The rains were only just beginning, the heavy droplets that
were falling hinting at how the night would go as it worsened,
and the few beings that were still on the streets were all
moving as quickly as they could, huddled into their coats as
they hurriedly made their way to shelter for the night. Soon,
there would be nothing left but the vagrants, either too drunk
or too insane to think of sanctuary and as always, the next
clear day would find one or two of them drowned and lying near
whatever drainage pipes that the current had swept them
towards.
A tall figure walked calmly on the sidewalk, tugging his cloak
tighter around himself as he absently noted that the streets
were already beginning to flood. Only a bare inch of water but
in a matter of hours it would be knee deep, the flow strong
enough to pull a grown man beneath and hungrily drag him away.
Only a fool stayed on the streets when the rainy season began.
Yaasime was no fool, and his destination was already in sight,
beckoning him with a dry room and warmth that would cut through
the chill that was seeping through his coat. His steps quickened
unconsciously and he was silently grateful that he had already
paid for his room in advance. Braevyan's was a popular place to
stay during the wet days, for obvious reasons.
The transport disc's lights were starting to flash yellow, a
sign that they were about the shut them down until the rains
stopped, and Yaasime broke into a run, stepping onto the last
disc for the night. His stomach dropped out when the disc surged
upward, a sensation he had never liked but it was better than
having to climb the ancient ladders up to the skylevel. It would
take a strong man at least an hour and it certainly explained
the old proverb that the rains were the Old Ones way of culling
the sick and the weak.
The disc came to a halt, the safety bars rising and Yaasime
exited quickly, ducking under the rainhood that covered the
entrance and finally walking into Braevyan's
He inhaled deeply the rich scent of smoke, spiced with quailla
and mingling with the musk of almost too many masculine bodies
in a single room. Stopping at the check post, he gave over his
coat and weapons to a deceptively slender Neriandian, the
species that owned and ran Braevyan's. Fragile seeming
creatures, one of them could crush the larynx of a Hutt with
their bare hand.
Fights were few and far between in Braevyan's.
Stepping into the room proper, he had to smile at his
surroundings, the tension of the day easing away. The lights
were mellow and dim to relax the eyes and the sweetness of
elegant music caressed the ears. A faint clink of glasses and
the murmur of conversation were the only other sounds, aside
from the show going on in one of the darkened corners. Two boys
were pleasuring each other, their nude limbs writhing together
beneath the spotlights as their appreciative audience offered
tips to the silent taker who carried his basket to whoever held
a credit aloft.
Yes, there was nowhere better than Braevyan's to spend the rainy
season.
Seating himself at a table, Yaasime was quickly approached by a
server, a beautiful young man with dark eyes and darker skin,
his red armband announcing that he was still available for the
night.
Tempting, but it was still early and Yaasime wanted to see what
else the night had to offer before he made his choice. The boy
took his order and brought his drink quickly, smiling shyly as
Yaasime tucked an extra bill into the waist of his pants. He
swatted the boy lightly on his backside to send him off,
ignoring his pout as the lights came up on the main stage.
Two Neriandians stepped out, a figure of another species
standing between them. They led him over to a small podium,
arranging him as if he was a work of art rather than a living
creature, and perhaps he was because certainly Yaasime had to
catch his breath as they stepped away and the spotlight
enveloped the platform.
A human, his kohl-lined eyes lowered demurely as he stood
motionless beneath the lights. His hair was long, hanging down
to the middle of his back in dozens of tiny braids with
golden-red highlights gleaming in the strands. A thin gold
collar circling his neck and a tiny golden hoop threaded through
one nipple was his only jewelry and his clothes were nothing
more than nearly transparent pants in a rich shade of blue,
hanging low enough on slim hips that they hardly disguised
anything. He looked serene and relaxed despite his position, as
if there weren't dozens of men staring at him and calculating
his worth in their heads.
Sweat was beading on his naked chest from the heat of the lights
and as
Yaasime watched, a single droplet slid downward, trickling past
a dusky nipple that almost begged to be tasted and disappearing
below the waist of his pants.
The first auction of the night was going to be interesting
indeed.
