The Pulse of Drums

by Keelywolfe

The moment the sun fell below the horizon over the encampment, it began. The fires were lit and the low beat of the drums and music threaded their way through the warming air. And so began the Festival of Light for the people of Tal'Her and for the first time in far longer than the oldest of the Elders could remember they had off-planet guests. Two Jedi, sent to negotiate a treaty with the Republic had been invited to participate in the Festival and, to the delight of the people, they had agreed.

Qui-Gon was seated on a small pallet next to the main fire, watching a group of dancers weave themselves around the camp. They were all young, his Padawan's age and had just moments ago dragged a protesting Obi-Wan into the fray. Qui-Gon smiled a little as he watched his laughing apprentice struggle with the various parts of the dance, others laughing as well and calling out encouragement.

It was an interesting way to begin negotiations, he decided, with a touch of private amusement. Tal'Her was not a part of the Republic nor did they want to be but they were interested in trading goods with the Republic and what they had to offer was substantial enough that the Senate had agreed to bargain with them.

They had sent the Jedi and his apprentice here to negotiate a treaty of peace with the Tal'herians so that the bargaining could begin. Jedi, because the Tal'herian people were somewhat empathic and any negotiations could be difficult if they knew the exact emotions of their mediators. Qui-Gon's amusement turned wry at that thought. He wasn't sure if being known as an emotionless negotiator was much of a complement.

"He learns quickly."

The words dragged Qui-Gon's mind back to the festivities and he glanced up to see Nelar standing next to him, leaning awkwardly on her walking stick as she was holding a small cup in each of her hands. He hastily helped her to sit and old woman leaned on him with a grateful sigh, sinking to the ground.

Nelar was one of the Priestesses of Tal'Herian people and a great supporter of the treaty. She was a formidable woman and Qui-Gon had great respect for her strength of will.

Settling herself near the fire, she handed Qui-Gon one of the small cups and he accepted it, calmly waiting for her to bless it with the light before sipping the sweet, cool liquid gratefully. Even after having shed his long cloak he was still uncomfortably warm; most of the Tal'herians were wearing just enough to preserve their modesty and in some cases not even that.

"I am greatly honored to have you at my fire this night, Master Jinn." Nelar said, speaking loudly to be heard over the drums.

"As I am honored to be here," he replied and she nodded and said nothing more, content it seemed to watch the cavorting antics of the dancers.

Obi-Wan -had- learned quickly, Qui-Gon saw, he matched the fast rhythm of the dance easily, twisting and moving with the same sinuous grace that he did his training katas.

The sound of the drums seemed very loud in Qui-Gon's ears as he watched the dancers gyrate wildly to the beat. Obi-Wan paused for a moment and stripped out of his light tunic, his chest now bare as the other dancers as he rejoined them, giving himself over to the pulse of the dance.

Qui-Gon felt as if his eyes were being drawn to the young man, he couldn't seem to look elsewhere, watching Obi-Wan twist and move to the loud throbbing of the drums that seemed to be echoing in Qui-Gon's ears.

All he could hear was the pulse of the beat, could see the thin rivulets of sweat that were tracing their way down Obi-Wan's skin, which was lightly gilded from the light of the fires. Over everything he heard Obi-Wan laugh, watched as the boy tossed his head back and the long braid swung over his shoulder and slapped lightly against his back.

The drums, Qui-Gon could hear the drums and oh, that boy was beautiful. He didn't even pause at the thought, just continued to drink in the sight of him, slim and strong, eyes bright even in the dim light, muscles twisting underneath pale skin, gleaming with perspiration. Beautiful, simply beautiful.

He didn't notice when he dropped his cup, the small amount of liquid spilling out and nor did he notice Nelar surreptitiously retrieve it. All he could see was Obi-Wan, all he could hear was the drums and he dimly realized that his inner control was little more than a thread.

The dance escalated, the dancers thrashing wildly to the drums. Their bodies were slick and gleaming with sweat, all of them panting hard and then one of the other dancers wrapped an arm around Obi-Wan's bare shoulders and kissed him fleetingly. The slow burning within Qui-Gon flared as Obi-Wan easily returned the kiss, leaning into the other boy as they separated, both laughing and gasping for breath and the gossamer thread of Qui-Gon's control snapped.

He was on his feet before he could even think, pushing his way through the crowd of people and ignoring any and all protests to his rudeness. Just before he reached the boy, Obi-Wan turned in Qui-Gon's direction and saw him.

