Obi-Wan paced restlessly within the confines of his temporary quarters
aboard the Queen's starship, knowing full well that he should be
meditating instead, should be focusing his energies on serenity and
understanding rather than allowing anger to course through him.
But he didn't want to let go just yet; the anger, at least, was his to
call his own -- not his master's, not the Council's, not the boy's --
his, to do with as he wished. The thought gave him a measure of
satisfaction, colored with a shame that he pushed away with impatience.
By the fires of hell, he had a right to be angry, he told himself
stubbornly.

Apprenticeship to Qui-Gon had always carried its share of headaches:
conscience-wracking complicity with his master in defiance of the
Council; disagreements with his master on policies and procedures;
barbs hurled at him by his contemporaries for tagging along after
someone widely regarded as a renegade practitioner of the Jedi arts -
all these things had conspired to make his time with Qui-Gon into a
challenge above and beyond what he'd expected when he had first
begun his training.

But in spite of all the nuisances and trauma, it was worth it -- more
than worth it. Over the years, his relationship with Qui-Gon had brought
him more than enough joy to outweigh any burden their pairing might
otherwise bring. Tenderness, affection, passion, an intimacy beyond
his imaginings - Obi-Wan had discovered all this and more in his
master's embrace, and wouldn't trade that for anything in the universe.

He only wished he could believe at the moment that Qui-Gon still felt
the same.

It all came back to the boy. Obi-Wan possessed a strong enough
sense of self-awareness to realize that his suspicion of the child
was shaded with jealousy; when Qui-Gon had announced to the Council
that he wished to take Anakin on as his padawan, the cold shock of
it had washed over Obi-Wan like a carbonite bath. He had recovered
well enough to humiliate himself in front of the Council with his
self-confidence regarding the trials, but that seething kernel of
jealousy still lurked inside of him, leading, inevitably, to his most
recent argument with his master.

Replaying the scene in his head once more, it was the chastising
tone that he could not abide -- the way Qui-Gon had dismissed him
and ordered him to board the ship, as if he were a recalcitrant child.
As if he were the young boy, and not Anakin Skywalker. Of course,
Obi-Wan was - for now -- still an apprentice and Qui-Gon his master,
but nonetheless...

"Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan whirled around; he had been so lost in thought he had not even
felt the other man enter the room, and he silently cursed himself for
such vulnerability. "Yes, master?" he said evenly.

Qui-Gon folded his arms across his chest, his expression unreadable. "You
are broadcasting your thoughts and feelings to every Force-sensitive on this
ship. By which I mean you are not only affecting me, but Anakin as well.
As he does not yet know how to shield himself against such interference,
he is restless and angered and doesn't understand why."

Good, Obi-Wan thought unfairly, but tamped the thought down swiftly,
along with the rest of his roiling emotions.

Qui-Gon lifted an eyebrow. "If you have a quarrel with my desire to train
Anakin, so be it. But there is no reason to take it out on the child."

Obi-Wan nodded, conceding the truth of it, but unwilling to yield further.
He knew he was pushing the boundaries now, but didn't particularly care.
"Is that all, master?" He barely refrained from spitting out the title.

Their eyes met, and Obi-Wan forced himself not to look away from his
master's frosty blue gaze. "We have six hours until we arrive on Naboo,"
Qui-Gon said. "I suggest you use that time for mediation, or better yet,
sleep. We're all exhausted; some of us, perhaps, more than most." Obi-
Wan clenched his jaw at the veiled reprimand, but said nothing. "I will
be resting in my own quarters, should you..." For the first time, Qui-
Gon faltered, and Obi-Wan could hear the unsaid words: should you
need me. "I'll be in my quarters," he said finally, and left the chamber.

Obi-Wan stared at the doorway for a long time after his master had
walked through it. Then he undressed, cued off the lights, and went
to bed, although he suspected he was far too agitated to sleep.

