Author: Fuchsia Groan ([email protected])
Title: Xanatossoff 2: Cool Air
Rating: NC-17

Summary: Qui-Gon and Mace Windu are sparring. Padawan Xanatos watches from his hiding place. Things happen.

Warnings: Underage alert! Xanatos is 15.
Pairing: X/himself, Q/X
Archive: Well, sites that archive underage stuff: Broken Circle, XaniEB, Obi-Chan. Others please ask first. I'm easy!

Disclaimer: Xanatos belongs to Jude Watson and Dave Wolverton, Qui-Gon and Mace Windu belong to the Force (and George Lucas)...sigh. I just tend to pose them like dirty action figures for my own amusement. No money receiv'd. Acknowledgment: To Mistress Elektra, who tore this story apart with her bare claws and exposed the very heart of my writing weaknesses, so I wouldn't have to expose them to the rest of the world! Thanks for a thorough and extremely helpful beta!

Feedback: Oh yes, please! It keeps the bunnies from devouring me from within!

The sparring studio was off the beaten path as training rooms went. It was on H level, above the level of the crisscrossing turbo tubes which overlaid the open expanse of the central Temple court, many hundreds of meters above the Garden of a Thousand Fountains. The tiny room lay in the West Wing of the Temple, the last door in a winding cul-de-sac corridor which appeared to be unconnected to the main logical design of the Temple. There was no mirror to it in the East Wing. Symmetry was lost in these etheric reaches.

The rising Coruscant sun did not penetrate the deep shadows of the small room; the filtering light of the single large transparisteel window barely illuminated the strong shapes who moved in catlike silhouette. Master Qui-Gon Jinn stood facing Master Mace Windu, saber drawn and held ready at his right shoulder. The morning was young and gray in this small chamber, but the two masters had been sparring already for an hour. It was two days before Mace was to be sent on a difficult and dangerous mission. Qui-Gon had been meeting Mace every morning for several weeks to hone his battle skills to the crystal sharpness he would need in the situation facing him. In return, Mace had promised to assist in tutoring Qui-Gon's padawan, Xanatos, in the finer points of facing multiple attackers in saber combat.

Now, all was quiet. The only sound was the soft whirring of circulating air through the vents at either side of the room. Mace took a defensive stance and the two men engaged once again.

Qui-Gon slashed down and across Mace's body with lightning speed, causing Mace to jump too quickly backwards, creating a large gap between the men. When Mace moved in to correct it, Qui-Gon pressed him back against the wall and into the whirring vent with a crash. Mace managed to counterstrike in front of his body, using the pressure of his saber against Qui-Gon's to turn himself around and remove himself from his precarious position.

Behind the vent's grating a pair of ice blue eyes stared silently, absorbing all that happened. Xanatos had followed Qui-Gon surreptitiously as he left for his morning rendezvous, curiosity piqued as to why his master was always gone in the mornings. When he found his destination, he worked his way around the adjacent corridors until he found a possible access through a ceiling vent on the floor below. The fit had been somewhat tight, but his extraordinarily thin form navigated the small space easily. He had settled only a few minutes earlier, curled himself into a tight ball and begun watching the two masters fight.

He had been startled at the expression on Qui-Gon's face as he drove Mace against the wall. His master's eyes were unfocused, yet deeply penetrating, as if they were seeing something far away, concentrating hard on it. His teeth were clenched, and his face flushed with excitement. Xanatos stared at his master, fascinated by what he saw. Peering into Qui-Gon's eyes was like glimpsing another world in miniature, laid atop this one, unknowable in its rare energy.

Xanatos followed his master's eyes, entranced; he watched them widen as Mace pushed him back and down, causing him to roll quickly backwards. Mace attacked where Qui-Gon's fallen form would have been had Qui-Gon not caught Mace's leg in a low kick which propelled him sideways, away from Mace's slashing cut. Mace flew in a clean arc over Qui-Gon's outstretched leg, his saber held away from his body. Qui-Gon had rolled out of Xanatos' field of view.

Mace landed quietly and advanced, his dark face and garbed shoulders profiled in Xanatos' view. The master panted with exertion, eyes fiery and focused, lips parted and taking quick deep breaths. Suddenly, Qui-Gon appeared almost directly in front of Xanatos' hiding place in a flurry of activity. As he turned around Mace's attack, his face wore an expression that could only be pure ecstasy. His eyes were far away, his body moved at the command of the Force, and Xanatos could see it reflected clearly in his bearing. His master was touching and touched by the Force.

