.                      Bonds of Choice #16
                  Star Wars: TPM FanFic Series
                         by HiperBunny
                        (message 2 of 4)
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Qui-Gon opened his eyes and sighed, smiling faintly at the memory of that
morning, and mornings after.  The reassurances his master had given him had
helped, over the years, to prevent repetitions of those early days, those
early mistakes.  He understood his preference to occasionally blend
pleasure and pain.  Eventually he had come to understand his motivations. 
His training as a Jedi, powerful warrior and precious being, had made him
feel ... somehow unreal, unconnected to a great many things.  Through
sexually motivated pain, he focused his need to be out of control, in the
care of another, taken to a dangerous place and brought back safely.  There
was nothing wrong with that, and it seemed closer to the more common BDSM
ideals than he'd originally believed.  It was only the surface of all he
expressed through those joinings, but it was enough to help him keep a grip
on it all.

But this, what had happened last night, what was still happening today ...
this was not right.  He hadn't made himself clear to Obi-Wan, had let his
partner run on assumptions that were not true.  Obi-Wan seemed to think
Qui-Gon would want this ... roughness ... more often than not, if not all
the time.  If Obi-Wan continued to run on those assumptions ... Qui-Gon
couldn't face that idea.  Qui-Gon threaded his fingers up into his own hair
and sent healing Force through his skin, healing the bruises and scratches
with practiced ease.  

He could not so easily erase the misconceptions between himself and
Obi-Wan, but erase them he would, no matter what it took.  He unfolded his
legs from under him and lay back on the floor, letting the sunlight caress
his skin.  With one hand he pulled his towel away from his body.  The other
hand extended out towards the shelves that lined one wall of his room,
summoning a small box to his side.  He closed his eyes and prepared himself
for long contemplation of events past and present, began to plan for events
of the future.

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

Obi-Wan settled his gear into the small berth afforded him aboard the
transport.  Obream had mentioned a briefing soon, said Obi-Wan should see
him in his quarters when they were under way.  The Knight seemed ... edgy
was an understatement, but was the best Obi-Wan could come up with for
him.  His fine features were beginning to show the signs of wear the life
of a Jedi puts on anyone.  His hair was thinning, and he was losing some of
the fine muscle tone Obi-Wan had always admired in his form.  The sharp
nose was less attractive as his features began the softening of age, and
Obi-Wan was having difficulty remembering what it was he'd found so
attractive about Obream in the first place.  Especially considering the
fine example of male beauty he'd lived with every day of his life since he
was twelve.

*Where the hell did that come from, Kenobi?  When you and Obream were
together, Qui-Gon was the furthest thing from your mind.*

Obi-Wan shook it off and headed up to the cockpit.  He entered quietly,
keeping well out of the way.  Some pilots were rather touchy about their
controls, himself among that number.  The man at the helm was thin, willowy
like so many spacers tended to be.  His hair was dark, movements quick and
sure.  "Hi," Obi-Wan greeted.

The pilot turned halfway round in his chair.  "Hi there!" he returned. 
"You must be the sheep.  I'm Guild Pilot Sekarit Mendrova, but everyone
calls me Scratch."  He tossed his bangs away from his glasses and offered a
hand.

Obi-Wan accepted. "Padawan Kenobi.  Call me Obi-Wan."

"Welcome to the 'Nathaniel Bereak', Obi-Wan Kenobi.  Home and transport to
me and mine.  Oh, look at the time.  You might want to stand clear of the
door," Scratch advised, lifting a plastic box out from under the console.

Obi-Wan stepped aside and turned to see what he was getting clear of.  He
felt a wide grin creep across his face as two low, long, furry and
terminally adorable mammals came charging along the corridor and swarmed up
the pilot's legs.  One arranged itself in Scratch's lap.  The other made
for his shoulders and both fixed the pilot with an expectant look. 
"Ferrets?  I've never seen real ferrets before!" Obi-Wan exclaimed.

"And you're not likely to see them again anytime soon.  Us spacers have
pretty much cornered the market," Scratch grinned.  "Now, Duran, Myrkit,
this is Obi-Wan.  You're not to vex him."

