the connection between them again and again.
After Obi-Wan became his Padawan he did notice something oddly familiar about the boys smile.
It wasn't until Obi-Wan was twenty one and they had been on a particularly long mission, that he finally made the connection. It had put them on the run for almost two weeks and there was hardly time to stop to do things like shave. Once they were safe once more in their quarters on the planet Obi-Wan came out of the fresher, clean but not yet clean-shaven. Qui-Gon froze and, much to his horror, he found himself blushing at a thirty-one year old memory.
“Master?” Obi-Wan asked, blinking and drying off his padawan braid, confused as to what had caused Qui-Gon's sudden distress. Qui-Gon blinked back to himself then shook his head.
“It's nothing Padawan.” He told him and came over, briefly touching the mole on Obi-Wan's face. “But you should find your shaving kit, you're starting to look like me.” He went on and Obi-Wan laughed, flashing him his boyish grin.
“Yes Master.” He said and Qui-Gon walked past him to take his own turn in the fresher.
He leaned against the closed door and tried to comprehend what he had just realized. Apparently Ben Lars really had known him well enough to love him. That led him to wonder about his Padawan's own feelings. Qui-Gon shakes himself, resolving not to dwell on it. After all... it had been thirty-one years. And it would still be another nineteen for Obi-Wan. He fought down another blush and stepped into the fresher. By the time he got out Obi-Wan had shaved and that made it easier to forget.