.                      Bonds of Choice #24
                  Star Wars: TPM FanFic Series
                         by HiperBunny
                        (message 2 of 3)
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Obi-Wan stirred awake, the sounds of glass shifting nearby bringing him
back to consciousness.  He blinked, trying to focus in the dim light.    He
could just make out Qui-Gon, re-arranging things on the bedside table.  "Go
back to sleep, Padawan.  Just checking on you," the master whispered.

A moment later and he was gone.

*Like hell I'm going back to sleep,* Obi-Wan mentally grumbled, using the
Force to catch the lights.  He closed his eyes and stretched, then opened
them slowly in the brighter illumination.  A bright splash of color caught
his eye and he turned back towards the bedside table.

Flowers.  At least two dozen bright yellow flowers, with dark green stems
and leaves crowded into a bowl, filling the room with a heady perfume.  He
buried his nose in the delicate petals, breathing in the sensual
fragrance.  It was unlike anything he had ever… it was almost a flavor.  He
pulled back, eyeing the flowers distrustfully.  He *had* smelled something
like that before, but just once, on Sobo-Eadu, a sinfully decadent
capitol-world to a particularly successful mining combine.  They had been a
gift from a VIP to a lady, something to show his particular esteem for
her.  On Sobo-Eadu, the only thing that displayed esteem was money. Each
blossom had cost the equivalent of a day's wages in that system's currency.

His fingers played over the petals, reverently cataloging the texture. 
"Qui-Gon…"

"Yes, Padawan?" the master answered from the door.

"How much… what did these cost you?" Obi-Wan murmured.

"The flowers?  Oh, I got those from the Central Gardens.  One of the
keepers was trimming them back, so I asked for them…"  Qui-Gon breezily
replied.

"Bullshit.  I know what these are!  You don't have the money to…"

"Padawan, I tell you the truth.  There's a bit of them growing in Central
Garden.  You know there are many rare plants there.  I thought," Qui-Gon
sighed and turned away, shoulders slumped in defeat.

"What?" Obi-Wan demanded.

Qui-Gon shrugged halfheartedly.  "I just thought you would like them. 
Goodnight, Padawan."

Obi-Wan started to call after him, but bit his words back.  He pressed his
lips together in thought, trying to understand.  Why would Qui-Gon bring
him flowers anyway?  He picked the bowl up and turned it in his hands,
looking at them from all sides.  As he turned the vessel, his fingers
detected some roughness, an etching in the surface.  He carried it closer
to the light and inspected it carefully.

"Pur den kellisto," he murmured, thinking hard.  His eyes opened wide in
shock as he recalled the translation.  "For my cherished one."

He set the bowl down quickly and backed away.  A love-gift?  Here?  In his
rooms?  Obi-Wan sat down on the edge of his bed and tried to control his
breathing.  First dinner, dancing, and a polite goodnight.  Now gifts in
his sleeping chamber… Obi-Wan knew Temple dating protocol as well as
anyone.

Qui-Gon was courting him.

He stood and hurried from his room, surprised to note that Qui-Gon's door
was closed.  He knocked quietly, hands shaking.  There was no reply.
"Master?"

"Yes, Padawan?"

Obi-Wan thumbed the door open. "Qui-Gon… are you… is this… are you doing
what I think you're doing?"

Qui-Gon was in his sleep pants, preparing for bed.  He looked up, gaze
steady but wary.  "That depends on what you think I'm doing."

"Are you courting me?"

Qui-Gon sat on the edge of the bed and thought for a long moment.  "Well, I
was trying to, yes.  I didn't think I would have much success, and it would
seem I was right.  You… you really don't want me, do you?"

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to reply and closed it again.  What to do?  The
wrong answer could destroy everything… *Honesty, Kenobi.  He deserves at
least that.  More than that, oh… he deserves better…*

"I want you, Pantreti.  I want and love you, with all my heart.  I just… I
don't think I could ever be what it is you want from a… a lover, a
partner…"  Obi-Wan looked down at his hands and began picking at his
cuticles.  "I wouldn't even know how to begin.  Do you think… we could ever
be…"

Qui-Gon pulled the covers back and scooted under them.  "I don't know,
Koatel.  I just… I don't know.  You don't seem to like me very much, so… so
I suppose not."

