And now listen to me in turn. You have touched me more profoundly than
I thought even you could have touched me - my heart was full when you
came here today. Henceforward I am yours for everything...
-Elizabeth Barrett Browning
There was something that was just disconcerting about being completely
naked in a dark room, Obi-Wan decided, shifting awkwardly on the pillow
he was kneeling on. It wasn't that he was uncomfortable with his body
or with being nude. It just felt very...odd.
At least it wasn't cold.
Stifling the urge to squirm in his discomfort, Obi-Wan tried to focus
his attention back to what he was supposed to be doing; blanking his
mind and concentrating on his sense of touch. He focused on the velvety
pillow beneath his knees, the light brush of the air swirling around
him. Releasing his other senses he allowed only the awareness of touch.
His mind wasn't being very cooperative though. Instead of becoming
comfortably empty of thought, it instead kept drifting away, back to
the day a few weeks before when Qui-Gon had told him that it was time
for him to undergo this trial.
Actually, it had started the night before that, Obi-Wan thought. It had
been late in the evening and he and Qui-Gon had been talking. Well, he
had been talking anyway, Obi-Wan recalled somewhat ruefully, but his
master had been listened to him, with an expression that had looked
suspiciously like amusement.
He'd been telling his master forlornly about his last astrophysics exam
when he'd recalled, rather disgustedly, how oddly some of the other
padawans were acting around him lately. A few of them had taken to
sighing and giggling whenever he walked past, whispering to each other
behind their hands.
It made him feel strange and actually very uncomfortable, wondering
what they were talking about. But when he told his master about it,
Qui-Gon had just looked up from whatever he had been reading and
smiled.
"It's nothing for you to be worried about, Obi-Wan, I'm sure," Qui-Gon
had said, and when Obi-Wan still looked doubtful, he continued, gently,
"You're getting quite handsome, padawan, and your age mates are
probably just starting to notice it. It's nothing for you to be
concerned about. Besides," he'd added, teasingly, "When you are old and
decrepit like your master is you will be longing for the days of people
giggling over you."
Suddenly Qui-Gon had frowned, just a little, and Obi-Wan's playful
response had died on his lips. He'd sat there at his master's feet
uncertainly and blinked in surprise when Qui-Gon cupped his chin in one
large hand, tipping his face up. His master had studied his face for a
long moment, a thoughtful expression replacing the frown. Then even
that melted into a reassuring smile and Qui-Gon had let go of him,
ruffled his hair and sent him to bed.
He had gone, hesitantly, his own hand pressed to his cheek as he
briefly wondered what it was that Qui-Gon had been looking for. But the
older man had returned to his reading, and it was rude to question a
master anyway, so Obi-Wan had gone to bed as he had been told, lying
awake and wondering.
The next morning at breakfast Qui-Gon had told him, offhandedly,
that it was time for Obi-Wan to undergo this ritual. Obi-Wan had said
nothing at the time, only nodded and tried to appear calm even as he
fought to control the bright burst of panic that swept through him at
the thought. It was only another trial like all the others, nothing to
worry about, certainly nothing to be afraid of.
But it wasn't like all the other trials, not at all. This trial was far
different than any other he had gone through and Obi-Wan couldn't
control the tiny shiver that went through him.
A large hand had touched his shoulder and jerked him from his thoughts.
"Obi-Wan, this ritual is nothing for you to be afraid of and it's for
your benefit that you go through it." Qui-Gon smiled then, slightly,
"I've just become aware that you are growing up and you are getting
quite handsome." His expression turned serious as he continued, "And
that's all fine and good but beauty is a dangerous thing for a Jedi and
it brings its fair share of problems. I know you are still young
yet, but it's best if you learn how to deal with those problems now,
before..." He had hesitated, and then said firmly, "Before it becomes an
issue."
There had been shadows in Qui-Gon's eyes as he spoke and Obi-Wan
shivered at the memory, his chest tight as he wondered just how well
Qui-Gon knew of those problems.
And now he was here, waiting.
