Sighing softly, Obi-Wan wiped the gathered sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his tunic as he watched the Padawans and Younglings file out of the training room.
The lessons the Council had asked him to give had been exhausting, but very satisfying. It was gratifying to see so many eager future Knights soaking up the humble knowledge he had to teach them.
Ever since he had killed the Sith and saved his Master, Obi-Wan had become something of a legend among the younger Jedis. He was highly sought after by them, always stopping him in the corridor to ask him for advice or give a demonstration of his fighting skills, asking him to correct their own stance or having to recount – very reluctantly since he was a modest man, and the topic was still a difficult one – his tale of battling a Sith.
He could understand their reactions, really, he wouldn't have been any different as a youngster, but what totally escaped his grasp were the moon eyes a lot of the Padawans and Younglings made at him. Even he had noticed, oblivious as he sometimes could be, and he had the suspicious feeling that some of the help he was asked to provide was simply an excuse to being touched by him.
Oh well, their crushes were quite harmless if highly embarrassing for himself. In every Jedi generation there was one or two Knights who almost had the whole Temple trailing after them in mad crushes. Most of the time though, it was because of his or her good looks (something the Masters frowned upon since such shallow fancies were very unbecoming a Jedi). Being revered for having killed a Sith was quite novel and refreshing for a change, he thought with a snort. The Masters were surely pleased by that; a lot of them even being hardly better than the infatuated youths. They could just hide it better, and wrapped their admiration in highly complex conversations they drew him into as their complete equal although he was such a young Knight.
Shaking his head with an exasperated smile, having once more to remind himself that he had been young once, too, Obi-Wan started cleaning up the room somewhat. After switching off the last of the projectors he had used for the theory part of his lesson, he stood in the middle of the room, and soaked up the peace for a moment after having had a room full of eager, loud, giggling teenagers that tripped over their own feet because they were making doe-eyes at him instead of actually taking his teachings to heart.
While standing so completely still, he became aware of how uncomfortably his tunic stuck to his skin. The fabric was wet with his sweat from demonstrating his Soresu to them, and there was suddenly nothing more urgent than taking a shower. Briefly, Obi-Wan debated simply hurrying back to his quarters, but the communal showers were right next to the training hall, and the way back to his quarters on the other hand was quite long.
Decision made, Obi-Wan went into the showers, hoping that all of his pupils had left already.
He stopped short when he heard hushed voices from inside the showers which echoed off the tiled room, and thus carrying the voices right outside where Obi-Wan stood, probably unbeknownst to the owners of said voices.
There were four of them, all male, but he didn't recognise any of them at the moment.
“Sure,” one of the voices said. “I'd let him fuck me if he only asked...”
“Shh, keep your voice down,” another said.
Obi-Wan had to suppress an amused snort at the endearing innocence of the teenagers. Sex wasn't really being encouraged by the Order, but it wasn't exactly forbidden either, only disapproved of for various reasons. But even the Council was under no illusion that the members of the Order, especially teens, talked about it, and occasionally did more than that. The youngsters simply thought nobody knew what they were up to, and they thought themselves so daring and maverick. As if Obi-Wan's generation had been any different – or any generation before that, really.
“Pfft, as if they don't know,” the first voice scoffed.
Ah, a clever one, and quite confident, too, Obi-Wan thought with a shake of his head, but then decided he had heard enough, resolving to shower in his room after all.
He just turned around to leave when the next words stopped him dead in his tracks.
“You're such an idiot,” one of the other two who hadn't spoken as of yet said, “what makes you think that Master Kenobi would be interested in you ? He's the famous Sith-Killer, Force dammit!”
“Yeah,” the last one added with a snort, “and anyway, he's got only eyes for Master Jinn. Nobody would ever get between those two.”
The initial speaker sighed mournfully. “Yeah. Still a shame. Although I have to admit I would give anything to watch them. Do you think Jinn always tops? Well, I would if I were him, given Kenobi's great ass...”
He had heard enough. Definitely.
As silent as he possibly could – which was a challenge all in itself since he suddenly felt as clumsy as he had with thirteen, all tripping over his too fast growing feet and long legs.
Force knew how, he managed to leave unnoticed.
Flushed and once more sweating profoundly if for other reasons this time though, Obi-Wan rushed through the Temple straight to his and Anakin's quarters.
His mind was in turmoil, and somehow, he knew that no amount of meditation could calm him down at the moment.
Yes, he had realised the younger Jedis' juvenile infatuation. Yes, he somehow got that they not only had a crush on him for killing a Force-damned Sith, but because of the way he looked as well – a fact he really couldn't understand since he was nothing special to look at, and since the thought made him uncomfortable, he denied it adamantly that anybody could fancy him for his appearance.