Qui-Gon's gaze caught Obi-Wan's, the boy's gray eyes were wide and confused and with that one look the burning within Qui-Gon ignited. He physically picked the boy up and flung him over his shoulder, ignoring Obi-Wan's startled protests, ignoring the cheers from the crowd and hearing only the drums and the pulse of his own blood, throbbing hotly in his ears.

Carrying his squirming bundle, Qui-Gon walked quickly to the tent that they had been assigned for the night, ducking under the flap and pulling it closed behind him. He dumped Obi-Wan unceremoniously on the large pallet inside, heard the young man grunt in protest to his rough treatment.

"Master, what is going on, I was..." A hard mouth covering his cut off Obi-Wan's words, swallowing half-hearted protests. They weren't important, nothing was important but the heat that was thrumming through Qui-Gon's body, heat that was pooling between his thighs as he covered his padawan with his own body, pressed him into the soft bedding.

He devoured the boy's mouth, tasted sweat and a sweetness that was Obi- Wan's. And now his, yes, Obi-Wan was his and he kissed the boy deeply, felt the shy flick of a tongue against his own and whatever control he still possessed was lost.

Pulling back, he frantically stripped away his own constricting clothing, fabric tearing as he wrenched it off and tossed it aside until he was bare to the waist. Obi-Wan just watched him, panting heavily and eyes wide. He wet his lips nervously and Qui-Gon felt another pulse of heat at the sight of that small pink tongue.

"Master? I...I don't understand, I thought..." More words and Qui-Gon silenced him again impatiently with another kiss, sucking the boy's lower lip into his mouth so that he could nibble on it and he was rewarded with a smothered gasp.

Nuzzling lower, Qui-Gon bit the boy's shoulder then sucked on the reddened skin to ease the sting. "You're mine," he hissed, hardly recognizing his own voice. Obi-Wan was silent but for soft whimpers, his hands clutching Qui-Gon's shoulders as he slid lower, burying his face into the warm skin of Obi-Wan's belly.

He bit again, harder, leaving a mark this time on the smooth skin and Obi-Wan yelped. "You're mine! Say it!"

"I...I'm yours." Little more than a hushed whisper but it was enough, Qui-Gon's felt as if his blood had ignited at those soft words. Breaking the ties that fastened Obi-Wan's trousers, Qui-Gon quickly slid the thin material down Obi-Wan's legs, exposing more of that sweet, smooth skin to his eager eyes.

Beautiful, just as he had thought before. Completely naked before his master, his hands fluttering nervously as if he wished to cover himself but didn't quite dare, Obi-Wan lay beneath Qui-Gon's heated gaze.

"Beautiful," he murmured aloud, sliding a hand down Obi-Wan's body to the erect shaft that was lying against his belly. He captured it, stroking urgently and Obi-Wan cried out, arching into the touch.

"Oh! Oh, Master, I didn't...oh!" the boy whimpered and again Qui-Gon leaned in to hush him, kissing him hard before trailing his mouth downward, tasting Obi-Wan's skin.

"Mine," he rasped against heated skin and Obi-Wan moaned in response, clutching desperately at Qui-Gon's shoulders and pleading in broken whispers for more.

He pulled back enough to flip the boy onto his stomach, cupping Obi- Wan's backside in his two large palms as Qui-Gon nuzzled the small of his back, licking and sucking at the sweat-salty flesh. The drums, he could hear the drums echoing through the tent, through his head, beating in time to his heartbeat.

He shifted upward, covering Obi-Wan's body with his own, and rubbed his swollen erection in the cleft of Obi-Wan's buttocks. Qui-Gon was still wearing his trousers, the rough material chafing but the sweet pressure was beyond pleasure. He was throbbing with need, the burning of his own lust twisting within the vibration of the drums, reverberated back into him, surrounding him. Obi-Wan was writhing beneath him as much as he could under his master's weight, pushing back and suddenly Qui-Gon could wait no longer.

Reaching between them Qui-Gon unfastened his trousers, releasing his aching cock before collapsing back down on the boy and finally he could feel the heat of Obi-Wan's skin on his own as he rubbed against the softness of the boy's backside. The head of his shaft was burrowing between the soft cheeks, seeking entrance, pushing hard but the tight flesh resisted and Obi-Wan was squirming away from him now, crying out softly.

Pressing down with more of his weight, Qui-Gon stilled him, sliding a hand around to stroke Obi-Wan's hardness, distracting him. Tight, too tight and he struggled to the surface of his pool of lust for a moment, enough to fumble in his satchel next to the bed with his free hand, scattering things everywhere until Qui-Gon found a small bottle of oil that he used for massage. He pulled the small cork out with his teeth and spat it aside, tipping oil into his hand even as he still teased Obi-Wan with the other.