The odd, flute-like tones of the Neriandian's voice rang softly
over the murmur of the crowd. " A human, 16, his first night on
the auction block. Never known the touch of a man's hands. Or
anything else for that matter." A titter went through the crowd
and Yaasime raised his eyebrows in surprise. A virgin, then, as
the first of the night? Better and better. Yaasime settled back
in his chair to watch the show. "Let's have the bidding start at
500 lir." An appreciative murmur went through the crowd and
Yaasime whistled softly. Braevyan's was not known for
exaggerating the worth of their employees so this boy must be
something special indeed.
A tiny monitor rose up from the center of the table, with a
bidding control. He watched as the bids started to scroll up the
screen and winced. Too rich for his purse. Still, it would be
interesting to see how high the price would go. It seemed to be
down to two bidders now, the numbers on the screen blurring as
the bidding became more and more furious until it finally came
to an abrupt stop.
The final amount was so obscenely large that Yaasime shook his
head at the waste. No bed warmer was worth that price, no matter
how pretty or virginal and there was always another pretty face
around that was much cheaper.
He watched as the Neriandians led the boy off the platform,
presumably to his customer for the evening, and as he walked
past Yaasime, their eyes met for just the briefest moment. He
caught his breath at that steady gaze, a faint, shy smile
curving the boy's soft lips and suddenly he could understand why
someone had paid such an excessive price for him. He was worth
any price, any at all...and then he walked past and the moment
was broken.
Yaasime shook his head slightly, taking a long pull on his
drink, and he was vaguely aware that he was sweating. He smirked
a little, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Not just a
pretty face on that boy, Yaasime had a feeling that he was a bit
more than just human and while it had still been very pricey for
a bed warmer there was no doubt in his mind that someone was
going to be getting their money's worth out of that one.
Reaching out, he grabbed the young man who had brought his drink
as he was passing by, pulling the willing, and much less
expensive, boy into his lap. A proper exchange of credits and he
proceeded to forget all about the mysterious boy on the auction
block.
He felt like an idiot.
Following along behind the Neriandians, Obi-Wan fought the urge
to cross his arms over his bare chest, concentrating instead on
appearing seductive. Difficult to do when he felt like an idiot.
A dressed up, painted little doll of an idiot.
No one ever mentioned these kinds of missions to the initiates.
Casting a surreptitious glance at the Neriandians, he raised a
hand to his head and itched furiously. His hair had only been
grown out the day before and his scalp still hadn't recovered
from the over-stimulation. They had told him to leave it alone,
of course. Why was it that anything that made you itch, you were
always forbidden to scratch?
Another customer was walking down from the opposite direction
and he blushed faintly at the sudden interest he saw in the
man's eyes. It was embarrassing, really, to have so much sexual
energy focused at him and he actually felt a little lightheaded.
He'd been in a state of almost constant arousal since he'd
arrived here and found himself being prepared to act as a
bedmate. They'd spent hours preparing him, bathing him, rubbing
scented oils into his skin. Braevyan's certainly took their
business seriously. Having to call the Jedi in for this little
deception was probably killing them, but it was better than the
alternative.
Several of their employees had vanished in the past few months
and if it wasn't stopped soon, no one would want to work for
them, and while the owners were good businessmen, they weren't
exactly what most species looked for in a bed warmer. Perhaps it
was the spiny skin...
The Neriandians turned down a corridor and he hurried to follow
them, eager to get his little deception done for the night. He
was tired from the journey from Coruscant, whatever paint they
had used on his eyes was starting to burn and five minutes alone
in a washroom wouldn't have been amiss.
The hormones of a healthy sixteen-year old human and the
aphrodisiacs that perfumed everything here didn't seem to mingle
well.
After what seemed to be an eternal amount of time, they finally
stopped at one of the room. His escorts said nothing but the
warning look they gave him spoke volumes before they walked away
and left him standing in front of the closed door. He understood
their message perfectly.
Don't mess up.
He lingered nervously in the hallway a moment, bracing himself.
The Neriandians had only agreed to allow the Jedi to help them
if they promised that no one would know they were there.
Certainly the owners had nothing to fear; Braevyan's was one of
the most well established brothels in the sector and they
weren't about to risk their business by doing anything illegal.
