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Demons of the Dark 3: The Academy

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Obi-Wan was chatting with fellow padawans in the gardens, enjoying the last rays of sunshine. He felt a ruffle in the Force, a flashing glimpse of an old friend, and was swung around only to be swallowed up in an embrace, broad lips tightly covering his own.

The other padawans looked discomforted and concerned, as Obi-Wan hastily pushed himself out of Navar's arms.

"Obi-Wan, it's so good to see you! We just got back from a mission." Navar paused, looking around at the shocked gazes of the Jedi. "Obi, what's wrong? Some problem with an old friend?" Navar and Obi-Wan had been selected as padawans at roughly the same time, and had met frequently during specialized training exercises with their Masters. They had a brief affair last year before accepting they were only friends. Navar was from Mace Windu's home planet, and shared the same dark color of skin and eyes, though his hair was curly and brushed his shoulders.

Obi-Wan hugged his friend, reassuring him, "Navar, it's great to see you. I was--surprised--that's all." Obi-Wan stopped speaking with a dismayed glance over Navar's shoulder. The other padawan whirled and came face to face with Qui-Gon; the Master was smiling, lips stretched over his fangs, but his eyes were unpleasantly cold.

"Padawan Verou. Would you excuse my padawan? We need to have a discussion." Qui-Gon sent Obi-Wan an icy glance and strode down the garden path, robes billowing.

"Don't do that again," he snapped when they reached a secluded area.

"He's my friend, Qui-Gon. I can't tell every friend to never touch me."

"He was a lover, not a friend. How many have you had?" Qui-Gon had previously accepted his Padawan's sexual activities, knowing that a Jedi could not successfully deal with disputes caused by passion without experiencing its power. Now, the thought of others exploring that mouth, caressing that flesh, hearing his gasps when he climaxed, drove the Jedi Master wild.

"That's never concerned you before and I'm certainly not fool enough to tell you now."

Qui-Gon was still rational enough to know that he might prove dangerous if Obi-Wan gave him names and didn't argue against the defiance. Without speaking, he headed back toward the bench, Obi-Wan trailing after. Tactfully the others had left and only Navar remained waiting, sitting on the stone bench. When Qui-Gon reached a distance sufficient to be discreet but close enough for Navar to see, he turned back to his apprentice. One large hand clasped his neck, curving Obi-Wan's head into his kiss, forcing him to rise on his toes to reach the needed height. Qui-Gon took his time, the warmth of his tongue sliding over the top and bottom of Obi-Wan's mouth, relearning every tooth, dueling with Obi-Wan's tongue, imprinting his taste over the flavor of Navar. His nails traced the elegant beadwork on Obi-Wan's neckband, and his fangs sank delicately into the fragility of his apprentice's lower lip. He finally released Obi-Wan's mouth, leaving as abruptly as he had arrived.

Obi-Wan walked back to his friend and stood in front of him, a trace of blush staining his cheeks. He licked at the salty taste of blood in his mouth, unsure what to say. Navar simply laughed and slapped Obi-Wan on the back, careful not to get too close. "Obi, if you need a break, I'll take over."


"Obi, Qui-Gon Jinn is the sexiest-looking Jedi in this whole Academy, barring yourself, of course. If you're going to be a love slave, I can't think of a better Master. And after all those years he's been virtually celibate, tell me," Navar leaned closer, "Confidentially, the release--after so much time, is he absolutely wild?" Navar threw back his head and laughed at Obi-Wan's appalled expression, his entire body shaking. Obi-Wan loved Navar for his humor; like all Jedi, he learned to live in the moment, but for Navar, the moment was one rife with humor. "Never mind me, Obi. You know I'm here for you if you need me."

Obi-Wan smiled and laughed, relieved that their friendship was intact.


Qui-Gon strode back into Yoda's rooms, standing next to the small green Jedi, staring down at him. Yoda craned his neck back to look up into Qui-Gon's blazing eyes.

"Intimidate me, you do not. Knew you when you were shorter than me. Sit now." Instead of following his command, Qui-Gon paced the floor, restless.

"Master Jinn, is there something wrong? You fled from the room so quickly. We were only beginning to reach a proper meditative trance." With his placid temperament, the Jedi healer Chu'ron seemed completely undisturbed at having his subject leap up and race out of the room for no apparent reason. Chu'ron had been delegated to assist Qui-Gon learn specialized meditative techniques to control his raging spirit. In times of stress and great need, many Knights called upon their original Master. Chu'ron had asked Yoda to participate, believing that resurrecting their bond forged years ago would be beneficial to the healing process.

