Bonds of Choice 9.99:
The Language of Great Mystery: Written on the Body
by Fur and Fantasy
NC-17 for M/M
full contents and notes located at the bottom of the file
Obi-Wan Kenobi had not gotten where he was by being unobservant or easily confused. The healers and medtechs had been buzzing around Master Giavanni's sleeping form ever since his arrival and hadn't slowed one jot. Obi-Wan had tried to be patient, but he was charged with keeping close watch on the injured Jedi and it would be easier to stand vigil if he knew what to look for. When J'kata entered, Obi-Wan took the opportunity to question the healer. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing you can do anything about, Jedi, so just sit there and be vigilant," the pink and green healer brusquely replied.
"Okay, fine. But tell me what it is I'm vigilling over, just so I know," Obi-Wan gave his best pleading look.
"You Padawans. We ought to make a rule about pouting," the healer grumbled. "It's an infection ... well, a couple of infections actually. Nothing you can Force-heal, so there's nothing you can do. You'll just have to leave this one to science."
Obi-Wan sat, stunned. "Infection? How bad? Where? What..."
J'kata tossed his lightslate down on the bedside table. "Do your own research," he said before strolling out of the room.
Obi-Wan was never quicker on the uptake then that moment. Infection to the cuts, something nasty in the lungs, weakened resistance making further infection to the shrapnel wounds a real possibility ... he closed the file. No wonder Master Giavanni hadn't awakened. All of his life-energy was barely enough to keep him breathing. Obi-Wan closed his eyes and thought.
It was one of the Jedi arts to learn how the body worked and how to accelerate the regeneration of living tissue. This was 'Force-healing'. Very useful for wounds, physical damage, regulation of system functions and so forth. What it couldn't counteract was actual illness. Viruses and bacteria were living organisms, no matter how small and unevolved. As such, the healing techniques of the Jedi weren't much help in ridding the body of their presence. The closest anyone had ever gotten was to push the illness through its course at an accelerated rate, or kick the immune system into overdrive. Neither was particularly good for the patient. Though it was possible to reinforce the immune system, increasing its effectiveness, Kato's body was so damaged that keeping him alive was a big enough challenge for his abilities. Unfortunately this was an all-too-familiar scenario within the Order. Thus the continued presence of healers, medical scientists and the occasional doctor in the Jedi Temple.
Obi-Wan reached out through the Force and tested the waters of Kato's spiritual presence. His mental shields were still in place, though they seemed to be more reflexive than deliberate. He nudged those shields, just to see what response he would get.
A muzzy, pre-verbal pulse brushed against his probe.
*He's not sleeping, he's unconscious,* Obi-Wan realized. He pondered his options for a moment, then settled onto the floor in Upward Lion pose. **Master Giavanni?**
**Master Giavanni, it's... Padawan Kenobi.**
Obi-Wan shunted his frustration aside.
**I am Qui-Gon Jinn's apprentice.**
**He sent me here to look after you while Master Paje got some sleep.**
**That's right, Arjet Paje. Master Jinn said I should stay with you.**
Obi-Wan considered the quality of that thought. **Well, yes. I suppose he is, on occasion.**
==...fucking padawan learner...==
==darkside motherfucker... killed my...==
Obi-Wan sighed in relief. Giavanni was thinking of someone else. **Corubia and I saw to Zareen. The others are giving her the Watch tonight.**
That thought was colored by a deep regret, one that couldn't possibly be helpful to the injured Jedi. Obi-Wan didn't want to lose contact, so he tried to steer the conversation in another direction. **Master Paje will be back in the morning.**
==Off with that Jinn...==
**No, Corubia's seeing to him. Qui-Gon, uh, Master Jinn is going over your mission records.**
**Who?** Obi-Wan asked, confused.
**He'd better not be.** Obi-Wan surprised himself with the intensity and protectiveness of the sentiment.
==Who are you again?==
**Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi.**
==Who's your Master?==
==Stuck with Jinn as your teacher. How'd you end up with that?==
**Sheer luck. Will of the Force. Something like that.**
Obi-Wan drew a sharp breath. *He's almost totally out of it,* he reminded himself. *He can't know what he's saying.* But that made it all the more compelling, the desire to mine this source of information on his Master. He frowned at the quality of that thought. *But Qui-Gon grilled MY friends while I was gone,* some left-out part of his brain put in. Obi-Wan opened his eyes to study the mostly-sleeping Master Giavanni. *My friends weren't hurt, sick, drugged and possibly Force-slept at the time. This is NOT a good idea.*
He found his center again. **Is there anything I can do to helpyou?**
Obi-Wan felt the injured Jedi drifting towards more normal rest and got up off the floor. He stuck his head out of the room and saw J'kata standing at the nurse's station. He waved the healer down and met him in the hallway. "He's... lucid, more or less. He could project thought, but his conversation was fairly disjointed and... visceral."