Obi-Wan rubbed his eyes, felt the hollow ache begin under his breastbone as
it had not for weeks, months now.  *Because Qui-Gon filled me, loved me
when I allowed him to…*

"Master, please try to understand…"

"There's nothing to understand, Padawan.  I sought to give love.  It's not
your fault that you'd rather not have it." Qui-Gon's voice had never
sounded so dead, so hopeless in all of Obi-Wan's memory.

"I do want it."

Qui-Gon closed his eyes, mouth a thin, hard line of frustration.  "You say
that and you say that, you tell me these things, then you turn around and
push me away, or hurt me… I'm just a human being, Obi-Wan.  You can only
have your hand slapped back so often before you become afraid to extend it
again."

Obi-Wan rushed to the bed and dove in, wrapping his arms around Qui-Gon's
ribs and resting his head on Qui-Gon's chest.  "Please, please no… please."

"Padawan, Obi-Wan, Koateleu… what can I do?  Skies above, what can I do?" 
Qui-Gon's form had gone stiff and still at Obi-Wan's touch, a reaction that
tore at Obi-Wan's heart.

"Please, let me sleep here with you tonight.  Let me feel… whatever it is
you want to show me…" Obi-Wan spoke directly into the warm skin beneath his
lips.

"As you wish," Qui-Gon complied.

Obi-Wan got under the covers, but was at a loss as to where he should be. 
Qui-Gon was lying on his back, arms crossed over his chest, eyes closed,
not inviting an embrace.  With a determined breath, Obi-Wan made himself
comfortable on the other side of the bed.  *Too close.  You've come too
close to losing it all this time.  Have some perspective, Kenobi!*

He closed his eyes and controlled his breathing, willing himself to sleep. 
After a while he drifted away again.

***
  
Qui-Gon held himself very still, breathing in the scent of the darkened
room.  There, in the shadows, on the cushions... his Koatel... sweet and
warm and welcoming in so many unspoken ways.  Wanting, craving and offering
so much, so openly. *Dream... this is a dream... but no matter...* no
matter because there was Obi-Wan, serene, patient, eyes filled with
desire...

And then Qui-Gon was naked, skin damp from a bath so reverent it was nearly
a ritual, and there was Obi-Wan still, so welcoming and inviting, seeming
to know what he wanted, surely knowing what he was offering, as Qui-Gon
knew what he himself was offering in return.  Now Qui-Gon lay down, strong
fingers working sore muscles, arousing flesh, causing need as rich and old
as the very stars themselves.  And why? Oh yes, oh yes, for the only reason
that could ever possibly matter to any being.

"Because I love you, Master..."

And there were so many kinds of love, many kinds of desire but surely,
surely Obi-Wan must know what kind of love lay between them now.  Total and
trusting.  And if he did not, Qui-Gon would teach him with all the patience
and care a Master can have for his student. "I know, Obi-Wan. Know this, as
sure as you know yourself.  I love you, will love you, for as long as love
can be."

Then Obi-Wan lay for Qui-Gon, patient and pleased to be touched, caressed. 
The chiplights glittered on soft, passion-flushed skin as Qui-Gon rubbed
the oil in, carefully covering every inch.  His hands worked in precise
circles, taking in the texture of scars, smooth rise of muscle, the fine,
soft hairs of thighs and calves as Obi-Wan arched into the touch, moaning
softly, wanting.  Rich blue plumes now, puffing softly as pink dust covered
the oil, clinging and sinking in.  Oh, yes, such young and hungry beauty,
sweet and divine. 

Qui-Gon turned Obi-Wan onto his back, searching his eyes for the truth,
knowing this dream was a dream and not real, not real, and couldn't be
taken back or unmade, only enjoyed for the fantasy it truly was.  "Be sure,
my Koatel... please be sure of your heart, for I do love you..."