He must have been wrong about his ability to surrender to slumber,
for it was a murky haze of sleep that Obi-Wan swam through some time
later as he struggled toward consciousness. He had, to his growing
alarm, an ineffable sense of...being watched.

His eyes snapped open, and he blinked rapidly to adjust to the darkness.

Qui-Gon hovered over him.

The outline of his master's shape was as familiar to him as breathing;
Obi-Wan nonetheless swallowed hard against a rush of fear before he
realized that Qui-Gon was simply watching him, and apparently had
been doing so while Obi-Wan slept. When their eyes found each other
through the shadows Obi-Wan could feel the connection crackle between
them like a magnetic pulse. In a fugue of half-sleep he fancied that
he could actually see the pull between them, sparking blue in the dark.

Qui-Gon did not speak, did not attempt to offer explanations; instead,
he reached out a hand to touch Obi-Wan's cheek. With now fully awake
reflexes Obi-Wan halted the motion, gripping the other man's forearm
firmly with his fist. Qui-Gon let out a sharp exhalation of breath,
but did not fight the iron grasp.

Heady with newfound power, Obi-Wan drew his master close, closer,
tangling his free hand in Qui-Gon's long, thick hair. Still, his
master did not resist. Their lips met and pressed against each
other briefly; then Obi-Wan forced his tongue between Qui-Gon's
lips, the other man opening to him eagerly, sucking strongly on
Obi-Wan's tongue, tracing his teeth and lips in ardent exploration.
But much as he wanted to simply lose himself in that hot, wet,
seductive mouth, Obi-Wan did not allow the kiss to continue for
too long before pulling his master down onto the bed beside him.

Obi-Wan had disrobed for bed, and while the feel of Qui-Gon's coarse
homespun against his skin was strangely arousing, he wanted the
sensation of flesh to flesh even more. With practiced fingers he
helped Qui-Gon out of his clothing, tossing it in a heap on the
floor, and then finally they melded together, skin to skin, clutching
at each other with increasing urgency. Obi-Wan ran his hands up and
down Qui-Gon's strong, muscular thighs, digging his fingers into
the yielding flesh of the other man's behind. Qui-Gon let out a
strangled moan and covered Obi-Wan's mouth with his, and again they
kissed and kissed and kissed, desperately devouring each other. When
Obi-Wan felt his master's hand close around his straining cock, he
gasped into Qui-Gon's mouth, shuddered.

"You want this?" Obi-Wan whispered. The pent-up anger, the
jealousy, the desire -- he heard it all in his own voice, knew
there was no point in hiding it.

"Yes," came the immediate response. Qui-Gon's breathing was
harsh and heavy in the dark.

The corners of Obi-Wan's mouth quirked in a half-smile, even as
he berated himself for the un-Jedi-like smugness. He kissed his
master again, all too briefly, then pushed him back onto the pillows
and began to travel down the length of Qui-Gon's body, using his
mouth as a guide. He nibbled at Qui-Gon's collarbone, tasting
the tang of sweat; sucked lazily at Qui-Gon's nipples, swirling his
tongue over each one in turn; caressed the planes of his abdomen
with lips and teeth, biting the sensitive skin lightly and eliciting
a sharp moan from above. By the time he reached Qui-Gon's rigid
cock, his master was gasping, straining up against him, hips twitching
with slight, almost hesitant movements. Obi-Wan placed soft, slow
kisses in the hollows of his groin, on either side of his erect member,
pleased when Qui-Gon twitched and jerked his hips up violently.

He straightened, sitting back on his ankles, and looked down at
his master. "Turn over."

There was a long pause in which Obi-Wan's heart nearly stopped;
had he gone too far? But no, he knew his master as well as he
thought he did. With heart-wrenching obedience Qui-Gon turned
over onto his stomach, letting out a choked gasp when his erection
hit the softness of the sheets beneath him.