Xanatos focused on the extraordinary eyes of his master. The Force opened to him; he connected his energy to the swirling fields of immense energy stirred up by the conflict between the masters. He felt his limbs tingling with sensation; it electrified him and pulled him into the realm of the unseen. He could see the effect it had on his master and on Mace Windu. Both of their expressions were indefinable, totally focused on each other, yet far away, connected by a common thread to the untamable Force. The air glowed around the two men; the dull gray of the tiny training room was replaced by the glowing Force-signatures of the men wrapped in its power.

The charged feeling in the air excited Xanatos before he could even understand it in his mind. He felt his flesh hardening between his tucked legs, his breath quickening. He raised own hand to his face. It glowed a deep diaphanous red which excited him as he realized that it was part of him. He carefully worked his hand under his knees and down onto his stretched trousers. The invisible fingers of Force bristled as he ran his hand across the soft fabric.

He saw the glow was all around him. As he saw it, he became aware that it was also within him. He could feel it everywhere. Color became warmth. The cool air from the ventilation system did little to quell the heat which rose within him. He watched his master carefully, the excitement building within him. He slowly became aware that he was breathing rather hard and raggedly. With a sudden start, he remembered where he was; he must be quiet.

Xanatos slowed his breathing with great effort. The lowered oxygen intake caused his vision to blur. He watched the two great figures clash in fuzzy chiaroscuro; they were the primal force in the universe. Xanatos shivered in the stream of cool blowing air while waves of energy washed briskly through him. He stroked himself harder through his thin coverings, giving himself up to the flow around him. He felt his muscles relaxing, every part of his body becoming receptive to the immense energy stirred by the clashing figures so close to him.

Mace Windu countered Qui-Gon's powerful flurry of strikes with difficulty, falling once and finding himself slammed against the wall opposite Xanatos' hiding place. Qui-Gon's saber glowed closely against Mace's deep brown skin, threatening and pressing him to action. He suddenly kicked at Qui-Gon's hip joint, folding him forward, causing his saber to impact the wall just over Mace's left shoulder, sparking loudly and scorching the plascrete slightly.

Another quick kick and Mace had folded Qui-Gon to the floor. The shoulder joint of Qui-Gon's saber arm was clamped mercilessly between the powerful thighs of Master Windu. Xanatos could see the breath of each man and the sweat that fell from their flushed faces. Both men took heaving breaths. Qui-Gon struggled against the joint lock which was forced on him by Mace's advantageous position. Perspiration dripped from Mace's darkly flushed face as he held Qui-Gon fast, intensifying the lock.

Behind the obscuring solidity of the grate, Xanatos' breaths also came with increasing difficulty. The cool air brushed him on all sides, and yet a cold, sticky sweat built on him. Xanatos felt the blood rushing within him, feeding his erection, the swirling Force in the room exciting him beyond his ability to control it. His eyes closed; he could still see and feel everything through the open conduit of the Force flowing strongly through the circuit of his overloaded body.

When Xanatos realized how close he was to crying out, he suddenly stopped the urgent stroking of his clothed erection and pulled in several deep breaths. It wouldn't do to be found out here, in his secret place. Fingers of current tickled him all over; the urge to completion was almost irresistible. He felt himself vibrate against the smooth close walls; the power around and within him threatened to shake him apart.

The two masters had come to an impasse. Qui-Gon could not escape the fierce joint lock and finally tapped quickly on the floor to signal acquiescence. Mace unclamped his hold and helped him up quickly. Both bowed towards each other and knelt, facing away from Xanatos in the middle of the room, in seated meditation.

The two masters' meditation strengthened the Force around them. Random waves of energy focused themselves and shot through Mace and Qui-Gon's beings as they sat in repose. If Xanatos' eyes had been open at that moment, he would have seen a powerful display of green and gold light coursing through his master's body, obscuring him with its brightness. Xanatos could feel the Force feeding into him as he focused. His eyes were closed, body and mind open to the power flowing freely in the small chamber. The sensation was overwhelming in its intensity, yet calming at the same time. A god at rest; he felt the excitement rising within him, struggled to control it this time.

He reached for his erection again to find it hadn't gone down in the slightest; in fact, he nearly came at his own light touch. A shudder rose as his fingers worked past the folds of fabric at his hips. His breath condensed in the cool rush of air, soft needles of Force growing in fullness within him.