The ferrets turned their intelligent eyes towards the Padawan and seemed to
memorize him.  Obi-Wan projected calm and vegetarianism for all he was
worth, as Qui-Gon had long ago taught him.  The little mammals seemed
satisfied with that and returned their attention to Scratch and his box.

Obi-Wan watched with some amusement as the pilot fed his companions.  "I
had to teach them to eat up here with me.  Otherwise they'd've figured the
caterer out.  It's worse with raccoons.   Oh, here comes Nate," Scratch
indicated the entry-light.

A few moments later and a tall, also-spacer-thin curly-haired gentleman
entered and took a seat in the co-pilot's chair.  "Hi!  Nathan Vreen, of
the Nathaniel Bereak."

"No relation," Scratch clarified.

Obi-Wan suppressed a chuckle and tendered his own introduction.  "Are you
guys our survey crew?"

"Well, such as we are, yes," Nate smiled.  "We've been in and out of Perrys
all during the hostilities, so we're about ready for some Jedi presence to
shore the situation up a bit."

"We're the ones who fished Master Ar'thapa out of the capitol when war
broke out, you know," Scratch set his pets down and they made off for parts
unknown.

"Really?" Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow.  "Was her Padawan with her?"

"Mmhmm.  Spent the trip back drawing the kids," Nate confirmed.

"That's Jenji all right.  I'm surprised she didn't mention that she knew
you.  We're quite close.  I must thank you for getting her back to us
safely," Obi-Wan bowed low.

Nate and Scratch exchanged looks.  "We don't tie to Jedi," Scratch finally
said.  "Y'all cause too much trouble."

Obi-Wan nodded slowly.  "Very well.  But if you should need me ... "

Nate snorted.  "More likely you'll need us.  Perrys isn't anywhere near as
stable as they're making out to be.  And the Guild acts like something bad
is stirring out that way."

Before Obi-Wan could inquire further, his comm link chimed.  "Kenobi."

"Padawan, I'll be briefing you on our mission now.  Come to my quarters
where we may have some privacy."

"Yes, Knight Trydal," Obi-Wan replied.

"Guess that's our cue," Scratch turned back to his controls.

Obi-Wan headed out to find Obream's quarters as the Nathaniel Bereak
cleared Coruscant atmosphere and made the jump to lightspeed.  *Guess this
is it.  First mission without my Master.*

He allowed himself a pleased smile, fully confident that this mission would
be successful.

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

Qui-Gon lay in the sunbeam, noted the shift it had taken as he meditated
and relaxed his mind, preparing himself for his next journey down memory
lane.  His next destination Obi-Wan might never guess at.  He'd had plenty
of hints, but Qui-Gon sincerely hoped his young student had not yet guessed
at what lay down this particular footpath of Qui-Gon's personal history. 
It began so innocently.  Well, as innocently as any lesson from Master
Kourt Crowe can be.  It began with a book of holos and ended with a
stiletto.  Qui-Gon opened the box beside him and drew the stiletto out,
watching the blade glitter in the sun.  He lay the cool steel against his
belly, let the present go and fell back into the past.

***  

Kourt had been training Qui-Gon in special operations for quite some time,
nearly two years, when Qui-Gon discovered a particular collection of
holograms in one particular book kept in the Group's lab.  He had been
looking for something else, he couldn't remember what, when this one had
fallen from the shelf and the pages fell open, displaying holochips that
recorded something ... gruesome.  Horrible.  Lovely.

Qui-Gon had taken the book into better light, studying each one carefully. 
There were pictures of several different lifeforms, a handful of humans and
humanoid types.  It was these that he concentrated on.  Especially the
three men.  Each man was naked, his flesh a webwork of pink and brown
lines.  Qui-Gon felt his pulse pick up, his breath hitch in his throat even
as his gorge rose.  He'd long since accepted that Kourt was meticulous, a
master craftsman when it came to administering pain and getting what he
wanted from whoever he wanted, whatever it took.  But Qui-Gon had never
suspected that his friend was also an artist!  

The book snapped shut and Qui-Gon recoiled, realizing Kourt had closed the
book with the Force.  "What the hell do you think you're doing, Jinn?"

Qui-Gon stammered for a moment, then said "I was looking ... did you do
that?"

