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I was almost 14 before I realized Qui-Gon had a sex life.

Life had been a frantic whirlwind since I became his Padawan. For close to a year, we had been dashing from one planet to another, mediating disputes, ensuring free elections, fighting wars, discovering secret royal heirs...

Coruscant finally beckoned. The other Masters needed to review my training, to ensure no deficiencies had gone unobserved. Qui-Gon wanted the chance to discuss galactic politics with other Jedi. We handled so many problems on individual planets, he feared he was losing track of the complete picture. Besides, we should have had a break before now, he said. The Council was criminally negligent in keeping us so occupied we could barely breathe. I accepted Qui-Gon's words and thought no more. We traveled back home, where I was presented with a full schedule of activities, examinations and specialized training with various Knights and Masters.

It happened on the third night. I arrived at our quarters and entered to find Qui-Gon and a woman Jedi on the couch, sitting close and chatting. The fingers of one of his huge hands were delicately stroking the side of her face as they leaned toward each other, I think into a kiss. They slowly settled back away from each other at my entrance.

"Ah, Obi-Wan. I would like you to meet Master Messia. She's a dear friend of mine."

I nodded and bowed politely. "Master Messia."

She smiled warmly. "Padawan Kenobi. It is a pleasure to meet you. I have heard a great deal from Qui-Gon about you." Her sharp features failed to be beautiful, but she was very attractive, the contrast between her light blue eyes and thick dark hair strangely compelling.

It would be rude to say that I could not say the same. Qui-Gon rarely spoke of old friends and past events unless they directly related to our mission. He could be the most socially adept person in a diplomatic situation but otherwise did not tend to chatter. My attention was distracted by a small bag on the floor - one of my travel bags. I looked questioningly at Qui-Gon.

"Messia and I have a great many things to talk about, Obi-Wan. You wouldn't find them interesting. I have talked to Aston. Reeft has his mid-level physics exam the day after tomorrow. We thought you could help him study and catch up on your friendship."

The plan was clearly made without my participation and from the firm tone, the plan wasn't going to be changed. "Yes, Master," was my obedient response. Listening to old friends reminisce sounded fascinating. This man would be the major influence in my life for at least a decade. I would have liked to learn more about him from a different perspective. For some reason, I was forbidden this experience. I picked up my bag, nodded to both Masters and left, naively confused.

Reeft eradicated my denseness as we huddled on his bed, pouring over physics problems. "They want to have sex, idiot."


"Of course, SEX. He doesn't want you around. I'm always packed up and shuffled off to spend time with Garen and his Master when my Master's old friends arrive. It's a system they have, to have their fun without us around." Master Aston wasn't a field operative; Reeft lived mostly on Coruscant and was more acquainted with the interactions of adult Jedi, so I took his words as truth.

I meditated that night after Reeft had fallen asleep, the sound of rasping snores lulling me into a deep trance. I felt very stupid, that I hadn't comprehended Qui-Gon's reasons for desiring me to leave. All initiates learned about sex as part of our training, both to prepare us for our sexuality and to alert us to the often dangerous involvement of sexual tensions in diplomatic negotiations. I'd begun masturbating; I was aware of such feelings within myself, my hormonal needs. I just hadn't made the leap to think of my Master as a sexual creature.

A sexual creature. A creature who liked to have sex. With an attractive woman like Messia. What was Qui-Gon like? He couldn't be as stern and distant as he frequently was when occupied by a mission. He must relax, smile, maybe laugh. Or maybe he became even more intense? Focused on the act? Focused on giving pleasure? Did he only like women?

I was disturbed by my wonderings and even more disturbed by the fact that I didn't want to stop wondering. I ceased my meditation and went to sleep.

Qui-Gon was subtly changed when I returned home two days later. His stride was more relaxed, his gestures free and easy. He seemed cheerful and calm. Obviously, sex was a good thing for him, lifting away cares and worries. I should be happy. I wasn't.

Someone knew a part of Qui-Gon I would never know. Messia had shared a special experience with him that I would never share. Not that Qui-Gon wasn't ever happy with me. He could relax and be joyful when free time presented itself to us. He possessed a bizarre supply of jokes that he would tell on very boring space trips, when time hung heavy on our hands. He would make me laugh until I rolled on the floor and he would smile with me. We had strolled through markets on many worlds, casually shopping, admiring the unique merchandise, chatting. We had gasped in amazement at the beauties of nature or fantastic artistic performances.