He worked his hand across the coarsely-woven silk of his pants and felt his body pulsing underneath the thin covering. His hand grasped the fabric-covered flesh between his legs more firmly and everything flashed silver. The needles of sensation became waves, and he fell both within and without, his head drawing his body backwards as he crashed into sudden orgasm.

Xanatos fought the sounds that threatened to rise from within him. His mouth was open, holding silence barely, gasping with the need for air to keep him on this side of consciousness. He did not know if his body made a sound as he fell against the smooth cool curve of the vent tube. Sweat poured and was absorbed by his loose sleep tunics; a slow warmth spread at his groin. He felt it soak through and coat his hand. His body shook as though it were being torn apart, yet he held himself silent.

He no longer knew what was happening around him. He shivered in the tiny duct, eyes tightly closed, dangerous aftershocks threatening to make him cry out in the echoing darkness. When he finally found the strength to sit up and look out of the covering grate again, he saw nothing at all. Were they gone? He had not felt a change in the Force.

A thunderous sound echoed close to him. "Xanatos!" It was right next to him by the sound, but he saw nothing. Xanatos' breath caught, and he gasped loudly in surprise. Qui-Gon moved to stand directly in front of the grate which hid his apprentice from his sight. "You will come out now, Padawan!" The voice was heavy and stern and brooked no hesitation.

Xanatos shakily worked the covering free from its friction fit recesses and worked his way out of the cramped space, dropping the cover and falling after it to the cushioned and carpeted floor of the small training room. He rose as quickly as he could manage and faced Qui-Gon with a carefully blank expression. "Master," he said simply. His chest rose and fell rather too quickly for one who was apparently at rest.

"That was a neat trick you pulled in there, Xanatos. Do you know how much Force you channeled? Do you know how obvious it was what you were doing? Master Windu and I are not innocent of these things, Padawan. We know what it feels like."

"Yes, Master." Xanatos tried to look contrite, but he was failing miserably. His body had been too recently shaken by ecstasy, and it showed clearly to his master. The risen blood still colored the young man's pale face, and it didn't help that Xanatos, although sweaty in general, had a prominent stain at the front of his trousers.

Qui-Gon studied his padawan for a long moment, allowing Xanatos to catch his breath and center if he chose to do so. The boy met his eyes with equanimity; there was no hint of embarrassment this time as there had been in the crowded training hall a few days ago.

Qui-Gon took his padawan's thin right wrist in his hands and studied it carefully, rotating it and twisting it. He watched Xanatos' face as he did. There was no tightening in his expression. Had he been implementing the lesson he had been taught? Or had he merely learned to hide his pain more effectively? There was always a way to test it.

"Padawan, you will drop and perform 100 pushups on your knuckles immediately. Go!" His voice was peremptory enough that Xanatos fell to the floor where he was, kicking the grate cover away with his foot as he descended. The white skin of his padawan flushed deeply with the exertion, and yet he performed flawlessly. The wiry muscles stood out from his white shoulders where the loose sleep shirt draped as he maintained a quick and unswerving rhythm.

Qui-Gon watched him and could detect no sign of his tiring, save for the flush in his cheeks and the sweat which dripped from his face and pooled into his tunics. He never slowed. When he reached the count of 100, he snapped back to his feet to face Qui-Gon, his breath quickened but not harsh. Qui-Gon detected the hint of a smirking smile on his padawan's face, and he knew he had to do more. "That was excellent, Padawan, but can you maintain it with weight against you, as if you were loaded down with equipment?"

Xanatos merely nodded, his expression almost merry but carefully schooled to neutrality. "Yes, Master. I'm a Jedi. I can do that."

"Drop then, and continue until I say stop." Qui-Gon watched as Xanatos bounced to the floor and began a quick cadence of pushups, his knuckles digging into the carpeted matting beneath him. Qui-Gon lowered himself atop his padawan slowly in a mirroring pushup stance, colliding with him on Xanatos' upstroke. The two men's sweat intermixed as they clashed. Xanatos' head pushed sharply into Qui-Gon's chest and stopped short.

Qui-Gon grunted with the impact, but he remained steady in pushup position, powerful legs flexed firmly next to his padawan's more slender limbs in exact parallel. "Padawan, stop trying to maintain the quick rhythm. You cannot do that with weight on your back. You will injure yourself. Slowly now." Qui-Gon settled his weight, half held by his slightly splayed feet and powerfully flexed arms, half pressing firmly against Xanatos' back.