J'kata nodded. "No clue what happened to him?"
"He didn't say anything. He's pretty fixed on Master Paje right now," Obi-Wan explained.
The healer nodded. "Well, if I know Arjet, he'll grab an hour's sleep and be back here to relieve you. Why don't you go practice your arts on these wounds-" J'kata indicated the areas on the medical chart- "then go on home?"
"Yes, Healer," Obi-Wan bowed.
Kato was still asleep, but a healing sleep, when Obi-Wan was done with his healing exercise. A light touch on his shoulder made him look around. Jenji smiled at him. "My turn, little brother. Master's looking after Cor and Master Paje. You go home and look after Master Jinn. I'll look after Master Giavanni, and later we'll all switch."
"Glad to hear you're holding Swed and Master Hunter in reserve," Obi-Wan grinned as he stood to stretch.
"Always have backup," Jenji smiled in reply.
Obi-Wan considered the information he'd gleaned from his odd conversation with Master Giavanni. Had Qui-Gon and Master Paje been lovers? What kind? Something deep, real ... or fleeting? Giavanni had seemed rather upset about the whole thing, but that didn't really mean anything. Nothing concrete, anyway.
The first thing Obi-Wan noticed when he entered the apartment was that dinner was waiting for him. Nothing fancy, his favorite sandwich and some juice, but clearly it had been put together by hand. Qui-Gon was on the couch, headphones piping music directly into his brain, one foot tapping absently in the air. Obi-Wan chose to eat in silence, mulling questions while he chewed. Finally Qui-Gon switched off his lightslate and sat up, smiling at his student.
"So, you and Master Paje...?" Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow.
Qui-Gon grinned ruefully. "Are you surprised?"
Obi-Wan shook his head. "No, just... he doesn't seem like your type."
Qui-Gon threw his head back and laughed. "I'm not dead >yet, Obi-Wan. You have seen the man recently, haven't you?"
Qui-Gon came and sat next to his student, sobered by his partner's ire. "You're right, Obi-Wan. It never worked out between us. He wanted to go on every mission the Council could find us, I wanted to bury myself in the library and never come out. I took Pequara on, trained her outside of the Group, so we lost touch for a while. Then Xanatos..." Qui-Gon shrugged. "It was nice while it lasted, but... it just didn't last."
"Master Giavanni seems to think it lasted plenty long enough," Obi-Wan put in.
"Master... well. Hmm. Don't know what to tell you, there. I just recently began to suspect there was something between those two," Qui-Gon explained. "Arjet is a very ... private man."
"So he's spoken for, and I shouldn't worry about it?" Obi-Wan gave half a smile.
"No, I'm spoken for, so you shouldn't worry about it," Qui-Gon corrected. "Whether you want me or not. I'm holding out for something more with you..." Qui-Gon looked away, suddenly embarrassed. "I'm sorry..."
"No, don't be... tell me," Obi-Wan encouraged.
"No point, is there? Every time I start talking long-term with you, you pull away so fast and so hard I can't even think straight. I... I'm waiting, but I want you... it's difficult," Qui-Gon stood and stretched. "I should go ... see if Corubia needs any help. Do you need anything?"
Obi-Wan mutely shook his head no.
"I'll be back later, then..."
Obi-Wan watched his Master go, carefully considering all he had not said.
Qui-Gon sat with Arjet in the infirmary waiting area. Kato had called for Arjet the moment he woke up. Arjet had called Qui-Gon, asking him to come to the infirmary. The elder Master had been waiting for the healers to leave Kato when Qui-Gon arrived, refusing to speak until real word came from the medics.
J'kata came out of Kato's room and approached them. "He's... he'll live. He needs to rest, but he's not going to do that unless he gets to make his report, so you'd better go take it. Master Paje, we've laid a pallet for you. Master Jinn... never mind. You wouldn't do it anyway."
The healer cleared the way for them and Arjet entered the sickroom with more haste than was seemly. Qui-Gon leaned against the doorjamb and simply observed.
Arjet rushed to the bedside and wrapped his arms around his lover, showering his face with soft kisses while Kato did his level best to get a word in. After a long moment, Arjet clambered up onto the bed and stretched out, one hand stroking the short, pale hair that remained. A line of sutures marked a telling path across one side of Kato's scalp, one arm was in a still cast, and his body was a patchwork of bandages and the leavings of various healing treatments. His eyes were still fever-bright, but lucid and glittering with urgency. "I found them," he said.