All their permits and licenses were even up to date.
Their clients, however, couldn't all say the same thing and
having them know that there were Jedi on the premises would be
bad for business. It had been decided that the best way to hide
was in plain sight, but if one was to be disguised as a
prostitute then one had to act like one or else arouse
suspicion. So he'd have to arouse something else instead, or at
least make the person think something else had been aroused.
Obi-Wan cursed the Neriandians silently for making him the first
auction of the night. An alcohol-soaked mind was easily
manipulated, a few suggestions and the person could be in a
dazed sleep, and when they woke the next day they'd never be the
wiser that their bed warmer had never even taken off his
clothes. This early though it was highly doubtful that his
patron was drunk, and Obi-Wan fingered the slender vial that was
concealed in the seam of his pants.
A few drops of 'challa would work just as well, if he could
convince his client to have a drink. If not, well, he was
prepared for that eventuality as well, if it came to that.
Having the hormones of a sixteen year old could be a good thing
as well.
Taking a deep breath and trying to look seductive, even if he
felt like an ass, Obi-Wan opened the door and walked inside.
The lights in the room were already dimmed, and Obi-Wan squinted
slightly as he made his way carefully through. Tripping over the
furniture was probably not the best way to give a seductive
impression.
The sound of someone moving startled him, and he whirled
instinctively, only just keeping himself from moving
automatically into a defensive posture. Good one, Kenobi, he
thought sourly. The way he was acting, he might as well have
tattooed the word 'spy' on his forehead.
Another rustling sound, and Obi-Wan followed it, turning towards
the bed. He could just make out the dark outline of someone
stretched out on the mattress.
Silence greeted him, and for a moment Obi-Wan simply stared at
his client, unable to think of what to say. How exactly did a
prostitute break the ice?
"Take off your clothes," came harshly from the bed and Obi-Wan
started. Well, that would certainly do it and Obi-Wan's hopes
that his customer would at least be somewhat attractive
plummeted. His voice sounded like a wookie with a head cold. It
figured.
The man said nothing else, seemed to be waiting for him to begin
undressing. Now would probably be a good time to see just how
easily the man could be manipulated. Wetting his lips, Obi-Wan
pushed away his growing nervousness as he gathered the Force to
him and injected it into his voice. "Perhaps you should pay me
first?" he said softly, gesturing slightly with one hand.
"You're going to have to do better than that for a what I'm
paying for you, little Jedi," the man replied, amused. But the
tone of his voice had changed. Gone was that strange hoarseness,
this voice was as smooth as glass and just as sharp. Nervousness
fled to be replaced by something closer to shock as Obi-Wan
realized, with a growing sense of horror, that he knew that
voice.
"At a loss for words? That's new," Xanatos said, growing
amusement in his voice as he reached over and turned on a light.
Obi-Wan winced at the sudden brightness, but not before catching
a glimpse of the darkly clad man on the bed, still wearing his
cloak.
"I admit, I was surprised to see you peddling yourself on the
auction block like a common whore," Xanatos continued, as if
oblivious to Obi-Wan's growing dismay, "But I've never been one
who can turn away opportunity."
His first step backwards was uncertain, his eyes still locked on
the man in front of him, who had lowered his hood calmly and
revealed what Obi-Wan's ears had already told him; that this man
whom he'd thought a stranger was actually someone he knew far
better than he was comfortable thinking about. His second step
was nearly a stumble and Obi-Wan caught himself before he fell,
his gaze never leaving Xanatos's amused face as he backed towards
the door. This had been nothing more than a mission before, no
more dangerous than any other one. Now it was something else
entirely.
Just as he'd closed his fingers over the cool metal, a thought
occurred to him. He couldn't leave. If Xanatos was somehow
involved in the disappearing prostitutes then he needed to
discover how. But if he wasn't, he could still ruin Obi-Wan's
cover. Another horrified idea, what if Xanatos was planning to
kidnap him again? If he was taken from the brothel it could ruin
their entire plan.
He was still leaning against the door, trying to decide what to
do when -something- grabbed him, pulling him and he lurched
forward, falling to his knees. The pressure of the Force around
him dissipated and he leapt to his feet, reaching out and
gathering the Force himself. Xanatos wasn't the only Force-user
in the room.
