Obi-Wan clutched at the powerful, slender hips above his own, slid his hands down the thighs straddling his body, through the sheen of sweat that covered the muscular legs. His fingers wandered away from that body and up his own chest, rising languidly up his flexing stomach, stopping to rub at a hard brown nipple.
The man above him rode him slowly, rising above him carefully, then settling again, his movements forming an erotic circle. He took the thick cock into his body, gasping his pleasure as it plunged deep inside him, then raised himself above the wanton tableau, tightening his muscles as he rose. Muscles tense, his own cock rock hard, he became the perfect offering of carnality. His piercing blue eyes never wavered from his master's face as they slowly fluttered closed against unbearably perfect sensations.
Xanatos' hand encircled his erection, and he stroked its length, still wet with the warmth of his master's mouth. Head thrown back, he touched himself, fingers intimately caressing the head of his cock with blissful self-torture, nails scraping across the sensitive flesh.
Obi-Wan watched through slitted eyes as ecstasy built in his belly, growing more electric every time he thrust inside Xan. Now his lover was moaning audibly, no longer attempting to hide his rapture, and Obi-Wan swatted away the hand that surrounded the weeping organ, jutting up against Xan's stomach, begging for attention. He began to stroke, hard and fast, and Xan increased his rhythm to match, leaning forward slightly, bracing himself over Obi-Wan's body as he plunged down harder, eyes still closed.
"Look at me," Obi-Wan commanded, his voice harsh between panting breaths. The blue eyes opened, filled with beautiful, unmistakable passion, and Obi-Wan fell across the threshold, lost in their stark beauty. He chanted Xanatos' name as he came, filling his lover with his seed, hovering near the brink of unconsciousness.
Xanatos made a growling, keening cry, and came into the clutched circle of Obi-Wan's relentless fingers, wracked by the aftermath of a shuddering orgasm he could not control.
For a moment, they were frozen in time, imbedded in each other. Then, Xan's dark lashes hid his eyes once again as he swung his leg over Obi-Wan's supine body, easing himself down on the rumpled bed. They lay exhausted, without touching or speaking, as the room grew darker and a chill invaded the warmth of the bed.
Finally, Obi-Wan turned on his side to look at his lover, who was nearly asleep. He bent his head and kissed the full lips, licking at them just a little, and smiled when Xan fixed him with a sleepy grin.
"Are you satisfied, my master?" Xan asked, reaching up to touch Obi-Wan's face.
"I am," came the quiet reply.
"Then I am satisfied, also," said his lover, snuggling into Obi-Wan's chest.
Obi-Wan merely pulled the sheet up, covering him gently.
"I have not pleased you," Xan said, alarm tensing his body as he pulled back slightly. It was their custom for Xanatos to take advantage of the few privileges allowed him by virtue of his status as the Regent's favorite. One of those was the closeness they enjoyed after pleasuring one another.
Obi-Wan ignored the strange tension gathering in his heart, and smiled reassuringly. "You *have* pleased me, as always, my favorite. I am simply preoccupied tonight. Your presence is always a welcome distraction."
"Something is wrong," Xan said warily. "I feel a distance between us, master."
"It's nothing you've done," Obi-Wan said, relenting finally and gathering Xan to him, but his lover twisted in his arms, slippery as a feline.
"I do not wish to occupy your bed if it is inconvenient to you," Xanatos said. There was hurt in his tone, overlaid with ice.
Obi-Wan's eyes narrowed at the tone of voice, and his features hardened. Immediately, he climbed off the bed and stalked across the large, sumptuous room, stopping to draw on a robe. "You forget your place. It seems to happen more frequently than I should tolerate," he said, tamping down the rising anger welling within him. "You are here only because I wish it, and when that wish dies, you are of no use to me."
He felt the ripples of fear and dismay moving out through the Force, and relished them.
"Oh, my master," Xanatos gasped. There was the noise of rustling sheets. Obi-Wan did not deign to turn his body as Xan flung himself at the Regent's feet, head touching the bare floor. "I did not mean to offend. Please, forgive me."
"Get up," Obi-Wan said coldly.
Xanatos rose instantly to his feet with fluid grace, standing immobile, hands at his sides, head bowed in submission.
"When did I give you leave to question me?" he asked, tone as sharp as a razor.
"You did not, my lord." Xanatos' head dropped even lower. "I have been given the benefit of your favor, and I presumed upon it."
"Yes, you did." Obi-Wan grasped his chin, tilted his face up to see the expression in those eyes which so captivated him. There was remorse, and respect. "I have freely given you many things, but you may never *take* what I do not offer. You are not a scorned lover. You are a slave. One I value, and appreciate. But nothing more. Never forget that."
