Bonds of Choice 3:
Souvenir

by Fur and Fantasy
NC-17 for M/M
full contents and notes located at the bottom of the file

The infirmary was a cool cocoon of silence. Obi-Wan embraced that silence during the long process of having his chest and ribs wrapped. Corubia was careful, but made sure the bandages were tight enough to do some good. She stepped back to admire her handiwork before spraying the whole thing with plaswebbing. The web was warm and soothing to the abused flesh beneath.

Qui-Gon fussed over Anikin for a few minutes before coming to check on Obi-Wan. "Do you understand what happened in there?"

"No, Master."

"I had to let go of the emotion. I had to separate us, so that we would not be destroyed. It was the only way to bring us back."

"You forgot to bring me back, you know." Obi-Wan hid behind a quirk of a smile.

"It has been so long ... it was a reflex for me, Padawan. You must understand, I did not intentionally leave you behind." Qui-Gon looked into Obi-Wan's eyes, searching for understanding.

"Yes, Master."

"You did very well. Exactly as if you had been trained for it, in fact. You were in a situation that should not have been and brought yourself out in one piece. This is an extraordinary accomplishment. You were more than equal to the danger you found yourself in." Qui-Gon's voice was soft, slow, as if he were weighing each word.

"I will try to be more careful next time." Obi-Wan felt certain that he could handle the situation much better, now that he'd tried it once.

"What you did, Padawan, was very well planned and executed. You have learned your lessons well." Qui-Gon said these words with all the conviction he could muster. He held Obi-Wan's gaze, a shadow of dark emotion in his eyes.

Obi-Wan glanced at J'kata for confirmation that he had carried out the operation according to plan. A nod from the green-striped medic let him believe the words he was hearing. "Yes, Master."

Qui-Gon's voice took on a sharp edge. "You do believe me, don't you?"

"Yes, Master." That question certainly caught Obi-Wan by surprise.


The walk back to Obi-Wan's quarters was long and painful. Every step, every breath reminded Obi-Wan that he had not done as well as everyone was trying to convince him he had. If everything had gone well, no one would have gotten hurt. He wasn't upset that he had been hurt, as much as he knew that it was just luck that he had only hurt himself. Any more careless and it would be Qui-Gon shuffling along like this. The thought of Qui-Gon being injured by his negligence sent a shiver down Obi-Wan's spine. Corubia insisted on helping him. Obi-Wan would have preferred to struggle on his own. Anything would have been better than Qui-Gon's dark gaze.

They settled Obi-Wan onto his bed and Corubia lost no time in escaping the tension between Master and Padawan. Qui-Gon looked the room over. Everything was neatly in place, but somehow Obi-Wan wished he'd had time to clean things up a bit. Qui-Gon rarely came to his quarters and he was ashamed that he didn't have a better space to show him.

"Did you want something?" Qui-Gon asked.

Obi-Wan tried to think of anything. No, he wasn't hungry, although lunch time was long past. What could his master be expecting from him? He heard himself saying "Yes, Master. As soon as I've healed I'd like to begin working on the R'Antha. If it pleases you, Master."

Qui-Gon was clearly surprised. Obi-Wan was fairly surprised himself.

"Well, of course. As soon as you feel well enough. May I ask why you wish to learn it?" Qui-Gon's voice was even, calm.

"No knowledge is useless unless you do not possess it." That was a fact Qui-Gon had spent a great deal of time teaching his Padawan. The morning's activities had brought the point home.

Qui-Gon smiled at that. "As soon as you're healed up, then. Get some rest. It's the best thing for you right now."

"Yes, Master."


Qui-Gon was trimming his beard when the first tendrils of warning came to him. He dropped his scissors and took a defensive posture before he even registered it consciously. A moment passed, then echoes of pain hit him in the abdomen, like coals inside his belly. //Obi-Wan!//

**Master!**

And the call cut off. In that same instant the pain ceased. Qui-Gon was on his feet and out the door, yanking his robe on over his pajamas. He ran, barefoot, hair loose, beard unevenly trimmed down several flights of stairs, into the north wing, to the miserable little room Obi-Wan called home. Even in his best days, he couldn't have covered the complex in less than ten minutes. At this stage, it felt as though took considerably longer. He thumbed the lock on the door and stopped cold as it slid back.

Obi-Wan was as still as a statue, fists gripping the sheets, mouth a thin, hard line of pain. His eyes were shut tight, but he might as well have been writhing and howling his pain. The shields he had erected around his mind stood not chance one against his master at this point. Then a long jag of wet coughs racked his body.