Shifting aside just a bit, he oiled his own erection, moaning at the feel and rubbing his hips against Obi-Wan's. Soon, yes, he needed this soon, and he quickly moved his hand to Obi-Wan, slipping a finger, then two deeply inside the boy's body. Obi-Wan cried out in surprise, struggling briefly and then he paused, whimpering as he seemed to change his mind, his hips instead moving timidly backwards onto those invading fingers.

Enough. Qui-Gon withdrew his fingers and shifted back over the boy, pressing him into the bedding as he again positioned himself over Obi- Wan, pushing urgently now, needing inside that tight heat. It was easier now, the oil easing his entry and Qui-Gon pressed deep, impaling Obi-Wan on his thickness and he was helpless in the throes of need and the pulse of drums that seemed to come from within him now.

Obi-Wan whimpered briefly, stiffening against him but he stroked the boy's cock hard, squeezing and rubbing it in time to his own deepening thrusts and again the tightness eased and Qui-Gon was deep inside now, surrounded by sweet heat and lost to the drums.

He moved quickly, urgently, following that inner pulse as he thrust hard and deeply, rocking against the boy and oh, it was good, it was beyond good beyond anything. Qui-Gon strained to press deeper, heard a muffled gasp beneath him and he buried his face into the hollow of the boy's shoulder, lunging in harder still, needing, needing.

"Mine," he gasped, heard an answering cry as his movements quickened again, and Qui-Gon was pounding into the boy, a tiny part of his mind terrified that he was hurting but he couldn't stop, couldn't feel anything but heat and tightness and oh, the drums, the drums!

A sharp gasp, a loud keening cry and Obi-Wan was arching into the hand surrounding him, warm, liquid pulses flooding over it and his muscles tightened around Qui-Gon's cock dragging a near scream from him. White- hot pleasure lanced through him and Qui-Gon screamed again in something akin to pain as he came, all his muscles taut as he thrust deeply a last time, his body jerking helplessly in the throes of impossible ecstasy.

He collapsed, all his weight sagging onto Obi-Wan as he rested his forehead against the boy's sweaty hair. The drums seemed to recede, leaving him alone with the throb of his own pulse, which was echoing loudly in his ears.

His pulse calmed enough for him to hear Obi-Wan straining for breath and Qui-Gon gathered himself enough to pull away, both of them groaning as his fading erection slid from Obi-Wan's body. Qui-Gon collapsed to his side, dragging Obi-Wan with him and holding him close. The boy was saying something, whispering and it sounded important but Qui-Gon was too tired to try and make sense of it. Sleep was calling him, pulling him in and he surrendered to it, tightening his arms around Obi-Wan.

"Mine," he murmured a last time against the smooth skin of Obi-Wan's neck before he finally allowed sleep to claim him.

 

---

He woke feeling stiff and sore, groaning as he rolled over and bumped into something warm. Something that made a sound of protest and shoved at him weakly. Qui-Gon murmured a drowsy apology and moved back over before he'd had a chance to think and when it finally filtered through his sleep fogged mind he sat up so quickly that he nearly fell off the pallet.

Obi-Wan was stirring next to him, blinking sleepily and Qui-Gon felt the dread in him growing as the blankets slipped lower down and revealed bare skin to his horrified gaze.

"Master?" Qui-Gon flinched at the sleep-husky word, thoughts tumbling over themselves in his aching head as he fought to understand this.

"It's early yet, Padawan, go back to sleep." He injected Force into his voice and felt Obi-Wan succumb to the suggestion, slipping easily back into slumber.

Pushing the blankets back, Qui-Gon stumbled to his feet, nearly tripping as his unfastened pants slid down and tangled in his legs. He dragged them back up and tied them, heedless of the wrinkled fabric, his eyes never leaving the boy that was sound asleep in his bed.

Force, what had he done? This was not right, his mind insisted, this could not be happening, but the dull, throbbing pain behind his eyes told him otherwise. Qui-Gon raised trembling hands to his face and pressed his temples, reaching shakily for the Force.

For one brief, insane moment he thought that it wouldn't come to him, that it would feel the taint of darkness on him and would skitter away from his grasp. But it surged into him as it always had and he concentrated it on his throbbing head, sighing as the pain receded somewhat. Only then did he open his eyes to again look at his sleeping padawan, the boy who had trusted him with his life. The boy whose trust he had betrayed.