Qui-Gon's larger bulk completely obscured the thin shadow Xanatos had cast on the floor. It was as if Xanatos had disappeared. The young man drew himself slowly from the floor under the press of the extra weight of his master. Qui-Gon was forced upwards by his padawan's harsh flex, but he supported himself at least partially. Xanatos shook slightly under the strain, but he did not falter.

Qui-Gon noticed on the second upstroke that Xanatos' body had curved, his buttocks pressing pointedly against Qui-Gon's groin. Qui-Gon allowed it once, then stopped him. "Keep your body straight, Padawan, or you will injure yourself and then you'll have to spend weeks in the infirmary." Xanatos straightened himself, and Qui-Gon felt him opening slightly, allowing the Force to fill him as he pressed upwards.

A small smile spread on Qui-Gon's features. *He is learning to let the Force flow more readily.* Qui-Gon found himself opening easily, finding a freely flowing circuit between Master and Apprentice. The next few strokes were as water to them. Xanatos pressed Qui-Gon easily; Qui-Gon felt the energy ripple through the Force, through their training bond.

The Force drew his mind to the past. He found himself remembering an incident long ago, when Xanatos had fallen from a high rock and lay bleeding and in pain too intense for him to absorb into the Force. He had been only 12, but as he lay there, whimpering pitifully from the deep cuts he had sustained, he had wrapped his arms around Qui-Gon's neck and kissed him tenderly on the cheek, all desperation lost. Qui-Gon remembered the warmth that had filled him as he carried his padawan's almost insubstantial form in his arms that day. That perfect trust. Xanatos was truly amazing, extraordinary in so many ways. He would make a fine Jedi Knight. He felt pride in the young man who moved so easily and fluidly beneath him. He had grown so much in such a short time.

Qui-Gon felt the tickling of something else--the recent arousal Xanatos had felt as he watched him and Mace spar. It raised the hair on every part of Qui-Gon's body as he pushed himself against Xanatos' straining body. A seed of wanting spread from apprentice to master in that instant. Qui-Gon felt every surface contacting the warm flesh of his padawan who shook with exertion from the performance of the weighted pushups he had been assigned.

The bond between them opened up into unexplored territory. Qui-Gon began to notice things about Xanatos he hadn't seen before. The deep blue streaks running through his shiny black hair, the deep redness of his Force-aura. Red with intensity, red with purpose and intent; Xanatos shone with directed power. No matter what path he chose as a Knight, he would be formidable.

The deep red energy penetrated Qui-Gon's being, coloring all the images he remembered of Xanatos from earliest memory. Dangerous crimson arousal flowed through him; he realized he was drawn to Xanatos in more ways than he had imagined. Qui-Gon found himself becoming enraptured by the hard flame which burned in his padawan's spirit. It matched his own in many ways, but it was uniquely Xanatos'.

After several further strokes, Xanatos' arms began to shake violently and his balance became unsteady. He paused at shorter intervals, his breathing had roughened. Qui-Gon let off his weight, and Xanatos collapsed to the floor, panting and shaking with exhaustion. Qui-Gon held himself steady above his padawan and allowed himself the pleasure of drinking in the essence which flowed between them. The moment did not last long.

At the very instant Xanatos felt the weight leave him, he thrust his right leg under his body, performing a neat side ground flip. He now lay facing his master, whom he pulled on top of him unceremoniously. Qui-Gon fell against his padawan, grunting with the impact. He felt Xanatos' hot breath on his face and realized Xanatos was not as exhausted as he had thought.

Xanatos was pushing himself upwards into Qui-Gon's groin. Qui-Gon felt firm flesh contacting him, and felt the Force flowing with Xanatos' desire for him. His own flesh rose in response, hardening against his padawan's. His breaths were suddenly harsh, and his mind clouded. He felt only the flow between him and Xanatos beneath him, his own serene green and gold aura sparking and intermixing with Xanatos' burning, dangerous, deep crimson intent.

Xanatos sent him images, fantasies he had created and embellished through countless encounters with his master. Qui-Gon felt his own control slipping; he did not consider consequences at this point. A soft moan escaped him as he felt the warmth of Xanatos' body lifting him with its urgency. His own fantasies rose within him. He saw himself fighting beside his padawan, the young man's braid flung out with the force of a powerful leap; Force in a hard line between them, darkness falling away at their touch. He saw himself holding Xanatos, running his hands through a long mane of deepest onyx locks, perfect communion between them, he engulfed in Xanatos' body and soul, an indescribable look of delicate rapture on the young man's face...