//Obi-Wan, what's wrong?//

**I'm sorry, Master. Oh, skies above, I'm sorry. It hurts so bad, please make it stop!** Obi-Wan turned towards his master and coughed a mouthful of blood on the floor.

//Shh, shh. Just hang on.// Qui-Gon scooped the boy up in his arms and was out the door, headed back to the infirmary. *Why didn't I make him stay there in the first place?* Qui-Gon mentally berated himself as he pounded back down the hallway.

**Master? What's happening?**

Qui-Gon made sure none of his anxiety leaked through the connection with his Padawan. //I'm taking you to the medics.//

**Oh.**

This seemed to alarm Obi-Wan for some reason, but he did not question his master's decision. He remained silent, retreating from the pain of being carried, jostled, hauled down stairs and through corridors.

//Red sky at night.//

**What?**

//You know what. You need to stay with me, Obi-Wan. I don't know what's happening to you and I don't want you to lose consciousness. Red sky at night.//

**Sailor's delight.**

//Red sky in the morning.//

**Sailor take warning.**

For the long, long minutes it took to get Obi-Wan to the infirmary, they traded their code phrases back and forth. Obi-Wan did not stop coughing. Qui-Gon had fallen into their rhythm, letting the impromptu litany hold Obi-Wan's attention. To himself he wondered if it was too late to take up prayer as it settled on his consciousness that the right side of his tunic was covered in Obi-Wan's blood.

Qui-Gon knew he was very lucky, as Masters went. Obi-Wan was rarely ill, not prone to accidents, was usually in the best of health. He also had a very high pain threshold and an amazing amount of discipline when it came to simply ignoring pain. Qui-Gon wondered how long his Padawan had lain there in that little bed, feeling the agony build to the point that he could no longer stand against it. How much pain had he been in when Qui-Gon left him there alone?

The infirmary doors slid open, and J'kata was standing there waiting. "First door on your left," came the curt order.

Qui-Gon obeyed, laying his precious cargo on the bed. "How did you know?"

"Master Jinn, it is a difficult thing for you to carry a bleeding Padawan through the halls of the Temple without someone taking notice, even at this hour. We got a call on the comm link that you were on your way. Now, please, let me do my work." J'kata pushed Qui-Gon aside.

"What can I do to help?"

"Talk to him, keep him focused while we find out what the hell happened."

//Obi-Wan, what happened? Is it like before, when you fell from the Spire?//

"No, Master. It hurts in my chest and shoulders." Obi-Wan started coughing again. **I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to disturb you. I tried to keep quiet, to hold on. That damn bond!**

//Obi-Wan!//

**I mean it! If it wasn't for this damn bond, you wouldn't have to be here right now!**

Qui-Gon resisted the urge to slap some sense into his apprentice. //It is my duty to take care of you, Obi-Wan. What's more, I would much rather be here than lose you for want of a little care. Why didn't you call me?//

Obi-Wan just turned his face away. The healers had cut the wrapping away and were going over his body quite carefully. Someone stuck a painkiller patch behind Obi-Wan's ear. After a moment, the strain of agony faded.

"Internal bleeding. Lots of it. It's already in his lungs. We're gonna have to chest tube him." J'kata sounded normal, orderly, prepared. "Qui-Gon, this is going to get ugly pretty fast. You might want to step outside."

"What's going on? What are you going to do to him?"

"He's bleeding internally, too much and too fast. It's in his lungs and he's drowning in it. We have to drain it off now. Is that line of whole blood in?" Someone confirmed that it was. "To put it bluntly, we're gonna stick tubes in there to drain the blood. This is not an elegant procedure, so if you don't want to see it, get out now. Gloves!"

Qui-Gon glanced over at a tray where two thick, pointed tubes lay ready to be used. His gorge rose and he fought a brief battle to keep his dinner down. Once his insides settled, he turned back to Obi-Wan. His Padawan's face was streaked with blood, but he remained focused. "Look at me. Just watch my eyes and don't look at anything else." Qui-Gon put every bit of his skill with the Force behind the words. "J'kata, should I put him to sleep?"

"Hell no! Ready?" The team of healers and medical techs called ready.

Qui-Gon kissed Obi-Wan on the cheek and took his hands. "Just stay here. Nothing but me, okay? I'm sorry I didn't think to bring Dauhge."