Kourt nodded slowly, danger filling his eyes.  "Don't move, Qui-Gon."  The
younger man stood stock still as Kourt stepped closer, pushed the book
aside and rested his hand on Qui-Gon's crotch.  His fingers closed down on
the erection there, an accusation and question all in one.  "What the fuck
is wrong with you, man?" Kourt hissed.

"I didn't ... I wasn't ... "  Qui-Gon began.

"I don't do that because I enjoy it, you sick little fuck!  I did that
because it was the most expedient method.  Do you learn what I teach you
because ... Qui-Gon, do you LIKE hurting people??" Kourt demanded.

"NO!  Kourt, please, NO!  This, it isn't ... "  he put one hand on the back
of Kourt's, pressing him tight against his cock.  "I'm not ashamed of
this.  I wasn't thinking about doing that to someone else.  I like pain
sometimes ... and that ... I was thinking about what it would be like to
have that done to me.  I wouldn't want to do it to someone else ... I
didn't even realize these were your ... targets.  Kourt, please, you have
to understand.  It's the nature of this desire."  He had himself back under
control, centered on himself and what it was that caused this reaction.

"Really?" Kourt growled dangerously.

Qui-Gon closed his eyes and opened himself to Kourt's mind, showing him the
very basic and un-planned reaction within himself.  He felt Kourt scrabble
through his memories, checking him for Darkness or any twisted desires. 
"Kourt, please ... please don't hate me for this.  I have no wish to change
what I am, how I am.  It doesn't change who I am ... and I thought you had
a care for me."

He felt the withdraw of Kourt's mind and sighed with relief.  "You never
mentioned anything like this before, Quigs."

Qui-Gon relaxed with the return of his nickname.  "It's not something I
tell everyone.  Not even my lovers, anymore.  Not many understand, you
see.  I don't get it often ... it's only good if you get it from someone
who cares about you."  He shrugged.  "Very few care for me."

His breath caught again as soft lips closed over his.  A tongue sought
entrance to his mouth, and he opened to it, willingly, achingly, sensing
the care and love that spurred the touch.  When they parted, Kourt
whispered against his cheek.  "I care for you, Qui-Gon Jinn.  Never doubt
it."

"Will you show me that, Kourt?  Is it something I can do for myself, so I
don't ... "  Qui-Gon looked away.  "So I can get what I want without
needing to give myself over to someone else?"

Kourt traced Qui-Gon's jawline with his thumb.  "Why?"

Qui-Gon's hands flapped at his sides, frustrated.  "It takes too long to
build that kind of trust between two people.  It's time I don't really have
... probably won't have, ever.  It's dangerous to play like that, without
the trust, even when there is love involved."

"You could find someone who ... " Kourt began.

"I've looked."

Kourt let out a slow breath.  "Yes, I can teach you this.  Yes, you can do
it to yourself.  You have to promise me something, though, Qui-Gon.  Never
teach it to anyone.  If you finally find ... whoever you're looking for ...
send them to me.  I'll teach them myself.  Do you swear?"

Qui-Gon clenched Kourt's thumb with his own.  "I swear."

"Good.  Because I can teach you love-pain like you've never dreamed of.  I
can teach you to sustain yourself and make you self reliant in this need. 
I wish you'd've told me sooner, Quigs," Kourt grinned.  "This might even be
fun."

Kourt was as good as his word, instructing Qui-Gon on the finer points of
pain distribution and the adjacent philosophies from which the various
disciplines sprang.  These lessons dovetailed nicely with the lessons
Master Sarafel had given her student.  Qui-Gon came to understand more
clearly the body responses that were created by indulging in pain. 
Eventually that understanding brought a refined control over those
responses, a mastery of himself and his need. He'd just about decided he
didn't need anything more when Kourt Crowe had taught him differently, yet
again.

They'd been out clubbing.  'Taking a tour of the local cultural outlets' as
the official report euphemism went.  Qui-Gon had been drinking too much,
and for once Kourt had been, too.  The night was something of a
celebration, Qui-Gon's 'period of adjustment' from student to Knight had
been completed. Kourt's official report on his last couple of years' work
making him eligible for taking a Padawan and other more advanced duties in
the Order.  The last few months had started something between the two Jedi,
what with the in-depth analysis of Qui-Gon's sex drive, among other things.
The unbroken sexual tension between the men had risen to a fever pitch with
those lessons, and Qui-Gon had decided he could do without the stress
headache, if it was all the same to the universe.

