The Seduction

by Nicole D'Annais ([email protected])

***

Eventually, they separated, dressing for evening meal despite Xanatos' insistence that he'd really rather stay in the room. Privately, Qui-Gon agreed with him, but it wouldn't help matters to encourage his padawan to forsake duty for pleasure. He reminded the young man to calm himself inside and out, so that no outward signs of their deeper relationship would be detected--by Force users, or by Xanatos' father. The idea of explaining any of this to Crion was not high of Qui-Gon's list of things not to do.

As Qui-Gon pulled on his tunic, he realized that steeling himself not to show any signs of the last half hour was not going to be easy. The textured fabric grazed over the bruises and bites his padawan had left on his back and shoulders, a constant reminder that left him half-hard by the time he was finished getting dressed. He'd have to remember not to move much at the evening meal.

Owned. That thought slipped through his mind again. The marks of his ownership would be evident to anyone who saw him without his tunic. But he didn't need to see them. There were already much deeper marks on the inside.

"Master?" Xanatos stood at the door, the picture of calm. Qui-Gon felt the Force around his padawan, but could sense no trace of the young man's emotions.

"Let's go." As Qui-Gon brushed past him, Xanatos reached out, running a finger over a particularly sensitive mark on Qui-Gon's shoulder. The Jedi master barely suppressed a shiver, frowning at the young man, who grinned up at him.

The presence of a passing servant kept Qui-Gon from further action. He put the situation aside to deal with later. For now, he concentrated on controlling his own reactions and dealing with his duties.

***

Xanatos led the way to the dining hall, a cavernous room lined with holopaintings by some of the best artists in the galaxy. Qui-Gon recognized one gold-framed work that he had seen before, in the palace on D'vrai. Something about the way the shapes shifted had unsettled him then, and his reaction this time was no different.

Or perhaps it was just current circumstances that were unsettling.

Crion sat at the end of a table that could easily seat several dozen guests, beckoning the two Jedi to the chairs on either side of him. As he took his seat, Qui-Gon eyed the painting again. It had to have cost a small fortune. Telos seemed to be doing quite well financially--why would they need to renegotiate the terms of their contract with Nardir? He had no way of knowing, not until he visited the other planet and saw for himself what was going on in both places. He would have to make arrangements to visit Nardir soon.

A servant put a plate down in front of Qui-Gon and spread the Jedi Master's napkin across his lap. He picked up his spoon and tasted the soup before she could help him with that as well. "You have an excellent cook, Governor."

"Thank you, Master Jinn. I became so accustomed to fine food wherever I traveled that I confess I had to search far and wide for a cook who could match that quality. But I found one, and I pay him well to ensure he does not leave."

"I can see why. This is excellent."

Crion tasted the soup himself and smiled. "I would have thought as Jedi you would eat like kings wherever you go," he said, more to his son than to Qui-Gon.

"Hardly," Xanatos answered. A rueful smile curled his lips. "We do well occasionally, but for the most part it's either space rations, or our hosts assume we are minimalists who care nothing for comfort or good food, and we get bland, tasteless drivel."

"Padawan...." At the subtle rebuke, Xanatos looked down at his soup and began eating with great concentration. "So, your travels," Qui-Gon continued, returning his attention to Crion. "Are you away on official business a great deal?"

"Sometimes official business. And sometimes pleasure. I'm alone here, and there isn't much to do, even in a house as well-appointed as this one."

They ate in silence for several moments, the clink of forks on plates and scrape of glasses on the table the only sound in the quiet surrounding them. As the main course was being served, Qui-Gon brought up the subject he was most interested in. "So, when are the negotiations scheduled to start?"

"In a week," Crion answered, waving his hand in a dismissive gesture. "Unless they change their minds again. Four times they have moved the date."

"They are reluctant to negotiate?"

"They say the agreement is fair, and there is no need, but they will if they must. Still, they put it off. They are hoping to change my mind. They will not."

Qui-Gon looked around the room. "You seem to be doing well enough. Is the contract really that unprofitable?"

"It is not about profit. It is about fairness. The current contract was negotiated four generations ago. The scientists of Telos are giving up their vast knowledge for well below what it is worth, and as Governor, I won't allow it to continue."