Hazy memories were slowly returning to him and each one made Qui-Gon cringe deeper into his mind, to flee from this waking nightmare. Memories of dragging the boy into his bed, of stripping away his clothing, of pinning him down while he forced his way into Obi-Wan's body.

Qui-Gon sank to his knees, hunching over as nausea rose up in him. How could he have done this? How could he have raped his own padawan, this wasn't possible, it... The suffocating murkiness around his thoughts was easing as the pain did and Qui-Gon sat up abruptly, pushing aside his own overwhelming guilt as he tried to make his careening mind focus.

How indeed? How -could- he have done something so completely uncharacteristic? Qui-Gon took a deep breath and centered himself as he tried to remember now, sifting through the strange muddle of his memories of the night before. Past the jumbled images of Obi-Wan tangled with him on the bed, past the overwhelming burning...burning, yes, he had been sitting near the fire, overly warm, but content to watch the dancers as he sat with Nelar and...

A tiny, niggling detail wormed into his mind and Qui-Gon was on his feet before he had even recognized it, hastily yanking on a tunic. Heedless of his bare feet, he whipped back the tent flap and stepped out, closing the flap with more care as Obi-Wan murmured sleepily on the bed before drifting back into a deeper sleep.

Qui-Gon walked quickly through the mostly empty camp, wincing as he stepped on a particularly sharp rock. Only a few elders were wandering around, still putting out fires and they paid him no mind. Which was well enough because in the turmoil of his anger he was making no promises about the diplomacy of his actions. At this moment all he wanted was answers and he knew exactly where to get them.

 

---

Nelar was still at her own fire, sitting cross-legged and stirring the glowing coals almost meditatively with the end of her staff. She didn't look up as Qui-Gon approached but spoke without looking at the greatly disturbed man who stood next to her.

"You're earlier than I expected," she said calmly, her eyes never leaving the dying embers of flame. "The quallia root should have made you sleep for several hours yet."

"Is that what you drugged me with?" Qui-Gon asked bitingly, unable to keep the sharpness from his voice. A fine thread was all that was holding his temper and only the thought of the kind of diplomatic incident that this would cause kept that thread from snapping. In the span of his years he could not remember his anger being this close to the surface, mingling with aching guilt over what he had been forced to do to his very trusting padawan.

Nelar didn't answer; she simply kept tracing symbols into the ashes with her staff and finally Qui-Gon forced out an exasperated sigh between his clenched teeth.

"Why?" he hissed out, struggling with his growing fury as he stared at her stooped back. "Why did you do that to me?"

She did look up at him them, rheumy yellowed eyes studying him a long moment before she lowered her head again. A dry, rattling sound emerged from her and it took Qui-Gon a moment to realize that she was laughing.

"Do that to you?" she wheezed, leaning on her staff. She wiped her eyes with her sleeve, still chuckling hoarsely. "It was not you that was the problem, Master Jinn. It was your apprentice."

Qui-Gon blinked, shock momentarily overshadowing anger before the thought of what he had been forced into doing to the boy caused anger to flare again.

Wanting to throttle the old woman, Qui-Gon instead sat down on the ground next to her and watched the errant flames dance their way across the coals in tiny bursts until he felt a measure of control. The aching in his head seemed to be receding with his temper and he managed to calm himself further. All he wanted now was answers.

"Why was Obi-Wan a problem?" he asked quietly. "I was under the impression that his behavior at the festival was not only acceptable but encouraged."

Nelar nodded, still gazing at the flames. "Yes. The boy was very mannerly and pleasant. I enjoyed any time that I spent in his company." A sharp glance at Qui-Gon before she added, very quietly, "But then, he isn't really a boy, is he?"

Impatience flared. "And what does his age have to do with this?"

"He is of age, is he not?

"Yes, but that..."

"Because," she cut in, "It would be an extreme offense to my people for a boy to be sent to our planet to do the job of a man. Of course, if he is of age and has offered his virtue to the spirits as an adult should, then this would not be a problem."

Comprehension dawned and Qui-Gon stared at Nelar mutely.

"Of course, my people sensed his virginity when you first arrived," she continued blithely, ignoring the growing dismay coming from the Jedi. "They were most pleased and honored when I explained that he had decided to offer it to the spirits at the Festival. Most honorable of him and surely a good omen for the coming times."

One that had prevented a diplomatic incident as well and Qui-Gon was silently cursing the meager files that they had been given before coming here. Another Jedi team could have been sent and no matter how unorthodox Nelar had been she had prevented the Republic from inadvertently giving grave insult to her people.