None of the experiences we shared ever gave him quite that self-satisfied glow.

That visit to Coruscant only lasted a few weeks before we were ordered to our next mission. I watched Qui-Gon at diplomatic functions, studied him as officials of both sexes flirted with him. He never accepted an offer. He rejected every advance with such incredible charm the proposer felt flattered.

He was my Master; he was supposed to teach me everything I needed to be a successful Jedi. There's a big gap between knowing all the basics and understanding the nuances of when and if to put them into practice. Finally I asked him as we ended an hour of meditation in the gardens at Tiroth. "Master?"

"Yes, Obi-Wan?"

"Master," I hesitated, but made myself press on, "you never have sex."

He arched an eyebrow and responded, "What brings this issue to your mind, Padawan?"

"The Ambassador's daughter kissed me last night, Master. Here, in the gardens. I kissed her back but I felt awkward. I realized you never ah..." I stopped.

"No, I never have sex, except with friends who are Jedi." He sighed as I blushed. He gently touched my cheek, which made the blush redden even more. "You are right to be curious and to seek guidance, Obi-Wan. I should have recognized that you have reached the age when such concerns must be addressed."

He cupped my chin, raising my head. "You are growing fast, Obi-Wan." Dropping his hand, he stared into the gardens. "As an older Padawan and a young Knight, I did have sex with non-Jedi. While I found the sensations physically satisfying, I found them ultimately emotionally lacking. Liaisons while on missions can only be casual. Many times my partners," he hesitated, seeking the correct words.

"Heard the myth?" I supplied.

"Yes," his grin was quirky, "heard the myth of Jedi prowess. I disliked being a trophy. Sexual pleasure can be very necessary for the body, but I prefer an emotional attachment to be present. Friendship at least, if not love. Many Jedi feel the same way."

Qui-Gon was validating Reeft's discussion of the Masters' system. "So you think I should abstain?"

"You are still very young for any serious involvement, Obi-Wan, but mild exploration, such as your kiss with the Ambassador's daughter, is appropriate for your age. You had educational training as an initiate, correct? You are versed in methods of protecting yourself? The various cultural taboos?"

"Yes, Master." He waited patiently as my teeth nibbled at my lip. I was contemplating how to ask this question. "So you are saying - I should be sexually indiscriminate?"

"NO! No, of course not, Obi-Wan. I made my decision to be primarily celibate after several years of missions as a Knight. I am only saying that I made the choice that was right for me, as have many Jedi. It is a difficult decision to make without full awareness of facts. And with sex - "

I quipped, "Experience is the best teacher?"

His hand brushed roughly over my hair. "When did you develop that impish streak, Obi-Wan? Yes, with sex, experience is the only real teacher. Relationships seem to be the one arena in which we must all make our own mistakes. As a practical matter, it may be better to make those mistakes as a Padawan, when any errors will reflect more on your youth and less on the Jedi." His hand clasped my braid, a warm presence on my neck. "But you must do what is right for you. Be comfortable with your body and your sexuality, Obi-Wan, but don't rush yourself, either in gathering experience or making hasty decisions."

"Yes, Master."

That was the end of the conversation. I had my Master's permission to develop my sexuality, but that wasn't important to me. His confirmation of my suspicion was the only thing that mattered. It meant I could relax during missions.

He only had sex with Jedi.

A few months passed before we were called home. I was still 14, though my 15th birthday was only three days away. Qui-Gon was appreciative of the timing of our visit, as Knight Feeston was on Coruscant. Qui-Gon immediately contacted him and sought his help for my gymnastics training. Adding flips and leaps into katas and lightsaber duels was developing to be one of my strengths, but it wasn't Qui-Gon's. He was too tall. He had exhausted his ability to further that area of my skill. Feeston was the acknowledged expert in gymnastics and pleased to spend as much time as possible with me.

The work was exhausting, but I didn't mind and the days sped by. I loved the feeling of the Force flowing through my body, twisting sideways, leaping in surprising directions, jumping in intricate patterns. Cutting down invisible opponents before they could react to my unexpected moves. I was expanding my unique talents, preparing to be a Jedi warrior, and making my Master proud of me.