"Navar was kissing Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon muttered.

"A very nice couple they made." Yoda said, reminding Qui-Gon with a brief visual thought of Obi-Wan and Navar at last year's annual celebration of spring. Unknowingly, they had both worn shirts of a deep amethyst blue, a color which appeared equally as attractive on Navar's dark skin as on Obi-Wan's lighter shade. The two had been much admired and even envied to the limited extent Jedi let themselves succumb to that destructive emotion.

"Obi-Wan is mine," Qui-Gon muttered, clenching his teeth harder.

"Said this before you have. Sit *now*." The diminutive Jedi snapped out the last two words more forcefully and his ears swiveled almost fully forward. Qui-Gon knew when his Master had reached the end of his patience and sank down onto pillows on the floor with a harsh sigh.

Chu'ron asked, "Now shall we begin again?" patiently oblivious to the wild spirit still flinging itself through Qui-Gon's soul.


Obi-Wan delayed returning to their rooms as long as possible, waiting for the early dawn hours when his Master would be sleepy. His studies had been rearranged to accommodate a night schedule, and he had spent several hours in solitary contemplation of military strategy and political history in the Republic. At times, he had stretched his mind out to his Master, feeling the meditative techniques lessening and calming the beast within him, but not banishing it.

Entering their quarters, he found Qui-Gon absently sipping at the blood-based protein drink developed for him by the Jedi healers. "Your studies have gone well?"

Obi-Wan took heart at the calm question and Qui-Gon's willingness to sip the nutritional fluid. "Yes, Master."

"Good. I would not want you to suffer for my condition when you still have much to learn in your preparations for Knighthood. You should eat." Qui-Gon gestured to their table, where he had already laid out a simple but sturdy meal of bread, cheese, and fruit for his apprentice. He waited until Obi-Wan had seated himself on a bench and begun nibbling at the food before walking behind him and massaging his shoulders. Obi-Wan resolutely continued eating as Qui-Gon eased the tunic off one shoulder, then the other. He allowed the sleeves to be guided off one arm and then the other as Qui-Gon's breath caressed his ear.

Obi-Wan's body began shaking when Qui-Gon opened his mouth on the back of his neck, letting his fangs barely rest on the alabaster skin, running them teasingly down the length of his supple spine. The slight indentations and the moist breath inflamed every nerve in Obi-Wan's body. Qui-Gon pushed Obi-Wan's breeches down his hips and nibbled at the flexible cheeks.

"Master, please, don't tease me," Obi-Wan whispered.

"Eat your food, Obi-Wan. You need your strength," Qui-Gon's voice was as calm as if he was addressing the Council, rather than exploring the beginning of his apprentice's dark crevice.

"After, Master, please." His fingers clenched spasmodically on the fruit, smashing the food into pulp as juice ran down his hand. Qui-Gon rose up behind him, holding Obi-Wan's hand in his own, licking the juice, wetting the fingers with broad strokes of his tongue; cleaning the hand. A fluid rivulet ran down Obi-Wan's arm and Qui-Gon's tongue deliberately followed to the bend of his trembling elbow.

"I want to dominate you, Obi-Wan, I want to possess you."

"Please," was all Obi-Wan could force through trembling lips. Qui-Gon lifted his body from the bench, carrying him to the bed and swiftly removing the remainder of his clothes. Rolling him onto his stomach, Qui-Gon positioned Obi-Wan on his hands and knees, one hand slipping underneath to stroke the hard erection he found waiting there.

Obi-Wan could never determine if it was his Master's endless passion spiking through their link or his own longing finally fulfilled after years of yearning, but it took little encouragement to arouse him. He trembled as Qui-Gon leaned over him. With previous lovers, Qui-Gon might have been considerate and kept his weight on his hands, but with Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon rested his body on Obi-Wan's back, his chest hair rasping against pliant skin. One of Qui-Gon's hands kept massaging Obi-Wan's cock, the other explored his buttocks, Qui-Gon's full weight pressing down on his lover. The taut power of Obi-Wan's own muscles prevented the two from sinking to the bed.