Before Qui-Gon could respond, Xanatos stepped in. "Please. We just spent days cramped in an escape pod, we have a wonderful meal in front of us, and this is the first time I've seen my father in years. Couldn't we find something more pleasant to discuss?"

Crion turned a wide smile on his son. "Certainly. Business will wait. What would you like to talk about?"

As father and son talked about various things, Qui-Gon ate his meal in silence, listening for any sign that might tell him what made him uneasy about this situation. He would have to figure it out soon, he realized, with a worried look at his student. Faint stirrings of danger were whispering to him through the Force, and he had to know if they involved the negotiations, or something far more personal.

Or both.

***

Meditation brought Qui-Gon little comfort. After hours on his knees, he knew his unease centered on the budding relationship between Xanatos and his father. He'd had time to sift through the observations he'd made at dinner and paid close attention to the easy rapport between the two men. The family connection could account for that, and simple curiosity could be the only reason Xanatos was so fascinated by the stories of his ancestors, and even more enamored of stories of his father's wealth and travels.

So why did these things bother him so much?

For the twelfth time, Qui-Gon checked the windows in his room, looking for some sign of Xanatos. He wasn't in his room--Qui-Gon had checked several times. But he was fairly close, that much Qui-Gon could tell through their bond, he just didn't know where. And he wasn't about to go searching for his padawan like a befuddled master or a possessive lover.

The moon was full, lighting the courtyard and the gardens with a pale white light that gave an eerie quality to the landscape. There were flowers, trees, and shrubs, and beyond that a grove of trees, but no sign of his apprentice.

The younger man's actions at evening meal had left Qui-Gon with a choice. He could say nothing, and wait to see what developed, or he could attempt to divert Xanatos before he became too immersed in his father's world. His first instinct was to rein the young man in. Yoda should never have sent them on this mission; there was a reason Jedi barely knew their parents. The fact that Yoda sent them was the only thing to give him pause. Had this been what his own master had foreseen? Did the ancient Jedi realize what Xanatos would feel when he saw his father again? Had he foreseen Xanatos' desire for a father being more important than his dedication to the Jedi--and to his Master?

Jealousy surged through Qui-Gon, and he concentrated his efforts on it for a moment, sitting on the bed, cross-legged, feeding the emotion out into the Force. He had to make his decision with a clear mind, focus on what was best for his padawan. His own feelings could not affect his actions.

Right. And Yoda could have a sudden growth spurt tomorrow. It was nearly impossible for him to separate his own wants and desires from Xanatos' needs.

He knew his apprentice wanted him, but did the young man really need him? Xanatos was an adult, too old to need a father figure. And it wasn't as if he'd had any trouble finding sex before now, so, good as it was between the two of them, he didn't necessarily need his master for that. Crion could fill a place in Xanatos' life that Qui-Gon himself no longer occupied. He'd made that decision himself when he'd taken the young man into his bed--or rather his bath. But what about a father, one he'd never really known? Could Qui-Gon compete with that kind of blood tie?

So it was a competition now, was it? Qui-Gon stood and crossed to the window again, staring out at the moon. He did not need to compete with Crion. Xanatos needed no father; getting closer to his blood father would not stand in the way of his link with Qui-Gon. And yet in making a decision to get closer to his father, Xanatos would jeopardize so much. His relationship with Crion could not grow easily if Xanatos were traipsing around the galaxy doing the work of the Jedi--they would never see each other. Which would mean....

Qui-Gon closed his mind to that idea. No need to think that far ahead into improbable situations over the young man's simple curiosity about his family. Xanatos had worked his whole life to become a Jedi; he would not risk that on a whim.

The door opened, and the subject of his musing walked in. "Master! I thought you would be asleep by now."

One eyebrow cocked up. "And were you planning to wake me?"

"Well," the young man said silkily, shedding his cloak as he crossed to the window, "the thought had crossed my mind."

Xanatos leaned in for a kiss, which Qui-Gon gave before withdrawing reluctantly. He hated sounding like an inquisitor, but he felt the need to ask, "Where have you been?"

"With my father. He wanted to show me the stables after evening meal, and then we came back to his rooms and talked." Xanatos slipped out of his master's arms and began shedding clothing on the way to the bathroom. "He told me about my mother, and about Telos, family history...things I'd never known."

