.                      Bonds of Choice #15
                  Star Wars: TPM FanFic Series
                         by HiperBunny
                        (message 4 of 4)
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Tea was on the table when Qui-Gon returned to their quarters.  Obi-Wan had
also laid in a supply of sandwiches, which Qui-Gon tucked into with a
will.  Obi-Wan was not much hungry, taking only tea and a biscuit for
himself.  It did him much good to simply see his master eat, and eat with
pleasure.  Because he was a field operative and often subjected to the
appalling cuisine of differing cultures, Qui-Gon tended to prefer simple
food and lots of it.  Obi-Wan might indulge his own culinary pleasures when
he had a receptive audience, but for Qui-Gon he was best pleased to provide
what was wanted, in great quantity.

That his master was provided with a meal that he could honestly enjoy was
thanks enough.

"You're not eating, Padawan," Qui-Gon observed, reaching for his third
sandwich.

"I'm not hungry, Master," Obi-Wan smiled, taking a second biscuit.

"Then why did you make so much ... oh," Qui-Gon grinned self-consciously. 
"Thank you."

"You're quite welcome, Master.  Though I feel I should admit I was baiting
a trap," Obi-Wan sipped his tea, trying to assess Qui-Gon's mood.

"You want to know where I learned those weapons," Qui-Gon guessed.

"No, Master.  Knight Hunter told me where you probably learned them,"
Obi-Wan admitted.

"Then you want to know why I never told you I'd been exiled," Qui-Gon
rejoined.

"Yes, please.  If you think it appropriate."  Obi-Wan was a little
disappointed to see the sandwich put aside.

"Well, yes.  The answer is fairly simple, really.  I'm sure you are more
than aware that my ... reputation and ... associations tend to color the
perceptions other people have about you," Qui-Gon began.  At Obi-Wan's nod,
he continued.  "What I sought to prevent was my history coloring your
opinion of yourself.  I don't worry that it would much alter what you think
of me.  You're a steady sort, I'm sure you understand me as well as I know
myself.  But knowing your master had been exiled, formally punished by the
Council ... "  Qui-Gon raised an eloquent brow.

Obi-Wan nodded.  "Yes, I see.  I understand."

"I'm not ashamed of it, Obi-Wan.  It was necessary to my situation.  It ...
did much to heal me," Qui-Gon explained

Well that was explanation enough for Obi-Wan.  "Another question, if it
please you Master?"

"Questions are always pleasing to the teacher," Qui-Gon replied.

"Pray, then, who is Master Sarafel?  I've never heard of ... her?" Qui-Gon
nodded and Obi-Wan went on.  "I've never heard of her before today, and now
I've heard she spent a year protecting you from possible assassination.  
Who is she?"

"Again, this was kept from you on purpose, Obi-Wan, but not for the same
reasons as the other.  You were not told of her so as to protect her.  She
was my Master,"  Qui-Gon admitted.  "Kourt's, too."

"But ... Master Yoda ... I thought ... "  Obi-Wan reached for his tea,
fighting with the concept.

"Did I ever *say* Yoda was my master?" Qui-Gon inquired archly.

"Well, no ... but ... " Obi-Wan's voice trailed off weakly.  "But you two
fight so much, I thought ... "

Qui-Gon chuckled.  "We just tend to disagree, Padawan.  Master Sarafel is
not a name one can safely speak.  Not that it would be dangerous to you, my
Padawan.  It would be dangerous to her if certain parties knew for a fact
that she still lived.  We keep her mention to a minimum.  Who told you of
her involvement?"

"Knight Hunter, but I think he thought I already knew about her.  Swed
didn't seem to attach any importance to the name.  Will I never meet her,
then?" Obi-Wan was suddenly, intensely curious about her.

"Doubtful, my Obi-Wan.  If ever you did, you may rest assured that the
situation will be either so dire or so joyous that you won't have much time
to find anything out from her.  I do apologize.  I'd like for you to have
known your Grandmaster," Qui-Gon smiled a little at that.

"My what?"

"Um, the master of your master.  Like the mother of your mother," Qui-Gon
elaborated.

Obi-Wan chuckled at that, too.  "Well, I have you.  And Master Crowe would
probably be more than happy to thump me a bit if I need it.  I'm pretty
well set up, all things considered."

"Indeed.  And now we must see to your journey, Obi-Wan.  I expect you'll
find quite a few surprises in your room.  I'll do the clearing up.  You go
make sure you have everything you need," Qui-Gon stood and began collecting
dishes.