And apparently, Kourt had come to about the same conclusion.

They left the noise and smoke and confusion of the club district and
decided to walk back to the embassy, to find refuge in the rooms allotted
them by the local ruling body.  This mission was meant to be something of a
rest period for Kourt, who had just finished a long string of
'unmentionable' assignments.  Qui-Gon's duties included overseeing Kourt's
relaxation, a job he had performed to the best of his abilities during
their participation in the trade negotiations they were nominally
overseeing.  

In fact, all Qui-Gon had really overseen was the constant and unrelenting
application of seductive intent on his partner.  It was a surprise to
neither of them when Kourt finally backed Qui-Gon up against a wall and
kissed him, deeply, with intent to claim.  It was only the second time
Qui-Gon had felt Kourt's kiss, but in that moment it was like unto a
homecoming.  

The rest of the walk home was a jumbled collection of kisses, gropes and
gentle suggestions to passers-by that they had seen nothing, heard nothing,
would simply go on their way.  When they finally stumbled into Qui-Gon's
apartment they hadn't even bothered with the lights, nor with much finesse
in undressing one another.  The time for waiting had passed and there was
much to be shared.

Qui-Gon was fairly certain life couldn't get better.

So it was through touch that Qui-Gon first learned Kourt's body.  The
silkiness of his skin and the fluffy, resilient softness of all that curly
hair.  His lips and tongue got first shot at Kourt's sensitive and tight
nipples while fingertips spread out and down, cataloging the undiscovered
country of muscular belly, thighs, ass and finally the short, rough hair
and generous sac.  He cupped Kourt's genitals with care and tenderness,
only gradually becoming aware of the lack of firmness there.  "Kourt? 
What's wrong?" Qui-Gon murmured, pulling back.

"Shh, it's not you ... I'm not human, remember?  It isn't automatic.  Give
me a minute ... " Kourt reassured him, guiding them both to the bed.  "How
do you like it?"

"What?" Qui-Gon murmured, confused by this turn of events.  "How do I like
what?"

"Cocks, Quigs.  How do you like them?  I can do any kind you like ... "

Qui-Gon fell back on the pillows, laughing.  "Made to order penis?  Are you
serious?"

"Absolutely," Kourt nuzzled along his jawline.  "Do you have a preference,
or should I just wing it?"

"Wait, I have a couple of questions, here ... " Qui-Gon was bold with the
courage of alcohol and lust.  "If you're not human ... do you like sex? 
Does it feel good?  Can you ... come?"

"Yes, yes and yes.  I just have to arrange for things, love.  I need you to
help me, so you get what you want, too," Kourt moved down Qui-Gon's chest,
suckling at one nipple, then the other.  "You have to prepare for sex, so
do I, so please, let's get on with it before I kill something."

Qui-Gon was laughing again, but he captured Kourt's hands and guided them
down to his own cock.  "Be as you prefer to be, lover," he whispered,
suddenly serious.

"Okay," Kourt readily agreed, touching Qui-Gon's erection like a blind man,
fingers skating deftly over the sensitive skin.  "This is nice ... good ...
"

"Oh yes, very ... " Qui-Gon murmured, arching into the exploring fingers.

"Good, good ... this is good ... " Kourt groaned, but with what sensation
Qui-Gon could only imagine.  "Like this?" he asked, pulling Qui-Gon's hands
to his own penis once more.

"Mmm ... skies ... this is ... yeah ... " he squeezed and stroked
carefully, mapping the sensitive spots and generous shape.

"Sooo ... .what do you think?  Bigger, smaller, just right?"  Kourt was
stroking Qui-Gon once more, but this time with purpose.

"Kourt, love, don't take this the wrong way ... but shut up."  Qui-Gon
gasped as the flesh in his hands grew ... warmer ... altered in some way
... and Kourt moaned again in what could only be pleasure.  "That is the
most astounding thing I have ever encountered."

Kourt chuckled low in his throat.  "You are the most astounding thing *I*
have ever encountered.  I knew you would understand ... "

Qui-Gon pulled Kourt to lay atop him.  "You've given me so much ...
understanding, education, care ... how could I give you less?"

