The Force was not a master, nor slave. It had no
emotion of its own, no thought, no desire. Its workings were not
given for mortal beings to understand, and though it might be
considered heresy, Qui-Gon did not believe it was possessed of any
sense of rightness or wrongness. It simply existed and sought
nothing more than a sense of balance. That was Qui-Gon's perception
and he had yet to be convinced otherwise.
The days when he joined the debates Master
Kowwan held every week in the mediation gardens were quite popular.
He had yet to be bested in the discussion but neither had he managed
to win. Even if he convinced no one of his ideas, if nothing else it
made for an interesting evening for the spectators. He, of course,
did not believe the Force was one of them.
He was, however, not entirely convinced that
it didn't have a sense of humor.
Truly, only some faint hilarity on the part of
the universe could explain why he was here at this moment, mostly
crouched on a too-narrow bed with Obi-Wan roughly fucking him.
Had it only been five years, Qui-Gon wondered,
since he had last seen his old padawan? He had changed so much; gone
was the beardless, soft-spoken youth. This man, this Knight he had
met, passed in the hallway before recognition had struck him, was a
stranger to him. Qui-Gon had barely had time to marvel over the
changes, the light in his eyes that spoke of a strength, a
confidence he had always known Obi-Wan could possess, before he
found himself seduced.
He couldn't help a groan as Obi-Wan pushed
deeply inside him, almost brutally, the hungry thrust of his hips
echoing in his grunts and sighs of pleasure. His hand, braced
against the bed, was clenched into a whitened fist, his other hand
sliding almost desperately in the slickness coating Qui-Gon's cock.
It was only the smallest show of a loss of control and Qui-Gon
reveled in it.
It was not, he thought dimly, nearly lost in
the sinking pleasure of it, the pained heat of Obi-Wan inside him,
how he had expected to meet Obi-Wan again. They had not parted well,
his taking of Anakin as padawan a brutal wounding to the young
Knight's pride, and certainly Obi-Wan had made no attempt to contact
him since then. He had regretted the necessity, but balance was
balance and he knew without someone to guide him Anakin could wreak
more damage than the Jedi Council, in their own arrogance, would
admit.
If this was the way Obi-Wan wished to
reconcile their troubles, he certainly hoped they fought often.
"Ahhhhh," Obi-Wan moaned, his hips slapping
hard against Qui-Gon as he thrust deeper yet, and edged even as it
was with a touch of agony, Qui-Gon could not resist the sudden whirl
of pleasure, tumbling from Obi-Wan into the Force, into the very air
around them and he gasped as he came, streaks of wet heat spurting
over Obi-Wan's hand. It was almost a kind of pain, their ecstasy
moving in the Force and he pulled it into him and slowly released
it, in a mimicry of the stilted movement still inside him.
He lowered himself to the bed on shaking arms
and felt oddly moved, too open, too vulnerable, and Qui-Gon found
himself looking to Obi-Wan for comfort. His old padawan was standing
next to the bed and made no effort to sit or even to touch Qui-Gon.
He only stood and stared, the light in his eyes that had spoken of
confidence now speaking an entirely different tongue.
"You fucked me," Obi-Wan said finally, his
voice cool. It sent a shiver through Qui-Gon but his words were like
being touched with ice. "And now I've fucked you. I'd call that
even."
Qui-Gon could not find a word to speak, could
only stare mutely as his...his what? Was there a word for this? Obi-Wan's
lips curled into a faint smile, mockingly sweet. "You always told me
the Force appreciated balance," he reminded him, fastening his
pants. It took barely a moment to brush away any hint of sex that
clung to him, shaking away the encounter like one might sweep dust
from their hands.
He lay silently on a bed that was not his own
and listened as Obi-Wan walked from the room and out, away from him.
He knew then that he would not see his old padawan again and it was
not regret that filled him now, only emptiness and the feel of Obi-Wan's
seed easing from his body, dampening the sheet beneath him.
The Force did not have a sense of right or
wrong, it knew only balance and sought only that. But Qui-Gon
thought it knew a bitter humor, and balance was not always of the
light.
-finis-
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