"And you finish those biscuits," Obi-Wan commanded.  "They were for you."

Qui-Gon obediently bit into the pastry as Obi-Wan headed off to check his
supply.

A moment later he stormed back out of the room, arms laden with piles of
clothes. " *What* is all *this* ?"

"You'll be a full field operative, Obi-Wan.  As a member of the Order, not
as an apprentice.  You need to be able to hold your own," Qui-Gon began.

"But…"  Obi-Wan gestured with a pair of shorts.  "I didn't need new
EVERYTHING, Master!"

"Obi-Wan, however simple this mission seems, you may be headed into
danger.  I'll not let you out of my care with but shoddy supply to your
name," Qui-Gon informed him. "A Jedi in the field must command respect at
all times.  Fraying cuffs and re-stitched seams may not matter too much on
a Padawan, but on a Knight it makes a difference.  Dress the part, Obi-Wan,
and you'll be all the more ready to play it."

Obi-Wan sighed and looked at the new gear.  Qui-Gon was right.  He'd need
to blend with Obream's presentation as much as possible and be prepared to
take care of himself if necessary.  A Padawan had his master to look after
him.  A Padawan on a shepherd mission must behave as a Knight if at all
possible.  He must not let the higher-ranking shepherd be dragged down with
the care of a useless work partner.  Obi-Wan had nearly stepped into the
trap of automatically deferring to his mission leader, from sheer reflex of
rank.  This was part of the function of these missions.  To make a Padawan
stop thinking like a Padawan and start acting like a Knight.   Which, he
tardily realized, he had nearly done.

"Okay, Master.  I've seen you guide nobles in and out of positions before,
as situations warrant.  You already raised one good and faithful Knight of
the Order.  Please, Master Jinn.  Council me."  He set the clothes down on
the sofa and sat down at table again.

Qui-Gon smiled, ducked his head once and began talking.  There was much to
plan before Obi-Wan shipped out.

****************************  

"Well, Obream seems overjoyed," Obi-Wan reported as he shut down the vid. 
Sarcasm was heavy on that observation.

"He should be.  He had every reason to expect a long delay," Qui-Gon
replied from his seat on the sofa. "He should be pleased a partner was
found for him so quickly."

"Well, it is a bit sudden, but if I'm going to start shepherd missions, I
might as well get it over with.  Tomorrow, then."  Obi-Wan looked at his
packs.  "I can't believe you got all that stuff together that quickly."

"Thank Corubia.  I think she harassed the life out of her friends in
Allocations," Qui-Gon grinned.  "She's a good sort to have around."

"And to think she laid deep and involved plans to avoid Jackee Rilka at all
costs," Obi-Wan sighed.

"Anyone working for Lrakin Rilka is probably a good person to cultivate as
a friend and associate.  Still, the result is rather impressive."  

Corubia had put together nearly everything a Knight would need for travel
in just a few hours.  Almost all of it had come from the Temple stores, but
some bits and pieces were recognized as personal possessions from all
across the Temple residents.  Jenji had apparently raided her candy stores,
Swed had supplied the finer accessories to the personal linen and Obi-Wan
strongly suspected that Master Ar'thapa was going to miss her holocam.  But
it all came together in a perfect presentation of Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi
Knight.

Qui-Gon levered himself off the sofa.  "I hate to dash off like this, but I
do have to finish up the removal of stricture on Obream before he's allowed
near you.  Skies above only know how long the Council will keep me over
this.  You'd better see to a shower and get ready for bed.  I'll see you
when I get back."

Obi-Wan nodded and headed for the bathroom.  Upon exiting the shower, he
faced himself in the mirror, trying to reconcile himself to what he was
seeing.  *I should do something with this…*

His hair was too long.  Far too long.  The Council had, for some reason,
forbidden him to cut his hair the last time he'd stood before them.  That
order had come on top of a good three months without a trim and now the
length was getting into a stage that he was unpracticed at managing.  He
ran his fingers through the damp locks, trying to make them fall into the
style unto which he had become accustomed.  They fell over again, refusing
to cooperate.  Damn.  *I can't go waltzing around San Saloor looking like a
stray cat,* he fumed.  Nothing for it.  He took his comm link out and
chimed for Corubia.

"Nall."

"Cor, hey.  It's Obi.  Listen, do you think you could help me out a bit
here?  It's my hair," he sighed.

"Yeah, you were looking a bit shaggy this morning.  I'll be right over." 
She chirped off, leaving him alone with his reflection once more.