"Remember next time, okay?" Obi-Wan tried to smile, to soothe the dark look from his master's eyes. His mouth was a vivid scarlet, his teeth were pink.

Qui-Gon felt the tears start the second Obi-Wan's eyes rolled back into his head. Something warm hit his arm, but he didn't dare turn to look. His heart tore as he forced Obi-Wan back to consciousness. "Stay with me, Padawan. Come on, look at me." He held Obi-Wan's arms down to keep him from trying to defend himself.

"Fuck, that hurts way too much," Obi-Wan sounded weary. Qui-Gon held him tight.

"One more, Koateleu. Just one more. I'm so sorry, Obi-Wan."

"I'm okay, Master."

Qui-Gon thought his heart would break. Obi-Wan was so brave, trying so hard to keep the shields up around his end of the link to protect Qui-Gon from the pain. "Just let it go. Let me help you, please."

"I'm fine, I swear, I'm just fine."

Qui-Gon was very slightly alarmed at how well his Padawan lied.

"Okay, one more!"

Obi-Wan gripped Qui-Gon's forearms, tried to relax his body to take the pain. It was futile. The push wasn't so bad, but the tube bumped up against his lung before it found the proper path into his body. A hissing scream escaped him, but he kept his eyes on Qui-Gon as he'd been ordered to. Surely there was a reason, surely pain like this couldn't be totally meaningless.

"Okay, they're done. It's okay, now. Tell me what you want."

"Benburi."

"What?" Qui-Gon couldn't believe it.

**I know you can't make it stop hurting, but this morning I promised myself a big bowl of benburi if I got myself back alive. I want it.** Obi-Wan was perfectly serious. Through the haze of pain he had focused on this one thing.

Qui-Gon smiled, "As soon as J'kata says it's okay. I swear. I'll feed it to you myself. Just hang on, Obi-Wan."

Qui-Gon held his Padawan's attention while the healers did arcane and despicable things to his young body. After a time, when they had a handle on what was happening, he was able to lend some assistance to them. Obi-Wan was bleeding from his liver, which had been punctured by a rib. Once the cause was discovered, the healers went to the root of the problem. When they were sure the danger was passed, they gave Qui-Gon leave to send Obi-Wan to sleep. He did so, feeling that all his years of training and hard work were worth it, to be able to send his Padawan safely away from the pain.

Once Obi-Wan was asleep, Qui-Gon took a long moment to wash the blood off his pale face. With no small amount of wonder, he realized there were no tears there except his own.

J'kata tugged Qui-Gon away from the bed. "He'll be asleep for a little while, right?"

Qui-Gon nodded dumbly.

"Good. Go get a bath, get dressed. We're going to move him out of here so he doesn't see all this when he wakes up. He'll like the look of you better if you don't have his blood all over you."

Qui-Gon looked around the small room. Red was everywhere, the walls, the floor, soaking the sheets of the bed, on every healer. Obi-Wan probably had more blood on him than in him at this point, although the medics were replacing it as swiftly as they could.

Qui-Gon looked down at himself. He'd been in the direct line of fire, as it were, and he did indeed have a large amount of blood on him. Especially his bare feet. He struggled to get himself together, centered, calm, serene. He needed a shower, and a huge bowl of benburi. He needed to change clothes. There was no reason to be so frightened, so he just let it all go. "He'll be all right, won't he?"

"Do what you need to. He'll be fine. You need to get some rest, too." J'kata turned away from Qui-Gon, going back to tending Obi-Wan.

Qui-Gon left the infirmary in a state of numbness.

*Clothes. Shower. Benburi. Don't forget that last one.*

Upon entering his chambers, Qui-Gon suddenly realized how tired he was. The crono told him the hour and it was an unspeakable one. Obi-Wan would be asleep for long hours yet while the healing process took over his available resources. Showered and in clean pajamas, Qui-Gon lay himself down for a couple hours of much needed rest.


He awoke, much rested but not refreshed. There were things to do. He decided Obi-Wan might find it amusing if he showed up with Dauhge, so he went to Obi-Wan's room to fetch the turtle. He had transferred the pet to his smaller bowl when he noticed the state of Obi-Wan's bed. The pillow and sheets were smeared with blood and there was a small puddle of it on the floor. *Oh skies above.*

It only took a few moments to strip the bed and put down new linen. Qui-Gon discovered that Obi-Wan owned only two sets of sheets. Qui-Gon looked around the miserable little room, thinking for the thousandth time that he should do something about Obi-Wan's living conditions. He pushed the thought to the back of his mind, collected Dauhge and locked the door behind him.