Qui-Gon leaned forward, pressing a warm, soft kiss to the younger man's
brow.  With his lips he traced a slow tour of his soft cheek along the
jawline and over the dimpled chin before planting a smooch on the tip of
his nose.  Then Qui-Gon's mouth was on Obi-Wan's, arms tight around him,
lips strong and warm, beard tickling gently as the kiss traveled again,
taking the scenic route across cheeks and eyes, forehead, then back to the
open wet mouth again.  Tongues explored and memorized, laid claim and paid
reverence in the long, infinite expanse of the moment. 

More oil, more touching, more sweet gentleness between them.  They made a
long, loving game of massaging the oils into chest and stomach, mouths
meeting and melding again and again over the long moments before Qui-Gon
gently turned Obi-Wan onto his stomach. Now the oil was warmed and the
powder was working, causing them both to become tingly, and then to begin
amplifying each touch, each sensation.  Soon, his whole body was alive with
the warm touch of the strong, sure hands. 
 
"I trust you." 

Again the soft plumes worked their way down then back up his lover's body. 
The process was repeated as Obi-Wan turned over on his back, with kisses
exchanged, and long lingering trails of sucks and licks interrupting from
time to time.  Finally, Qui-Gon set the plume aside, and stretched out
beside his Koateleu.  The trails his fingers traced along the willing chest
seemed to be etched in sound and fire.  When he began sucking the hard,
sensitized nipples, Obi-Wan arched up off the cushions, moaning. 

"Tell me what you want, love," Qui-Gon whispered as he released the rosy
flesh. 

"You.  I want you, inside me," Obi-Wan replied.  Obi-Wan took up the third
bottle of oil, and poured a generous amount into his master's hand.  With a
firm grip on the wrist, he drew it downwards and between his legs. 

As Qui-Gon's fingers began pressing and petting the sensitive opening,
Obi-Wan sighed and rocked his hips minutely.  As his muscles responded to
his desire, Qui-Gon filled him with one, then another exploring finger. The
sensual feel of stretch and give and welcome and desire quite enthralled
the Master, made him ache for more.  Obi-Wan gently pushed his master's
hand away and turned over onto his stomach. 

"Better this way," Obi-Wan explained.  

Qui-Gon moved to kneel inside his young partner's legs.  He oiled his own
cock and drew his lover's hips back and up.  With one hand he guided his
aching member towards the ready form beneath him.  With the other, he began
stroking the likewise ready cock that had waited so patiently for his
attention. 

Obi-Wan sighed at the slow, gentle entry, then gasped and jerked suddenly
as Qui-Gon leaned closer.   In response, Obi-Wan planted his arms on the
cushions and pushed up, curving his back to mold himself along the length
of his lover.  "More, deeper," he demanded, wrapping his legs in and behind
Qui-Gon's. 

Qui-Gon pumped hard and quick into the hot, slick ass that flexed and
squeezed around him.  He planted both hands and locked his elbows, to give
himself an anchor to his strong thrusting.  Qui-Gon ground his chin into
the top of Obi-Wan's head, enjoying the wriggling motions added as his
partner pleasured himself against the soft, warm cushions.  Soon the
slender hips were snapping upwards, and the muscles clenched impossibly
hard all around and under him. 
   
Time sped up, focused down, became a blur of moans and sighs and
half-remembered promises and the tightness of tight opening around thick
cock… oh yes, and leaning back, pulling tight, thrusting in, rising up on
arms to press his back into chest.  Two bodies, one mind, one dream
blending of light and dark and Soft, short hair tangles in beard as
lovingly, carefully the surrender is worshiped and revered, orgasm building
languorously slow as thrusts increase, soft gasps and moans breaking out
into cries of completion and gentle fall of release…

***

Obi-Wan sat up, gasping, one hand dropping down to his moist groin.  *What
under the skies?*  He threw the covers back and stumbled to the bathroom,
skin buzzing with orgasm and confusion.  With quick movements he shed his
clothes and got under the hot spray, cleaning away the evidence of his most
peculiar dream.

"Obi-Wan?"

He pressed his forehead to the cool tiles, trying to control his breath.