She arrived bearing an armload of hair-care supplies and instruments. 
After a quick inspection, she pulled out the clippers and prepared to give
him a buzz.

"No dice," he stopped her.  "Council said I can't cut it."

"Really?  Why?" she asked, putting the clippers away once more.

"No idea.  What am I gonna do?  I look like a ... a ... "

"Knight, really.  Except for the braid, of course,"  she went into the
front room and brought back the desk chair.  "Sit."  She toyed with his
hair thoughtfully. He watched her fool around for a minute, deciding how
she wanted to go about her work.  

"Okay, how about this?" she asked, pulling his braid back against his head
and holding it flush with his tail.

"Okay.  Fine.  I'd better put it away, I guess," Obi-Wan conceded.

She took out her scissors and snipped the tie, then re-wrapped the braid in
with it.  "Okay, now pay attention.  You've never worn your hair like this
and you'll need to do it on your own."

Obi-Wan nodded and she took out a tube of thick, clear cream. 
"Extra-hold," she explained, showing him the label.  "Now, just this much,
and get it in there evenly."

He watched her technique carefully.  After the gel was in, she began
twisting and combing her fingers through, making his hair stand up in
little soft fingers.  He had to admit, it looked pretty good, lending him
an air of disarray that he found quite stylish.  She let the tail and braid
alone, of course, but made the sides and back a little more tame than the
top.  "There.  A lovely 'just been fucked' look for the untrimmed Padawan."

"That's not funny, Cor," he growled.

"No, it's actually pretty good," she said, stepping back to admire her
handiwork.  "Besides, now you don't look like you're about to deliver a
sermon on moral life.  Trust me, the last thing anyone's going to want to
hear out of you is ethical theory or spiritual enlightenment."

"Really?  And how would you know?"  Obi-Wan spun around on the chair to
face her.

"Well, it's kind of hard to explain.  I mean, you've never really spent an
extended period of time away from both Master and Temple," she explained. 
"I think this is going to be a lot like when I used to go home.  I mean,
when you're in the field with Qui-Gon, he's always there to tell you what
to do, when to do it, and people respect that.  It's training, learning,
like that.  When you're by yourself ... it's different.  Especially with
locals who aren't at all used to having Jedi around.  I mean, there's a
reason I don't go home much anymore."

"Why?  I thought you liked your family," Obi-Wan tilted his head to one
side, curious.

"It's just really ... stressful now.  I mean, sure, you've never met these
people before, but I bet ... "  she looked away for a moment.  "Listen,
there's just something about outsiders that you don't get here at the
Temple.  Especially with my family.  They have ... expectations, usually
something they don't understand or can't explain.  But it's there all the
same ... "

"Are you serious?  I mean, how do you know?"  Obi-Wan stood and headed out
to the sofa.  Corubia followed and settled in on the other end. 

"Well, Jenji said her folks were the same.  Swed ... he doesn't say much,
but I gather his family was really, really upset when they found out he
doesn't limit his dating to female humans," Corubia shrugged.  "Like I
said, it's kind of hard to explain.  My parents have this idea about what
they want their kids to be, to do.  My brother's a banker, for skies' sake
and my sister's married and has a kid on the way.  She's only two years
older than me, you know."  

"So, but, they know you're not going to be anything like that, don't
they?"  Obi-Wan was totally confused.

"Yeah, intellectually, they know.  But for as long as I can remember, they
wanted me to come home and join the family business or something.  You just
can't explain the kind of pressure a mom can put on a kid," Corubia pulled
her knees up and wrapped her arms around them.  "I remember, they kept
telling me 'All you have to do is say you want to and you can come home to
stay.'  You know that, right?  Once you're old enough to have a solid grip
on your abilities, you can leave the Temple."

Obi-Wan swallowed.  "Yeah, if you have somewhere to go."

"You didn't miss much, bro.  It's tough on a kid.  I mean, you go home,
they lavish all this attention on you, you don't have to go to classes,
they let you sleep late and fool around.  Plus, if you go do katas or
meditate or whatever where they can see you, all you get is weird looks. 
And practicing Force stuff?  Right out.  I almost gave my da a heart attack
the first time I levitated something instead of going to get it."  She
shuddered at the memory.  "And saber drills?  That's what's keeping me away
right now.  I was working on Amber Rainbow last time I went home."