The Force was in a tight circuit between them. Qui-Gon felt the rushing of blood to his loins. Xanatos panted beneath him, pressing insistently upwards, his head falling back as sensation broke across him with each thrust. Qui-Gon felt his own body shaking against Xanatos'. He barely recognized his padawan's voice as Xanatos whispered to him roughly.

"Master, please. I need you now..." He couldn't complete the thought. He lost control of his speech, and it trailed off into a shaky moan. He met Qui-Gon's eyes with his own deep gaze filled with wanting. He willed himself more open still, shields lowered to pull his master into his haze of lust.

Something pulled Qui-Gon awake, and he stared down at his padawan, who was lost in his body, shivering with sensations that threatened to overwhelm him. "Xan, are you ready for this?" Qui-Gon found he could not form the words to fully express what he knew he should be saying to his padawan at this moment.

A slight wisp of irritation flitted across Xanatos' face, but he covered it instantly. "Master, I have done this before, with Padawan Geraint and others. I am not as innocent as you might think. I know what to do. " Xanatos' breath slowed, and he met his master's eyes with a serious look.

"It is more than knowing what to do, Padawan." Qui-Gon seemed to be coming back to his senses, thinking about the ramifications of what Xanatos was pushing for, but he couldn't escape the rising pangs within him. Whether he knew it or not, he was already lost to the experience.

Xanatos thought fast. "Master, I know that." His face radiated understanding and warmth. He felt the remembrances within Qui-Gon and encouraged them. His body was screaming at him. He was barely suppressing the trembling that rose from deep within. His eyes misted. "I need you, Master. I want this with you!" Emphasis on *you*.

It may have been the wetness in Xanatos' eyes, or the vulnerable look as he lay beneath him, breathing softly, or a number of things, but Qui-Gon found himself stripping off his sweat-soaked tunics, peeling down as he sat before his padawan, who almost appeared to have rehearsed this scene. Xanatos had shrugged neatly out of his loose sleep shirt and damp leggings and lay completely naked in a matter of seconds. Xanatos' clothing lay surrounding him as if he had recently shed his skin. His naked body shone as if new in the rising light filtering in from the large window which opened out over the heights of Coruscant.

Qui-Gon sat forward to gaze upon the pale body of his padawan, the skin glistening with sweat and slick semen. Dense, wiry muscles tensed and relaxed in Xanatos' thighs and midsection as he sat up to gaze upon his master's fully naked form. Qui-Gon could not suppress a slight smile as he watched Xanatos' jaw drop and his hooded blue eyes widen slightly as the young man fixed his eyes upon Qui-Gon's endowments.

A shudder ran through the young man's loins, and he set his jaw. His breathing became somewhat labored as he set himself in his resolution to receive his master inside him. "Master, please don't tease me with it. I want to feel you inside me now!" Xanatos voice broke, but his determination was apparent, as was his arousal. His cock stood away from sparse black curls at his pubic area; the young man was shaking with anticipation and just a little bit of fear. He hadn't really done this before. He had only groped with Geraint, and the others were all in his dreams. But he couldn't let his master know that.

Qui-Gon knelt between Xanatos' legs and fell upon him in a manner which could only be described as gentle, yet engulfing and possessive. Qui-Gon's large, sturdy form completely obscured the slight form of his pale apprentice as he covered him, pressing against his abdomen with firm strokes. The older man's muscles tightened and worked in rhythmic harmony as he pulsed body to body with his apprentice beneath him. The only indication of Xanatos' presence were the rhythmic moans each thrust drew from deep within the young man's throat.

Qui-Gon was fully hard now, his erection insistent against Xanatos' spare yet firm flesh. Xanatos could take it no longer. He was losing his mind with desire. His eyes could not focus properly. His fingernails dug into Qui-Gon's muscular shoulders, pulling him close against his body, face to face. Xanatos could barely breathe, yet he managed to gasp the few essential words. "Please Master, now! Please!"

Qui-Gon took his time. He slowly thrust his tongue into his padawan's gasping mouth and moaned involuntarily as Xanatos crushed his mouth against his desperately, drinking in every part of Qui-Gon's essence, pressing himself frantically against him as if to merge completely with his incredibly strong presence. Xanatos tore at Qui-Gon's back and grabbed handfuls of his lush brown hair as it fell over his flexed shoulders. The young man was crying in desperation against the intensity of his need.