Still... "Why didn't you simply inform me of this earlier?" Qui-Gon asked, matching her quiet tone. "I'm sure we could have come to a solution without you drugging me." Temper flared again sullenly and he tamped it down again. "Obi-Wan didn't deserve to be treated that way. No one does."

Another rasping chuckle and Nelar glanced at him again, one eyebrow raised. "Treated that way? And just what did you do to him, Master Jinn? Most people I know actually find it quite pleasant."

Her expression hardened as she turned back to the fire. "And I didn't speak of it to you because I did not want or need you assistance in this. You demonstrated your inability to handle the situation simply by bringing the boy with you." At the Jedi's slight flinch, she pursed her lips, adding softly, "I do hope you are more capable of handling the treaty than you are at handling our customs."

It was a dismissal and Qui-Gon stood stiffly. Not trusting his voice, he bowed to the old woman and turned away but her voice pulled him back.

"Master Jinn, you should know that quallia root is not a true aphrodisiac but more something of a push in the right direction." Faint humor touched her voice. "The young people use it on occasion to see if their intended has an attraction to them. You see, once it is consumed, there must be some desire already within and the person reacts to the strongest desire. The stronger the attraction, the stronger the reaction."

She turned just enough that the stunned Jedi could see her face and the amused gleam in her eyes. "Your reaction was quite...interesting, Master Jinn."

And then she turned back to the coals, humming an old tune under her breath, leaving the man behind her to gather the rags of his composure before he walked away. Words came to her song then, of lovers denied and who had found each other again. None of her people spoke to her or disturbed her but any who heard the soft lilt of her song paused briefly as their hearts ached for old loves and warmed again for those with them now.

 

---

Sitting in the furthest corner of the tent, Qui-Gon watched his apprentice sleep. Obi-Wan's chest rose and fell with each slow breath and Qui-Gon focused on that tiny movement, trying to settle his inner turmoil to allow himself to think.

It wasn't helping. No amount of centering was going to ease his mind. His thoughts were in a tumultuous whirl of relief, confusion and guilt. Grudging relief that an unforgivable insult to these people had been averted even as he ached at the cost mixed with confusion and guilt over his own part in this debacle.

Eyes drifting from their focus, they slid up to Obi-Wan's face, relaxed in sleep. So young, so -damned- young and never mind that he was considered of age. Qui-Gon was old enough to be the boy's father and even if he hadn't been, he was Obi-Wan's master, meant to be a teacher not a lover.

Drifting again, to tangled limbs in the sheets, to the dark stain of a bruise on the boy's hip. Costs. The cost of peace between the Republic and the Tal-Herian people had been so high and the price still wasn't set. He wondered, as the tightness within his chest increased to a choking ache, just how much more was going to be lost to the no longer innocent young man still sleeping before him. If Obi-Wan would be able to understand. And forgive.

Enough. He shook aside his melancholy and instead focused on Obi-Wan again, frowning at the bruise. Moving closer, he reached out and very lightly rested his thumb and forefinger on Obi-Wan's temples, probing. There were a few tiny aches that were easily healed and Qui-Gon mentally sighed in relief. At least he hadn't brutalized the boy in his passion.

His mind skittered around that thought. He didn't want to consider his passion, the fact that he had been hiding his desire for Obi-Wan from even himself. Even just resting his hand on the boy's forehead was making him recall the heat of the night before and he snatched it away, clasping it against his chest with his other hand.

Obi-Wan stirred at the abrupt withdrawal, finally surfacing from his Force-induced sleep. He blinked sleepily, rubbing the back of his hand over his eyes before he twisted onto his side, stretching lazily. Obi- Wan gave a loud, contented groan, joints popping as he stretched and then he finally rolled over onto his stomach, propping his head up on one hand.

"Good morning, Master." Obi-Wan's voice was rusty from sleep, his eyes still heavy and half-lidded as he gazed at his master and for a moment he was so unwittingly seductive that Qui-Gon couldn't speak. He stared at the boy dumbly, eyes drifting from sleep-darkened eyes to the slim fingers that cupped the smoothness of the boy's cheek, to the faint smirk that was curving his lips.

"Master?"

The soft concern in Obi-Wan's voice snapped Qui-Gon back to himself. Lips parting but no words emerged as a rush of guilt closed his throat. This was not a reaction he had expected. Anger, certainly, hurt, even fear, but not...not this.