"I'm not helpless this time, Xanatos," he said coldly, watching
warily as the former Jedi stood, but all he did was strip off
his cloak and toss it on a nearby chair. He crossed his arms
over his chest and regarded Obi-Wan thoughtfully.
"No, this time you were for sale. And you're obviously still a
brat." He waved a hand at Obi-Wan carelessly. "Oh, just relax.
I'm not going to hurt you and you know I don't have any weapons,
they check them at the door."
True enough. Obi-Wan let his hold on the Force slip away,
relaxing but still keeping a wary eye on Xanatos. "If you're not
going to hurt me, then why are you here?"
Deeply amused blue eyes met his own. "Paying for the privilege
of your company obviously." He sat down easily on the mattress
and started unbuckling his boots, much to Obi-Wan's shock. "And
while we are discussing the 'pay' part of that, let me say that
I think I should get a discount. They said you were a virgin and
we both know that's not true."
"They never said I was a virgin. They said I've never known a
man's touch."
Xanatos paused. "Ouch. Your tongue hasn't gotten any duller."
Finally undoing the last buckle, Xanatos kicked his boots off
and sighed, stretching out his feet as if they ached and Obi-Wan
wondered briefly what he had been doing since the last time
they'd met. A year ago, they'd spent a few days in unwilling
company during a storm, Xanatos planning on using him as bait to
get at Qui-Gon. Until he'd had a change of heart and had all but
thrown Obi-Wan out. Until they'd...
His mind skittered away from that thought automatically. Better
not to think of it and risk remembering. He'd spent a year
trying to exercise himself of it and he wasn't about open that
particular box of memories again.
Xanatos sprawled backwards on the bed, one foot lazily swinging.
"You've grown in the past year," he mused softly, rolling over
so he could see Obi-Wan. "How old are you now?"
"Sixteen," he said shortly. As if Xanatos didn't know.
The older man nodded thoughtfully. "Sixteen. To think that I was
ever that young."
"I have a hard time imagining it myself."
That earned him a sharp glare. "Ever concerned about my age,
aren't you." Xanatos shook his head. "So, freshly sixteen and
they sent you here." He smiled, his eyes glittering. "Did you
get my birthday present?"
Obi-Wan's mouth twisted. He had. An unfamiliar messenger had
delivered it to his quarters at the Temple. It had been
something of a shock; he hadn't been able to think of anyone
who'd send him a gift. Certainly not Qui-Gon. Bypassing his
master's curious glance, he'd opened it in the privacy of his
room and for that he was grateful because if he had opened it in
front of Qui-Gon it would have taken some explaining.
It had been a small puzzle box that he had admired on a mission
to Durago. He and Qui-Gon had had a day off from negotiations
and they'd gone to the marketplace when Obi-Wan had seen it,
exquisitely crafted and very far out of the range of a padawan's
budget. He had looked at it wistfully for only a few moments and
then he had moved on.
There had been a small note in the box as well, signed only with
a graceful 'X' that had frozen his blood to see. He'd burned the
note that night. The puzzle box was hidden underneath his bed;
he hadn't had the heart to get rid of it, even if he hadn't
dared do anything but look at it.
"I'll take your expression to mean yes." Xanatos's voice
softened, almost hurt as he said, "You didn't like it? I picked
it out especially for you."
"Whether or not I liked it doesn't matter," he snapped. "Why did
you send it to me? Still trying to get at Qui-Gon? Is that why
you've been following me around like a lost pet this past year?"
Xanatos laughed softly. "I may have stopped in to check on you
from time to time."
And he had, Obi-Wan thought sourly. On several missions and even
once or twice on Coruscant he'd felt what was becoming a
familiar sensation, like an itch at the back of his head. He
would turn and catch perhaps a glimpse of dark hair, a face in
the crowd that would vanish almost instantly. It didn't matter,
he'd known who it was and each time he'd felt a moment of stark
terror, that this would be the time that Qui-Gon saw him and
found out what he had done.