Obi-Wan chuckled in sympathy.  The Rainbow was one of the required sets of
forms, the mastery of which required daily practice for months on end.  The
rule of thumb was 'miss a day, loose a week' in the Rainbow forms.

"So there I was, deep in a workout in the backyard.  Ma came out and says
'Corubia, dear?  Could you maybe not do that right now?  I'm afraid you'll
hurt yourself."  Corubia lay her forehead on her arms then looked up
again.  "I lost three weeks of work before I got back."

"Hurt yourself?" Obi-Wan was at a loss for words.

"Yeah.  None of them could reconcile the idea of THE JEDI, warriors honest
and true ... and me.  If there was ever an attack on their capitol, they'd
be on their knees praying for a Knight to show up and save them.  But me? 
Their kid?" she sighed.

"But it wasn't all bad, was it?"  Obi-Wan swallowed, beginning to think
maybe he *hadn't* missed much.

"No, it wasn't.  That's the worst of it.  For the most part, it's really
GOOD.  I mean, I could walk out of here and into just about any job Trimeas
has to offer, with the experience and education I have.  Ma made very
certain I understood what that meant, both personally and financially.  I
could be a teacher at the university, or maybe a businessperson, whatever. 
It would be an easy life, back home."  Corubia suddenly became very
interested in the sofa upholstery.  "At least your survey group won't be as
bad as my family.  They actually know what they want out of you."

Obi-Wan snorted.  "I wish I'd been able to go home at least once.  Maybe it
would help me now."

"Actually, it's probably a good thing you didn't.  It's hard to tell your
mom 'Sorry, I know this really, really hurts you, but I just can't do what
you're asking of me.'  No matter what terms you're on, it's hard to
disappoint your family when you could just as easily do something that
could make them really happy," Corubia started picking at a loose scale on
the back of her hand.  "I mean, you read stories all the time about
adoptees finding their birth families and going to all these lengths to
live up to whatever fantasies their families had about them."

Obi-Wan thought about that for a minute. "I don't know.  I mean, I'm pretty
good, as I am now.  Why would they do that?"

"You think I didn't get pressure from my family?  I did.  It was pretty
intense right before Master Torlamin made me her Padawan.  They kept
telling me about all the hard work, all the danger, all the things I'd be
giving up if I stayed in the Temple.  It's been hard, knowing I could
leave.  Some days I'd be there, I'd think to myself 'I can just stay.  I'd
never have to kill anyone again, I'd never be shot at or poisoned again. 
I'd never have to do that damn ribbon-and-fan exercise ever, ever again,"
she thumped the sofa once for emphasis.

"That had to have been tough," Obi-Wan whispered.

Corubia fixed him with a steady gaze. "It was the hardest, longest fight
I've ever dealt with, but I stood strong for what I believed to be right. 
I held on and kept coming back to the Temple, because I'm Jedi.  It's what
I am and what I was meant to be.  You know why I'm not worried about you
going off with Obream?  Because he can make your life a living hell and it
won't make any difference one way or another.  Down in the core of it, he
can't touch you.  You'll be fine, because you're Jedi too.  Right down to
the bone, you're Jedi.  Maybe deeper."

Obi-Wan grinned at her.  "I'll try to keep that in mind."

"Do that.  It might be the only thing that keeps you sane.  Look, I've got
to go see Rigger.  Call me if you need anything,"  Corubia got up and
headed to the bathroom for her things.  "By the way, that's a good look for
you."

He waved his thanks, for the compliment and the advice, "See you when I get
back."

"Count on it, bro," she grinned, thumbing the door open.  

He sighed, leaning his head back on the arm of the sofa.  *I hope you're
wrong about this, Cor.  Then again, I hope you're right, too.*

**********************

Qui-Gon stood in the door of Obi-Wan's room, watching his student put the
last of his things into packs.  It all seemed so final.  His Padawan was
leaving him and for all that it was a simple mission, he might not return. 
All Jedi faced that possibility on every mission.  His Koateleu was leaving
him ... 

"Koateleu," he whispered, to taste the word again.  Obi-Wan turned to him,
smiling.  Responding to the name.  Qui-Gon smiled back, hoped it reached as
far as his eyes, doubted that it did.

"Pantreti," Obi-Wan whispered.

"You're really not going to tell me what that means?"  Qui-Gon asked.

"Of course not.  A fine Jedi Master like yourself should be able to find
out, if he really wants to know," Obi-Wan teased.

Qui-Gon looked away, leaving the smile on his lips.  "As you will, Koatel. 
You should get some sleep.  Obream might be an early riser, you know."