But that there were wild rumours circulating around the Temple about him and Qui-Gon!? That it obviously seemed a given for people that they were in some kind of sexual relationship?! That one was new to him. How in the Force's name did people come to such conclusions? He and his former Master were just friends, the rumours were completely unfounded...
Obi-Wan frowned heavily.
Well, granted, it looked a tad strange that he and Qui-Gon basically had joined Mastership of Anakin even though, officially, Obi-Wan was the twelve-year-old's Master. After Naboo, it had taken Qui-Gon a long time to heal from his almost fatal wound, and thus he had trusted Obi-Wan – recently Knighted because killing a Sith more than qualified as having taken one's trials – with Anakin's training. Obi-Wan had been so proud when Qui-Gon told him that he was the only one he would entrust Anakin to, and just like that, any rift that had been between them before the Battle of Naboo was obliterated, their relationship closer and more fulfilling than ever.
But was that enough for people to speculate wildly about their private life?
Really. The things people assumed because of something mundane like that !
Huffing, he stormed into his quarters, and went straight for the refresher.
Standing under the spray, furiously rubbing shampoo into his sweaty hair, Obi-Wan couldn't help his thoughts from spinning wildly again.
All of a sudden, deeply hidden thoughts resurfaced again. The unwanted feelings of his teenage... well, lifelong crush on his Master were making themselves known with a vengeance, completely without his permission. After all, there had been a reason he had buried these feelings so deeply although they never went away completely like the ones he had had for his fellow Padawan Siri. Falling for another Padawan was, if not encouraged, at least acceptable if they'd have really taken their chance in defying the Council in favour of their feelings. But lusting after one's own Master?! Not a good idea.
Images of Qui-Gon battered down on his helpless mind, the man's heart-rendering smile, his regal looks, his strong body... holding him in his arms as Obi-Wan felt the life drain out of him...
As if an invisible fist gripped his heart like a vice, Obi-Wan gasped in pain.
His hands stopped their frantic scrubbing of his hair, and they dropped to his side uselessly. Suds of shampoo were slowly trailing down his body, and surely, any minute now, the white foam would run into his eyes, making them sting, but even that thought couldn't motivate him to move a muscle. Because right here, right now, Obi-Wan realised that it wasn't mere lust he felt for Qui-Gon.
That it was... love.
Always had been.
He'd simply never acknowledged the fact, probably because of a healthy dose of vicious self-denial on his part.
A strong feeling of yearning rose up inside his chest at the revelation, making breathing hard. Until today, he had been content with what they had, but now, after his mind-numbing epiphany, he suddenly felt the overpowering need to confess his feelings to his former Master. The thought of continuing like they had, as merely friends, seemed unbearable to him. But in the next second, he realised he couldn't risk it. Qui-Gon would never want him, and Obi-Wan supposed that the older Jedi, deep inside, was still mourning Tahl.
That realisation finally gave him the strength to move again. With mechanical movements, Obi-Wan finished his shower, shivering when the cool air of the room hit his wet skin.
Towelling himself dry, he resigned himself to finally let his feelings go. He was a Jedi, he knew all about personal sacrifices. He would have to content himself with simply enjoying Qui-Gon's company since he couldn't take the chance of destroying what they had by confessing his unwanted feelings...
Now that Obi-Wan knew that there were apparently a couple of inappropriate rumours flying about the Temple, he suddenly seemed to encounter gossip anywhere he went. More than once, he caught merely snippets of conversation which he'd, before yesterday, not have thought anything off. Now though, sensitised as he suddenly was, he had no trouble recognising what people were talking about whenever he passed them.
He felt himself blush violently, and caught himself hastening his steps when he heard a couple of giggling girls sigh about how romantic Obi-Wan's actions had been; sharing his life energy with Qui-Gon to safe him.
“I wonder if he kissed him to breathe life into him,” one of the girls sighed dreamily, and the others joined in on their friend's fantasy.
Obi-Wan didn't stop to listen what other deeds he had apparently done to wrench Qui-Gon away from death's clutches on Naboo.
This was maddening! Didn't people have anything to do but gossip ?!
He'd been happier when he had been completely oblivious.
“Anything wrong, Master?” Anakin asked as soon as Obi-Wan had stormed into their quarters, and thrown himself onto the sofa in a quite juvenile fashion.
In a strop, he glared up at his Padawan who had risen from his seat at the table where he'd been tinkering around with some electronic gadgets, once more spreading out his projects into their living area even though Obi-Wan had repeatedly told him to keep his tinkering to his own room.