I hadn't noticed that Qui-Gon and Guioll had entered the room until Feeston called a break. I paused to sip water, looked over at the spectators' benches and saw them. Though Guioll was close to Qui-Gon's age, he was only a Knight. He'd steadfastly refused to take a Padawan, claiming his undercover duties were too dangerous. The Council must have agreed with his attitude; they'd never insisted on changing his mind. Most Jedi of his age who weren't Masters were skeptically regarded, as if they'd failed one of the most significant tasks. Instead, Guioll was admired as a dangerous, legendary rogue. Guioll and Qui-Gon weren't watching me as the sweat dried on my body; they were leaning close together, whispering. Like Qui-Gon and Messia had.

One of my travel bags was on the bench by my Master. I was going to be sent away. He wasn't even going to wait until I came home tonight. So I had my answer. Qui-Gon did like men.

I set the water bottle down and shook myself, keeping my muscles loose and flexible. Feeston called, "Begin," and I started the routine I'd been practicing. My attention was split, half on the steps, half on Qui-Gon and Guioll. My form broke in the middle of a backflip and I almost stumbled while landing. Hands on his hips, Feeston scowled at me. I took the silent reprimand with grace, not defending my sloppiness. Any worse and I might actually have fallen. I must concentrate. I didn't want to risk injuring myself.

I paced back to the edge of the mat, focusing inward, drawing the Force to myself. I began again, conscious of perfecting each move. I wouldn't want to injure myself. As I started the backflip, I glanced at Qui-Gon. Qui-Gon, laughing at a comment of Guioll's, was not watching his apprentice.

I fell, badly. The pain radiated from my ankle, screaming it was sprained. I yelped. Even though he was farther away, Qui-Gon reached me before Feeston. His touch was gentle as he explored my ankle. "I'll take him to the healers," he told Feeston brusquely, cradling me in his arms.

Wrapping my arms around Qui-Gon's neck, I breathed deeply, automatically suppressing the pain, controlling my body's instinctive reactions. The yelp had been unavoidable, but whimpering is beneath the dignity of a Padawan. Being held against my Master's strong body was comforting. It had been at least a year since Qui-Gon carried me. I had grown taller, but it was apparent I wouldn't be a tall man. He would always be able to carry me in his arms. Always.

Guioll picked up my travel bag and followed, though he remained outside as the healer examined me. The sprain was easily healed with an application of the Force. Given the importance of our physical health, the healer was adamant while instructing Qui-Gon and I on the proper recuperation. A Jedi with weak ankles wouldn't make a good lightsaber fighter.

We listened with care, even though we were familiar with the proper treatment. We'd had to heal a number of wounds for each other on missions. Like Council members, healers do like to pontificate, and it's easier to allow them their chance than try to duck the lecture. The healer bustled off to her next patient and Qui-Gon started to lift me. "Master, I can walk to - " I paused, clearly asking my direction.

"Don't be ridiculous, Obi-Wan. You'll come back to our quarters."

"Knight Guioll - "

Qui-Gon spoke firmly, "Guioll will understand that a Master's first duty is to his Padawan." He finished lifting me into his arms. I sighed, dropping my head against his broad shoulder. It might make me a less imposing presence during negotiations, but being short wasn't such a bad thing.

Guioll was not as understanding than Qui-Gon anticipated. From my bed, I couldn't hear the exact words, just the rise and fall of voices. Guioll's voice was cajoling, then hostile as Qui-Gon's stayed resolute. The door shut loudly. Minutes passed as I waited and Qui-Gon entered, bearing dinner on a tray.

"Master, I'm sorry if Knight - "

"Don't worry about Guioll, Padawan. He's been a lone operative for too long. The Council should make him take a Padawan. He works too much for the good of the many and forgets individuals. A few reminders about putting other's needs in front of our own might benefit him."

How typically Qui-Gon, to protest a Council action. Despite the healing, my ankle throbbed. The meal appeared suitably bland for an invalid. But Qui-Gon wasn't going to chase after Guioll. He was going to stay with me. No sex with a Jedi for Qui-Gon, not this trip.

I was content.

The next time, Qui-Gon made his plans before he even set foot on Coruscant. He commed friends from the ship, catching up on news, and seemed pleased to announce to me that I would be enjoying a visit again with Reeft and his Master. There would be no delay to the beginning of Qui-Gon's sexual plans. I could go there as soon as I deposited my luggage and picked up clean clothes from our rooms. I agreed and attempted to carry out his instructions, but when I went to replenish my toiletries, the pipe burst under the sink, sending a huge flood of water gushing through the wall. The blast knocked me over and kept me down as our rooms were flooded. The water poured into the hallway and drenched much of the Temple's tenth level apartments before a maintenance worker was able to fix the problem and stop the deluge.