Obi-Wan pushed himself into a sitting position, the blankets sliding off to puddle around his hips as he looked at Qui-Gon with obvious worry. "Master?" he said again, hesitantly.
 
"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said finally, his voice catching as he struggled for words. Obi-Wan was looking at him with wide, confused eyes and how was he to mend this?

"Obi-Wan, what happened last night was a mistake." He winced at the sudden spark of unshielded hurt that flared through their link and he hurried to add. "It...this isn't what you think, Padawan. Last night they drugged me and I...didn't...I would never...." Qui-Gon ground to a frustrated halt, cursing his usual articulateness for deserting him in such a time. Obi-Wan looked suddenly far younger than his true age, looking at him with large, wounded eyes and Qui-Gon could only look back, helplessly silent.

"So you didn't really want me?"

"I..." He meant to say no, to blame his actions on the drug but the words died on his lips, unspoken. Qui-Gon was a Jedi, had served the Force in one form or another for the entirety of his life and he could shade truth, practiced deception, the art of seeing the world from a certain point of view. That he could accept and would continue to do so. But to lie to this boy, who was looking at him with such trust and whom he knew with no doubt at all would take his words deeply to heart. To lie to Obi-Wan over this seemed to be the greatest of obscenities, would be like smashing a sacred treasure.

"I didn't want it like this," he said finally, honestly. "Your first time should have been with more care and tenderness, not..." Not near mindless rutting, he nearly said, but the words halted in surprise when Obi-Wan reached up to touch his face.

"I didn't have any complaints, Master." One slim hand lightly cupped Qui-Gon's cheek, fingered the coarse hair of his beard and the Jedi master could only stare at the boy mutely, shock stealing away his voice.

"If that wasn't how you wanted it to be, then show me how you did want it," Obi-Wan said, his pale eyes shining with calm determination.

"Obi-Wan, I didn't mean...." And was silenced by the press of lips against his own, unskilled but earnest and a shaft of desire went through Qui-Gon. He struggled to repress it, to force himself away from those kisses but he couldn't move, instead he knelt frozen in Obi-Wan's embrace.

"Show me," whispered urgently against his lips as slender fingers fumbled with the ties of his tunic, slipping inside to touch warm skin. "Show me, Master, please. Please."

Those inexpert touches, the palms pressed against Qui-Gon's chest as Obi-Wan tried to coax a response from him were finally too much. He moaned, low in his throat and pulled Obi-Wan against him, crushing the slim body against his own and capturing his lips is a hard kiss. He let his tongue stroke between those parted lips, tasting the warm sweetness that was Obi-Wan and he moaned again. Oh, this was wrong, this shouldn't be happening, couldn't happen but Obi-Wan was responding eagerly, exploring the depths of Qui-Gon's mouth and all thoughts of wrongness fled.

Obi-Wan wrapped his legs around Qui-Gon's hips and leaned backwards, tugging his master back down onto the bed with his weight. Qui-Gon pulled away from the kiss with a loud gasp as their hips rubbed together, hardness against hardness and desire flared as hot as the night before as Obi-Wan writhed beneath him, arching his hips upward in a silent plea for more.

Qui-Gon started to pull back a bit, just to try and calm down a little and Obi-Wan protested immediately, locking his ankles over the backs of Qui-Gon's thighs and refusing to let go.

Brushing gentle kisses over Obi-Wan's face and lips, he hushed the boy's panic. "Easy, easy. I'm not leaving," he murmured, feeling a little tension seeping away, Obi-Wan's stranglehold on Qui-Gon's body relaxing a bit. Qui-Gon kissed his way down to Obi-Wan's ear, flicking his tongue over the curved shell and Obi-Wan shivered minutely against him.

"You asked me to show you what I had wanted, so let me show you," he said softly, biting the tender lobe lightly before trailing his mouth down Obi-Wan's neck to his shoulder. Obi-Wan was trembling against him and Qui-Gon could feel his wanting and his wariness to let Qui-Gon go for fear the older man would leave him like this. Qui-Gon soothed that fear away, pushing the blankets aside as he kissed his way down the boy's body, tasting warm skin and salt.

He buried his face in the smooth skin of Obi-Wan's belly and inhaled deeply, simply enjoying the scent of warm flesh before shifting a bit lower, trailing kisses down to Obi-Wan navel. The boy gave a soft cry, his hands digging into the bed linens as Qui-Gon's chin bumped the head of his shaft. Qui-Gon reached up and captured the eager flesh in one large hand, stroking Obi-Wan's cock gently and was rewarded with another whimper and a whispered, "Please..."