Frowning, Obi-Wan was scrutinising the boy so hard that Anakin started to squirm under his Master's penetrating gaze.
“Anakin,” he slowly said, contemplatively, before he finally screwed up his courage. “Do you know of any... rumours... considering Master Qui-Gon and... me?”
Anakin's shoulders sagged in apparent relief; he'd probably thought that he had done something again. He shrugged instead.
“Sure. There are tons of gossip about you two. All the time.” An undeniably devious smirk tugged at Anakin's lips. “And in various stages of explicitness, too.”
Obi-Wan groaned when he heard this, even more horrified than before, and he felt himself blush furiously. Desperately, he buried his face in his hands.
The boy cocked his head. “You didn't know?”
“Of course not,” Obi-Wan groaned into his hands.
“I thought everybody knew – including you – what with you behaving so suspicious... That has rumour mills firing in no time at all.”
Warily, Obi-Wan peeked at his Padawan from between his fingers. “Suspicious?” he mumbled.
“Oh yeah,” Anakin nodded brightly, his grin much too innocent to be credible. The insolent brat raised his hand to tick his points off his fingers. “There's that thing about you bringing him back to life with your life energy like some dashing hero in a horribly romantic legend,” he started, counting down one finger, and Obi-Wan groaned.
“Yeah, I heard about that one in the corridor just now.”
“Then there's the fact that you're joined at the hip nowadays.” Another finger. “We're going onto missions all the time, the three of us, and when I have to stay here because it's too dangerous ,” the boy snorted at that, “you're always going with Master Qui-Gon, never with anybody else. Master Qui-Gon's always here in our quarters in our free time, and he's cooking for us all the time since none of us is able to produce an edible meal, even if our lives depended on it.”
Obi-Wan had to snort at this since that one was actually true.
“And don't forget the looks,” Anakin concluded with ticking off his last finger.
Obi-Wan did a double take, staring almost affronted at his Padawan. “What looks?”
The boy rolled his eyes. “Oh please, Master. The way you look at each other when you think the other doesn't notice – while everybody else does , in fact, notice. Every time you do, I fear you will pounce on each other any moment now.” He raised his hands disarmingly. “Don't get me wrong, I've got no problem with that even if it starts to get tiring being drilled by the other Padawans about your sex life. After all, I know that the rumours that are spreading – even among the Masters, if you haven't noticed yet – aren't true, but try telling them that. So, you'd really do me a great favour if you two would just stop being idiots, and do it already. At least then I could actually provide everyone with some facts instead of having to listen to the rubbish others are concocting up in their perverse minds. Maybe then people would finally shut up if they knew what was really going on.”
Obi-Wan felt frozen to the spot on the couch, and his wide eyes stared straight ahead of him as he tried to digest what he had just been told by his Padawan.
His obligatory “Show some respect to your Masters', Padawan” came out a bit flat and completely absent-minded, and more like an afterthought than a real rebuke.
He only earned himself a snort from Anakin.
“See, you even have joined Mastership of me.” The insolent boy cocked at deadpan eyebrow. “That's never happened before. Ever. I checked.”
“We simply work better as a team,” Obi-Wan managed to defend himself weakly, but realised he would never convince his Padawan of that argumentation who was simply smirking at him with fond exasperation that seemed to practically scream, “Yeah, sure”.
Sighing, Anakin made his way to the door.
“At least consider acting on your feelings, Master. One of you should. It's about time.”
And with that, Anakin was out the door, leaving a confused Obi-Wan in his quarters.
He startled suddenly out of his stupor.
Wait a minute...
Qui-Gon had feelings for him?!
He sat frozen for a long minute.
“Ridiculous,” he spat into the silence of his rooms.
After that conversation, Obi-Wan's mind was in even greater turmoil than before. No amount of meditation helped him, not even clutching the Force-sensitive stone Qui-Gon had given him for his thirteenth birthday, which had always helped Obi-Wan to focus his thoughts and allowed him to built a deeper connection with the Living Force – now, it simply reminded him of Qui-Gon.
The only chance he saw was physical exertion, and thus he found himself in the training rooms every evening for the next three days, training solitarily until he was on the verge of collapse from exhaustion in his zealous quest to purge all of his conflicting emotions. He barely managed to drag himself back to his bed every time before he fell into a deep sleep (sometimes even blessedly dreamless).
On the fourth day, Qui-Gon cornered him, asking if anything was wrong. Obi-Wan had to swallow heavily at the earnest concern in the older Jedi's face, and he shook his head mutely.