Obi-Wan stroked the smooth, firm cheeks of his master's behind,
admiring the way the muscles bunched beneath his fingertips, the
way Qui-Gon thrust himself into the bed with each application
of pressure from his apprentice's hands. He dipped his head to
place a tender kiss on Qui-Gon's tailbone, then leaned over the
side of the bed and rummaged through the travel bag he had left
nearby on the floor until his fingers closed over the bottle of
lubricant he kept there.

Obi-Wan squeezed a liberal amount of the cool gel onto his palm,
then gently spread it over and into Qui-Gon's anus, inserting one,
then two probing fingers inside of him. Obi-Wan could feel his
master loosening beneath him, using the Force to help relax the
muscles. He withdrew his fingers and lubricated himself with a
few swift strokes, biting down on his lip at the feel of it. Finally,
Qui-Gon raised his hips up even higher, and Obi-Wan slid slowly,
slowly into him, letting out a low groan he couldn't contain. Qui-
Gon emitted a deep sigh and clutched at the sheets with clawing
fingers. Obi-Wan could feel tendrils of the Force prodding at his
consciousness, signs of his master trying to draw him out of himself
and into the emotion between them, but Obi-Wan resisted. He would
not surrender himself so completely this time. Couldn't.

In, then out, and in again, and Obi-Wan groaned once more, a higher-
pitched groan this time. So hot and tight and strong...another thrust,
and Qui-Gon reared back up against him, an animalistic grunt flying
from deep in his throat. Without stopping, Obi-Wan leaned over as
far as he could, sinking his teeth into the firm flesh of his master's
shoulder. The skin tasted warm and salty and bitter and utterly
perfect.

In, and out, and they moaned in unison, loud, guttural sounds,
and Obi-Wan fleetingly hoped their room was soundproof. Again,
and Obi-Wan reached around his master's thrusting hips to find
Qui-Gon's cock, which pulsed red heat against his slick palm.
Slow, sure strokes with a firm, gentle grip, and Qui-Gon was
practically whimpering beneath him, helpless, thrusting mindlessly
into his grasp, hips rising and falling as Obi-Wan increased the
tempo, pounding into him relentlessly.

Mine, he thought, as he kept up the steady rhythm. Mine mine mine
mine mine mine mine....

The orgasm took him almost by surprise, consuming him,
enveloping him in a cascade of light, suspending rational
thought as he rode the crests of the waves, spasming over
and over and over -- mine mine mine mine mine -- until finally
he came back to himself, gasping for air, murmuring his
master's name without even realizing his mouth was forming
the words. He rested his head against Qui-Gon's shoulder,
composing himself for just a moment, before he once again
continued to stroke Qui-Gon's throbbing cock, refusing to
lose himself in post-coital lassitude until his lover had
joined him there.

He stroked and clenched and pumped, velvet steel hot in
his fist, his master panting and straining toward release,
until finally Qui-Gon stiffened and let out a sharp cry,
hips jerking spasmodically as Obi-Wan felt his hand bathed
in warm semen, slippery and thick and wet. They both
collapsed against the bed, Obi-Wan still embracing Qui-
Gon from behind, both of them breathing heavily, neither
of them speaking, until: "You shielded yourself from me,"
Qui-Gon said quietly. His tone was not accusatory, but
Obi-Wan detected the emotion anyway.

He disengaged and rolled off of Qui-Gon's back, settled in
beside him as his master turned over to face him. He stroked
Qui-Gon's cheek, his hair, his neck. "Yes," he said simply.
He was not ready to apologize -- for any of it -- just yet.
Perhaps later. Certainly later. But for now... "Kiss me,"
he said softly, hearing the pleading undercurrent to his
demand.

Master obeyed apprentice, capturing Obi-Wan's lips with his
own. I may not always be your padawan, Obi-Wan thought,
returning the kiss, but I will always be this, here, now...

Despite Obi-Wan's carefully erected shields, Qui-Gon must
have felt something of the sentiment, for he pulled back and
cradled his apprentice's face with his hands, callused fingertips
rough against Obi-Wan's skin. "Always," he whispered.

Always. Obi-Wan wondered just how long that would be.

end.