"No, my lord." The look in those eyes softened. "I truly did not mean offense to you, my master."
"No matter," Obi-Wan said, releasing him. "For you *did* offend me."
The head dropped down again, chin against firm chest, but this time Xan did not speak.
Obi-Wan studied the body he desired most among all those he had conquered, and felt a surge of regret. He was responsible for Xan's willfulness; he encouraged it by speaking often of his feelings and his plans with the slave, and confiding in him when troubled. In truth, he was reluctant to stop; the young man had a sharp mind, and was skilled at solving problems.
"Now," Obi-Wan said, "tell me why you are behaving like a petulant child."
"I am aware of your interest in the Jedi," Xan said, meeting his eyes slowly. "You have made certain he is not to be punished, and the entire seraglio knows another slave will take the burden of his mistakes. Why do you show such favor to one you do not know, who will gladly see this world and its ruler destroyed?"
Typically curious, and straightforward. Obi-Wan mused that Xanatos seemed to constantly contradict himself; he could be compliant and willing one moment, and sharply quizzical the next, focused on the problem at hand. It was almost as though one guise was a façade, and the other a mirror, and Obi-Wan could not see either clearly enough to be sure what he dealt with.
"You know already I will say it is none of your concern." Obi-Wan smiled slightly. "And yet, you persist in asking."
"I would not like to see you harmed," Xan said softly, and as he spoke, Obi-Wan was staggered by the release of emotion into the Force; desire, fear, apprehension, truth. Whether the fear was for Obi-Wan or for himself, the Regent could not tell.
"You need not fear slavery if I die," Obi-Wan said, testing him. "As is the custom, all inhabitants of the seraglio will be freed if I am killed."
"That is not my wish, my master."
The words were spoken firmly, with absolute truth. Obi-Wan was sure of it. He stepped forward and kissed the corner of the lush mouth. "You do not wish to be free?" he asked, and the kiss of passion he received in return answered his every question.
"I wish to be of service to you," Xan said, leaning into the touch of Obi-Wan's hand.
For the first time, Obi-Wan experienced a powerful feeling of betrayal in his own heart, and it took him by surprise. He examined the emotion, but it fled quickly, leaving a lingering impression that he was in the wrong place, touching the wrong man. With effort, he shook off the feeling, but it would not be denied.
He threw off the robe and dressed, taking care not to give the impression of haste. "I must go," he said. "The suns will rise all too soon, and I have endless meetings to prepare for."
"Stay here," Xanatos urged, smiling. "Sleep in my arms."
"A tempting offer," Obi-Wan answered, turning to catch Xan's shoulders with his arm and pull him into a kiss. "But I have data to review, and you will only distract me."
"As you wish." Xan stepped away from the Regent. "Good night, Obi-Wan."
"Good night." With a smile, the Regent keyed open the door and stepped through. As it slid closed behind him, he began to walk, and a frown creased his forehead.
Of all the many troubling things he had accepted when he came to Taganor, the seraglio was the one he was often secretly grateful for. It was a place where only his desires mattered, and such a thing reminded him of his status, and of his power. He could not afford to become complacent, or to be too kind. The seraglio cemented his reputation, allowed him to preserve the image of a man whose will was law across the planet, in every corner. He was able to offset the few good things he could do, by holding hundreds of men and women hostage to his will, as an example...
Not for the first time, a small twinge of guilt nagged at him. He pushed it aside, reminding himself of the greater good. Some things were inevitable. Best to let them be.
With a start, he realized he was standing still in front of Jinn's quarters. He had stopped moving without conscious will, almost as though his body were disregarding his mind.
He could feel Jinn in there...he knew the other man was aware of his presence. Emotions trickled into the Force, and Obi-Wan smiled. Jinn was skillful at shielding himself, but he was not prepared for someone of equal ability. He could use those feelings to his advantage. The trick would be not to get caught up in his own web.
After a moment more, he turned and continued silently down the corridor, disappearing from sight.
There was a saying Qui-Gon remembered from his childhood, something about a prison with silken walls. The exact phrase eluded him, but the meaning was illustrated for him in every tassel and plush cushion of his new quarters. It was a comfortable imprisonment, to be sure, but he was trapped as surely as an animal in a cage, confined and managed through threats and barbarism.
He knelt in the middle of the hard tile floor, in the center of a brightly colored mosaic, and closed his eyes to the garish surroundings. This was not his place; he did not belong among such luxury. He put aside his feeling of hopelessness, and his anger. Instead, he tried to focus on the problem at hand.
The Regent was obviously some sort of Force-adept, but what puzzled Qui-Gon was the control and finesse with which he used his ability. He was deeply disturbed by the way he was drawn to the man. The kiss he'd given...that was taken from him...had stirred something deep inside him, and he tried to draw the feeling out, to examine it. His heart refused to cooperate.