The water damage was so extensive that anyone with free time was drafted to work on the apartments of Jedi who were off-planet. The droids could perform much of the tedious work but many of the Jedi collected unique souvenirs from their missions, and it was agreed that supervision was needed to ensure proper handling and restoring the rooms to order. I got saddled with collecting and fluffing all of Knight Vot's air-breathing carnivorous ferns, but they at least drifted on top of the water. I was luckier than poor Reeft who had to wade through the garbage to find all of his Master's prized collection of carved mietsul miniatures. We barely managed to finish helping dry out the Templer before we were called unexpectedly away to another mission.

I never did find out who Qui-Gon was planning to meet that visit.

Qui-Gon seemed uninterested in making any arrangements on our fourth visit to Coruscant. We'd been on planet for over ten days. Our rooms were quiet as I lounged on the couch with my studies, reading a treatise on the techniques of using personal charisma to gain political power when Qui-Gon walked in with Knight Irili, their hands clasped. I knew the Knight from my days in the crhe, as she taught classes to the youngsters when on planet, but we hadn't seen each other since I became Qui-Gon's Padawan. Qui-Gon reintroduced us and we exchanged pleasantries.

"Would you like me to make you a snack?" I asked.

Qui-Gon looked surprised at my courtesy, but then considering our track record on Coruscant, we had rarely entertained his friends together. "Yes, Obi-Wan, thank you. That would be lovely."

I retreated to the food preparation, leaving Qui-Gon and Knight Irili settling on the couch, their bodies inclined toward each other. I would be packed off soon. Or since he hadn't mentioned my leaving, maybe I could stay this time? I was 15 years of age now, perhaps I was considered old enough to know what was happening and be properly discreet? I could sleep in my bedroom while Qui-Gon and Irili enjoyed their passion in the night, and then we all could have a nice breakfast in the morning.

Irili was a humanoid, a tall woman with long blonde hair and green eyes almost as striking as Qui-Gon's blue ones. My Master only seemed interested in humanoids, which didn't surprise me. Sexual relationships between different species were possible but often complicated. Qui-Gon was a man who preferred simplicity and sincerity. Honest speech, straightforward fucking.

The knife slipped from my hand, clattering on the cutting board.


"I'm fine Master. The knife slipped."

"You didn't cut yourself?"

"No Master. I'll be out in a moment."

Yes, Irili was a humanoid from the planet Croste. To all appearances, there were no differences between the Crostians and humanoids such as Qui-Gon and I. Hair and eye colors, shades of skin... Qui-Gon's hand closed over my hand on the knife, stilling my chopping. "What are you doing?"

His voice was angry. I stood motionless, afraid to increase the rage I heard but didn't understand. "Making a snack for you and your guest."

"With lesh leaves? For a Crostian?"

I looked down at our hands, and the finely shredded greenery that I planned to mix with the other salad ingredients. I had chopped them so fine, the lesh leaves would have been indistinguishable from the rest of the salad. Until, that is, they made Irili violently ill with vomiting and uncontrollable spasms.

"Master!" I looked up, feeling the blood drain from my face. "I'm so sorry! I didn't think!"

"You didn't think, Obi-Wan? Did you think when the pipes exploded? When you injured yourself?"


"Stay here, Obi-Wan. We need to talk."

He left me and I could hear him in the front room, talking to Irili, and then the snick of the front door closing behind her. I put the food away as they talked, suspecting that Qui-Gon wasn't in the mood for eating. Anger was never good for his appetite.

I waited a while but when he didn't return to the kitchen, I sought him out. He was in the front room, kneeling in meditation, his eyes closed tightly and brow tense. He didn't seem to be finding the answers he sought.


"Obi-Wan." He opened his eyes and stood in one fluid movement, stepping close to me. I had grown since becoming his Padawan, but he still towered over me, an imposing figure of a man. "Why did you try to poison Irili?"

"I didn't do it intentionally, Master. I'm very sorry. It was an accident."

"And when the pipes burst, Obi-Wan? Was that an accident too?"

"Yes Master."

"You didn't do anything to cause it?"

"No Master."

"And when you fell, Obi-Wan?"

"When I fell?" I wasn't sure what he meant. I had fallen a lot in my life; all Jedi did so during training and missions.

"When I intended to spend the evening with Knight Guioll. Do you remember that time?"

"Oh. Yes Master. I slipped. It was an accident."

"Your accidents have curious timing, Obi-Wan. Do you realize that you have stopped me from having sex for a year?"