"I doubt it.  I would be very much surprised if he was up and about before
luncheon," Obi-Wan replied, coming closer.  "I have time to spare."

Qui-Gon slipped his arms around Obi-Wan's strong shoulders, pressing a kiss
to his temple.  "If you are sure," he began.

"Did you think I would not bid you a proper farewell, my Pantreti?"  Tthe
younger man smiled.  "We can do it here, if you wish," he tilted his head
towards his own bed.

Something about that phrasing struck Qui-Gon as being odd, but he pushed
the thought aside.  "My bed, if you will.  So that it may hold your memory,
if not yourself."

Obi-Wan nodded, stepping back.  He removed his boots and placed them next
to his packs, ditto the belt and sash he wore.  His tunics fell open,
exposing him from throat to navel.  Qui-Gon swallowed once, trying to keep
what composure he could.

Obi-Wan returned, taking him by the hand, leading him to his own bed.  He
stayed close, hip brushing against Qui-Gon's on every other step, until
they stood beside the bed.  Obi-Wan looked up at him through thick lashes,
mouth parted ever so slightly, moist.  Hungry.  Qui-Gon felt his pulse
quicken at the sight, then leaned in to taste.

Obi-Wan's mouth was a soft, pliant offering, a granting of desire, a dream
made real.  His flavor was rich and heady, tongue mobile and exciting as he
explored Qui-Gon's lips, teeth, strong brush along the gumline which amused
Obi-Wan for some reason.  The laugh that escaped him broke the kiss and
Obi-Wan took the opportunity to begin working on Qui-Gon's clothes.

Moments later and they were twisted together on the bed, down to their
leggings and a hot passion for one anther's flesh.  Qui-Gon spent long
moments savoring his lover's skin, touching, stroking, pressing himself to
every available surface.  It wasn't enough.  Couldn't be enough for this
night.  //Open to me.//

**What?**

//Let's be ... together, my Obi-Wan,// Qui-Gon nuzzled along his jawline,
nibbled an ear, gave the braid a playful bite and tug. //Please.//

**As you will, Qui-Gon.**

The tone of that seemed odd as well, and it was an oddness that he couldn't
simply push aside.  Obi-Wan's thoughts were spinning out into his,
blending, making themselves known to him.  He could sense where he was
about to be touched, a bare instant before it happened.  He thinned his
shield and spun himself into Obi-Wan's mind as well, sharing the pleasure
and joy across the link.

**Still, be still,** Obi-Wan murmured, eyes glazing with the shared
sensations.  Qui-Gon leaned back into the pillows, more than willing to
obey.  His fingers wandered over Obi-Wan's shoulders, across his neck and
into his hair.  For some reason, he found himself longing for the day when
those soft ginger locks would be long enough for him to get a proper grip
on.

Obi-Wan sensed the wish and chuckled, scattering a flurry of kisses down
Qui-Gon's abdomen.  At the same time, he was pushing the remaining cloth
down Qui-Gon's legs, baring him completely.  Strong, nimble fingers stroked
and caressed Qui-Gon's thighs, pushing them apart, touching all the right
places before hot, hungry lips followed their explorations.  Qui-Gon
moaned, but it still wasn't enough.  He opened his thoughts more fully,
lowering all outer shields, letting his wordless feelings of pleasure and
love flow out of him and into his beautiful tormentor.

Obi-Wan's head came up suddenly, a look of surprise flitting across his
face before he returned to his ministrations.  Odd, for certain, and
Qui-Gon couldn't let it go.  //Open to me, Obi-Wan.  Please.  I love you.//

Obi-Wan smiled, taking one finger into his mouth and moistening it.  **I
think it's time for you to open to me, Pantreti.**

Qui-Gon smiled, letting his legs fall wider apart.  At the same time, he
summoned the bottle of rose oil from the table to his hand. 

**Showoff.  You could have reached that,** Obi-Wan admonished.

//Only if I'd moved, which I have no desire to do,// Qui-Gon explained.

**Oh?  I bet I can make you move,** Obi-Wan smiled and pressed his finger
deep into Qui-Gon's body.

The unexpected intrusion sent a flash of ... very strong sensation through
Qui-Gon.  Not pain, exactly, but something else.  It had been quite some
time since that entry had been less than pleasurable and it brought Qui-Gon
up short.  "Wait," he gasped.  "Wait a minute."