One pit stop at a public catering unit later and he was ready to see Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan was awake, if groggy, when Qui-Gon entered his room. He smiled when Qui-Gon sat Dauhge down on his bedside table. "You remembered."

Qui-Gon belatedly remembered his promise from the night before and smiled sadly that his Padawan should remember his experience so clearly. "I remembered this, too," he said, gesturing with the bowl of benburi. "J'kata said it was okay to try to eat something."

Obi-Wan reached for the treat, frowning when Qui-Gon held it out of his reach. "As you may recall, I made a promise about this, too."

"Oh, come on, Master. You can't be serious."

But Qui-Gon was. He settled in, feeding his exasperated Padawan. After a few spoonfuls, Obi-Wan was too overcome by benburi bliss to protest too much. For Qui-Gon's part, he was just glad to have a Padawan to pamper. The tubes had been removed and J'kata said Obi-Wan would be allowed to leave. Recovery included bed rest and Qui-Gon intended to bring Obi-Wan back to his more comfortable quarters where he could take care of the injured young man.

They talked of this and that, but Obi-Wan soon drifted off. Once he was deeply sleeping, Qui-Gon re-enforced the state and called J'kata. The healer came in carrying a lightslate. "There's something I want to show you." He was looking at Obi-Wan's medical records.

"Did you find out what happened?"

"Absolutely. The exact same thing that happened the first time he took that fall. Look, when he came in we treated him for a broken rib and a punctured liver. That time we got it taken care of fast enough to keep the complications of internal bleeding from doing much damage. So, yes, the only thing he healed on his own was a few bruises. This time, though ..." J'kata gestured towards the sleeping Padawan.

He didn't have to explain. No one had checked Obi-Wan for internal injuries yesterday, so things had gotten bad rather quickly. "How long before he's in the clear?" Qui-Gon asked.

"Oh, he'll be fine now. Everything's under control and I trust you aren't going to let him out of your sight for some time now. You know how to get him back up to speed."

Qui-Gon nodded. He planned to spend the next couple of days doing just that. One last check and the Padawan was released to his master's care. Qui-Gon chose to carry him back, not wanting to be further from Obi-Wan than necessary.


When Obi-Wan awoke it took him a long moment to recognize Qui-Gon's rooms. It wasn't the spare room, where he sometimes slept when training and lessons ran far into the night. Qui-Gon's bed, then. "Master?"

"Oh, good. You're awake. Hungry?" Qui-Gon came in with a meat pie and a tall glass of juice.

"You don't have to take care of me, Master. I'm fine," Obi-Wan was quite embarrassed to have been so much trouble of late.

"I have direct orders from J'kata not to let you out of my sight for at least two days. You've had a very bad injury, you need looking after. You will lay there and take it. I will not require that you like it, but you will rest, you will recuperate. When you are well, we will begin the R'Antha, per your request. Until then, I will look after you to my heart's content and demonstrate the R'Antha until you can quote it from memory. Understood?" Qui-Gon's tone brooked no argument.

"Yes, Master." What else could Obi-Wan say? Inwardly he made an oath to perfect the R'Antha faster than any Padawan had before, to make up for the problems he had caused his master.

Qui-Gon was true to his word. All day long, Obi-Wan's sum activities included eating, sleeping and watching his master go through the complicated first section of the R'Antha. It was not a combat discipline, but a modified dance that had been taught at the Temple for centuries. Many of its parts had been further modified into true combat disciplines and it's influence showed in every move of all those who had made a serious study of it. Qui-Gon was one of those students.

The flow of cloth and body was mesmerizing. Obi-Wan recognized the undulations, isolations and walks from balance and movement exercises he already knew. But for the most part, he was amazed by the way his master could move. He already knew the merits of being able to move his chest three inches backwards, but what in the hell was the point of ... well, he could think of uses for that, too.

"Master, how long would it take to perform the whole R'Antha?" Obi-Wan asked.

Qui-Gon paced back and forth across the room to cool down. "I think the last time I did, it took about six hours. Maybe longer. When done correctly, time becomes ... less meaningful."

Obi-Wan nodded. "Who was your partner?"

"Well, Master Windu was my partner, although if you ask him he'd say he shouldn't have. I'm going to get a shower. Do you need anything?"