Qui-Gon followed. "And you were talking with him about family all this time?"

"Of course." Xanatos' face disappeared behind a tunic as it was raised over his head and then tossed to the ground. "You didn't think I was off having my way with someone else, did you?" He grinned as he took the few steps that brought him right up to his master, arms reaching out before he was quite there to draw Qui-Gon into an embrace. Another kiss, this one more serious. "I have what I want," he murmured, voice husky, before his lips sought his master's again. "Care to join me in the shower?"

"I shouldn't."

Xanatos stepped out of his leggings and tossed them across the bathroom with his foot, leaving Qui-Gon to stare at the expanse of pale skin, and the half-erect shaft in the center of it all. "You should," he said, stepping closer.

Qui-Gon backed away, reaching down to pick up his student's fallen clothing. "You've made a mess."

"Leave it," Xanatos said with a dismissive wave. "The servants will get it tomorrow."

"You're getting used to that rather quickly."

The young man shrugged, taking the tunic from his master. "If they're there, might as well make use of them. Otherwise they could be out of a job. And that would benefit no one."

"Don't get too used to them. We'll be gone soon enough, and it'll be back to space rations and cleaning up for ourselves."

"But not tonight," Xanatos said softly, tossing the tunic onto a nearby stool and running his fingers lightly down Qui-Gon's chest. "Tonight, we have a nice room, a comfortable bed, and a large shower with real hot water. Why waste it?"

Hands went around his side, as Xanatos stepped closer to run his hands up his master's back. Their erections touched briefly, eliciting a gasp from Qui-Gon, who crumbled under the assault of his own senses. He leaned down to lick his padawan's lips, tracing the entire mouth with his tongue, which snaked through the young man's lips into his mouth, finding its mate, chasing it around briefly before Xanatos stepped back. His fingers slid along his master's arm; he caught Qui-Gon's hand and pulled him backwards to the shower stall.

The shower took a moment to warm, but Qui-Gon didn't notice as he kissed his padawan with increasing passion. He ran his hands down the young man's back, lingering over the firm mounds below his hips before his hands traveled back up to twist into the soft, black hair. He used his hold to guide Xanatos back under the spray of water.

Qui-Gon ran his fingertips over his student's neck, his hand catching in the braid that he impatiently tossed aside on his way to his goal. His fingers stroked down the smooth chest, stopping to tease the nipples there into hard nubs. Desire surged through him at the sight of the young man's head tipped back under the water that ran over his face, plastered his hair back, emphasizing the fine, delicate bone structure covered in flawless skin. His face was like a statue, carved to perfection by a great artist.

Fascinated, Qui-Gon watched the rivulets run off the young man's cheeks. His tongue snaked out and interrupted the flow of water; he tasted minerals, and the essence of his lover. He followed the jaw line up to Xanatos' ear, tracing the outside before sucking on the lobe. A small bite, and then he kissed his way across his padawan's cheek down to his mouth. Their lips fused, blocking out the water, tongues meeting in a long, slow kiss.

Qui-Gon grappled for skin, trying to pull the young man closer. Finally, he turned them both around and drove his student against the wall, pressing Xanatos' body as close as he could. He reached down between them to find the young man's erection and stroked the length of it as he rubbed his own against Xanatos' thigh.

Hands grasped at Qui-Gon's back as Xanatos bucked against the firm pressure of Qui-Gon's body. Water pounded against his lower back as he released Xanatos' lips and fastened his mouth on the joint of neck and shoulder.

As Xanatos' fingertips dug into Qui-Gon's skin, a loud, hitching breath escaped the padawan's throat. He undulated his hips, causing his erection to slide hot and hard across his master's palm. Qui-Gon kissed his way down the younger man's chest, across his stomach, heedless of the water that poured into his hair as he knelt and fastened his lips over the head of his padawan's shaft. He took the tip in and swirled his tongue around the edges.