"I want to give you everything," Kourt dove back in for deeper kisses, and
Qui-Gon let his hands wander the silken flesh above him once more, grinding
his cock up into the hardness Kourt had so thoughtfully crafted for his
pleasure.  "Quigs, Qui-Gon, lover, let me be something to you."

"Trust you with anything," Qui-Gon moaned.  Then a thought came to him and
he cupped Kourt's face in his hands.  "As long as it's pleasure.  No pain
between us, not ever."

"But, Quigs ... I know you like it ... " Kourt's tone was pure
astonishment.

"And I know you hate to hurt anyone or anything.  I don't want you going
ice cold on me just to do that.  I've seen you like that and it doesn't
belong here."  Qui-Gon shivered at the recollection of Kourt's emotionless
attitude towards those acts.  "Pleasure me, let me pleasure you.  Isn't
that enough?  If you want to hurt me ... I can if you want me to ... "

Feather-light kisses stilled his words.  "Pleasure, love, trust, you and
I.  Sounds good to me," Kourt agreed.  "Now get comfy, Quigs baby.  I got
something to show you."

So Qui-Gon had.  He arranged himself in a most comfortable pose and simply
allowed Kourt to do what he willed.  Soft lips and strong hands toured his
body, tasting and caressing him until every nerve was on fire, every hair
stood on end and his cock was achingly hard with arousal.  Kourt suckled
and nibbled his nipples for what seemed like an eternity, drawing cries and
moans from Qui-Gon's throat until he was hoarse and pleading for more. 
Then he strayed low down, letting his hair trail from Qui-Gon's chest,
across his belly and laying a soft path of soothing weight behind him.  

Kourt kissed the tip of Qui-Gon's cock, tongue flicking out over the moist
tip, a light teasing precursor to the hot pleasure of being taken in
completely and swallowed whole.  Qui-Gon thrust upwards into that beckoning
warmth, stroking deeply before he could stop himself.  "Oh fuck, I don't
want to hurt you, skies, Kourt!" he screamed, pulling away and thrusting
again.

Kourt withdrew, laying his throat against the length of Qui-Gon's penis. 
The thrum of his chuckle was something else again.  "Doesn't apply, lover. 
You can't hurt me, I promise."

And that mobile tongue slicked his cock again, preparing him to be taken in
and loved.  He was vaguely aware of hands slipping under his hips, lifting
him up as Kourt swallowed him again, the muscles in that giving throat
rippling and stroking him, pulling and squeezing his length with infinite
delicacy and care.  <<And I won't hurt you,>> he murmured directly into
Qui-Gon's mind. 

A heavy pressure at the base of his cock illustrated this truth.  With a
start, Qui-Gon realized Kourt was perfectly in tune with what Qui-Gon was
feeling.  He was using that knowledge to insure there was nothing, not a
single sliver of pain between them.  He groaned again, buried his hands in
Kourt's beautiful hair and thrust with abandon, twice, thrice, feeling the
edge of orgasm gathering in his groin and pulling him towards release. 
"I'm going to ... I'm ... " and the rest was lost in a howl of ecstasy.

Kourt's fingers slid under his balls, pressing in and up, prolonging the
sensation, intensifying it as he bucked and twisted against the sucking
pull of lips and throat. Qui-Gon writhed for long moments, waves of lust
and pleasure rocking him to the core.  When at last he rested, Kourt
released him and swallowed again.  "Feel, see?" he murmured, pulling
Qui-Gon's hands down to his own cock.  

Qui-Gon gasped, astonished. "How?"

"The human body is an amazing thing, Quigs.  You just have to learn how it
works," Kourt kissed him again, giving him the flavor of his own seed with
the smooth embrace.  "Ready for more?"

"Want you inside me ... Can we?"  Qui-Gon was near to begging as he stroked
his own too-sensitive, impossible erection.

"Absolutely," Kourt assured him.  "Lube?"

"In my bag," Qui-Gon rose to fetch his massage oil and returned, laying on
his belly, hips pushing down against the hot sheets.  "Here," he said,
giving himself over to Kourt's care once more.