A small switch in Xanatos' mind recoiled at the helpless sounds he was making in his master's presence. He had thought of this experience, dreamt of it endlessly, planned it, and it had come to the brink of fulfillment in a completely unexpected way. He had pictured a clash of wills, he pushing his master, while Qui-Gon pushed back, destroying each other in an ecstasy of impalement. He wanted passion and rough quenching of lust, he realized, and that was something a Jedi could not admit he held within him. Xanatos knew better.

Qui-Gon held Xanatos' legs and gently wrapped them around his shoulders. He slowly reached his great hand to caress Xanatos' member, which was still slickly covered with his emission from his earlier masturbation. Xanatos caught his breath at this thorough attention, moaned at the too-light touch which inflamed him beyond his power to verbalize. Qui-Gon coated his full grown erection with the slick fluid and then slipped his still-wet finger slowly inside Xanatos' opening, which he held close in preparation.

A sharp gasp issued from the young man; his cock leapt and bulged with sudden influx of blood. Xanatos came immediately and explosively before he had even been penetrated fully. His vision turned gray and he cried out with a harsh gasp of surprise. He held his black braid firmly between clenched teeth and tossed his head with sudden reaction. It fell free as his mouth opened to gulp air. "Oh, Master!" Long pause as he caught his breath..."I didn't expect that. Please don't stop!" It was clear Xanatos was still ready; his member stood as engorged and hard as before, covered with his fresh seed, which Qui-Gon gathered and applied thickly to himself.

Another finger entered Xanatos' tight opening; he was more ready for it now and drew deep breath to accommodate the stretching and filling sensations which rocked him from within. As Qui-Gon added his third finger inside Xanatos' body, the young man cried out breathlessly, "Inside me, now! Master, now!" Xanatos was nearly whining with need, his impatience threatening to dominate him. The sharp muscles in his thin arms stood out as he clenched his master's hips and pushed himself closer to his master's sturdy form.

Qui-Gon did not hurry. He slowly withdrew the fingers and positioned himself carefully at the opening to Xanatos' body. As he pushed himself gently into his padawan, he felt impossible tightness engulf him; it pulsed against him and squeezed him unbearably. It could not be painless for Xanatos, he thought. And yet, Xanatos lay with his eyes closed and mouth open, drawing air into him. He trembled roughly, but he rode through the pain of entry. His face relaxed in rapturous abandon as he relished the pain and pleasure mixing within him.

Qui-Gon trembled in equal measure, hot pressure surrounding him, excitement rising within his powerful body. Control was tenuous; he found his hands clenched, digging into his Xanatos' hips with such force that he drew blood from the pale flesh. Xanatos did not seem to notice.

Slowly, the master regained control and carefully pushed himself further into his padawan's willing flesh. Xanatos controlled his body's reactions shakily with his deep sharp intakes of breath, but as Qui-Gon reached the point of full entry, his intention became fierce. Xanatos grabbed Qui-Gon firmly around his hips and grunted with supreme effort, pulling himself fully onto the larger man's shaft.

Qui-Gon fell forward into Xanatos' arms, feeling the young man's body buck violently, shocked from having been impaled so suddenly and completely. Xanatos jerked as though shot, his hands curling and tearing at the flesh of Qui-Gon's hips. A harsh scream erupted from him suddenly. He was in a frenzy now. Wrapping his legs firmly around Qui-Gon's large frame, he raised his entire body off the carpeted floor and crushed himself to his master's groin, stabbing himself with it repeatedly, lost in the ecstasy of extremity.

The Force was swirling freely in the small room, still dimly lit in the late morning westside exposure. To the two men, the light was everywhere. They were connected; their energies flowed between them. The madness in Xanatos was transmitted to his master, and Qui-Gon felt his tenuous control give way, the urge to ravage the young man beneath him totally and unreservedly grew unchecked within him. His eyes reflected the frenzy raging against him; he fed it with thrusts which were more savage than he realized.

The two men moved as demon lovers in a great shadow. Qui-Gon's sharp hawk-featured silhouette was cast darkly against the rising light. He descended to devour his pale prey who writhed madly but was firmly caught.

Xanatos cried out at each thrust, the pain and pleasure sinking into him like a blunt knife, caressing every surface and tickling every nerve. His body cried out with him against the sensations he craved, its feeding frenzy rising as Qui-Gon pumped harder still. Sweat fell from his master's face; the burning blue eyes bored into him intensely.