A hundred times Obi-Wan had almost told him, the fear of Xanatos
telling before he could and knowing how very much that would
hurt his master pushing him but every time he tried to say
something, he imagined Qui-Gon's expression. The hurt and
disappointment that he knew would be in his master's eyes. The
rejection.
The hate.
Just imagining it stilled his tongue and held back the words. It
ate at him, knowing that with each day passing the betrayal grew
and when Qui-Gon finally did know, his chances of being forgiven
lessened. If he even had a chance. Better perhaps to take
whatever time with Qui-Gon that he could.
It was all about choices, choosing to sleep with Xanatos,
choosing not to tell Qui-Gon. Life as a Jedi had taught him that
there were always choices, difficult ones, yes, but always a
choice. The thought didn't help him sleep at night and if he'd
known his actions would earn him a permanent shadow, he might
have reconsidered.
"So let me see if I understand this," Xanatos's voice drifted
over from the bed. "You're sixteen and the Jedi have decided
that you're old enough now to whore for them? I didn't realize
the Temple funds were getting so low."
"I'm not whoring for them!" he snapped, falling silent as
Xanatos laughed aloud, and he bit his lip against angry words
that longed to escape. Something about Xanatos made him forget
everything he had ever been taught about control.
The laughter trailed away and Xanatos rolled over, propping his
head up on his elbow. An amused smile still lingered on his
face. "So you can still feel emotion. I thought perhaps they'd
managed to train it all out of you."
"The Jedi aren't against feeling emotion," Obi-Wan replied
automatically, "Only against letting..."
"Shut up."
He was so startled by the curt command that he did. All
amusement had left Xanatos's face and there was only the coldness
of anger.
"Now, listen to me very carefully because I am only going to
tell you this once. I was with the Jedi for longer than you have
been alive and I remember their training quite clearly, so the
last thing I need from you is lessons about them. What I want is
you on this bed, with me, now."
When Obi-Wan didn't move, he gave a long-suffering sigh and
rolled to his feet. He extended a hand to the young Jedi,
raising an eyebrow when he still didn't move. "Don't play coy,
it doesn't become you."
That earned him a glare and a step backwards, and Xanatos made a
sound of exasperation. "Look, brat, I paid an exorbitant amount
of money for you and I am not leaving until I get what I paid
for, one way or another."
"Threatening me won't get me into your bed."
"No? And what if I tell you that if you don't then I'm going to
reveal your little scam to the patrons of this lovely
establishment?" Crossing his arms, Xanatos leaned against one of
the bedposts and looked at Obi-Wan expectantly.
Obi-Wan frowned and stopped. "What scam?"
"Taking people's money and then using little mind tricks to
convince them you bedded them is a breach of contract, brat. Or
perhaps I'll just complain to the owners..."
"All right!" Obi-Wan snapped before he could catch himself. He
closed his eyes and took a deep breath before he asked quietly,
the barest hint of pain in his voice. "Why are you doing this?"
"Because right now I am not an ex-Jedi bent on revenge and
you're not a Padawan. You're a prostitute and I paid for you.
Now, come here!"
With obvious reluctance, Obi-Wan walked forward until he was
standing in front of Xanatos. He kept his eyes focused at
chest-level, refusing to meet Xanatos's eyes and see the triumph
there. Gentle hands cupping the sides of his face took him
off-guard and he couldn't hold back a sigh of gratitude as they
slid upward into his hair, toying with the long braids before
tenderly rubbing his scalp.
"Just had it done, I'm assuming?" Obi-Wan nodded slightly in
reply, tilting his head so that Xanatos could reach all the
itchy parts. Warm breath caressed his ear as the older man
whispered, "I like it. Whose idea was it?"
"Mine," Obi-Wan said, trying to ignore the husky note in his
voice. "It's considered stylish here."
"Ah, and we can't be unstylish, can we?" Warm amusement and
Obi-Wan's tart comment remained unspoken as Xanatos shifted to
nibble on his earlobe, sucking the soft flesh into his mouth.
One of the hands in his hair tightened, forcing his head to tilt
back while the other hand slid down his cheek, Xanatos kissing
his way down the line of Obi-Wan's chin to his lips.
They were close enough to taste each other's breath, but Xanatos
didn't allow their lips to touch. Hazily, Obi-Wan opened his
eyes to stare at the other man in confusion.