Strong fingers caressed along Qui-Gon's shoulderblades, down his spine and
over the curves of his hips, lifting him up to slip a pillow beneath him. 
Then warm lips caressed his neck, down one shoulder and along his arm as
Kourt's luxurious hair dragged along his back.  The weight of Kourt's body
pressed against him as he leaned over, kissing curve of elbow down into
Qui-Gon's palm where his hand lay at his side, then up across his waist to
buttocks, down the inside of his thigh and on into the back of his knee. 
Kourt laved that tender skin for several slow breaths, then nudged
Qui-Gon's legs apart so that he might kneel there and kiss again, knee to
thigh to buttock.  

Gently, slowly Qui-Gon felt himself parted, hot breath touching just an
instant before lips and tongue embraced his anus soothing and relaxing him
before the tip ventured further, opening and moistening within.  Qui-Gon
screamed hoarsely as the teasing licks ventured quite deep, impossibly
gentle and intimate.  "Ohhhh ... .Kourt ... do it again," he pleaded, as
the pleasure-stars faded from behind his eyes.  Again Kourt let the tip of
his tongue wander, touching off fireworks of heightened pleasure in
Qui-Gon's body.  

<<Open to me, Qui-Gon.  Please, I need to be sure,>> Kourt's mental voice
was as familiar as his own name, so Qui-Gon did as he was asked, thinning
and lowering shields, letting his lover within his mind, where he could see
what was happening.  <<Come in to me, Quigs,>> Kourt invited, letting his
own safeguards go.


Pleasure and trust were making a neuron soup of Kourt's mind, but somewhere
in there Qui-Gon could still sense that unshakable calm and control that
allowed them both the pleasure of this joining.  No verbal thoughts
remained for long as Kourt's mouth was replaced by oily fingers, stroking
and stretching, touching deep and gentle with infinite grace.  Qui-Gon
writhed under the thorough preparation, pushing back on one, two ... more
fingers, understanding the necessity and more than willing to submit unto
it.

Then Kourt was shifting back, pressing the tip of his cock to Qui-Gon's
slick passage and Qui-Gon cried out, //Hold me Kourt, hold me down make me
yours part of you I want your strength// he babbled, before losing contact
with language once more.

Kourt's hands pressed his shoulders to the bed, gentle weight anchoring him
to the reality of their joining as Qui-Gon undulated into the stretch of
entry.  Sobs escaped, along with pleasure-filled laughter as their bodies
twined closer, their minds burning with lust, pleasure, ecstatic sharing,
deep and abiding trust and the sweet, sweet love they bore for one
another.  Qui-Gon reached up and back, gripping Kourt's wrists as he began
to thrust, pulling his arms down and around until chest pressed to back,
hips moved together, hands joined over erection even as cock thrust into
joyfully receiving channel, and Qui-Gon threw his head back, rubbing and
moving and whimpering, sensing Kourt's arousal rising to a fever pitch
between one breath and the next.

Qui-Gon pushed back, almost rising to his knees, flexed his inner muscles
and thrust between the fingers that caressed his cock and came once more,
crying out the name he saw like a living flame within his partner's mind.

They lay together, hopelessly tangled as their bodies trembled to a halt,
breaths irregular but pleasantly so.  It was Kourt who spoke first, even as
he began withdrawing his mind back behind shields.  "I don't think anyone
has ever mispronounced my name quite that badly before," he chuckled.

"Bet I have the best excuse, though," Qui-Gon murmured, pulling Kourt's
arms more firmly around his chest.  "Stay with me.  Stay, please," he
whispered.

"As if I would give this up," Kourt nuzzled his ear.  "Let's get under the
sheets, though."

And in the morning they had risen and gone back to overseeing not much of
anything.  They passed the daytime hours goosing one another with mental
images and the nights they passed in arranging for their realization.  It
was, perhaps, the most beautiful period of learning Qui-Gon had ever known.

That period came to a natural conclusion.  Kourt had fallen back on his old
habit of taking the most dangerous and life-threatening missions, searching
for something Qui-Gon couldn't begin to comprehend.  Then Pequara Shereid
had wandered up to him in the library one day and Qui-Gon Jinn had his
first Padawan.

Kourt had simply ... shown up at the Council Chamber door on the day
Qui-Gon was to bond with Pequara.  He bore the gift of a stiletto and some
advice as he accepted Qui-Gon's temporary withdrawal from the Group's
work.  "Don't forget what you are, who you really are, Quigs.  And never,
never be ashamed of it."