“I'm fine,” he croaked eventually.
Qui-Gon cocked a sceptical eyebrow.
“Really,” he assured with a little more force than intended, clearly raising Qui-Gon's suspicions all the more.
But his Master only contemplated him for a very long moment. “Alright,” he finally relented. “But you know you can come to me if there's anything on your mind.”
His throat suddenly bone-dry, Obi-Wan nodded.
Sighing, Qui-Gon returned the nod, looking a little bit disappointed that Obi-Wan wouldn't confide in him like he had when Obi-Wan was younger, but he finally let it go.
“Very well. What do you say to some sparring?”
And because Obi-Wan was completely incapable – like always – of telling Qui-Gon no, he now found himself in one of the training rooms, deeply engaged in a training fight with his Master.
In the course of the merciless duel, Obi-Wan vividly remembered why he had put a stop to these very intense fights a couple of years ago; they were much too close to each other that way. Of course, he would never have gotten away with refusing to spar with his Master, but this wasn't a simple lightsaber fight. No. This was so. Much. More – an intricate, intense dance of hand-to-hand combat, fighting with their lightsabers, and using the Force for seemingly humanly impossible acrobatics. With a normal lightsaber fight, no matter which style one used, there was always a certain distance between the opponents. This though...
The physical proximity to Qui-Gon was almost unbearable; both of them breathing heavily, their bodies glistening with sweat, and heating up like a furnace. Obi-Wan quickly felt another kind of fire burning through his veins, and only the adrenaline of the fight pumping through his body was holding his other urges at bay.
All his adrenaline-fuelled self-control went right out the window when all of a sudden, Qui-Gon managed to tackle Obi-Wan to the ground, the taller man's weight pressing Obi-Wan down.
They were so close now. Obi-Wan could feel Qui-Gon's heat through their damp clothes, could feel the pounding of his Master's heart against his own chest that was having a hard time itself to contain his wildly beating heart behind his ribcage. Their laboured breathing was the only noise in an otherwise eerily silent training room, almost giving the impression of them being the only beings in the universe.
His throat was parched all of a sudden, and Obi-Wan swallowed heavily – futilely – as he lost himself in Qui-Gon's stormy blue eyes.
Time seemed to stand still around them.
Obi-Wan couldn't pinpoint the exact moment, but at one point, his resolve finally snapped. Craning his neck to bridge those last centimetres between them, he pressed his lips against Qui-Gon's.
Heat, coupled with the exhilarating rush of the Force the touch invoked coursed through Obi-Wan. He felt as if he was flying, but at the same time being completely grounded through his Master's comforting weight pressing him into the training mats...
The heady feeling died down as quickly again as it had flared up when the older Jedi suddenly stiffened at Obi-Wan's unexpected touch.
Quickly, Obi-Wan pulled back, mortified and embarrassed. His eyes widened dramatically as he stared at Qui-Gon in abject horror.
“I'm sorry!” he cried breathlessly, and he would have wriggled out from underneath Qui-Gon to give the older man some distance after practically assaulting him, but he was unable to move. Qui-Gon wouldn't let him get up. “I-I'm just confused, Master. There's been all these rumours, a-and that's not an excuse, I know, but...” He trailed off, realising he was babbling complete nonsense, which didn't help his case any.
Qui-Gon though simply looked at Obi-Wan calmly. He didn't even react to the hints of any rumours about them, not indicating if he knew about them or not.
“How long?” was all Qui-Gon eventually asked in a calm, controlled voice.
Obi-Wan wanted to squirm underneath him in embarrassment; only propriety stopped him from forcefully throwing Qui-Gon off him for real now, and fleeing in eternal shame.
Had he been so obvious?
Because, he didn't even attempt to misunderstand what Qui-Gon meant; the older Jedi was not talking about how long the rumours about them were circulating around the Temple. In this moment, as emotionally vulnerable as Obi-Wan had ever been, he was broadcasting his feelings of love and adoration towards his Master like a beacon in the dark, he simply couldn't help himself as his mental shields seemed to refuse to obey him.
And what was worse, he couldn't really gauge Qui-Gon's mood, his impassive, calm face revealed nothing of his emotions, and what he was thinking about his former Padawan suddenly lusting after him.
Swallowing heavily, Obi-Wan looked up, bravely meeting his Master's gaze eventually. He wouldn't go down as a coward.
“Always,” he answered simply.
Such a small word, and yet, it was enough to make Qui-Gon's eyes widen in astonished shock; the word revealed so, so much, and Qui-Gon seemed to grasp every single aspect at once.