The two men were entangled tightly; Xanatos' limbs all clamped desperately to his master's powerful body. Qui-Gon's eyes were focused in the Force far away; his body had lost all control. He devoured the pale creature who clung to him in a deathgrip. His great shoulders rippled with the effort of holding Xanatos' hips steady to him. Harsh breaths came in shorter gasps; he spiraled into deep lakes of sensation.

Qui-Gon's eyes drank the madness around him. He fed on it, and it drove him beyond the spaces inhabited by the Jedi or any Force-users as he knew them. He was no longer part of what his training had made him. He was not a describable entity, but an elemental, merging with another element, the dark rich Xanatos, no longer his padawan but all things opposing, the finger on his switch, the path of flowering futures. He was a fist of pure animal lust, all driven by Force-inspired madness.

A thin reed of sense told him that Xanatos was screaming quite loudly now, and he suddenly dropped down and savagely clamped his hand over the young man's mouth to quiet him. He felt Xanatos struggling beneath him, instinctively reacting against the knowledge that his master was caught in the grip of an urge which had no stop valve this time.

Xanatos' braid flailed with his head as he shook against more than just the insistent penetration of his body. He felt himself tearing inside. The sharp edge of fear was upon him, and he felt for escape routes, testing his master's weight, his instincts rising in desperation. He threw his hips and clutched at Qui-Gon's arms, but the larger man held him fast.

*This is what you wanted* Xanatos relaxed against the savagery Qui-Gon wrought upon him. He realized this *was* what he wanted, to ride the edge between pure fear and ecstasy. Nothing was as bright or as beautiful from any other perch than that upon which Xanatos was being forcibly held. His body was wracked by the rough thrusts of his master, while his mind flowered in tangible contact with the elemental. Mind and body came together in uncontrollable spasms which shook Xanatos' body hard against Qui-Gon's ravaging loins.

To all appearances, Qui-Gon held a limp doll against him. Xanatos' arms clawed weakly at Qui-Gon's waist, losing their hold on him as Xanatos' body began to reach the limits of its endurance. Qui-Gon poured with sweat and raw energy. He was energized through the Force, for his own body shook at its extremity, on the verge of collapse.

A vast explosion of energy broke within the two men. Qui-Gon felt an infinite crystal spread within him and shatter suddenly, taking his vision and spasming his every muscle. He keened like a wild animal as he beat against Xanatos's flesh, spilling himself inside in a long, warm stream.

At the same time Xanatos lost his hold on his senses. Shocks washed through him at their whim. He stiffened and relaxed over and over, spasms wracking him and shaking his master atop him. A long shattering release gripped him and pulled him beyond consciousness as he felt his own seed released from his body. The warmth of endless orgasm spread between the men, coming in shuddering waves. Xanatos arched off the floor, suddenly superhuman against the formidable weight of his master's body.

Qui-Gon's vision cleared slowly, and he found that his fingers were clenched in Xanatos' spiky hair, and he had pulled a small mass of the black locks completely out of his padawan's head. He watched Xanatos' harsh, shuddering breaths slow; the young man trembled beneath him, raising small shocks of dangerous, shooting warmth in Qui-Gon's loins.

"Master." Xanatos could barely form the word. It sounded at once deeply satisfied, frightened and sleepy. A small smile spread across the young man's face. His eyes fell shut.

Qui-Gon let his hands loosen their bruising grip; he held Xanatos gently now, almost awkwardly. Shaking arms rested on elbows on either side of his apprentice's wetly flushed face, which appeared to be looking into the middle distance. Oceans of glass reflected from Xanatos' smoky blue eyes; the small reflection of his master shone in duplicate as Qui-Gon lay over him.

"Padawan. Xan. I didn't mean to be so rough. So much Force flows through you." He wiped away a pooling bead of sweat at Xanatos' temple, feeling every point of contact between his finger and the smooth pale skin of his freshly taken padawan. It was like admiring a rare fruit. The light fuzz which had not yet the impetus to grow into a beard tickled like a light electric current between Xanatos' face and Qui-Gon's slow stroking hand.