The older Jedi teased the opening to Obi-Wan's body, inserting one finger into the taut ring of muscle and pressing against the prostate, drawing ripples of ecstatic fire through his padawan. The pressure on his prostate combined with the rough clasp on his penis ravaged Obi-Wan's senses. He felt entirely surrounded by the energy and warmth of Qui-Gon and begged for immediate release. Qui-Gon granted his plea, removing his finger and instead, thrusting himself vigorously into Obi-Wan's receptive body. His free arm wrapped around Obi-Wan's hips, forcing him to move in tempo with Qui-Gon's dynamic lunges. The shattering explosion came as quickly as Obi-Wan desired, Qui-Gon's seed filling Obi-Wan as the older man's hand milked him to a climax, the padawan's warm sperm coating Qui-Gon's fingers.

Drained and exhausted, the two relaxed dreamily until Qui-Gon rose to retrieve the food. "Your strength, Obi-Wan," he said, feeding bites to the younger man. Obi-Wan chewed slowly, loving the peaceful moment, luxuriating in the opportunity to enjoy his Master's care and concern.


Obi-Wan felt drained again the next morning, but it was exhaustion from a different type of physical activity. Navar napped in the afternoon so he could spar with Obi-Wan during the evening. Obi-Wan stayed in mental contact with the meditating Qui-Gon, so he could constantly reassure him that the two were only working on Jedi skills. Contrary to their normal routine after a strenuous work-out, they separated to different ends of the locker room to shower and dress.

Leaving the building, Navar asked, "Can you come to my room? One of the diplomatic delegates from our last mission was very appreciative and gave my Master and I some excellent liqueur. Just a quick drink?"

Touching his Master's mind with a succinct thought, Obi-Wan received permission and nodded at his friend. Navar chatted amusingly as they crossed the gardens and entered his living quarters, telling more stories of their recent mission. Navar truly had the gift of conversation, both able to dominate a group with comical tales or listen with devoted grace. The liqueur was an intense blue and Navar poured them healthy glasses.

"Cheers," he said, raising his glass in a toast but then only watching as Obi-Wan drank. For a split second, Obi-Wan was uncomfortable, with an uncertain feeling that something was shockingly wrong. Then the liqueur punched into his system with a devastating kick. He staggered back, realizing that his intuition had been correct as Navar only smiled and set his own liqueur down on the table, moving toward Obi-Wan's reeling form.

Obi-Wan collapsed on the bed, head swimming, unable to form any coherent thoughts, keeping his concentration as steady as the alcoholic intoxication would permit. Navar undid the straps on his boots, pulling them off. "Do you know what it was like, Obi? When we were making love, I could always tell that your thoughts were with him. I would touch you and you would wonder - 'Will Qui-Gon like this? Will I ever be able to caress Qui-Gon in this fashion?' It drove me insane, his presence in *our* bed."

"I didn't know . . . didn't realize. Never meant to hurt you." Obi-Wan's words were muzzy; he could barely speak through the haze in his brain.

"I know you didn't. That almost made it worse. Your soul and body belonged to Qui-Gon before you even realized sex existed." Navar loosened Obi-Wan's tunic, laying the sides on the bed, exposing and caressing the firm muscles of his chest, circling the nipples with the tips of his fingers. His hands dipped to the fastening of Obi-Wan's breeches. Navar's soulful eyes gazed at Obi-Wan, a faint madness in their rich ebony depths.

"You broke up with *me*." Obi-Wan attempted to rationalize, to point out how their relationship had gone wrong.

"It wasn't because I wanted to," Navar laughed bitterly. "Oh, I would have stayed with you forever." The breeches undone, he clasped Obi-Wan's penis in one hand and pumped the long length. Obi-Wan tried vainly to hold his shields, but he could feel the sexual excitement caused by Navar's expert touch begin to leak through to Qui-Gon.

"Why are you doing this?"

"I can't live without you," Navar murmured against Obi-Wan's lips. "Qui-Gon's condition has granted me the perfect revenge. He'll kill me when he feels how you respond to me. And then he'll kill you and become a monster. He may have had you in life, but *I'll* have you in death."

"How do you know what will happen to Qui-Gon? We've only told the Council…." Obi-Wan's mind dissolved into black unconsciousness.


The first noise Obi-Wan heard was the gentle hum of the traffic. Thousands of vehicles travelled through Coruscant daily, and the ever-present noise became an inescapable part of life. He could tell he was lying in a bed, almost afraid to open his eyes and see the dead body of a lover, hating himself for knowing that he would rather see Navar's corpse than Qui-Gon's. He searched with the Force, seeking their minds, and finding neither. His composure broke. Obi-Wan sobbed until a tender hand landed on one shoulder.

"They both live."