He'd spent all day meditating to prepare for this, although really it
hadn't been necessary. The trial itself wasn't that difficult. All he
had to do was absorb it, lock the memory into his mind, where it could
be retrieved later. That was easily done, Obi-Wan had been doing
such things since he was much younger.
It was the knowledge of -why- he was doing this that was difficult for
him. He had to make a pleasant memory of touch, one of pleasure, to be
saved and used against one of pain. Just in case. It was the 'just in
case' that made him nervous.
And that wasn't completely true either, Obi-Wan admitted. His
nervousness had gotten steadily worse since the two senior padawans had
retrieved him from his room that morning to prepare him for this
ritual. Their solemn expressions and silence had done nothing to ease
his growing anxiety over this; neither of them had spoken a word to
him. And Qui-Gon hadn't mentioned the ritual since that morning weeks
before.
It was the unknown that was bothering Obi-Wan, so much unknown. He had
a vague idea of what the ritual entailed, only what was told in his
initiate classes. He'd tried to research it on his own only to find the
texts were as vague as his class and asking Qui-Gon had been out of the
question.
Now it was too late. He was going to find out first hand about this
ritual. The other padawans who had taken him away that morning had
bathed him thoroughly, to Obi-Wan's blushing shame, and then taken him
to mediate. Then they had led him here, stripped him of his clothes
and left him, closing the door softly behind them and casting Obi-Wan
in shadows, leaving him alone in the room.
It didn't have to be Qui-Gon; he knew that much. If Qui-Gon didn't feel
that he could do this he was well within his right to ask another to
take his place. It could be anyone that Qui-Gon deemed appropriate,
anyone at all.
That thought only made his nervousness worse and now it was colored
with just a touch of fear. He decided it might be better not to think
of it. Now was the time to concentrate on the present, on what he was
supposed to be doing. Touch, and only touch. There was nothing more.
Awareness washed over him and Obi-Wan tensed. There, someone else was
in the room with him. Obi-Wan took a deep breath and released it,
struggling to push his fear away. He trusted Qui-Gon, knew that no
matter who it was they would be gentle and make this as pleasant as
possible. That was the point of the ritual, after all. He trusted his
master but all he could think of was that it could be anyone, anyone
and soon they were going to...
Touch him. Large, warm hands settled on Obi-Wan's bare shoulders,
squeezing lightly and Obi-Wan felt himself trembling, a bright flare of
panic rushing through him and he nearly bolted, nearly ran from that
touch and from the unknown.
And then he relaxed, tension easing. Warm hands, *familiar* hands and
Obi-Wan scolded himself silently for his doubt. He did trust his
master, without question, certainly trusted him enough for this. Hands
were sliding down the smooth skin of his back, rubbing soothingly and
Obi-Wan relaxed further underneath those hands, hands that had guided
him through so many things, had taught him so much. And now those well-
known and much-loved hands were touching him so gently and Obi-Wan felt
as if he could barely breath.
He felt Qui-Gon move to kneel behind him, a warm, comforting presence
and it was all he could do not to lean back against his master and
simply bask in that feeling. But he remained still, determined to go
through this ritual properly.
Those reassuring hands left him then and Obi-Wan had to bite back a
protest. Only touch, he reminded himself, no sound, and immediately
broke that rule with a soft sigh as Qui-Gon's hands returned, slick now
with something oily and warm. He rubbed Obi-Wan's shoulders, thumbs
digging into the tense muscles and Obi-Wan sighed again, fighting the
urge to simply melt into the floor.
The touch lightened as it drifted lower, long fingers gently stroking
over his slim hips and Obi-Wan's breathing quickened, his skin
prickling with nerves. No one had really told him what was going to
happen, not in so many details, but he knew. He knew the purpose of the
ritual; it was a precaution, just in case, just in case...
A pleasant memory made even the unthinkable more bearable.