He rubbed his thumb over the head, smearing the soft fluid that was beading there and then carefully pushed back the smooth skin of the boy's foreskin, before lowering his head further and lapping at the tip. Salt, faint bitterness, proof of Obi-Wan's need and Qui-Gon tasted it eagerly, swirling his tongue over it, probed the tiny slit there searching for more.

A loud despairing cry and Obi-Wan's hands clutched frantically at Qui- Gon's shoulders, fingernails digging in and Qui-Gon finally relented and took the boy's shaft deeply into his mouth.

Sucking hard, he took the entire length into his mouth a careful inch at a time. Obi-Wan was squirming beneath him, whimpering loudly as Qui- Gon captured his hips in both hands, holding him still. He pulled back equally slowly, running his tongue along the sensitive underside before sliding back down and taking it in again deeply, swallowing around that hardness and drawing a choked gasp from the boy.

Only a moment later he felt the soft pulses against the back of his throat, tasted faintly bitter liquid warmth as his Padawan came, knotting his fingers into Qui-Gon's hair and arching upwards, his entire body trembling as he gave in to the sweet, heated rush of ecstasy.

Pulling back, Qui-Gon gently licked at Obi-Wan softening organ, pulling a soft, contented murmur from him before Qui-Gon looked up. The boy was sprawled against the bedding, eyes closed as he gasped shallowly. Even more beautiful now, flushed with pleasure and Qui-Gon's own need throbbed within him again.

Sliding upward, he covered the smaller body with his own and pressed a soft kiss to Obi-Wan's parted lips. The boy barely responded at first, one hand rising limply to rest on Qui-Gon's hip. But it was Obi-Wan who deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue past lips and the hard edge of teeth to probe the velvet darkness of Qui-Gon's mouth.

Soft kisses increased in urgency until they were near frantic, Obi-Wan nipping at Qui-Gon's invading tongue as he arched upward, rubbing his reawakening erection against his master's stomach.

"Please," Obi-Wan gasped between kisses, "Do it again, like last night. I want you inside me again."

The very thought of again being inside this beautiful young man sent a throb of pure need through Qui-Gon but he pushed it away, tried to pull back a little, shaking his head.

"No, you're too sore from last night, I'll hurt you," he whispered, even as he rocked against the boy, dragging another loud moan from him.

"No, I'm not. Please, please!" A near despairing cry and he clung to Qui-Gon desperately.

What little will he had against this drained away and even as he silently cursed himself Qui-Gon was fumbling to the side of the bed, searching for and finding the discarded bottle of oil from last night. Most of its contents had spilled out on the floor but there was still a small amount left.

With some effort, he managed to disentangled himself from Obi-Wan's clinging limbs enough to pull the boy's knees up and the moment Obi-Wan seemed to realize what his master was doing he fell still, utterly pliable in Qui-Gon's hands. The sight of that lithe body completely opened to him was unbelievably arousing and Qui-Gon quickly stripped off his own clothing. This would not be the like the night before, he swore silently.

Perhaps it was wrong either way, but this time he was going to make love to Obi-Wan, not simply use him as if the boy were a whore. Force help him, he did love his Padawan, no matter how wrong it may be. Kneeling between Obi-Wan's spread legs he exposed himself as fully as Obi-Wan already had and was met with wide eyes.

One timid hand reached out to him, hovering over the erect length of his shaft and Qui-Gon caught it before Obi-Wan could touch him. Obi-Wan started, looking briefly wounded but it faded when all Qui-Gon did was turn his hand over and tip a small amount of the oil into the palm before releasing him.

Qui-Gon closed his eyes against the pulse of pleasure that surged through him as that slick hand curved around him, stroking almost too lightly. Without looking, he lifted his own hands to Obi-Wan's knees, gently stroking downward to the silken skin of his inner thighs. The hand on his cock tightened and Qui-Gon drew in a sharp breath, biting his lip. His own hand slid lower, gently stroking the cleft of Obi- Wan's buttocks, testing the tiny opening. Obi-Wan was still slick from the night before and Qui-Gon carefully eased the tip of a finger inside.

A soft gasp and Obi-Wan shifted to press against Qui-Gon's hand, forcing the finger deeper inside him. Adding more oil, Qui-Gon probed deeper, searching Obi-Wan's face for any sign of pain.

"Enough, Master, please!" It was a near sob and Qui-Gon responded to it, withdrawing his fingers. Lifting Obi-Wan's hips onto his knees, he shifted so that the head of his shaft was pressed against the tight entrance, groaning aloud at the blissful pressure. And there he stopped.