"I'd kiss you, but it seems inappropriate somehow to kiss a
whore."
As Xanatos had expected, the haze in those pale eyes vanished
and fury erupted in their depths. Obi-Wan struggled to push
Xanatos away but the hand in his hair tightened into a fist,
holding him painfully still.
"I'm not whoring for them," Obi-Wan hissed between clenched
teeth. "I volunteered for this mission and I already knew then
what might happen. It's just a mission, like a hundred others
I've been on." It was a lie, he realized, even as he said it and
he knew that Xanatos knew it was a lie. A mission, yes, that was
true, but he was selling himself for the Jedi cause, and
something inside him curled up at the knowledge and nearly wept.
It was a lie, and suddenly hearing Xanatos agree with him was an
abrupt shock.
"You're right." The hand in his hair loosened, and began petting
again gently, and Obi-Wan stood there uncertainly, allowing it.
Xanatos was nodding thoughtfully. "You're right, this is a
mission, just like a few hundred others you've been on. You've
been whoring for them since the moment they walked you into that
Temple. Your body is just a vessel for them to do with as they
wish."
In that instant, Obi-Wan could have hated Xanatos. "And you're
somehow better then them? Aren't you doing the same thing?"
"At least I am honest about my intentions."
The push was completely unexpected, and Obi-Wan fell back onto
the bed. Xanatos was on him instantly, his weight pushing
Obi-Wan back into the soft mattress as Xanatos captured his lips
in a punishing kiss. Teeth clicked painfully and he forced his
tongue roughly into the boy's mouth.
Obi-Wan's hands scrabbled at Xanatos's shoulders, clutching them
as he wavered against pushing him a way or pulling him closer.
This wasn't like the one time they were together before. Gone
was the sweet tenderness that, at the time, he had hardly
believed Xanatos to be capable of giving. This was painful and
frightening; it was interfering with his mission.
So why did he want it so much?
Sliding his hands upward, Obi-Wan cupped the back of Xanatos's
head, heard a muffled moan of approval. A moments searching
revealed the tie that held back Xanatos hair and he yanked it
free, hearing the tiny crackle of hairs breaking. Xanatos hissed
softly into his mouth but offered no protest as he swept his
tongue quickly over Obi-Wan's.
Cool silk cascaded over Obi-Wan's hands and wrists, just as he
remembered it from a year ago, thick and soft, dark as bitter
tea. Beautiful. He buried his hands in it, dimly aware that he
was shaking.
What are you doing to me, he wanted to scream, why are you doing
this? It wasn't fair, wasn't, to want this so much, to want
Xanatos at all. To be kissing him back fiercely despite the
almost painful pressure, nipping at the older man's lips and
getting soft gasps in reply.
Large hands captured his own, carefully detangling them from
Xanatos's hair and pushed them above Obi-Wan's head. He let them,
arching his back and stretching luxuriantly as a warm thumb
stroked the inside of his wrist.
The feeling of cool metal replaced it and Obi-Wan jerked in
surprised, pulling his mouth from Xanatos to look up at the
manacles circling his wrists. "Hey!"
Xanatos looked down at him and smiled, his lips red and slightly
swollen from the force of their kisses. "Don't look so startled,
brat," he said lightly. "We're in a brothel, it's bound to have
all sorts of interesting toys."
Struggling, Obi-Wan heard the chains clinking against the hard
wood of the bed frame. "This wasn't part of the deal!"
"What deal? You sold yourself to me and if you're going to play
the part of a whore then don't be surprised when you're treated
like one." Nearly panicked, Obi-Wan reached for the Force to
find he wasn't calm enough to manipulate it properly. Xanatos
stretched out over him, blanketing Obi-Wan's smaller frame with
his body despite his protests. "You never get your roles right,"
Xanatos observed, "*Last* time you should have been moaning
'stop, don't'."
Ignoring the boy's snarled response, Xanatos nuzzled his neck
gently, whispering to him, "You're stilling playing captive,
brat. I own you tonight and I am going to do whatever I want to
you. And you are going to let me."