For many years, he had lived in a self-imposed void. Being a Jedi gave him certain options, and he had chosen to take advantage of a celibate lifestyle to avoid any more crushing disappointments. There were certain chapters of his life best left closed, for they did not bear the light of examination particularly well. His bad judgment had contributed to some spectacular personal and professional disasters, and when he was of a mind to, he used those errors to flagellate himself mercilessly. There was so much to blame himself for, so many friends dead, fellow warriors he had not been able to help. Their images tormented him, mocking his calm control.
Breathing heavily, Qui-Gon tried to quiet his mind, but the memories persisted. He recalled his master, now dead, his essence lost to time and the Force. He remembered his first student, mercurial like a racing tongue of fire across the sky, talent and will merging to make him a formidable enemy. Also dead, buried beneath the rubble of the Temple he once called home. And so many friends and colleagues, killed in battle or scattered about the galaxy, hunted like prey.
He put a hand across his eyes, and one great, shuddering sob escaped him, born of his sadness and despair. With a supreme act of will, he centered himself, but the resonance of his pain spread out into the Force, broadcasting his feelings before he could contain it.
And then he felt the presence of a man on the other side of the door, the man who brought him here, who held him against his will. He rose to his feet, staring at the door, waiting without breathing for it to open...but it remained closed, and the presence on the other side faded away.
Slowly the feeling of sharp anticipation passed, and Qui-Gon sank back down to his knees, grateful for the reprieve. There was much to contemplate. He closed his eyes once again and lowered himself into a meditative state, brushing away old memories, capturing tranquillity through force of will. He was almost there, almost one with the Force, when the door behind him slid open, and someone entered quietly. But not the Regent...
Qui-Gon's eyes snapped open and he rose quickly to face his visitor, a tall man with silver hair, clad in dark robes. "Who are you?" he asked in an even tone, betraying nothing of his inner turmoil.
The tall man bowed slightly, and the grave expression on his face never wavered. "I am Lord High Chancellor Valorum, advisor to His Excellency, Regent Kenobi. I trust you find these quarters suitable?" he asked, cultured tones clipped with formality.
"These are not quarters. Must we speak in pleasantries?" Qui-Gon asked. Irritation crept into his tone. "I am a captive. No amount of luxury will erase my status."
"Indeed, Jedi. What would you have me say?" Valorum asked, posture stiffening. "I've come to see that you are well, and that your needs are being met, as ordered by my lord."
"I require only food, and drink. And a place to sleep."
"Then you are well-supplied," Valorum said dryly. "You are free to walk about the seraglio, and to interact with the people you meet within its walls. Should you venture outside, you will be punished."
"No, I won't," Qui-Gon said bitterly. "Is there nothing you can do to prevent that child from taking my punishment?"
"He is not a child. He is a grown man, and a slave. As you are," he added pointedly.
"I am no man's slave." The tone was simple, full of underlying defiance and truth.
A look of worry passed across Valorum's features. "You are fortunate to be alive. Were the Regent concerned with his own safety, you and I would not be having this conversation, Jedi. He has done you an enormous favor, and spared your life."
"I do not owe your Regent servitude simply because he did not have me killed. One man cannot own another." Qui-Gon's voice softened, became almost neutral in tone. "What does the Regent truly want of me?"
"I -" Valorum began, then stopped suddenly, blinking. His eyes narrowed as he realized the Jedi had just used the Force to prod him. "If I must give you Force-inhibiting drugs again, I will make certain you receive a dose large enough to incapacitate you."
Jinn smiled slightly. "I don't think the Regent would approve."
"It would not be wise to underestimate his commitment to this world, Jedi." Valorum hesitated. "You are, ultimately, expendable."
"I have always been expendable," Qui-Gon answered. "Nothing in my current circumstances alters that fact."
The two men regarded one another in silence. Qui-Gon sensed a sort of wary admiration from the older man, as well as a guarded, cautious curiosity. He began to understand that the Chancellor was not privy to the Regent's plans regarding him, and his own curiosity became all the stronger. Another piece of the puzzle...
"Well," Valorum said, breaking the quiet of the moment. "Remember my warning. Inside the seraglio, not beyond."
"Yes," Qui-Gon replied, thinking through the dozen or so methods of escape he had already considered as Valorum departed.
Valorum had said he was free to walk about. Perhaps it was time to test the theory.
Taking a deep breath, Qui-Gon keyed the exit panel. To his surprise, it was operational, and the doors slid open. He stepped out into the corridor, wondering which direction to go. Valorum was moving away to his right; he chose the opposite direction and began to walk, deeper into the heart of the seraglio.
Chapter Two, part two
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