"Where? Did you see them? How do we get to them? How many are there? Is... is the boy..." Arjet clamped his mouth shut.
"In Eab Nanoorn. No, but my people brought holos. Getting them will be... tricky at least. I can say two for certain, and the boy... sporting a braid no less. Arjet, they're pinned down... we'll have to go in and pull them out by force, I think. This fucking... there's this General... you were right about the armies. It's big, money coming from somewhere, and they've got them locked up tighter than a virgin's undies. They're in the middle of the damnedest monkey puzzle I've ever seen." Kato closed his eyes and gathered his thoughts. "It's a 'lost' world in the Cajo system, called Kais. It used to be the capitol of Eab Nanoorn, but a few years ago the Crown moved and took the Capitol with it. A decade ago it was the safest thing going. Now it's death on a stick."
Qui-Gon cleared his throat.
Arjet looked over at him and smiled. "The Elders."
"No..." Qui-Gon murmured. "Really? Are you sure?"
"And quite certain, Master... Jinn? Is that really you? What happened?" Kato blinked in shock.
"Cosmetics," Qui-Gon shook his head ruefully.
"Ah. Well. Good job of it. Yes, it's them. Sarafel's out there with her partner and... and she's taken the boy as her Padawan. The Council's going to have a fit," Kato smirked. "As if that would be unusual."
"Someone had to do it," Arjet allowed. "She's one of the best."
"I'll not argue that," Qui-Gon agreed. "But... what boy?"
Arjet and Kato went silent, neither one wanting to meet Qui-Gon's eyes. After a long pause, Arjet said "You've met Anakin Skywalker, yes?"
"Well, he's what you might call a diversionary tactic. Something big and noisy to draw attention away from the very quiet, very secret but much more relevant issue at hand. You might want to sit down," Arjet advised.
Qui-Gon slid down the wall and made himself comfortable on the floor.
Arjet pulled a lock of hair away from the rest and began tugging on it as he composed his thoughts. "You know I hunted Xanatos for quite a long time after you returned to the Temple, do you not?"
Qui-Gon's stomach clenched at the name and he was just barely able to nod.
"There are things about that hunt that I've never told you. You needed time to heal, to get yourself some distance between him and yourself. I hope you understand. I went off Republic duty, you may recall, after I brought you home. In the years that followed, we, Kato and I, spent most of our time in the Outer Rim, searching on behalf of the Order itself. We never got much closer than a few months of him, never even really got close at all ... but in the beginning he was sloppy. He left tracks, evidence and he indulged himself quite freely in all the things he'd been kept from as a Jedi. There was theft and murder, abuses of his powers, all the things we've come to expect from Dark Jedi. But he also created and left something that might make up for all that. He left us a child."
"A child," Qui-Gon repeated. "Xanatos had a ... a child. A son. That's what you're telling me."
"That's what I'm telling you. We found him, not quite three months old, born to a slave prostitute on Tatooine... where Erac would later find Anakin Skywalker. He knew about a child from that planet but didn't know that he had been moved to a safer location. I had planned to bring Luke back there, place him in your path, as it were... but the Naboo situation and the knowledge surrounding that mission prevented this from happening. On top of all that, I couldn't contact Sarafel to set the plan in motion. Anakin was just... I suppose his discovery was the Will of the Force. I hope it was..." Arjet let his hair go and closed his eyes.
"Luke?" Qui-Gon asked.
"Luke Skywalker. It's a common name amongst the Rim slaves, especially the prostitutes. Rather nomadic, that lot. Particularly the pleasure-slaves. I'm not surprised Erac got his lines crossed. Luke is actually a couple of years older than Anakin, just turned thirteen in fact. Which is, I suppose, why Sarafel took him as her student. He has such potential, Qui-Gon. Much higher than Xanatos, really, and he's such a gentle boy. He's not High Potential, thank the skies above, but he'll be a great Jedi someday. If we can just get him out of Eab Nanoorn and into a Temple. It's definitely not safe for him to be there..." Arjet glanced at Kato, who took up the thread.
"While Zareen and I were working, we found incontrovertible proof that Xanatos is out there. We tried to get to him, but he's made himself the General of an army. It doesn't look good. They've got Sarafel, Luke, and possibly others trapped, though I doubt he realizes that. Chances are, if Xanatos knew he had a son, he'd figure out who they are and what it is they're hiding. If that happens, you could probably measure their lifespan with a stopwatch." Kato yawned hugely. "Mmm ... I think the drugs are starting to kick in."