Xanatos' mouth lay open, breathing his master's closeness, drinking in the majesty of the great figure which covered him like the Force itself. "Master, it was perfect. You were perfect," he managed to whisper faintly, through soft shallow gasps. He couldn't take his eyes off his master's transcendent beauty. His master shone with power. Every feature was brighter, sharper, more alive. An almost inaudible moan rose unbidden from Xanatos' throat, hinting at yet belying the enormity and complexity of the feelings which rushed through Xanatos' mind and body as he watched the still face which had eyes only for him.

Qui-Gon's hair draped around his head like a great halo of shimmering strands, all colors contained and expressed in perfect distillation. His eyes were almost midnight in their focus and dark reflectivity, deep mirrors in a livid frame. Eyes closed against inner intensity, and Qui-Gon drew his apprentice against him as he raised himself slowly. His emptied member slid from Xanatos' dark sheath; both men shook as the change occurred.

For several eternities, Qui-Gon held his shuddering apprentice against his own warm body. No thought entered either man's head; the Force flowed strongly in one enormous wave through their melded presence. No resistance met, this was a moment of perfect communion. Qui-Gon knew it could never be like this again.

Qui-Gon looked somewhat contrite; he was too rough with Xanatos. But after a few moments of reflection he found himself smiling indulgently at the young man curled tightly against him. "This is what you wanted, wasn't it, Xanatos? You must be careful when you channel Force for this purpose. It can take control and lead where you never imagined. It is a lesson for both of us."

Xanatos panted slowly. Between gasps for air, he answered his master. "Yes, Master. I understand. Is it normal for a Jedi to want such a thing?"

"It happens. I don't know why. I didn't hurt you, did I, Xan?" Qui-Gon held his apprentice steady and rose, Xanatos held firmly in his arms. The pale young man shuddered with remembered sensations and the beginnings of realization that he had been physically marked by this experience. Xanatos stood back from his master's embrace and languidly traced the deep slashes in his hips made by Qui-Gon as he had clawed at him in the heat of their joining. He felt the tears inside his body, the burning pain where Qui-Gon had ripped his hair from his head.

"Nothing I didn't ask for, Master." A small, wistful smile spread across Xanatos' features. As the smile grew to a satisfied grin, he seemed to grow even younger than he was, a boy having lived through an amazing adventure. Qui-Gon could only stand there and admire Xanatos' unselfconscious explorations of his own body.

Qui-Gon felt pangs rising within him as Xanatos ran his long fingers across his own narrow hips, tracing patterns with the blood drawn from him in the heat of their rough entanglement. He realized the fire burned still, only slightly banked by the pause of activity. He knew this was a feeling he had experienced before. The heat of an intense training session; the power which flared high as he landed blows or forcefully pressed Xanatos against the wall as part of a successful martial technique. It was flow, Zanshin, the fire of purpose, intoxicating beyond his ability to understand or control.

Xanatos had brought it to life within him, and Qui-Gon could never again be unaware that this feeling lay within him, riding beneath the surface, informing everything he did and thought. But that was an indivisible part of the heart of a Jedi; everything a Jedi did had the Force behind it. And that Force was fire; it was the flow of the universe. He had pumped that fire into Xanatos, and the young man breathed it with every movement.

Qui-Gon lost himself in the moment, drawn into the movements of his padawan, who touched himself as if to make sure he had not disappeared in the feelings which swirled thickly around him. Qui-Gon felt every inch of his flesh come alive. He felt himself becoming hard again, the fire just behind his eyes and shooting through his body. A hard sigh shook him as he struggled to control the Force which shot through his body.

Xanatos knelt carefully where he had lain and noticed a tinge of blood soaking the carpet. His own. He felt strangely charged by it. His mind came alive; new sensations worked within him. *Next time it will be I who will take and draw the blood. I will feel the other side. I will take my master.* He drew his forefinger through the small red pool, watched the deep red liquid glisten against his white finger. A great shiver rose within him. His flushed, naked body exulted in the fullness of new experience and his plans for the future.

He smiled at his master, a full satisfied grin. Qui-Gon knelt and helped Xanatos back to his feet. The young man sighed and embraced Qui-Gon's fully naked, glistening body, aftershocks tingling deliciously within him as he did. "Master, you're so beautiful when you let go." An impish grin greeted Qui-Gon's soft, burning gaze. "When can we do it again?"

Qui-Gon closed his eyes and held Xanatos closely to him. The two breathed as one, naked before the Force. The light was directly above them now. Noon on Coruscant. The two men stood silently joined together in the isolated room hidden in the heights of the vast Jedi Temple, bathed in the full light of the Force.

end