Obi-Wan shook his head no and lay back to digest this information. "Master, if the R'Antha influences so much of the Jedi training, why doesn't anyone else know it?"

Qui-Gon laughed. "It's influence is not THAT great, Obi-Wan. Besides, there aren't that many who have the time or interest to learn something as impractical as a dance. I learned it after ... I'm going to get that shower, Koatel. Are you sure you don't need anything?"

"No, Master, I'm fine. Go bathe." Obi-Wan knew what his master had started to say. He had learned the R'Antha after a certain unspoken-about apprentice had done, well, the unspeakable. Perhaps if Obi-Wan did really, really well, he could do something to erase the memories associated with the dance.

By the time Qui-Gon was out of the shower, Obi-Wan had decided he needed a wash, himself. They had given him a bath, sort of, at the infirmary, but his skin still felt tacky from the blood and sweat. He put his feet out of the bed and was leaning forward when Qui-Gon shouted. "Back in bed, Padawan! I'll come help you to the bath in a moment."

"How do you DO that?" Obi-Wan called, laying back down.

"The ways of the Force are many and wondrous, Padawan. Plus, I saw you in the mirror." Qui-Gon came and helped Obi-Wan up.

With the stress of standing and breathing at the same time, Obi-Wan was glad to have his master's strong arms around him. His cheeks flushed with more than just exertion, but he could tell his physical condition was far from ready to engage in any of the interesting ideas that came to mind. Walking drove those thoughts to the bottom of his priority list. "I forgot how crappy it feels to be bruised from shoulder to hip," he said.

"It'll be gone by tomorrow night, I promise." Qui-Gon reassured him.

"Goody. Then I can get sore practicing some ancient dance that nobody knows anymore. How long does it usually take for a Padawan to learn the R'Antha?" Obi-Wan felt grumpy and didn't care who knew it.

Qui-Gon just looked at him.

"What?'

"Padawans are not taught the R'Antha. Not all of it anyway." Qui-Gon explained.

"Why not?"

"Because, my dear Padawan, by the time you have lived long enough to put enough free time into it, you will be at least a Knight. I was a Master before I learned the final section." Qui-Gon helped Obi-Wan under the spray. "Just stand there, I'll do the rest."

"I think we've done this before," Obi-Wan chuckled, thinking of the last time he was in Qui-Gon's shower. Was that really just two days ago?

"I think this will be very slightly different. You won't end up on your butt, for one thing." Qui-Gon was soaping Obi-Wan's back. "Try to think ... boring thoughts."

Obi-Wan was having no trouble with that. Every muscle seemed to be clamoring for attention and there were far too many of them. "Please, Master, not so hard."

Qui-Gon eased up. "Keep your eyes closed, Koateleu. Just relax." His touch was only as firm as it needed to be to get the job done. "Turn."

Obi-Wan leaned back against the tile while Qui-Gon worked on his chest and stomach. "Okay, gonna need some suggestions on those boring thoughts, Master."

Low chuckle. "Don't worry. I'll take care of you, Obi-Wan. But not yet."

Obi-Wan opened his eyes in time to watch his master deliver a bop to the tip of his suddenly-interested cock. By natural reaction, the erection receded. "Thanks. I think."

"Trust me, you'll mean that later. You'll be able to resist a lot longer if the temptation isn't so ... obvious." Qui-Gon chose this moment to look deep into Obi-Wan's eyes. Their mouths met in a sweet, soft embrace that sparked the combined emotion of the past two days. "I was so afraid I'd lose you. Don't ever scare me like that again."

"You're not helping in the boring thoughts department, Master."

"You know what? Forget that. I'm a Jedi Master, damnit! If I want to make love to you, there is a way!" Qui-Gon was vigorously toweling Obi-Wan as he declared these words.

"Ooh, ow, ow! I'm not sure there is, Master."

"Obey and trust my judgment, Obi-Wan. And stop calling me Master."

"Sorry, you can't have it both ways," Obi-Wan laughed. The walk back to the bed was slow and achy. The laughing didn't help.

"You're probably right. But I want you! This is so frustrating!" Qui-Gon thumped his pillow for good measure.

"We could, oh I don't know ..."

"If you suggest meditation, I'm going to bop you again."

"Actually, I was thinking we could kiss until we sucked each other's lungs out."

"You are wise beyond your years, Padawan."