Obi-Wan closed his eyes, resigning himself to the end of their friendship now only because he had been so thoughtless and a willing slave of his desires.
His eyes flew open again in shock when a pair of warm lips suddenly pressed onto his.
For a moment, he couldn't breath, but then, the younger Jedi inhaled hectically through his nose, short of having a nervous breakdown. His hands lay motionless at his sides, though the tips of his fingers were twitching as he wanted nothing more than to grab Qui-Gon and hold on for dear life.
Finally, Qui-Gon pulled back from Obi-Wan, and their gazes met. Obi-Wan felt himself calm down somewhat under that reassuring, loving gaze that was focussed solely on him. A crooked smile tugged at Qui-Gon's lips.
“Sometimes, you're an idiot, Padawan,” he chided gently, and Obi-Wan couldn't help but cringe, not really sure how he should interpret Qui-Gon's words, especially after that kiss.
He swallowed heavily. “Seems I learned from the best,” he finally managed stupidly, and immediately felt his face heat with embarrassment at being so disrespectful towards his former Master – you couldn't expect much of Obi-Wan at the moment though since his poor, overheating brain cells were still trying to process what had just happened.
Therefore, he almost didn't hear Qui-Gon's next words.
“I'm afraid you did, for it seems as if I have been blind, and, well, quite an idiot, too, to let so much time pass by unused,” Qui-Gon answered with a self-deprecating laugh, and he cupped Obi-Wan's cheek in his big palm.
Obi-Wan frowned, too confused to even properly enjoy Qui-Gon's touch. “Master?”
“I love you, too, my Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon finally elaborated, a small, painful smile tugging at the older Jedi's lips that bordered on sheepish.
Obi-Wan blinked rapidly. Had he just imagined that? Surely Qui-Gon hadn't just said...
He made an involuntary squeaky noise in the back of his throat, and he swallowed heavily as he stared up at his Master in wonder.
“Y-you love me?” he stammered breathlessly.
Once again there was that crooked smile that turned Obi-Wan's knees into jelly ever since he'd been a boy.
Gently, Qui-Gon carded his big hand through Obi-Wan's damp hair, brushing a stray copper-coloured lock out of his face. “You are such a treasure,” the older Jedi murmured. “How can anybody not love you.”
Obi-Wan snorted despite still being in the clutches of shocked awe, sarcasm being his lone defense mechanism for now. “I could name a few, starting with Master Windu.”
“Oh, forget that miserable grinch.”
Hysteria threatened to overwhelm Obi-Wan at the surreality of it all that they were having such a discussion while still being so incredibly close to one another. “I'm sure it's frowned upon calling the head of the Jedi Council a miserable grinch,” Obi-Wan giggled helplessly. He felt like flying, his emotions soaring into the highest spheres, and taking his last ounce of common sense with them. “Especially since you're such a ray of sunshine yourself most days, Master.”
Qui-Gon snorted at that, amused at the younger's teasing. “I'm noble . That's a difference. Your words, by the way.”
Nodding dumbly, Obi-Wan briefly recalled as he had, indeed, called his Master noble a few years back, though he couldn't really remember in what context. Searching his Master's beloved face closely, Obi-Wan sobered again somewhat, the playful bantering still throbbing through his body and emboldening his courage to delve deeper into what lay before him. “But... how... I mean, you love me?! But, when...”
Quickly, Qui-Gon placed a finger over Obi-Wan's lips who wanted to groan at the contact.
“Shh, beloved. Later.”
At that, Obi-Wan actually became boneless with relief, all tension and anxieties dropping from him all of a sudden as that decision was being taken from him.
“Gladly,” he whispered roughly, and finally recovered the strength in his arms so that he could wrap them around Qui-Gon's neck to pull him down into another kiss.
The Force flared to life between them like a supernova, and Obi-Wan felt a connection building between them at amazing speed; not their severed training bond but something new, something glorious and fierce.
Through their connection, he could hear Qui-Gon's amused voice. Feel, don't think. Live in the here and now.
Obi-Wan chuckled cheekily at Qui-Gon's lips. “Yes, Master.”
Groaning softly, he deepened the kiss again. He was quite clumsy at it, but made up for that with enthusiasm, and between all of that, he briefly wondered how his Master on the other hand got so good at kissing.
He had to forcefully suppress a flair of white-hot jealousy that was unbecoming a Jedi.
Qui-Gon felt it nonetheless, and Obi-Wan felt his amusement along their bond.