"Obi-Wan, look at me," he said huskily. The boy's eyes fluttered open to reveal languid warmth in their depths, desire, and passion and, yes, love. It flowed between them, around them and Qui-Gon inhaled deeply as if he could pull that sweet warmth into his lungs and inside him.

"I love you, my Obi-Wan," he whispered on his exhale as he pressed forward. Panting breaths escaped him as he was surrounded by tight slickness, wondrously hot as he slid deeply inside, firmly clasped by Obi-Wan's body.

Long moments of carefully easing deeper until the silken smoothness of Obi-Wan's buttocks were resting on his thighs and then Qui-Gon paused, struggling for control. Obi-Wan was squirming against him, crying out softly as he struggled against his lover's stillness, pleading and begging in soft, broken words until Qui-Gon felt he would lose his sanity.

"All right, then, Padawan," he growled, sliding his arms under Obi- Wan's knees and then his hips, lifting him from the bed to sit astride him. Still holding the boy locked in his arms, Qui-Gon raised him carefully and then dropped him back down, hard.

A startled yelp and he paused, concerned, but Obi-Wan wriggled against him, trying to move on his own. Qui-Gon tightened his grip, stilling him. The boy looked up at him a little wildly, and their eyes caught. For one frozen moment, the only movement was the rapid rise and fall of their chests from their ragged breathing and the trembling of straining muscles as they gazed at each other.

And then Obi-Wan shifted the tiniest bit, his inner muscles tightening around the shaft buried deep inside him, dragging a groan from Qui-Gon and the moment fractured, control washed away by need.

Qui-Gon rocked Obi-Wan against him, arms taut with effort of lifting his Padawan's not inconsiderable weight, moving inside Obi-Wan in short, stilted thrusts and the boy himself was little help, squirming against him, their awkward position offering no leverage.

Heat was arcing between them regardless and Obi-Wan threw his head back, keening loudly as Qui-Gon managed one deep thrust. Another thrust and Obi-Wan screamed, wet, warm pulses flooding between their already sweat-slicked bodies as he came.

The backlash of his orgasm sang through the Force, pushing Qui-Gon over the edge and he tipped Obi-Wan back onto the mattress, thrusting hard a last time as he came. Sweet ecstasy sparked through him and he was dimly aware of crying out, of Obi-Wan still writhing beneath him even as he collapsed, trembling with aftershocks as he gasped for breath.

He came back to awareness with the feeling of slim fingers feebly stroking his hair, plucking at the tie still holding it back. Qui-Gon sighed, lifting his head just enough to rest his forehead on Obi-Wan's as he waited for his heart to stop trying to pound its way from his chest.

A contented sigh from beneath him, and then, very softly, "Was that how you wanted it, Master?"

A weak chuckle escaped him. "Not exactly," he said, pressed a kiss to Obi-Wan's lips. "But it certainly wasn't an experience I would turn down. And I think," he added, lowering his head to gaze into his padawan's eyes, "That it would be permissible for you to use my name."

That earned him a smile. "Qui-Gon," he sighed, returning the gentle kiss with one of his own before allowing his head to fall back on the bedding as he closed his eyes. Obi-Wan shifted uncomfortably and with a groan Qui-Gon pulled back and out, noticing with distinct relief that there was no trace of blood.

He really hadn't meant to be that rough, he thought distantly, rubbing his cheek against Obi-Wan's neck and enjoying the feel of the boy in his arms as he laughed and tried to squirm away from the ticklish sensation. But this boy, oh, there was simply something about him that made Qui-Gon surge with heat, with or without a drug. They would have to be careful, such emotion could easily become overwhelming and tainted with darkness.

"Love you, I love you," Obi-Wan was chanting softly and Qui-Gon vaguely remembered Obi-Wan saying the same thing the night before, just as he had fallen asleep.

"I love you as well, my Obi-Wan," he murmured against warm skin and received a soft sigh in return.

Careful, yes, they would need to be careful. But right now he was content to simply lie here and hold this slim young man close to him, feeling the beat of Obi-Wan's heart against his cheek as Obi-Wan finally managed to free his hair from its binding and was finger- combing the length of it in long, soothing strokes.

Sighing, he relaxed into the gentle touch. They could deal with this later, he decided sleepily, it may be difficult to work through it but this nonetheless felt -right-, to hold and be held in this way. Sleep beckoned closer and Qui-Gon drifted into it, the heartbeat beneath his ear lulling him under, like the low pounding of a single drum.


-finis-
 

 

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