As it happened, Obi-Wan was in no condition to stay awake for long. The make-out session, though short-lived, was as passionate and intimate as such things can be. When Qui-Gon realized he had a less than conscious partner, he pulled the blankets over them both and snuggled in for sleep. *You'll be well tomorrow night, Padawan. And when you are, look out.*


The next morning was spent in healing the last bruises and aches from Obi-Wan's body. The process left both Master and apprentice tired but pleased with the results. They refreshed themselves with a light lunch and made their way to the busy workout rooms. Qui-Gon guided Obi-Wan through a warm up so slow he nearly lost patience with his teacher.

"I'm not made of glass, Master. I was back doing full combat training the day after I fell from the Spire, you know."

"Yes, Padawan, but last time you didn't spend the night with tubes in your chest. Nor did you cough up blood all over yourself, myself and half the healers in the Temple. A little care is in order. Now, let us begin the R'Antha. Slowly." Qui-Gon grinned slightly and took his place next to Obi-Wan.

They stood perfectly still, arms out, palms down. Qui-Gon called the positions and steps, walking slowly through the first section of the dance. When they reached the first rest, Obi-Wan was shaking at the knee.

Qui-Gon took a deep breath, then said "Again."

And again. And again. Obi-Wan was beginning to see why it took so long to learn the damned thing. They were only practicing the first eighth of the first section. There were dozens of sections. And again. Finally, a stop was called.

Qui-Gon turned to him, looked him up and down, then said "I don't think we should try this today. Perhaps we should refine your skills in one of the variations before we return to the R'Antha."

"Nonsense."

They turned to find Master Mace Windu had been watching them.

"You saw it, Mace. I think I've found my student's hidden flaw. The boy has no rhythm." Qui-Gon was blunt in his assessment.

"Again, nonsense. Obi-Wan, did you or did you not complete the Stone Spiral in backrise step just three days ago?"

"Yes, Master Windu."

"I can train my own apprentice, Mace." Qui-Gon groused.

"Just, try it again, both of you. But listen to me, this time." Mace sat on the floor and began a complicated series of claps and pats on his legs.

"Oh, for ... Well, come on, Obi-Wan. The Council will not be swayed." Qui-Gon took his place again. They were not yet using the usual music, would not until Obi-Wan could walk through it well enough to suit his master. The walk-through was plenty challenging enough.

The first pattern was a series of crossing steps, right over left, then slide the left out away from the body. Left over right and slide. Then the more complicated downward movement, shoulders, chest, belly, pelvis, then back to standing, curving his body to an 'S'. This was further complicated by the fact that his feet were not beneath him, but off-center. Each movement must occur exactly at the same moment as his master's, to exactly the same line and tension. His arms remained in long, hopefully graceful arches, palms down, during the whole movement. Another set of cross-steps, and a quick pop-pop of shoulders, another cross step, both arms over the head. Then a long, slow extension backwards, hands planted on the floor, one foot rising, then the other, use the Force to arch up into a full handstand, hold, then continue the line until his feet touched the floor, rise slowly, arms making a crossover sweep, then two cross steps back, stopping in the exact place he had begun.

He looked to his left to see Qui-Gon smiling at him. "Point conceded, Master Windu. He may learn to do it properly, yet."

"But much work will be needed. Much. Perhaps you were right to think of starting him on a variation. For now. He was recently injured, no?" Mace stood and dusted himself off.

"Yes, but he's healed now." Qui-Gon ran his hands down Obi-Wan's ribcage, double-checking.

"Hmm. I leave you to it, then." And with that, he was gone.

Obi-Wan took his master's hands in his own. "Master, I think I am a little more tired than I thought I would be."

"Let us cool down and get some dinner, then," Qui-Gon decided.


The meal was a quiet one, shared in Qui-Gon's quarters. Afterwards, Qui-Gon wanted to double check Obi-Wan's healing. Obi-Wan obediently pulled his shirts off and waited while his master went over him and inch at a time. No soreness, no wounds to evidence the near-death experience, just two short pink lines of scar on his ribcage to remind him of the occurrence. When Qui-Gon was satisfied that the healing had gone according to plan, he planted a kiss on each scar.

Obi-Wan shivered, feeling his nipples pucker to hard pink stones. A soft moan escaped his lips.

"Feeling better tonight?"

"Yes, Master."

"Good. I want you, Koateleu, but I won't do anything to hurt you." Qui-Gon took Obi-Wan's hand and tugged him towards the bed they had so chastely shared the night before.