Soft, wet kisses against Obi-Wan's skin, trailing down his chest
to the ring piercing his nipple. Using his teeth, Xanatos tugged
on it with just a touch too much force, the tiny pain making
Obi-Wan bite his tongue to hold back a moan.
No. He didn't really want this. It was for the mission, only for
the mission, he chanted silently.
"This is just for your mission," Xanatos murmured against his
skin, echoing his thoughts. "It's only a mission, you're only
doing what you have to do."
His hands went to the waist of Obi-Wan's pants, stroking the
silky material briefly before moving to push them down. Raising
his hips, Obi-Wan shifted and helped as best he could without
his hands free. For the mission, he repeated, closing his eyes
against the feel of warm hands caressing his ankles.
They moved to slide up his legs, over his thighs and stopping to
rest on his hips. Obi-Wan stirred restlessly, naked but for his
collar and feeling even more exposed for it. A gentle hand
moving to rest on his erection stilled him quickly and he gave a
choked gasp, arching up into the too-light touch.
"You always were too beautiful for your own good." Sighed above
him and he nearly screamed when the wet heat of a mouth replaced
the hand. The slight roughness of Xanatos's tongue teased around
the crown of his erection and Obi-Wan trembled, feeling truly
helpless for the first time.
Wet heat surrounding his cock, and the barest amount of gentle
suction and Obi-Wan arched up desperately, sobbing aloud when
Xanatos pulled back. When he settled back against the bed,
Xanatos leaned forward again, taking his erection deeply into
that almost too perfect heat.
The cold air on his wet skin was such a shock that Obi-Wan's
eyes flew open, looking at the man kneeling between his legs
with dismay. Xanatos smiled, running a gentle finger down
Obi-Wan's slick shaft and laughing softly when the flesh
strained eagerly into his touch.
"Sorry, brat. But you're here for me, remember, not the other
way around."
It took Obi-Wan's dazed mind a moment to wrap around the meaning
of those words, and Xanatos was already moving to roll him on
his stomach by the time it hit him. He didn't even pause to
think, struggling against Xanatos's grasping hands.
The older man sighed, a tinge of exasperation in the sound. "You
seem to be confusing your roles again. I paid for wild and
willing, not the reluctant virgin."
"You already had that once!"
"Well, one of us is surely confused because I remember the
virgin, but the reluctant part has slipped my mind." Finally
getting Obi-Wan on his stomach, despite his protests, Xanatos
admired the boy's backside, the muscles flexing as he still
fought. The flat of his hand smacking down on the soft cheeks
brought a shocked yelp and stillness.
"Hold still," Xanatos said unnecessarily. Obi-Wan bit his lip
until he tasted blood, unwilling to give Xanatos any more
amusement. He had to do this for his mission, no matter how he
much he hated it.
A warm finger trailing down his spine to the cleft of his
buttocks made him tense, and Obi-Wan forced himself to relax.
The mission, he repeated, this was for the mission. The finger
stroked lightly between his cheeks, seeking and then
withdrawing. An invasion was coming next, he knew it, and his
muscles clenched reflexively against it. Not yet, he wanted to
beg, please not yet. He was tense, unprepared, his flesh would
tear and bleed. *not yet.*
He said nothing, biting his tongue against pleas that longed to
escape. He would not plead with Xanatos, now or ever. Not for
anything. The delicate sweep of a tongue was such a shock to
skin that was expecting brutality that Obi-Wan forgot himself
and whimpered, "Oh, Force."
Hot breath against the sensitive skin of his backside, and the
tongue came again, the tip moving gently over the puckered
entrance hidden there. *Oh, gods, Xanatos was...he was...oh,
gods, oh gods oh gods...*
Xanatos probed lightly with his tongue, nimbly teasing the tiny
opening and Obi-Wan spasmed wildly, a cry escaping him as
Xanatos curled his tongue over the sensitive bud and gifted him
with a kind of forbidden pleasure he'd never even considered.
The pressure of a slick finger pushing inside him didn't even
register at first, paling in comparison to the tongue that was
still stroking him. When realization came, Obi-Wan pressed
backwards into the touch, uncaring as to what it meant anymore
as a second finger joined the first, thrusting inside him,
stretching him.