One hand at the small of his back urged him to lean forward and Obi-Wan
did, resting his weight on his elbows as that hand slid downward, very
lightly, over his backside. The sensation of coarse hair abrading the
sensitive skin there made Obi-Wan blink as he realized Qui-Gon was
rubbing his cheek against his hip. Was this part of the ritual...? And
then Qui-Gon's fingers slid down the cleft of his buttocks to the small
pucker hidden between the smooth cheeks.
He hissed softly as one finger pressed just inside, easing its way
into his body. Qui-Gon was pressing gentle kisses against his skin,
moving upward to nuzzle the small of his back and Obi-Wan nearly sobbed
aloud. Was this what he had been afraid of? These gentle touches?
Qui-Gon's free hand slid around his hip to caress his belly with
teasing fingers before his hand slid lower, capturing his padawan's
erection in a gentle grasp. Obi-Wan had to bite his lip to keep from
crying out, only touch he reminded himself desperately, there was to be
no sound but a low whimper escaped him anyway as Qui-Gon's invading
finger slid deeply inside him at the same moment.
Squirming just a little, Obi-Wan lowered his head to his folded arms,
resting his forehead on them. It didn't really hurt, felt odd more
than anything but then that finger brushed something inside of him that
made him gasp in surprise before he could stifle it. Experimentally,
Obi-Wan rocked backwards and was rewarded with another flash of
pleasure. The dual sensations of the warm hand on his cock and the
finger inside him was a kind of bliss that Obi-Wan had never imagined
and had he really thought that this trial was simply something to be
endured?
The finger withdrew despite Obi-Wan's wordless protest only to be
replaced by two fingers and that was more difficult, his body
resisted. Qui-Gon pulled back briefly and Obi-Wan felt the slickness
of oil trickling down his backside before those fingers returned, more
insistently this time and his body open reluctantly to their invasion.
Obi-Wan bit his lip, trying to relax. It didn't really hurt but it
wasn't exactly comfortable either. Slowly, the movement became easier,
Qui-Gon's fingers sliding in and out of him without difficulty.
They pulled away yet again and this time they were replaced by
something large, hotter, a blunt pressure against his anus. Qui-Gon's
hands moved to Obi-Wan's hips, holding him still as he pressed forward.
A soft whimper escaped Obi-Wan in spite of himself. He'd expected this to
hurt somewhat, he wasn't -that- naïve but this was worse than he'd
expected, this thickness filling him. He tried to pull away, to ease
the pressure but the grasp on his hips was firm, holding him tightly as
Qui-Gon surged forward in one deep thrust before he stilled completely.
Obi-Wan cried out, knew that he wasn't supposed to but he couldn't help
it. He could taste salt and realized that he was crying, a feeling of
betrayal growing in him even as he shuddered with pain. Warmth settled
along his back as Qui-Gon stretched out over him. The movement rocked
both their hips and Obi-Wan whimpered softly, wanting to flinch away
from the touch but unable to, oh it hurt it really, really hurt...
"Shhh." Breathed ever so softly against his ear, warm lips slid over
his cheek, tasting his tears. The hands that had been holding him
still eased their grip, one hand gently petting Obi-Wan's hip, urging
him to relax while the other slid around again to Obi-Wan's lax penis.
His erection had faded at the pain but gentle fingers coaxed it back
again.
Lips slid back to Obi-Wan's ear and a soft tongue traced the delicate
curves while Qui-Gon's hands still stroked him, gently, and Obi-Wan
found himself relaxing under the careful touches, the pain easing.
Actually, it wasn't really that bad now and Obi-Wan experimentally
clenched his muscles around the flesh that was inside him, heard Qui-
Gon's startled gasp in response.
Ever so slowly, carefully, Qui-Gon drew back before he pressed inside
again and hesitated, as if watching for any sign of pain. It did hurt,
a little, but it felt strangely good too and Obi-Wan leaned back into
the gentle thrusts.
His master paused briefly just as it was starting to actually feel
really good and Obi-Wan could have screamed in protest. Instead he
waited, panting and still while Qui-Gon shifted backwards a bit,
pulling Obi-Wan with him until they were both on their knees. Obi-Wan
moaned his approval of this new position. It felt so much deeper and it
hurt but it was right -there-, right where he needed it and Qui-Gon
rocked them together, harder than before as he thrust upward into his
padawan's willing body.