"Truly Master? I'm sorry Master."

He seized my chin in a firm grip, raising my head to bring my eyes away from his chest and up to meet his own. "Accidents? All of them? I find that hard to believe."

"They were, Master. I'm very sorry." I didn't seem to be capable of saying anything further in my defense. I wasn't sure why I even felt I needed to defend myself. Accidents do happen. It wasn't my fault if they kept happening whenever he intended to have sex. He was the one with the problem, not me.

Still holding my head with one hand, the palm of his other hand, so big and strong, slapped smartly against one of the cheeks of my buttocks. My clothes diluted the impact, but it was enough to sting, and I let out a loud, "OW!"

"Accidents, Obi-Wan?"

The meditation had gifted him a façade of calm, but the façade was as thin as the steam over a volcano and underneath was boiling rage.

"Yes Master. Accidents."

"You nearly poisoned Irili. You're a Padawan. You wouldn't have made that mistake before you left the crèche."

"I'm sorry Master. I wasn't thinking."

Qui-Gon had a fine capacity to roar, and he displayed it. "You weren't thinking?" He curled one hand around my forearm and dragged me toward the chair. I went without resistance, my legs as limp as those of a cloth doll. He sat in the chair and pulled me over his lap, my torso resting on his spread legs. My leggings and underwear were yanked down to my knees, and I flushed to think of my bare behind exposed to his gaze. I had never been treated so, even as a young child. I was almost a grown man, and surely too old for such barbaric discipline.

The palm descended again, with the full strength of his arm and the weight of gravity behind the blow. It hurt. I yelled and squirmed. In response, Qui-Gon placed one arm on my shoulder blades, holding me down, and whacked me again, and again. "Accidents, Obi-Wan?"

"Yes Master!"

My insistence didn't stop him. He spanked me again, his palm impacting with my bottom, first on cheek and then the other, making them sting and sending a tingle of pain throughout my body. My cheeks must be flushing red and oddly, I could feel my cock hardening. "Accidents, Obi-Wan?"

"Yes Master!"

He was merciless in his disbelief. I could feel each of his splayed fingers, and I imagined the palm print developing on each cheek, like a red tattoo of Qui-Gon's hands on my body. My cock was fully erect and I was squirming from more than pain, trying to free myself before he realized my predicament. He was my Master and I had never seen incredibly masterful.

He paused in his discipline, his voice implacable. "Tell me the truth, Obi-Wan."

"The truth, Master?" In my attempts to free myself, I had accidentally begun to rub the top of my erect cock on the side of his leg. The sensation of the soft blood-engorged skin on the pleasantly rough fabric of his trousers was erotic, making even the toes in my boots tingle.

His big hand slid between my cheeks, casually brushing against my hanging testicles and my stiff penis, and I moaned. His hand jerked away and I heard a shocked intake of breath. I waited for him to push me off his lap, appalled at my reaction. But then his fingers returned, deliberately settling around the head of my cock, then moving back up to the swinging sack, verifying my reaction. "The truth, Obi-Wan. Tell me the truth."

The words surprised me, though a part of me acknowledged them as the truth, the truth I'd hidden from even myself. "You're mine, Master. Mine."


The arm on my back was loose, so I took the opportunity to fall off his lap, twisting my hips to land in between his legs, sitting on the floor with a big boot on each side of me. "Mine, Master. Mine. And no one else's."

He stared at me, and I wasn't sure what he was thinking. His anger seemed dissipated, replaced by fascination. But was it the type of fascination displayed toward precious jewels or a dangerous reptile? "Yours? When did you decide this?"

"I didn't. I didn't decide it at all. Those things - those things I caused - they just seemed to happen. I never planned them, or thought about doing them. But you're mine, Master, and you weren't to have sex with any other."

"So am I to be celibate? You don't control me, Obi-Wan."

"No Master." My voice went breathlessly soft of its own accord, as I stroked one of his inner thighs. "You don't need to be celibate."

"What do you mean?"

"I thought that was clear," I responded as I continuing stroking, the skin of my hand seeming very pale on the brown of his trousers.

"Do I understand that I am to have sex with my teen padawan?"