Qui-Gon blinked rapidly. "I'll leave you two alone. I... I need to think about all this."
"Call me if you need me," Arjet reflexively offered.
"I think I'll be okay..." Qui-Gon began.
"Quigs, listen. Don't go off by yourself. Go be with that Padawan of yours. He needs you right now, and... I think you need him too."
Qui-Gon nodded and exited the room. He paused outside the door to get a sense of his student's location and turned his steps in that direction.
Obi-Wan was a concerned for his master. The elder Jedi had returned from the infirmary as if the very ghosts of his dead had come to have words with him. Though Obi-Wan had tried to open a conversation, Qui-Gon had not kept up his end of it. Obi-Wan soon gave up, accepting that he would have to wait on his Master's good time to learn what was so troubling him. He and Qui-Gon enjoyed a lunch together, then settled down for a quiet afternoon. "How is Master Giavanni?" Obi-Wan asked, just to keep the silence from being oppressive.
To his surprise, that innocent question seemed to open a floodgate. Qui-Gon replied, saying "Better. He and Arjet are laying plans. They... you know about Xanatos, yes?"
"Yes," Obi-Wan agreed.
"Some of the Group elders have... my ex-student managed to sire a child. The Elders have him, have been raising him out in this system... Eab Nanoorn."
"But... but that system's having all sorts of trouble right now!" Obi-Wan objected. "It's right there by Ero Phelian. Even the Guild pilots won't go in there!"
"I know. We're probably going to have to fetch them out very soon, you see. They don't really stand a chance of going unnoticed out there for much longer," Qui-Gon explained.
Obi-Wan considered that. "Xanatos' son?"
"Luke, and nothing like his father, by all reports. There's more. The trouble in Ero Phelian is this: Xanatos is amassing an army there. He must be stopped, and quickly. There's money coming from somewhere, supporting his work. Given your latest report to the Council, I think we know where that might be from," Qui-Gon picked at his sleeve hem. "And given my connections, I think it will be likely that the Council will send me to do something about all this, don't you?"
Obi-Wan nodded mutely.
"So then. Our time is short. I think it is time we had a very serious conversation, you and I. It is absolutely vital that I be at a perfect center, utterly calm and serene, if I face Xanatos once more. Therefore, we must have this thing settled between us."
Obi-Wan took a calming breath. "I am not willing to give you up, Qui-Gon Jinn."
Qui-Gon visibly relaxed. "Nor I you, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Nothing is guaranteed us in this life. I have no intention of losing you if I have any chance of keeping you."
Unexpectedly, Obi-Wan yawned. "I think I need to rest before I can really think on all this."
Qui-Gon nodded, accepting. "I need to get something out of storage. Why don't you go on to bed? We'll talk after you've had a nap."
Obi-Wan watched Qui-Gon leave before heading into the bathroom to prepare for sleep.
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?"
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- 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.
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."
Obi-Wan settled back against the arm of the sofa, a large mug of cocoa cradled reverently in his hands. Neither he nor Qui-Gon had said a single word as they drank. It was a sort of ritual, though one they had not enacted in nearly five years. Juice and water were their most common beverages. Tea was the drink of talk and laughter, sharing and submersion in the business of living. Cocoa was, by silent agreement, the magical elixir for times of trouble. When things looked grim, when troubles came, when punishment must be selected and accepted, when they were about to embark on a particularly dangerous mission, one of them would simply take down the tin of chocolate powder and prepare this, their most visceral of meditations.
Though they never spoke nor touched through the Force, this mutual and silent indulgence never failed to bring them together. What mere koans, keto, forms and poses sometimes could not achieve, hot chocolate was certain to spark a powerful harmony between Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan. Neither of them had ever questioned this, nor studied it too deeply. Rather, they accepted and were grateful for it, as one must be in the presence of a Force-sent blessing.
Obi-Wan looked into his mug. Marshmallows. Not a good sign.
Obi-Wan took his time in drinking. Since Qui-Gon had prepared and poured, it was he who would break the silence. Obi-Wan spent the time savoring his drink and lingering on the simple pleasure of being with his Master. When both cups were empty and sitting on the low table, Qui-Gon finally spoke.
"Well then. Where shall I begin?"
Obi-Wan curled up on the end of the sofa while Qui-Gon stood to pace the room. He was calm, collected, serene, but only just. His emotions were trying to get the better of him, trying to fray and flap in the breeze of unexpected occurrence and sudden revelation. "Pantreti?" Obi-Wan said, interrupting his restless movement.