Growling softly and blushing in embarrassment, he reached out one hand to call a small flask of oil to him, a soft whiff of the herbal substance always lingering in the training rooms covering even the scent of sweat as the oil was helping composing one's spirit before a fight (and no, the oil wasn't being used for naked wrestling, even if Anakin had cheekily assumed as much, insolent grin on his round face when he'd surmised that – this one time though, his assumption wouldn't have been that far from the truth...)
The smooth, cool glass flask slapped into Obi-Wan's hand, and he clutched it for a few moments so tightly almost to the point of breaking as he was distracted by another mind-numbing kiss.
Panting heavily when he was allowed to come up for some air, he pressed the flask against Qui-Gon's chest, insistent and quite impatient.
Their eyes met in an intense stare, and time once more seemed to stand still.
“Make me yours,” Obi-Wan whispered, and he spread his legs in an unmistakable invitation, cradling Qui-Gon tightly in the vee of his thighs.
Inhaling sharply, Qui-Gon's hand closed around Obi-Wan's still holding the flask, encompassing his slender hand completely. His Master questioningly searched Obi-Wan's face very closely, but he didn't ask him if he was sure; Obi-Wan's determination was written all over his face, and pulsing strongly along their bond.
Finally, he let go of his death-grip around the flask, and slipped his hand from Qui-Gon's hold, surrendering the oil and thus himself completely to his Master. Passionately, Qui-Gon leaned down to kiss him again.
And suddenly, Obi-Wan was completely naked, and Qui-Gon's equally naked body pressed him down, the skin on skin contact almost overwhelming.
He blinked since he couldn't quite recall how that had happened, only the ghostly images of hands flying over his body while his own were impatiently tugging at Qui-Gon's clothes in turn.
Searing hot arousal flared through his whole body all of a sudden as Qui-Gon sat up to kneel between Obi-Wan's spread thighs; for the first time, Obi-Wan could look at his lover's glorious naked body. Of course they had seen each other naked over the years; that was something that couldn't be prevented with how closely they worked and lived together.
But never before in this context.
Never had he seen Qui-Gon's body like that, flushed with arousal, sweat covering his golden skin, making his body almost gleam in the low light of the training room. Hungrily, he let his gaze trail over the strong chest and abs, down to where his Master's erection sat proud and heavy in a nest of dark curls.
Obi-Wan swallowed involuntarily. An all-consuming yearning he had never experienced before was possessing his whole body as he was finally allowed to stare to his heart's desire.
As if being possessed by an invisible force (not that Force, though), Obi-Wan reached up to trail his fingertips feather-light over Qui-Gon's chest, feeling strong muscle under surprisingly soft skin. His nails raked against a nipple, and a shudder went through Qui-Gon. It was as if something had awakened in Obi-Wan, and his hands suddenly itched with the desire to touch his lover all over. But something else was flaring inside of him even stronger.
“Please,” he moaned, his voice rough and low in his begging. “Take me, please.”
Qui-Gon's pupils dilated with desire as the breathy words hit him full-force, his breathing deepened, but apart from that, he didn't show any outward signs of being affected by what Obi-Wan had suddenly begged of him. The control he possessed over his body drove Obi-Wan almost mad with desire.
Slowly and with meticulous care, the older Jedi spread the golden oil onto his fingers, the intense smell of herbs encompassing them, and mixing with the heady scent of arousal and their sweat. Teasingly, he trailed them over Obi-Wan's stomach, leaving a smear of the fragrant, clear fluid down to the younger's groin. Obi-Wan groaned when Qui-Gon's fingers bumped against his rock-hard shaft, and he wriggled his hips for more, but, conforming to his former Padawan's wishes, Qui-Gon ignored the weeping member begging for attention, and slipped his hand down between Obi-Wan's thighs. He sucked in a sharp breath when a strong, slick finger touched his entrance. Gently and much, much too slowly, the finger started playing with the furled skin there, one broad fingertip only dipping into his tight heat that promised so much more. Another moan was wrenched from Obi-Wan, this time much louder, as he was teased so mercilessly, and one of his hands flew to his erection almost on its own volition. He needed , he ached ...
A soft sigh escaped escaped him when he brought himself some relief since Qui-Gon didn't seem inclined to do it for him any time soon. His eyes slid shut as pleasure coursed through him, all the while acutely aware of his Master's light touch that heightened his pleasure into unknown spheres just by the knowledge that it was Qui-Gon touching him so intimately.
A small, almost wounded noise caused him to open his eyes again, and look at his lover. Qui-Gon was staring intensely at Obi-Wan's hand slowly stroking himself. A smug little smile appeared on the younger Jedi's face, and he suggestively arched his hips a little, slowing down his stroking to give the other man a bit of a show, one thumb rubbing seductively over the head of his cock every time he stroked upwards, smearing the rapidly gathering fluid there.