"You could not hurt me, Master." Obi-Wan followed willingly and allowed Qui-Gon to tumble him onto the pillows.

"Let me see it in your mind. Let me see the thought ..." Qui-Gon reached for his Padawan's mind.

"Ah, no, Master. That I cannot do. The thought is too fair and brittle to stand the light of your gaze," Obi-Wan strengthened his shields.

Qui-Gon retreated, "is your head so full of fair thoughts?"

"Yes, Master. All of them on you."

"And if I were to look on them, would it be possible to destroy them?" Qui-Gon leaned forward, tracing a long line of kisses across his brow.

"It is a sin to slay a fair thought," Obi-Wan hedged.

"I did not ask if it was a sin. I asked if it was possible, " Qui-Gon tugged gently on Obi-Wan's braid.

"No more questions." They joined their mouths in a passionate embrace, channeling all the emotion they felt in the exchange of touch and taste.

Qui-Gon rolled back, pulling Obi-Wan on top of him. "Too many clothes," he rasped.

Obi-Wan began pulling their tunics off, throwing them over the side of the bed when they finally came free. He made short work of his own pants, then knelt to the side to remove Qui-Gon's. His master was more than ready, wanting him. Obi-Wan leaned over, kissing hot sucking tastes of Qui-Gon's chest, tormenting the hard nipples with teeth and tongue. Qui-Gon stroked and petted the short, soft hair, encouraging the strong attention.

Obi-Wan continued his exploration down Qui-Gon's abdomen, tasting the musky planes of hard muscle and soft, soft skin. He paused to dip his tongue into his navel, surprised at how sensitive it was. Qui-Gon gasped and arched into that kiss, lifting himself almost completely off the bed. Obi-Wan plied his partner with a long teasing taste before turning to the straining cock before him. He ran his fingers up and down the shaft, smoothing it's moisture from tip to base. Obi-Wan cupped the soft flesh of Qui-Gon's scrotum, tracing them with his thumbnail, memorizing their weight and texture.

Obi-Wan stretched out on the bed, resting his cheek against Qui-Gon's belly. He kissed the tip of the cock and felt Qui-Gon's breath catch. Drawing the tip into his mouth, Obi-Wan listened to the hitch and resume of Qui-Gon's respiration. With careful breathing of his own, Obi-Wan licked the next inch of cock, then swallowed it carefully. And again, slowly progressing until his nose rested against Qui-Gon's balls and his cock was firmly seated in Obi-Wan's throat. He closed his eyes, concentrated on his breathing and scooped the balls up in his right hand. Gently he caressed them, preparing the body for a jolt of sensation. Then with all the control he possessed, he rippled the muscles in his throat.

Qui-Gon arched up hard this time, jerking under the unexpected squeeze and stroke. Now Obi-Wan began sucking in earnest, smoothly gliding over the length of cock. The taste and smell merged on his senses, collided with the feel of the hard flesh within him, imprinting a memory that was totally Qui-Gon. He held his breath for an impossibly long time, using every scrap of Jedi training to pleasure his master. Tears streamed down his cheeks in reaction to the stimulation to the throat and sinuses. Obi-Wan sincerely hoped Qui-Gon would not think them tears of pain. He managed to draw a breath before plunging back down, sucking, licking, pulling and squeezing, trying to pour every pleasure his mouth could provide into the long, deep embrace.

Then Qui-Gon's hands were pulling Obi-Wan up, back atop the lean frame, pulling him tight, taking a sweet, soft kiss from the swollen lips. "Take me, Obi-Wan. I want you to."

"Yes, Qui-Gon, I will," Obi-Wan whispered, grazing his teeth along Qui-Gon's ear. Obi-Wan reached around to undo the tie that held the hair back, was surprised to find a thin brown ribbon instead of the leather thong. "What's this?"

"I don't know why I did that. Today just seemed to want it." Qui-Gon took the ribbon from him, placed it on the bedside table and brought back a jar of cream. "Take me, Obi-Wan. Let us share this perfect moment."

Obi-Wan nodded, taking the jar. He rolled onto his back and prepared his own cock, knew Qui-Gon was watching as Obi-Wan's fingers smoothed the cream into his own skin. "How do you want to do this?"

The elder Jedi turned over onto his belly. "Like this. I want to feel all of you inside me, Koatel."

"Everything I can give you," Obi-Wan promised. He parted the muscular buttocks and placed a long, openmouthed kiss on the puckered opening, laving it delicately, introducing his touch in this most gentle of ways. He replaced his tongue with one slick finger, crooning, "Relax, I won't hurt you. Just relax, let me love you."