"Come... come sit..." Obi-Wan opened his arms and moved his legs apart, not really sure how to ask. "Come here so... so I can protect you..."
All the breath seemed to rush out of Qui-Gon in an instant, his eyes stilled in shock. Then time moved forward again and he dove into that welcoming embrace. He buried his face against Obi-Wan's chest and slid his arms around his student's ribcage. Obi-Wan slipped his arms around Qui-Gon's shoulders and leaned his cheek against soft, fragrant hair. They lay still for a long time, breathing in unison and letting go of the tension, stress, pain, replacing all that with the scent and feel of each other.
Eventually Qui-Gon twisted around so that he could lean back against Obi-Wan. They threaded their fingers together over Qui-Gon's chest and watched the shadows lengthen. Neither of them moved to raise the lights. Darkness folded around them and they continued to focus upon each other. Obi-Wan let his head slip forward so that he could rest his chin on Qui-Gon's shoulder. That contact was like a cue. Qui-Gon began to speak.
"I was so lonely, Obi-Wan. I was only nineteen, but they were talking about my Trials already and I didn't know how to stop it. Can you imagine such a thing? Master Yoda wanted me knighted young, wanted it and couldn't make it happen, no matter what he tried. They can't call a Padawan a Knight unless the teacher goes on record saying the Learner has passed his Trials. That is actually a law in the Order, under the Vigil regulations. It saved me, I think. The only way around it is if the master is dead and even Master Yoda wasn't willing to kill my master just to... to put me in the field too green to survive.
"So, anyway, Master Sarafel made it perfectly clear that she wouldn't pass me until I was ready, no matter what the Council said. Skies only know what kind of pressure they put on her, what all she protected me from. What she couldn't protect me from was bad enough. I tried to make friends, but... I was... quite different from the others. Even more than I am now, if you can imagine such a thing. I took to picking up willing bodies, sleeping around... just to... not be alone..."
Obi-Wan turned his head and kissed Qui-Gon's neck. "It's okay."
Qui-Gon shifted on the sofa and Obi-Wan strengthened his grip to prevent him from bolting again. After a moment, Qui-Gon relaxed again. "So one night I was at this club, you see. I met a young man... quite beautiful, really. He was sweet, kind... then when we got back to his rooms he... changed. He hit me, called me a slut, and... and I didn't fight back. Didn't want to. It all felt so incredibly real to me, you see. As if... as if this was what everyone had always wanted to do to me, but hadn't quite dared. The Council wanted to call me a dangerous beast. Civilians wanted to call me a murderer and a callous bastard. Lovers wanted to call me a whore. More than that, they wanted to say that and for me to carry on doing precisely what I had been doing all along. And all I wanted was that honesty. So I let him beat me, let him fuck me. All the time he kept saying 'I'll stop if you want me to,' and I kept saying 'Don't stop...'
"And then I came back to the Temple and it was all unreal again. Our next mission was pure hell. Fighting, death, filthy politicians playing power games with other people's lives, including mine, and all of it neatly wrapped up in the guise of government. It made me ill. So when I got back here, I went to the clubs again. I think it was about two years later when Master finally put a stop to it. She permitted me to see a professional, if I chose... but I never did. Then Arjet helped me a little, taught me some things, and that was it. The pain... it is so real, so beautifully honest... it seems safe to me, to hurt without harming anyone or anything, including myself. And in those moments when I feel that pain which I have chosen, I surrender to the Force all that I must do to serve it." Qui-Gon turned so he could see Obi-Wan's face. "I take little pleasure in the pain, nor do I crave it constantly. It's a... sort of release, a detoxification of my spiritual self. And yet, for all that, it is a sexual need... I need the pleasure with the pain, or it just doesn't work at all."
Obi-Wan frowned in thought. "I understand," he finally said.
"Do you? Do you really, Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon squeezed his hands.
"I think so. You see, Master... I'm very lonely as well. I take lovers, but only for the pleasure of coupling. I never wished to risk caring for anyone, though I never admitted that to myself. I... I was afraid. Too scared to be alone, too scared to be with someone else... so I ended up with this. I slept with you the first time because it was exotic and I wanted to be with you. I cared about you, then, and I didn't want to admit it even to myself. Then we didn't talk, and everything got so fucked up... but you do care about me. You do love me, even long before I let myself love you. Then, that night... you really aren't going to take over my life or try to change me, are you?" Obi-Wan asked.
"Of course not. I like you how you are," Qui-Gon assured him.