“That teaches you to not let me waiting,” he teased, and gave another tiny thrust of his hips that was supposed to entice his lover as well as give him a non-verbal hint to get on with things.
Qui-Gon made a noise in the back of his throat. “So bossy,” he chuckled, but nonetheless complied with Obi-Wan's wishes. Leaning forward so that his taller body blanketed Obi-Wan's own again, giving them the chance to kiss, he sank one finger fully into Obi-Wan.
Obi-Wan groaned into his lover's mouth as he was penetrated so deeply by just one finger. He shuddered helplessly when he thought about when Qui-Gon possessed him completely; he'd surely die from the ecstasy.
For a while, Qui-Gon thrust his finger in and out of Obi-Wan's tight channel, the muscles of his entrance gripping Qui-Gon almost as if in a vice. Soon, he added a second finger, methodically stretching his lover. The feeling of being filled, the slight burn of pleasure-pain had Obi-Wan squirming restlessly on the floor; only Qui-Gon's body holding him down kept him from actually trashing around wildly. Soft mewls and cries tumbled from his lips which were swallowed by Qui-Gon's mouth as the older Jedi leaned in for another heartfelt kiss.
“E-enough!” he eventually gasped against Qui-Gon's lips, and his trembling hands, that had until now clutched uselessly to his lover's sides, raised to push Qui-Gon away. Their gazes met.
“I need you,” Obi-Wan breathed, spreading his legs even more in invitation.
He could see Qui-Gon swallow hard before the older Jedi nodded. He sat up once more until he knelt between Obi-Wan's thighs who gasped with the loss when his lover pulled his fingers out of him. The sudden emptiness inside of him was only bearable by the knowledge that, in just a few seconds, he would be filled out by his lover completely.
Coating his erection liberally with oil, Qui-Gon guided himself into Obi-Wan's body. Both men groaned loudly as the head of the older Jedi's member breached the tight ring of muscles guarding Obi-Wan's untouched body. Qui-Gon's huge hands slipped down to each grasp a muscled ass cheek as he snapped his hips forward, sinking fully into Obi-Wan for the very first time.
He groaned, and Obi-Wan actually cried out loud at the feeling of being possessed, body and soul. Desperately, he sucked in deep gulps of breath into his lungs as he felt as if his lover's length inside of him had pressed all air from him. Qui-Gon was so huge, Obi-Wan felt is if he could feel him in his whole body, even as far up in his throat.
Feverishly bright eyes looked up at his Master, the vision enough to rob him of his breath again. Qui-Gon knelt between his legs, every muscle rigid in his tall body, his chest rising and falling as he pulled deep breaths into his lungs, his head bowed as he got used to the sensations of Obi-Wan's body gripping him so tightly, his long grey-streaked hair falling around him obscuring his features. Reflexively, the big hands gripping his cheeks tightened their hold even more which send a jolt of pleasure-pain through Obi-Wan's body as the strong fingers dug so deeply into his flesh that the new, possessive sensation almost drowned out the lingering ache of Qui-Gon stretching him so widely; he'd surely have finger-shaped bruises on his behind tomorrow.
“Careful,” he teased breathlessly as he got himself somewhat under control again, the pain bringing him out of the blissful clouds and into the here and now. He flexed his arse muscles in Qui-Gon's grip, “Haven't you heard the rumours about my great ass? You'd be well served to revere it appropriately, not maul it.”
Mind-numbing arousal and fierce happiness were making him giddy and silly, it seemed.
Qui-Gon only smirked at his comment, his breathing still deep and laborious, but nonetheless gentled his firm grip on Obi-Wan's behind. “Don't worry, my Obi-Wan,” he chuckled, “I will revere it alright.”
And revere it he did. His hands sliding up to instead grasp Obi-Wan's hips for leverage, Qui-Gon drew back out almost all the way before he rocked his hips forward, sheathing himself deeply with one stroke again.
A cry got stuck in Obi-Wan's throat, and all that came out was a garbled gasp as his lover filled him so completely. He'd never felt anything like it; the fullness that seemed to finally quench a deeply ingrained need inside of him, the burning that almost bordered on pain because of his lover's size, the throbbing of pleasure that rapidly got the upper hand in the jumble of mixed emotions and sensations he was experiencing...