Xanatos whimpered when Qui-Gon released him, and again when Qui-Gon closed his lips around the straining erection once more. Qui-Gon slid his lips down to the wiry curls at the base of Xanatos' cock, then back until only the crown was encased in the wet heat of his mouth. His padawan gripped his head, urging him forward again, and Qui-Gon complied, taking him in and pulling back again and again, adding suction to the motion. Xanatos growled low in his throat, his hands almost painfully tight in his master's hair now, allowing no movement beyond the steady back and forth rhythm that was driving the younger man toward completion. He climaxed with a shout, thrusting deep into Qui-Gon's mouth and holding him in place until he was done.

Qui-Gon rose to give Xanatos a luxuriant kiss, so his padawan could taste his own essence on his master's tongue. Xanatos was heavy Qui-Gon's arms, sated from his own release, and easily turned in Qui-Gon's arms. He was pressed face first against the shower, his legs spread invitingly, water running down his back, into the crevice between his legs.

Force, but he was beautiful. Qui-Gon followed the path of the water with his tongue, pulling apart Xanatos' cheeks to lick at the water trapped there. At his padawan's sharp gasp, he licked again, and again, the soft moans he could hear above him as much of a rush as sex itself.

He tightened his grip on Xanatos' hips and slowly pushed his tongue into the small hole. Xanatos cried out, and his hips bucked back against Qui-Gon's mouth, pushing the tongue in further. Need urged Qui-Gon to move faster, so he rose and reached for the soap to lather his erection. He let himself revel in the sensation, but only briefly before he entered his padawan carefully until they were pressed flesh to flesh.

At the entry, Xanatos truly came alive, head turning, neck straining as he found his master's lips. He took one long kiss then drew his head away. He braced himself and thrust back, meeting Qui-Gon's hips with powerful force. Qui-Gon ran his hands across his padawan's chest, and touched his lips to Xanatos' shoulder. Exquisite pressure built inside him, filling his body until he thought he could no longer bear it. He came, holding Xanatos tight against the wall, release washing through him like a drug, leaving him a little intoxicated and already thinking about the next dose.

They stood there, locked together, for several moments, the only sound their ragged breathing and the patter of the shower against the wall. Finally Qui-Gon became aware that the water against his legs was turning cold, and he reluctantly pulled away from his padawan. He turned to stand under the spray, face tilted up as he let the liquid cascade down his body, cooling the last of the heat that was threatening to rise up again. He felt Xanatos' hands, on him, sliding slickly down his back and realized the young man was washing him. He leaned back against his apprentice, giving the young man access to his chest, but when Xanatos would have ventured further, Qui-Gon stopped him.

"We need sleep," he murmured, turning to face his padawan, giving him a soft kiss before maneuvering him under the water. Xanatos stood under the spray, eyes locked with his master's as Qui-Gon washed him. When he was done, they stepped out of the shower and dried off, tumbling into the bed soon after.

They moved around a little, adjusting their position until Xanatos' head lay on his master's chest, and settled down to sleep. Or so Qui-Gon thought.

"Master, how do we proceed with the negotiations only a week away?"

Qui-Gon shifted, enjoying the scrape of Xanatos' cheek against his skin. "We leave for Nardir in the morning, to get a feel for their side, then come back in a day or two to await the first meeting."

"Might I...is it possible for me to stay here while you go to Nardir?"

"Stay here? Why?"

"I could monitor things from this end, get an idea for what the people of Telos think of this negotiation. And, I must confess," he looked up, dark eyes turned pure black in the faint moonlight from the window, "I would like a few days to get to know my father. I may never have this chance again."

For a long moment, Qui-Gon stared down at his padawan, his instincts at war. If Xanatos became too attached, he could decide to forsake his trials and remain on Telos. But the decision was his to make, not Qui-Gon's. And the desire to put him on the next transport off the planet was ridiculous. Yoda wanted Xanatos to make his own choice. So Qui-Gon would have to let him. "You may stay. Just keep in contact with me, and let me know anything you find that might be a problem."

"Thank you." Xanatos reached up to kiss him once on the lips, then snuggled back into his side and quickly fell asleep.

As Qui-Gon lay there in the bed, listening to Xanatos' slow, even breaths, he remembered sleepily that he had planned to talk to the young man about his attitude. Ah, well, it could wait. No use in waking him up for a conversation they could easily have when Qui-Gon got back from Nardir.

Decision made, he pulled Xanatos closer and fell asleep breathing in the scent of his padawan.

END PART 6  

~ proceed to Part 7 ~