Qui-Gon did relax, opening himself fully to the sensation. It had been so long since he had wanted this with anyone. He intended to enjoy every moment of it. Obi-Wan soon added another finger, not so much to stretch the passage, as to enhance the sensation he gave. "Ready?"

"Yes, Obi-Wan. Please. I'll beg if you want me to, but please don't make me." Qui-Gon's voice was thick, rasping in his throat.

"No, no begging. Not to me. Never to me." Obi-Wan lay himself down on top of his ready partner. "I can't reach you from here."

"Don't worry. This is what I want, you on me and in me."

"Yes, Qui-Gon. " Obi-Wan pressed the tip of his cock gently, steadily into the willing body beneath him. Qui-Gon opened to him with calm readiness, moaning his pleasure into the pillows. Obi-Wan slid his hands down Qui-Gon's arms, twining their fingers together as he slid deep, completely into his partner.

Obi-Wan held still, waiting for their bodies to grow accustomed to the sensation of being fused together in this temporary way. He let thought go, let the moment enfold him and he began thrusting, gasping his pleasure into Qui-Gon's hair. Qui-Gon did not remain still under him, but pushed back wantonly, hungrily, demanding. Their fingers dug into each other, until white, bloodless imprints stood out against the skin. Obi-Wan slid his knees down onto the bed, anchoring himself for stronger thrusts. His skin was slick now with the sweat of desire and exertion. His belly slapped loudly against the hungry body as it arched up, pushed closer, wanting more contact, more touch. Obi-Wan provided easily, kissing and sucking along the muscular shoulders and back, moaning at the flavor of lust he found there. The taste and feel, scent and sight were almost overwhelming.

Then Qui-Gon lifted his face from the pillows, moaning, "Obi-Wan, love me, please. I love you, Obi-Wan." That sound pushed him over the edge, into the bliss, the deep and unstoppable mind-blasting experience of orgasmic delight. He felt the muscles convulse around him and knew Qui-Gon was falling too, meteoric, into that hot, white light.

He lay still, gasping, feeling himself soften and slip free of Qui-Gon's body. When he gained control of his breathing, he spat the now-traditional lock of hair from his lips. Slowly, he rolled away, maintaining contact with the skin as he did so. "Enough?" he whispered.

"More than enough, Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon bestowed another heartstopping kiss. He sighed once and closed his eyes, slipping into the steady rhythm of sleep. Obi-Wan reached out through the Force, making sure his master stayed that way. He slipped off the bed, fetched a spare sheet and covered Qui-Gon's sleeping body. Quickly, he slipped into his pants, picked up the jar of cream from where it had fallen beside the bed and put it back on the bedside table. His eyes fell on the ribbon. He paused, considering.

*It's not stealing. It's not. He wouldn't mind, won't mind. I'll ask him when he wakes up. I'll give it back if he says to.*

Promise made, he picked the ribbon up, knelt down and knotted it around his left ankle. No one would see it, so no one would ask. Standing, he brushed one last kiss against Qui-Gon's beard. He collected the rest of his clothes before setting out for his own bed and sleep.




Go to Part 1         Part 2         Part 3         Part 4

Bonds of Choice 3: Souvenir

NC-17 for M/M
Het Level is None
Slash Level is Slash Smut Level is Low
Femslash Level is None
Herm Level is None

41 KB, Story is Complete, Series is Closed-Unfinished
Written August 4, 1999 by HiperBunny

Setting: Star Wars Episode 1

Primary Races: Human

Contents: Slash (M/M). Alternate Universe, Angst, Medical Procedures

Pairings: Obi-Wan/ Qui-Gon

Notes: Thanks to Rauhnee for the betas.

Even more thanks to Beldthora Serpentsdottir for pointing out that there were 2 stories missing from the series. Here's the second one. And never mind that when y'all asked for h/c 'this isn't what you meant.'

// Qui-Gon's telepathy //
** Obi-Wan's telepathy **
* thoughts *

Blurb: In which our heros discover why 'heal' is an action verb, Qui-Gon gets vexed and Obi-Wan makes a small appropriation.

Disclaimer: All things taken directly from the sources listed under 'Fandoms' belong to the owners of those shows. No harm is intended and we're definitely not making any money. Now, the things we created are ours, and if you see 'Non-FanFic' up there, it's probably all ours.

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