Xanatos withdrew and Obi-Wan heard the rustle of clothing as he
stripped hastily. He was back in the bed in an instant, warm
naked flesh pressing along Obi-Wan's back. Hands coaxed Obi-Wan
up onto his knees and he went awkwardly, using his elbows to
support him as Xanatos positioned him. He felt the head of
Xanatos's cock pressing against him, gently, and then with more
persistence, Xanatos hands, clutching his hips as he struggled
to push forward.
Aching pressure, one night of making love nearly a year ago
hadn't prepared him for this, the tender burn of penetration as
Xanatos pushed inside his body. A ripple of the Force swept over
him, startling and soothing him, and how had he forgotten that
Xanatos knew the Force as well as he did? He relaxed with it, a
strange flutter moving over his skin and coaxing him to accept
the hard flesh that was moving inside him.
A shudder went through Xanatos and he shifted to bury his damp
face against Obi-Wan's shoulder, holding still briefly to allow
the boy to adjust. Slim hips arched eagerly backwards and
Xanatos followed their wordless command, heard the boy's sudden
gasp as a brilliant burst of pleasure rose from within.
Behind his closed eyes Obi-Wan could see dim sparks of energy,
Force gathering and rising around them both as they reached for
it unconsciously, needing to feel the comfort of its embrace and
the reverberation of pleasure between them.
Spread beneath the heavy weight of Xanatos's body, his hands
chained to the bedpost, Obi-Wan was utterly vulnerable, helpless
against the harsh rhythm of deep thrusts filling him. Words
tumbled thoughtlessly from his lips, begging for more, for
harder and it wasn't his fault. This wasn't his fault, it was
for the mission, just the mission and he was burning from the
inside out, nothing but building sensation and heat.
Xanatos was speaking, his voice harsh and jagged with passion.
"This is mine," he gritted out, thrusting hard and quick into
the pliant body beneath him. "This is mine, this will always be
mine and while you're busy whoring yourself for the Jedi cause,
you are never going to be able to forget that I. Had. You.
First!"
A mingled cry echoed through the room, nearly a scream as
combined pleasure surged and surged again, echoing through both
of them, the liquid warmth of ecstasy melting their bones and
Xanatos sagged weakly against the boy beneath him, his weight
pressing Obi-Wan into the mattress as he folded as well.
The quiet clink of metal as his wrists were released, and
Obi-Wan rolled over onto his back, unable to raise even enough
energy to open his eyes. A soft blanket covered him, and he
sighed in thanks, shifting to rest his cheek against Xanatos
bare chest as he slipped into sleep.
The common room was nearly empty in the late evening, a
scattering of people who were unable to sleep nursed drinks in
the darkened corners. More early morning now, Yaasime mused,
sipping on a cup of warm tea. He'd left the boy he'd hired for
the night sound asleep in the room he'd rented and gone out for
a quick drink.
Now he was nothing more than pleasantly relaxed and sleepy,
pondering whether or not he felt up to another round tonight. He
was going to be here for a few nights as it was, so there was
always tomorrow. Getting to his feet, he stretched and tossed a
handful of credits on the table. Just thinking about the pretty
boy in his bed was helping him work up some enthusiasm.
As he turned to go back to his room, he was startled to see a
man at the front desk gathering his coat to leave. He was rather
surprised that the owners hadn't tried to get the man to stay.
None of his business, really, if the fool chose to drown himself
but Yaasime found himself speaking up anyway.
"You might want to just stay the night, it's dangerous out there
during the rainy season."
The man paused just as he was putting on his coat and he turned
around, focusing on Yaasime with a strange gleam in his pale
blue eyes. Yaasime shivered, suddenly chilled by the intensity
that gaze.
"Thank you for your concern, but I'll be fine," the stranger
said, seeming deeply amused. Something in his voice was worse
than his eyes, like broken glass dragging across Yaasime's
nerves. "After all," he continued, "The storm is just
beginning." He smiled and gave a slight, almost mocking bow
before he turned away and walked out into the downpour, leaving
Yaasime alone and wishing very muchly that he hadn't left the
warmth of his bed.
-finis--
Comments and questions to: bsp; mailto:keelywolfe@gmail.com
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