"The Jedi's presence here is a threat to all of us. He should be killed immediately." The harsh words of the Ambassador echoed off the polished stone walls of the dimly lit room. The senior advisors seated at the table flinched at the sound.
"Lower your voice," hissed Councilor Gallia, digging her fingernails into Windu's arm with a grip tight enough to draw blood. "Would you have the Regent alerted to the fact that we meet here in secret? What do you think he would do to us if he knew we were questioning his right to rule?"
"He *has* no right to rule," Windu answered, annoyed and angry. "He rules merely by virtue of the blood ties he shares with the heir. And because he's somehow managed to fool the Emperor into believing he is loyal to their cause."
"Kenobi has ruled here without bloodshed. We have that, at least, to be thankful for," Mundi said.
"He is a Sith!" growled Windu. "And he is a traitor to them. He has taken in a sworn enemy because he is either too weak or too foolish to see the danger in it. He betrays them, and he betrays us as well, because this weakness will bring destruction upon us."
"You still underestimate his grasp of the situation. He has never made a decision without carefully considering the repercussions." Valorum spoke calmly, without emotion.
"You defend him no matter what he does," Mundi said. "If he loses his grasp on things here, we are all lost."
"He will retain power until His Highness comes of age," Valorum insisted. "Harboring one Jedi cannot undermine what he has accomplished here. And the heir trusts and respects him, which is all the Emperor needs to know."
Ambassador Windu stood and leaned across the table, hissing furiously in Valorum's face. "You will be the first to die, Valorum, when the Sith arrive and take control. That will be your reward for your loyalty."
Valorum fixed him with steely eyes. "I know where my loyalty will lead me, Mace."
"Stop this," Gallia said. "Stop it at once. We mustn't argue amongst ourselves. We must be clear about what we will do, how we will save our world and ourselves, if the Sith come."
"Oh, they will come," Mundi said. "The only question remaining is when. When, and how many."
"Kenobi is already fixated on this Jedi. He is distracted. We should move against him now." Gallia's hands began to tremble as she spoke, and she hid them in her lap.
"No." Valorum's voice carried the ring of authority, a tone he rarely used. "We must wait and see what Kenobi has in mind. He has established control over the Jedi, and feels he may be useful in the effort to keep the Sith from taking over here."
"Has he told you how?" Windu asked dubiously.
"No. He has not shared that with me--yet. But we must give him time."
"Time is the one thing we have too little of," Windu said.
The four of them exchanged glances, and sat without speaking, at an impasse.
Deep laughter echoed down the corridors, growing louder as Qui-Gon approached the center of the seraglio. The voices of men reached his ears, snippets of conversation about politics, the Sith, and Taganor. The chatter died down as Qui-Gon entered the courtyard, and several pairs of eyes raked over him with stark appraisal as he neared the group.
He was surprised by the small number of men, and astonished by their physical beauty. Certainly he had never given much thought to what might happen inside a harem, but of course it was a realm almost entirely concerned with the giving of pleasure. It was reasonable to assume all those inside would be pleasing to the eye. He noted that there were no women.
With difficulty, he detached himself and picked apart his surroundings. By far, he was the oldest of the five men present. By twenty years at least, he mused wryly. One of them was the young golden-haired boy who was to be his stand-in when he broke the rules. Two were slightly older, twins, both with long dark hair tied at the napes of their necks and brown eyes. The fourth was a taller blond, muscular, with laughing green eyes.
"You must be the Jedi," said the tall blonde, grinning. "Daro here has been telling us a great deal about you. He says you're not pleased to be here."
"I would say that is a fair analysis," Qui-Gon answered, smiling a little. "I am Qui-Gon Jinn."
"I'm Ket'al." Gesturing over his shoulder, Ket'al said, "Those two are Mathius and Leyran, and you've already met Daro."
"I would think you would be less than pleased to see me," Qui-Gon said to Daro, who was approaching him with a smile.
"It's not your fault," Daro answered, halting in front of him and looking him over from head to toe. "Besides, he knows you won't risk letting me get hurt. That's the only reason he did it."
Qui-Gon had the distinct impression he was being inspected thoroughly, and it both amused and unsettled him. "So you don't believe he would have harmed you in my place?"
"Of course he would." Daro's noncommittal tone gave Qui-Gon pause, until the young man added, "But you won't let that happen, will you?"
"This isn't such a bad place to be, you know." Ket'al squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. "The Regent is kind to all of us, and has never mistreated anyone here. No one has ever been forced to service him."
"We do it willingly," Daro said, looking up at Qui-Gon with startling blue eyes. "He is very talented."
"Very," Ket'al chuckled. "The four of us are summoned the most often to his bed."
"Unless he wants his favorite," Daro said jealously, running a hand over Qui-Gon's broad biceps. "And he always wants his favorite, lately. But you might be just the one to change that..."
"Daro," warned a voice from behind them.
Qui-Gon looked up to see a warning clearly showing in Mathius' eyes.