"Obi-Wan?  Are you all right?"  Qui-Gon's form cast a shadow through the
glass of the shower stall.

"Fine, fine," Obi-Wan finally replied.  "I was dreaming…"

Qui-Gon cleared his throat.  "About the Arata?"

"What? No, I've never…"  but he stopped, analyzing the images once more. 
The pillows, the chiplights, oil and feathers.

"I was dreaming, too," Qui-Gon said.

Obi-Wan pushed the door open.  "About… me?"

"Yes."  Qui-Gon turned around slowly, making no move to disguise the
evidence of his recent release.  

"But you… I was…"

"Yes," Qui-Gon restated.  "That is how it was for me."

Obi-Wan covered his face with his hands.  "So much care, so much love…"

"I have always cared for you and loved you, Koateleu.  The sexual… the
romantic nature of it… all that is between us, and all you deny.  I have
always loved and cared for you.  I thought you were offering me a new way
to love you.  I never dreamed you did not care for me, at least that much,"
Qui-Gon turned back towards the door.  "I suppose I should have known you
could not."

Obi-Wan stepped out of the shower, heedless of the mess he made on the
floor.  "No.  Not could not.  Would not.  I would not allow myself to…"

"And I'm sure you have your reasons." Qui-Gon pressed his fingers to
Obi-Wan's lips, stilling his words.  "But like you, I can love without ever
needing reciprocation."

Obi-Wan blinked.  "That… you need not…"

"Shh.  Let it be, Obi-Wan.  I will trouble you no longer."

In a daze, Obi-Wan dried himself and followed Qui-Gon back to his room. 
*Enough.  More than enough.  You have found love.  Make it your own or pity
yourself never again.*  "Pan, I..."

"Don't," Qui-Gon rasped from somewhere in the darkness.

"Please, why can't I..."

"Go to bed, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan's breath froze in his throat and the hollowness under his
breastbone grew a thousandfold deeper and darker.  He turned away, feeling
as though he had been cut loose from the moorings of reality and was
drifting in a void of sharp and painful cold.  With numb fingers he pulled
his blankets back, then let them fall away.  His breath hitched in his
chest and he sat down on the edge of his bed, hands dangling, useless,
between his knees.  The beginnings of a headache were settling behind his
eyes and he closed them to soothe the pain.

After a long moment he lay back on the bed.  He didn't even try to get
comfortable, made no pretense at trying to sleep.  His blood pounded in his
ears and a low-grade pain was pooling in his throat.  *Sorrow-sickness. 
That's what Swed calls it.  When you're hurting so bad you can't cry, can't
scream, can't even think... your body doesn't know the difference between
physical pain and mental, so it always reacts the same...*

He stopped that line of thought, tried to focus on himself, to heal the
hurt away.  As usual, that advanced healing technique was not quite within
his grasp.  *That's why Master heals me... but he won't do it now...*

Unbidden, a memory leapt to the forefront of his mind.  Qui-Gon saying "We
are Jedi first, and servants to the light.  After that, we are Master and
Apprentice..."

*Well, damn it, I'm hurt.  Shouldn't my master come and help me?* Obi-Wan
mentally growled, then a whimper escaped him as the headache grew worse. 
Pure reflex moved him to let that pain reflect in the training bond he had
with Qui-Gon.  Years of signaling injury in this way had made the reaction
nearly instinctive.

To Obi-Wan's surprise, Qui-Gon entered his room at a run.  Strong fingers
spread out over the top of Obi-Wan's head and soothing touches of the Force
smoothed the chemical reactions that had produced the stress headache and
other physical symptoms.  Unfortunately, all the healing in the world
wouldn't undo the hurt Obi-Wan felt.  He looked up into Qui-Gon's eyes and
recognized, at last, that he was not the only one who felt so alone, nor
was he the only one hurting from the isolation.  "Oh Qui-Gon... I'm
sorry..."

Qui-Gon straightened up, then held his hand out to Obi-Wan.  "I think this
night calls for drastic measures."

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow at his master.  "In what way?"

"Go have a seat.  I'm making us some hot chocolate."