"Because even when I wouldn't see it, you have been honest with me. You have never lied, never said anything calculated to deceive me... except in bed. And that, my love, is why I will not lie with you. I can't... can not trust you to speak the truth. You do not wish to open your thoughts to me, so that I may feel the truth. Therefore, it is not possible for me to know the truth of you," Qui-Gon shifted a little. "Without the honesty, there is nothing worth having."
Obi-Wan was silent for a long moment, then he raised his hands to cover Qui-Gon's eyes. "As one who can not see, I will offer you the pages of my flesh."
Qui-Gon's breathing quickened, then slowed again under his will. "Are you sure, Obi-Wan?"
"Yes. Quite sure. But I will ask the same of you, my Pantreti."
"I could give you nothing less, Koateleu."
"Then let us read the language written on the body."
Obi-Wan made himself as comfortable as he could upon the rough carpet before Qui-Gon's window. The moonlight and ambient illumination of Coruscant washed over him, the only light in the room. Qui-Gon lay next to him, breathing slowly and deeply to center himself for the reading. Obi-Wan was aware of his own nervousness, but felt no urge to still or release it. The Language would speak it clearly, anyway.
One of the first skills any Jedi student learns is the art of sensing and translating the traces of life, of the Force and the marks it leaves on the matter of the universe. Like fingerprints, like trace-scents and tastes, like shades of long-removed color or long-forgotten voices, all things leave their various impressions in the stuff of life.
So as it was possible for Obi-Wan to sense where Qui-Gon had sat and what frame of mind he had been in at the time, so was it possible for him to touch and feel, far more intimately, the truth of Qui-Gon's... Qui-Gon-ness in his body. While it was very possible to shield thoughts and emotions from another person's mind as well as mask the proofs of those thoughts from even an intimate observer, it was also possible to let those masks fall. Among the Jedi, Obi-Wan knew, there were few things more intimate than laying hands on another person's physical form and being allowed to read the traces and impressions of their soul as made upon their flesh. Those impressions, unmasked and untainted, were like unto the pages of another's essence. Those impressions were marked in the secret language of the senses, and written on the body.
Obi-Wan had long suspected that the reason for the Jedi's very elaborate, totally concealing costume was a matter of self-preservation. Living flesh, especially flesh exposed to touch, was like unto a public announcement of one's inner self. Unless something overpowering, such as great emotional stress, physical trauma, sexual arousal or a very recent and deep physical and mental purge was in place, the body was a richly illustrated text open to perusal. It was, therefore, a highly sacred act for one Jedi to allow another Jedi access to his or her body in the absence of such a mitigating factor, with all Force-signatures offered for inspection. That they lay together, nude and unaroused, was enough to set all of Obi-Wan's alarms ringing. That Qui-Gon had not so much as looked at him let Obi-Wan know those alarms were being heard loud and clear. Obi-Wan took a deep breath, released his anxieties and laid one hand upon Qui-Gon's. "Now, please."
Warm breath stirred Obi-Wan's eyelashes and moved on as Qui-Gon took the scent of him. Obi-Wan pressed his palms more firmly to the floor and relaxed his shoulders, letting his mind drift upon the moment. When Qui-Gon's lips pressed to the inside of his right elbow, he opened his eyes and tried to regain control of his own breathing. Moist tongue, then nothing as Qui-Gon lay beside him once more. In the pool of blue evening light, Qui-Gon spoke.
"Written on the body are the miseries of the young man. With no hope of love you have pushed yourself through life, desiring that which you believe will never be. So deeply, so completely do you believe you will always be alone, it is impossible for you to see that you are part of another, even now."
Obi-Wan drew in a sharp breath and tried to relax the tightening in his chest. He closed his eyes again as Qui-Gon moved over him once more. Long hair trailed over his chest, ghosting impressions of Qui-Gon. These Obi-Wan spoke as his mind interpreted what his spirit gleaned. "Written on the body are memories of long-past wrongs. A strange melange of pride and shame have created in you cravings of unparalleled depth. Though you wish to believe they are sane, are acceptable and pure ... some part of you still cries out that you are filth and deserving of pain. Sublimation of that voice cuts at you."
Fingertips traced Obi-Wan's navel, then withdrew. "Bright love burns within, great copious love, so deeply hidden that it begins to damage you. Containment is not possible, not advisable, but admitting such love, even to yourself, would cause you great discomfort and confusion."
Obi-Wan reached out and brushed his fingers along Qui-Gon's shoulder blade. "Once a bird of prey flew over you. You followed its flight with your eyes, wishing to the skies that you could be so free. The song of the Force and your own duty kept you on the ground."