He grunted in surprise when, in one strong, effortless motion, Qui-Gon pulled Obi-Wan's lower body fully into his lap. Instinctively, the younger Jedi wrapped his legs around Qui-Gon's waist to hold on for dear life as the older man set about to bring him to the brink of madness with his wicked hands and the powerful, unrelenting strokes deep into Obi-Wan's body. All the young Jedi could do was lie there and hold on. Every ounce of inhibition he possessed burned away with the pleasure flaring up inside of him so that his loud moans and cries echoed through the still training chamber, only mixing in with the wet, almost obscene noises of flesh hitting flesh as well as the low-throated, breathy growls Qui-Gon made. Inside his mind, he was battered with almost double of the pleasure he felt physically since he was feeling Qui-Gon's pleasure as well, as he must he feel Obi-Wan's; their mental shields had dropped completely, and they were fully experiencing what the other was feeling through a bond that had never fully faded even when, with Obi-Wan's Knighting, their training bond had been ceremonially severed – on the contrary, it seemed his attempt to safe Qui-Gon by sharing his life energy with him on Naboo had set a bond into motion that was much stronger than any training bond could ever be, and which was now flaring awake through the physical consummation of their love for one another.
Under that onslaught of sensation, he didn't last long; not even the best of Jedi training could have helped him withstand that new, Force-shattering experience, and before long, Obi-Wan cried out sharply as his climax washed over him. Pleasure poured out of him like golden light, and he once more felt afloat on bliss. He shuddered in another sharp bout of pleasure when he felt Qui-Gon find release deep inside of him, marking him as his forever.
I love you , Obi-Wan said through their bond.
He felt a surge of answering love coming from Qui-Gon who lowered himself to the ground to cradle Obi-Wan in his arms. And I you, my own.
It took both men some time to gather their bearings enough that they could dress again, and leave the training room; a bed to share was much more preferable to the floor of the training room, after all.
Bliss lingering in their exhausted bodies, the two Jedis made their way out of the training room.
And promptly stopped short.
Even though it was quite late in the evening, and the Temple was wrapped in a cloak of peace and quiet, Master Yoda stood before them, his long, pointed ears twitching curiously as he stared up at them.
Both men were acutely aware how shagged out they both must look, even in the dim light of the corridor, not even starting on how their Force signatures must broadcast bliss and sated happiness which surely could be picked up for miles – and especially by such a deeply Force-attuned being like Master Yoda.
Still frozen in complete, mortified shock, Obi-Wan swallowed heavily.
Qui-Gon shook himself out of his stupor much faster than Obi-Wan. He bowed reverently before Yoda.
“Good evening, Master,” he said, his voice sounding completely calm, so as if nothing out of the ordinary was going on.
His Master's calm rattled Obi-Wan from his shock, and he managed a shaky bow as well, a mumbled “Good evening, Master” tumbling from his lips.
Scrutinising the two of them like a pair naughty children for a long, long moment, Yoda finally inclined his head, and was on his way again without saying anything.
Quickly, the two Jedi made their way in the opposite direction before the Master could reconsider.
Obi-Wan groaned pitifully as soon as they were out of earshot of the two long, pointy ears.
“I will never live this down!” Obi-Wan moaned, and buried his face in his hands in mortification.
Qui-Gon only shrugged, seemingly completely unfazed by the encounter, and for a moment, Obi-Wan hated him for that with a passion. “Look at it like this; at least we now contributed something to the rumour mill ourselves – and actual facts, for a change.”
Obi-Wan glared at Qui-Gon, all colour draining noticeably from his face as he suddenly recalled that venerated Grandmaster Yoda was one of the worst gossips if given the chance.
Groaning in exasperation, Obi-Wan, since his reputation was in shambles anyway, wrenched Qui-Gon into a heated kiss right here in the middle of the corridor of the nighttime Temple, let them be seen by whoever wished, and damn the security cameras.
Eventually pulling back from his Master, a small smirk finally played around his lips since he had accepted the inevitable. “How is this my life now?” he wondered, smiling fondly.
Once more, Qui-Gon shrugged, completely nonchalant, even if an air of smugness wavered around him. “I, for my part, can live with a little gossip.”
Rolling his eyes, Obi-Wan finally smiled since, yeah, he could also live with a little gossip about their sex life when the alternative could have been so much drearier almost three years ago.
Grasping Qui-Gon's hand firmly in his, he pulled his Master firmly in the direction of Qui-Gon's quarters which would very soon become vacant in favour of its current occupant moving in with Obi-Wan and Anakin if Obi-Wan had any say about it..
Anakin will be pleased , he thought giddily.
What was that?
Obi-Wan froze at the confused voice in his mind, and, instead of elaborating, decided to pull Qui-Gon into another passionate, distracting kiss.