Still breathless but defiant, I proclaimed, "Yes. You are to have sex with me. Only me." There were tears at the corners of my eyes from the pain, and my face was flushed with embarrassment and determination, but my words sounded perfect to my ears, as if the Force was singing through me. I rested one bent arm on the top of his thigh and leaned forward to nuzzle his crotch. He was soft. I brushed my nose against him, then my face, breathing deeply of his body odor and the fresh linen scent of his clothes. Opening my mouth, I exhaled warm air, dampening the front of his trousers as he began to swell in response to my attentions.

"Obi-Wan." He put one hand on my shoulder, as if to stop me, and I stretched my mouth as wide as I could, trying to encompass his length, frustrated by the cloth keeping him from me. "Obi-Wan, if you mean to take me as your lover, it's customary to start with a kiss."

"A kiss?"

"Yes, a kiss." He hauled me bodily off the floor and onto one thigh, looking at me expectantly, waiting to see what I would do. I leaned into him, our lips meeting with a delicacy completely at odds with the demanding spanking. We kissed for a few sweet moments, a gentle exchange of lips with the merest brush of tongues. His beard and mustache scratched on my reddened face, and I giggled.

"Do you like that?" He asked, and brushed his chin on my cheek, the contrast between the rough hair and the softness of my skin making my balls ache.

"Oh yes."

He kissed me more, all over my face, on my cheeks, my closed eyelids, my nose, before pushing me a little away from him, though keeping me within his arms which had wrapped around my hips. "Obi-Wan, I must apologize to you for spanking you. I was very wrong to take out my anger in that fashion."

"I forgive you." Not that I needed to forgive him really as I had liked the spanking. All that focus on me, that physical strength directed solely at me - I wondered if he would do it again sometime.

"Do you realize what has been happening?" I must have looked quizzical, because he continued without waiting for me to speak. "There are times when the Force brings two people together, binding them forever. I believe this is one of those times. The Force was working through your subconscious, keeping me for you, making accidents happen. It means that we were meant to be one since the day we met."

I liked what he was saying, but honesty compelled me to admit, "I didn't feel anything like that when we met. I only wanted to be your Padawan, not your lover."

"You were a little young then. You are still very young."

"I'm old enough to risk my life for the Jedi, many times over."

"Yes, you are." His hands caught the waistband of my leggings, and started to pull them up. "And you are old enough to choose when we shall have sex. I shall not take you after hurting you. I will always be your master in your training to be a knight, but you shall be the master of our romance."

I caught at my leggings, trying to keep them where they were, around my lower thighs. "Are you serious? I shall be in control?"

"Completely. I have already used force against you. I shall not coerce you. We shall proceed on your timetable."

"Oh good," I said, and sunk back down to the floor. Flipping his tunic up, I took hold of his leggings. "Lift your hips."

"This is moving very quickly, Obi-Wan."

"You trust that the Force was working through me to bring us together, don't you Qui-Gon? Then keep trusting me. And lift your hips."

His face was a study of hesitation and concern, but I met his eyes steadily, my determination and conviction implacable. When his expression softened to acceptance and then restrained lust, I knew I had won. I wasn't sure I shared Qui-Gon's certainty that the Force was directing my actions, but I would take advantage of his belief. He would be mine. He raised his hips, and I brought down his leggings and undergarment. Now we were both dressed alike, in our Jedi uniforms with our genitals exposed. I liked the conformity. We might be physically quite different, short and tall, slim and broad, young and mature, but on our most basic level, we were both men. Aroused men. His cock swung free, waiting for my lips.

I petted it, and oh yes, my Master was magnificent. His cock rose to my touch as if commanded, hardening and lengthening. I leaned forward and licked the head, feeling the shudder that went through his body, seeing the powerful muscles of his thighs jump with my first taste.

"Obi-Wan, are you sure?"

"Yes Master."

I licked again and again, amazed at the eagerness of his cock. Having only played with myself, I'd never quite appreciated that such an impressive specimen could become... so extremely impressive so quickly. His words may express doubt, but his body was well aware of the rightness of our being together.

"Still, we should probably talk to the Council first, Obi-Wan, before taking this..."

I mouthed the tip, taking it in, rolling my tongue on the soft skin. Qui-Gon's hands twitched on his thighs as he stopped talking to moan. I moved my head, taking in more of the length, stroking what I couldn't consume. I hadn't expected his penis to feel so solid and strong, smooth and soft, cool and burning hot at the same time.

Did mine feel the same? I'd have to ask Qui-Gon after he'd tasted me. He'd said that I would control our lovemaking, hadn't he? Did that mean I could command, "Suck my cock," and he would drop to his knees to obey me? Or merely that I could say, "Slower" or "Harder" or "Faster," and he would decrease or increase his speed and touch accordingly?