Three kisses fell along Obi-Wan's ribcage and Qui-Gon spoke. "Written on the body is the knowledge of your own desirability. Also there I taste the hand of cold lust. That ice-touch has closed its fist around your heart. Will you not let me break you free?"
Obi-Wan sat up and tasted Qui-Gon's throat. "Oh my love, why do you believe you are set so far apart from me? We are twins in our strangeness, and similar in our own hearts."
Qui-Gon twisted his fingers through Obi-Wan's hair, letting his long braid twine around a wrist. "You are so very giving, so willing to work and so full of this need to please. Do you really think you must earn the right to be cared for?"
"It is not so."
Obi-Wan drew back, putting a handspan of distance between himself and Qui-Gon. "That night I was lying in bed and I could feel how much you cared about me, how deep it ran. And I looked at myself, honestly... and I love you just as much. It seems rather foolish to deny that, now that I see it."
"Would you rather deny it?" Qui-Gon gently whispered.
Instead of answering, Obi-Wan put his hands in Qui-Gon's hair and pressed his brow to Qui-Gon's. "My breath. Read my breath."
Their lips sealed in an openmouthed kiss, air passing from one to the other in a direct feed of input. Obi-Wan focused down onto the scent/taste/feel of Qui-Gon, trying to discern, analyze, catalog all that was being shown to him. He pushed up onto his knees, dragging Qui-Gon along with him. A few moments' fumbling and they knelt together, pressed to each other from knees to mouths. Obi-Wan struggled to draw air through his nose, to keep contact, to find and connect and understand.
**I saw a vision of the future, my future, and it was you.**
//I read the threads of destiny and you were mine.//
**The universe is a cold and lonely place. Darkness and desolation surrounds me, is in me.**
//I am with you. You need not be alone.//
**My heart is a broken and suspicious creature.**
//My heart is a scarred and masochistic self.//
**We are none of us perfect.**
//I wish to be forgiven for my imperfections. I want absolution for my wrongs.//
**I forgive you.**
//Let me love and heal you. Let that be the work of my life.//
**Let me love and protect you. Let that be the reward for my labors.**
**//Be with me love me I love you sweet my only my other self let me be all things everything to you my only love my brazen lover my gentle sweet place of rest be only with me yes please yes oh yes//**
When at last their kiss ended both men stood and dressed. They took that time to disentangle their thoughts once more and become two separate persons with separate skins. When they were grounded and centered in their own bodies again, Obi-Wan took Qui-Gon's hand and led him back to the sofa. They resumed their seats as they had lain before, Qui-Gon reclining against Obi-Wan's chest.
"So..." Obi-Wan closed his eyes and sought the will of the Force. Letting it guide his actions, he pulled his charm cord over his head and held it so it dangled in front of Qui-Gon's eyes. "Any idea what this is?"
Qui-Gon chuckled. "This is your hope, or so you've told me."
"Yes. But do you know what this little charm is? Here's a hint: It's from Feldar."
Qui-Gon studied the charm for a long moment, then shook his head. "No idea. It's from your home planet? When did you go there?"
"I've never gone home. I only left. But apparently, this came away with me ... or something like that. I imagine every child in the Temple brings something like this with them ... some little scrap of their past. Mine is a betrothal charm." Obi-Wan spun the cord so the crystal and stone caught the lights of the ships passing outside the window. "At least, that's what Corubia tells me. She found a holo of one like this in a file about Feldarian marriage rites. Children are given these on their nameday and exchange them with their betrothed. Since I had a name upon arrival, I suppose I received it then."
"So, how does this charm represent hope to you, my Koateleu? I can't think you wish to go home," Qui-Gon held himself very still while he waited for the answer.
"I suppose it started when I first realized what it meant to be Feldarian," Obi-Wan sighed. "It finally occurred to me just why most of my friends went home to visit their parents... and I did not. My family didn't want me."
"Obi-Wan, you know Feldar has very strict laws and customs about..." Qui-Gon began.
"I know. I know that, I understand and accept it all, now. But then... I just knew that I'd been born somewhere and that my parents weren't coming for me. Because I was supposed to be a Jedi," Obi-Wan specified. "And then... Torlamin."
Qui-Gon breathed deeply, focusing on remaining calm and centered. "She made you doubt that you would ever BE a Jedi."
"Yes, she did. That was somehow worse, because it was all I had, all I'd ever known. Plus, I had nowhere to go and no one to be, if I didn't become a Jedi. Somewhere before that I figured out that I was somehow... different from the other children, but I didn't know quite how."
"Your Potential," Qui-Gon surmised.