"I cannot feel them." He wanted to believe the reassurance, but the loss of their mental presences was devastating.

Mace sat gracefully on the edge of the bed. "Navar's mind is being shielded at all times by a Jedi Master. We do not want him to infect any of the apprentices or young students. Qui-Gon - I will tell you later of Qui-Gon. But first, see the truth of what happened."

Resting one hand on Obi-Wan's head, Mace used the physical contact to send a mental series of images. Images of Qui-Gon, trying to meditate, to restrain himself and allow Obi-Wan to spend time with Navar. Qui-Gon, realizing from Obi-Wan's peaking sexual excitement and sudden unconsciousness that something was severely wrong. He had raced to his Padawan, but Navar had underestimated the preparations of the Jedi Council. A mental alert had sped through the Council members, and the closest ones had grasped at Qui-Gon's fleeting body with their minds, slowing his approach, snatching at his lightsaber and carrying it beyond his reach. Qui-Gon had lashed back, striking indiscriminately in his mental frenzy. His strength was magnified by his transformation, and several of the Masters had reeled from pain. The Force battle had allowed others time to reach Navar and Obi-Wan, forming a protective barrier by the time Qui-Gon arrived at Navar's room.

The Council had misunderstood, assuming Obi-Wan had sought relief from his Master's demands with an old friend. They had not realized that the situation had been arranged solely by Navar and in protecting him, they left their backs vulnerable. Navar waited for Qui-Gon's arrival before springing on the closest Council member, determined to succeed in his plan. The battle was brutal, but in the end the superior numbers of the Council had won. Blood was shed, but lightsabers were kept unlit and no lives were lost. Qui-Gon was forcibly restrained and Navar taken to the healers, long gashes from Qui-Gon marking his chest. Obi-Wan's clothes were rearranged and he also was carried to the healers to determine the extent of the alcoholic poisoning.

"But where is Qui-Gon? Why can't I feel him?"

"You've been unconscious for several days. Qui-Gon has left Coruscant."

Mace's statement shocked Obi-Wan. "Qui-Gon cannot survive without me."

"We realized what you two had been doing when we removed the neckband. Qui-Gon took it with him when he left." One finger traced the still-healing puncture wounds on the younger man's throat. "He was insistent that he would rather risk his life than yours and that as long as you were separated, he could not be driven to kill you. He took a supply of the blood fluid and dolomide and went to seek his mother for answers."

Obi-Wan struggled to throw off the covers and rise. "You can't tell what a sedative that powerful will do to him in his state. It may slow him down sufficiently to function normally among people or it may make him even more insane when it wears off."

Mace pressed one hand to Obi-Wan's chest, holding him down on the bed. "Relax, padawan. We anticipated your response. Luggage has been packed for you and travel arranged. Let the healers examine you first before you rush away." He hesitated a moment, and then added, "Consider first, that Qui-Gon may already be lost beyond redemption. It may never be possible to return him to the man he once was. You still have a brilliant future as a Jedi Knight. If you wish to remain at the Academy and request a new Master to finish your apprenticeship, it will be done."

Obi-Wan gave the older man a piercing stare, unwavering and hard. "I will never desert Qui-Gon."

Mace gave a sad sigh. "Yoda also anticipated this attitude. If you wish, you may speak with Navar after the healers examine you. Come to my rooms when you are ready and I will provide a copy of Qui-Gon's personal records."


Obi-Wan entered the medical room hesitantly, afraid to confront Navar but unwilling to walk away. Navar was dozing on the bed, the darkness of his skin highlighted by the crispness of the white sheets and the bandages covering the long slash marks across his chest. Obi-Wan sat at his bedside, waiting for Navar to feel his presence and wake.

"They told me you still lived. I thought Qui-Gon might have reached you after they dragged me from the room." Navar spoke without looking at Obi-Wan.

"Navar, someone told you what would happen to Qui-Gon. For the sake of what we once meant to each other, please tell me who persuaded you to do this. Who is trying to destroy him?"

Navar lifted one hand and Obi-Wan leaned forward, letting Navar wrap the Padawan braid around his palm, pulling Obi-Wan into a lasting kiss, lips gentle, tongue teasingly exploring. It had been something they had both enjoyed - holding the symbol of the other's apprenticeship while making love. Navar released Obi-Wan and he backed slightly away. "I hope he kills you," he said harshly.

Sickened, Obi-Wan left the room, leaving behind a destroyed friendship to seek his Master.

The End