I would have to find out. I hoped the former.

I gave his penis a long hard sucking than pulled my mouth away from it, capturing it in my hands so it would not feel neglected. "Master."

His eyes were glassy with his pleasure, the pupils dilated, swallowing the blueness. He focused on me, shuddering as I caressed his cock. "You should call me Qui-Gon."

"Master," I said firmly. "I want to have sex with you. I want to do and try everything with you. And to you."

He swallowed hard and nodded.

"I've wanted you since I first thought of you having sex. I knew we were meant for each other."

He murmured, "Such conviction."

"Do you not feel the rightness, Master?"

"I do, Obi-Wan. I do."

"Hold yourself," I said, bringing his right hand to clasp his shaft, standing in front of him. My own penis was quivering fiercely, and I had no control left. I needed to know what it would be like to come with him, to come inside his hot mouth rather than my own palm. I took his head into my hands and urged him closer to me. "Suck me, Master. Suck my cock."

My unconscious machinations might have prevented Qui-Gon from practicing from over a year but oh... his talents were well developed. Unlike my puny attempts to handle his great length, he swallowed me whole, not stopping until that bold broken nose pressed into the skin of my torso. His mouth worked as I had instructed, sucking forcefully, the pressure unbelievably intense.

I yanked the tie from his hair, tangling my hands in the thick strands, frantic to pull his head closer, bury myself deeper in his throat even though such a feat was impossible. I rocked in my boots, pushing into him, and he took me gladly, making humming noises of approval that had me shrieking as I came endlessly, pouring all the long months of my developing curiosity, sexual frustration and jealousy into his mouth. He drank it all as I shuddered and quaked and finally collapsed, my body draping limply over his shoulders.

I couldn't move, so it was good that he is so much stronger than me. He twisted around, sitting me on the couch, kneeling at my feet. His hands were soft as he stroked me, helping me descend from that incredible high, and also busy, loosening fasteners and buckles, stripping clothes and boots from me until I was naked.

"Now you," I said, gesturing to his attire. He kneeled to undo the many buckles of his big heavy boots, pulling them off his legs, standing to finish undressing himself.

We looked our fill of each other, giving ourselves the freedom and time allowed by our new status, and I think he appreciated what he saw. Certainly I liked everything I saw - that well-muscled body and towering height, noble but rugged features and straight silky hair falling to broad shoulders.

Mine now, all mine.

"Take care of yourself," I directed, and he obeyed, gripping his still erect penis, beginning a rough and demanding pumping.

"I want to make up for the past year," I said, watching him avidly as he stroked. His hair had fallen forward, obscuring his face. "I'm going to do everything you want. And you'll do everything I want, won't you Master? You'll come for me, Master, won't you? Come for me now."

And he did, huge jets of come spurting fiercely from his cock, shooting through the air to splatter on my chest. He sank to his knees, resting his hand on my thigh as he breathed hard. I stroked his hair, feeling so incredibly at peace, that my Master and I were finally together, and yet also eager and a little bit desperate, wanting more and even more with him, until we were bound so tightly, we were inseparable.

"I love you Master."

"And I love you Obi-Wan." He caught my hand and kissed the palm. "We need to let the Council know of this new phase in our relationship. There were be great concern and discussion, to ensure that you are participating of your own free will and that I am not abusing my position as your Master."

"Yes Master," I agreed obediently, though the Council and its possible concerns were not high on my list of priorities. Continuing to tie Qui-Gon to me was my number one goal. Unfortunately, keeping him from other lovers also meant that I had never managed to observe anything of his sexual preferences. But he had responded quickly to my erection while being spanked, and not with revulsion. I remembered how his hand had jerked away, but came back to explore what he'd found. Had my response to being spanked turned him on? Despite his selection of adult lovers, could my Master secretly be kinky? I decided to risk pressing the issue. "But you will fuck me first, won't you Master? My ass is so sore and red, Master. It burns. I need your great big cock in me, putting out the flames. Don't you want to see your cock plowing between my red cheeks? Feel how tightly I squeeze you? I'm a virgin Master. I want you to be my first, my last, my only. Won't you fuck me Master?"

His eyes were wild and burning, as hot as my ass. He groaned as if severely pained. "I shouldn't have spanked you. That was wrong of me."