They moved together, bodies sweat slick and the silent darkness of the
room was interrupted only by their broken gasps and soft sounds of
pleasure. Strong arms wrapped around Obi-Wan as his master thrust
upward, hard, muffling cries against the boy's neck and Obi-Wan felt as
if he was enveloped in his master, nothing more than an extension of
Qui-Gon and his pleasure. There was nothing but the heat and the
darkness and the sweet growing pressure at the base of his stomach.
Obi-Wan threw his head back against Qui-Gon's chest, his own hands
clenching Qui-Gon's arms painfully hard. He couldn't move, he was
trapped in Qui-Gon's embrace but it didn't matter because Qui-Gon moved
the both of them. There was something happening, something, and it was
so close, so unbelievably wonderful and Obi-Wan choked on a scream,
biting his lip as he came, spilling over Qui-Gon's stroking hand.
A wash of incredible pleasure swept over him and dimly heard himself
crying out, slumping backwards against Qui-Gon. His master clutched him
closer, his grip painfully hard as the older man shuddered against him
in his own completion and for a moment Obi-Wan could feel the shaft
inside him straining, a pulsing warmth inside him. And then Qui-Gon
relaxed profoundly, his grip loosening enough for Obi-Wan to draw a
deep breath into his starving lungs.
Shifting, Qui-Gon carefully withdrew, pulling a soft hiss from Obi-Wan.
Now that it was over Obi-Wan could feel his growing soreness and he
wondered, not without a touch of amusement, how he was going to sit for
the next week.
Qui-Gon moved to pull his padawan into his arms and Obi-Wan went,
unresisting. It felt almost too good to be in this familiar embrace and
he sank into the warm comfort that his master's arms offered. It hadn't
been an awful experience; in fact it had been something akin to
wonderful. But suddenly all Obi-Wan could think of was why they had
done this. Not out of love or any kind of affection but out of duty, to
help Obi-Wan on the off chance he was ever...assaulted.
No. He couldn't hide from this, even in his thoughts. It was a fear
that needed to be faced. The boy took a deep breath and forced himself
to think it. In case he was ever raped, he would be able to sink
himself into this memory and take himself away from pain and
humiliation.
To his embarrassed shock Obi-Wan realized that he was crying, drops of
wetness sliding down his cheeks to fall on Qui-Gon's bare chest. He
tried to pull away, swiping at his cheeks with the back of his hand but
the arms around him tightened slightly, refusing to release him.
Instead, Qui-Gon held him closely, rocking him gently as if he was only
a child. Vaguely feeling as if he should pull away and not allow Qui-
Gon to comfort him like this, Obi-Wan instead snuggled closer, feeling
safer here in his master's arms than anywhere else he had ever been in
his admittedly short life.
"Padawan. My Obi-Wan," whispered so softly that for a moment Obi-Wan
thought he had imagined it. A little shocked, he tilted his head to
look upward at his master even though there wasn't enough light to see.
They weren't supposed to speak, at all. This was supposed to be about
touch...the soft pressure of lips on his own blanked Obi-Wan's mind.
They weren't supposed to do this either, he thought hazily, but he
responded anyway, shyly flicking his tongue against Qui-Gon's lips. His
master pulled back, scattering gentle kisses over Obi-Wan's face and
the boy smiled, a bit senselessly. They weren't supposed to do this, he
was supposed to meditate now, implant this in his mind but Qui-Gon's
lips were gentle and warm and very wonderful.
Not supposed to, but when had Qui-Gon ever done what he was supposed to
do? Obi-Wan gave into it, kissing his master back just like they
weren't supposed to do, adding this sweetness and warmth to his
memories. They could stay like this, he decided, just a little bit
longer.
-finis--
Comments and questions to: bsp; mailto:keelywolfe@gmail.com
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