"Of course. But there were no explanations, no reasons for my separation from my crechemates, you see. I didn't *belong* anywhere, and nobody other than the gang really wanted me. Pan, I'll be honest with you: if it hadn't been for Cor, Jen and Swed, I don't know if I could have even finished my early training. I clung to them for support, for... almost everything. Knight Elan, too, but less so. And then... then you came along..." Obi-Wan didn't know quite how to say what he meant.
"I took you away from them, put you into a whole new life, one where you felt... unloved, unwanted..." Qui-Gon's throat contracted around the words and he closed his eyes.
"No. Never that. You've been so good to me, Master. So very patient and kind at all times. I think I was just so... so damaged when you got me that I couldn't see everything for what it was. Then... Obream."
"And that was just the end of a long string of hurts for you, wasn't it, my Koateleu?" Qui-Gon petted soothing strokes along Obi-Wan's leg. "No wonder you don't want me. It's okay. I... I understand that you don't, and why."
Obi-Wan's arms closed in a crushing grip around Qui-Gon's chest. "No, you DON'T understand! Not at all! I want to love you. I want to be loved by you. What I DON'T want is to presume that I WILL be loved, wanted, all of that, and then discover that I was completely wrong. The Force tells me that will not, should not happen between us. YOU tell me that, which is more important to me. The very Language of your being shows me the truth and purity of your intentions. What I need, Qui-Gon, is something that will last, that will remain and be as firm as all that I lost when I was brought to the Temple. I... I want a family."
"So your hope has been to one day marry?" Qui-Gon breathed.
"To have a family of my own, yes. A spouse, a partner I can lean on and raise scads of Padawans with. Don't you see? I have no mother, no father, my first mentor betrayed me and my second couldn't undo the damage of the first. I have siblings, but they look to me for leadership. You, Qui-Gon... you're the only person I've ever really trusted to look out for me. I do trust that, so much that I haven't wanted to threaten it by trying to prolong, deepen what it is we have. But now I see that, because of that fear, I've nearly lost you and everything that you could be to me." Obi-Wan brought the charm up before Qui-Gon again. "I want this to mean something again."
"And without a total commitment from your partner, love would be meaningless to you. Correct?" Qui-Gon leaned his head back onto Obi-Wan's shoulder. "I know exactly what you mean. And yet we, all Jedi, grow up believing that we will live our lives alone. Taken from our families, given to a Master who will one day cut us loose to make our own way in the world, never given any instruction on how to love, who to love... it is a difficult path."
"You never said it would be easy," Obi-Wan reminded him. "I thought I understood, thought I had accepted it all, but then... then you..."
Qui-Gon closed his eyes. "I would not lie to you, Padawan. But what can I do, so that you may one day come to accept me and my love for you? What do you want it to mean, Obi-Wan? I never was anything like a father to you, and being your lover... I am that now, but it seems such a relationship has been devastatingly tainted in your perception." Qui-Gon swallowed once. "What is it you're asking me to be to you, Obi-Wan?"
"Master Qui-Gon Jinn, I'm asking if you will be my husband."
Silence stretched out between them as Qui-Gon traced the surfaces of the charm. "Obi-Wan, as your Master, I can't allow you to marry so young," he began.
"After my Trials, then..." Obi-Wan began.
"You may be knighted sooner than you think, my love. It is your youth I worry you will lose," Qui-Gon explained.
Obi-Wan leaned forward so that his lips brushed Qui-Gon's ears. "What youth?"
Qui-Gon chuckled and reached to stroke Obi-Wan's hair. "True enough, my child of the Temple. Will you grant me, then, the right to choose the time and place?"
"I grant that easily, Pantreti," Obi-Wan replied.
"Then Obi-Wan Kenobi, I will marry you, and love you all the days of my life," Qui-Gon whispered, turning to face his student.
Obi-Wan twined his fingers with Qui-Gon's, his hand trembling almost imperceptibly. "I will marry you, Qui-Gon Jinn, and love you all the days of my life."
They leaned towards one another, so close their lips touched as they breathed the Force-enhanced oath. "By the Light and my life, I pledge myself to be yours."
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Bonds of Choice 9.99: The Language of Great Mystery: Written on the Body
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
61 KB, Story is Complete, Series is Closed-Unfinished
Written May 29, 2000 by HiperBunny
Setting: Star Wars Episode 1
Primary Races: Human
Contents: Slash (M/M). Alternate Universe, Angst, Fraternization, Sex (First Time)
Pairings: Obi-Wan/ Qui-Gon
Blurb: More Complications in Ero Phelian. More Complications regarding ex-Padawans. Promises made.
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.
Page Hit Count from March 17, 2005