To my ears, his protestations sounded weak, as if he wanted to be argued out of them. "But you did Master. And I liked it." I tucked my bare feet on his upper thighs and laid my arms around his shoulders, our foreheads touching. "Make it better now Master. Take me."

His arms went around my waist and he stood again, bringing me with him. I marveled at his power and clung to him with arms and legs, nuzzling his ear as he walked to his bedroom. He kept me in his arms as he flung back the covers and sheets, tossing them onto the floor, then laid me down carefully in the middle of the bed, as if I were quite fragile. I waited a moment, letting him look at my body, as muscled and mature as my Jedi training had made me, but still slim and youthful, pale graceful limbs and a face barely beginning to grow a beard. Then I rolled, presenting my back to him, raising on my knees to point my reddened bottom at him.

He groaned again, a sound I was much beginning to enjoy hearing. I liked my wise articulate Master driven beyond speech. I turned my head sideways on the pillow so I could see him, and pleaded. "Please Master. I need you now. Hard and deep inside my hot bottom. Fuck me."

He walked away and I shot up on my knees, concerned. Had I pushed him too far? Would he disappear on me? Throw himself on the Council's mercy, confess his sins? But no, he was just heading to the bathroom, so I let myself drop back into position.

A heavy weight depressed the bed as my Master crawled between my legs. I expected the touch of his big fingers, covered by lubricant, and received instead something warmer and moist. His tongue! There, in the crack between my ass cheeks, dipping into the slit for a taste, and another. I whimpered, my hips twitching, and powerful hands trapped my hips, stilling my motion. Kisses followed, scattered all over my bottom, tracing every imprint of his fingers on my skin. Then his tongue returned, this time delving inside me, wet and warm and invasively stretching me for the ultimate penetration.

My breath was becoming difficult to control. My lungs burned with the lack of air caused by the pleasure, the heated flames scorching every nerve in my body. I shook and jerked violently, as much as his hands would allow me, and I'm sure I whimpered uncontrollably before I managed to form words. "Please Master, please! Please fuck me!"

I felt those long legs of his, aligning with my shorter ones, forcing them apart, and that broad chest on my back. He swamped me with his size and then he filled me, his cock entering me slowly and steadily, easing in my passage with care and insistent determination.

I loved every second as he moved into me, making his place inside of me. Every strangled breath for air, every stretched muscle in my ass, brought us closer together, made me more his ... and made him more mine, binding us lovers.

Qui-Gon never did things by half-measures, and I was delighted to discover sex was no exception. He kept moving forward, demanding entrance until his cock was completely held in my body, his balls touching my skin. He asked gruffly, "Are you okay? Am I hurting you?"

"I'm fantastic Master. Fantastic. Put out the flames. Pour yourself in me."

And he did. Oh Force, did he. My Master was a Master at everything. I'd felt no pain at his entry and I felt none now, just deep filling penetration as he withdrew from me then plunged back in, his cock sliding slickly, leaving me empty and lonely for an unbearable second, then shoving back to its place, possessing me, owning me.

His stamina is unmatched and mine is not inconsiderable. I lost track of the number of his thrusts, the panting breaths in my ears and my chest. I knew only pleasure, long and hard and deep, lasting forever, sending me higher and higher into orbit and then suddenly, achingly, ending too abruptly, leaving me flaming brightly and falling, crashing into his arms as I broke into pieces and cried with wonder and sensations too great to be borne.

"Tears Obi-Wan? Did I hurt you?" When a conscious awareness of my surroundings returned to me, Qui-Gon had cradled me in his arms, his thumb brushing at the tears leaking from my eyes.

I shook my head, curling into his body, my head fitting naturally in the curve of his neck and shoulder. He was so big, so powerful next to me. It seemed unlikely I would ever reach his size, and I was grateful. I gave a little sigh as exhaustion overcame me, and I found myself drifting off to sleep, lulled by the regular thump of his heartbeat and my own exhausted body.

"We will talk in the morning, Obi-Wan. Together and with the Council."

I nodded into his shoulder. Maybe we should. Maybe we wouldn't. I would live by Qui-Gon's normal advice and live in the moment, doing what I needed to keep him distracted from his worries about our relationship, his being my teacher and the difference in our ages. I may not have truly consciously known what I was doing when I'd stopped Qui-Gon from having sex with other people, but he'd had sex with me now. And that was the way it was going to remain. Accidents may have brought us together, but if necessary, strategy would keep him the man he was meant to be. Qui-Gon Jinn, my Master, my lover, mine and mine alone. Forever.

~ the end ~