Obi-Wan looked concerned, withdrew his hand and stretched out along
Qui-Gon's body.  "Better some other way tonight, Pan?"

Qui-Gon smiled.  "Maybe.  Let's not rush into anything ... "

Obi-Wan propped his head up on one hand, gazing steadily into Qui-Gon's
eyes, patiently waiting for his partner to signal his readiness to
continue.  Qui-Gon raised his hand, put it back down and considered for a
long moment.  //Let me in.  Let me see you ... //

Obi-Wan's eyes flicked away and came back, flicked again and fixed on
Qui-Gon once more.  Slowly his shields thinned and fell away.

Qui-Gon was immediately aware of his partner's discomfort at the exposure. 
He looked quickly and withdrew himself firmly behind his own mental
shields, closed his eyes to consider what he'd seen.

Obi-Wan cared for him.  Obi-Wan was having sex with him.  The two concepts
stood apart, separate and wholly unrelated.  "Oh," Qui-Gon breathed,
understanding at last.

"I told you that a long time ago," Obi-Wan whispered, defensive.

"It's all right," Qui-Gon assured him.  "I simply ... misunderstood."

Obi-Wan sighed and kissed his shoulder.  "Ready?"

Qui-Gon kept his eyes closed, considering.  "Will you stay with me
tonight?"

"Why?"

*Why indeed?* Qui-Gon thought.  If the physical was not a reflection of the
emotional, why indeed?  Why any of it?

"I will, Qui-Gon, if you want me to," Obi-Wan assured him.

"Shh, no.  No.  I ... don't wish to force you," Qui-Gon murmured, ashamed
of his request.

"Dammit, Qui-Gon!  Why are you making things so difficult?"  Obi-Wan fell
back on the bed, withdrawing.  "I'm leaving tomorrow.  I won't see you for
a few days, maybe longer!  Don't you want me to ... "

Qui-Gon opened his eyes at last.  "Yes.  I want you to.  Anything at all
that you desire, on any terms you wish.  I want you to."

"Good, because I want this.  I want to take this with me, where I am
going," Obi-Wan slipped off the bed, removed his pants and returned.  

"How would you have me?" Qui-Gon murmured, closing his eyes.

"Turn over," Obi-Wan purred, lips brushing Qui-Gon's once more.

Qui-Gon did as he was bid, wrapping his arms around his pillow.  Once more
his senses filled with the white-hot pleasure of contact between himself
and the man he loved with all his heart.  *It doesn't matter.  It doesn't,*
he told himself firmly.  He willed himself to relax, to enjoy, to drink in
the sensation of giving himself over to Obi-Wan's desires.  He pressed his
face into the pillow, letting his hair fall forward as Obi-Wan stroked his
hips, buttocks, parting him for a long, intimate kiss ... 

This time the penetration was easy, slow, and he was more than ready for
it.  One finger was followed by two, then three and his cock was rock hard
and aching between himself and the sheets.  He moved his hips, undulating
slowly against the two stimulants.  *There is no passion.  There is
serenity,* he reminded himself, clinging to the belief that was a solid
fact in the core of his being.

Then he was empty, and Obi-Wan's teeth fastened hard onto the back of his
neck.  He cried out at the sharp feel, sighed as it eased off, moaned as
his body was filled once more, pressing into the claim that was laid on his
flesh.

He pushed up onto his knees, snapping his hips back against Obi-Wan,
letting himself be weakened by the pleasure, letting need and lust well up
in him and burn his thoughts away.  Obi-Wan's strong fist closed over his
hungry cock and he thrust into it, soft grunts catching in his throat. 
"More," he gasped.  "Harder."

Obi-Wan supplied with a will, bearing down on him, rocking them both with
each thrust.  His cock found just the right angle, pounding hard on
Qui-Gon's prostate, driving him over the edge of orgasm between one
heartbeat and the next.  Qui-Gon moaned, reveled in the sounds from his
lover that signaled his release as well.  They fell forward onto the
sheets, separating, hands seeking to hold as they caught their breath.

"Good?" Obi-Wan panted.

"Skies yes," Qui-Gon replied.

"Mmm.  Good.  Sleep," Obi-Wan pulled at the sheets.

"Yeah," Qui-Gon agreed after a moment.  They managed to get themselves
covered with a minimum of movement, spooning together without words.

Qui-Gon slid down, buried his face in the back of Obi-Wan's neck, breathing
in the scent, memorizing the taste of a few kisses.  *I will hold this here
with me,* he promised, and drifted off to sleep.