"Never mind that," Ket'al said pleasantly. "Most of us were relieved to be here. There are far worse places...brothels...slave ships." He winced. "You've probably seen the conditions in those places." At Qui-Gon's affirmative nod, he continued, "Here we are clothed, and treated well, and fortunate enough to be pleasure slaves to a man who has some values left, and who doesn't treat us badly."
"But you are still his prisoners," Qui-Gon said quietly.
"As I said, there are worse places. Most of us were gifts to the Regent. Some of us were given in trade. All of us had seen enough to know we were very lucky to come here."
"How many others are here?" Qui-Gon asked, thinking of the sheer size of the seraglio.
"A hundred or more, now," Daro said, returning to a comfortable couch near the fountain at the center of the courtyard. "Not all men, either. Some women, too."
"He doesn't summon the women," Mathius said, chuckling, and the others chimed in with soft laughter.
"I think he likes a strong bedmate," Leyran added with a grin.
"He also likes submission," Daro said, stretching his body out with a small growl that might be mistaken for a purr. "And so do I."
Ket'al rolled his eyes. "Anything else you'd like to add, Daro?" he asked, in a tone laced with sarcasm.
Daro rolled over onto his stomach. "He fucks like a dream. And he tastes like spice when he comes."
At that, both Mathius and Leyran broke into full-blown laughter. Qui-Gon found himself chuckling as well.
"Now you know why he chose Daro for your stand-in," Ket'al said, a wicked smile curving his lips.
Qui-Gon nodded. The Regent was obviously adept at seeing the strengths and weaknesses in others. It helped to explain why he didn't mind if Qui-Gon knew these men, and why he knew Qui-Gon would never take the chance that Daro would actually be abused in his place, regardless of Daro's...compliant nature.
"One of the reasons he doesn't summon the women is that he prefers men, yes. But he also never forces anyone. If he is refused, he sends the slave away, or summons them again after they've had a chance to get adjusted," Ket'al explained.
"Once you have been in his bed, there is no question that you would want to return," Mathius said, his voice low with remembered rapture. "And he is a harsh master there...you must do as he says."
"Which Daro doesn't mind at all," Ket'al said with a wink.
"Neither do I, and you don't either," Mathius said to Ket'al in a knowing tone.
"It's interesting that he's using Daro to keep you in line," Leyran said thoughtfully. "He's never forced anyone in the seraglio to comply through threats before."
"It's a mystery to me," Daro said, shrugging. "You're not the type he usually likes."
"I wonder how the Regent came to be here," Qui-Gon mused, taking a seat on a bench near Mathius.
"The heir is his cousin, and the Sith sent the Kenobi to rule because they think the little boy has some kind of special powers. They were both born here, when the planet was still called Tatooine." Mathius paused, and looked at his brother.
"There's a rumor the Regent was once a slave, but that he was sold to some traders when he was young, and didn't return here until he was an adult. No one knows where he was before that time, really," Leyran added.
"I keep telling them he's a Sith Lord," Daro said smugly. "But they don't believe me. Why else would the Sith put him here, and then leave him alone?"
"That's a very good question," Qui-Gon said slowly. "And I-"
"Qui-Gon Jinn." At the sound of his name being spoken, all of the men turned. A guard stood in the doorway to the corridor, waiting. "You will come with me."
It was a short trip back to his quarters, and Qui-Gon was not at all surprised to find the Regent inside, sprawled across his bed fully clothed, drinking a glass of some sort of wine. As the door closed behind him, he stood still, waiting.
"Was your excursion enlightening?" Kenobi asked. A lazy smile played about his lips .
"It was most interesting," Qui-Gon answered.
One last sip from the glass, and Kenobi set it on the low table by the bed. "Disrobe." His eyes glittered in the artificial light.
"I have been told you do not force your slaves to serve you," Qui-Gon said, ignoring the strange flutterings in the Force that both confused and aroused him. He was confounded by his own body, and try as he might, the desire would not be ignored. He was amazed at the power of those feelings and troubled by his inability to control them. "I do not wish to serve you."
"Ordinarily, I would accept your words, but you are not an ordinary slave, Jinn." Kenobi rolled to his side and propped his head up on his hand. "You were not sold to my seraglio master; you were not traded for goods, or given to me as a gift.
"You have not been trained in the giving of pleasure yet. I find myself consumed with curiosity about your abilities." His voice lowered to a soft growl. "And so are you. I feel it."
Qui-Gon said nothing, but his traitorous body was on fire. Kenobi's eyes were on his, and the lust in them was like a burning sun, adding its heat to the inferno in his own blood.
He started with the tunic, releasing the sash and dropping it to the floor, then pulled the rough fabric over his head, shivering slightly as it slid across his nipples. His gaze flashed up to Kenobi's, and he watched with dark eyes as the Regent adjusted his posture, leaning back against the pillows, body curled seductively across the coverlet.
Quickly, he unbuckled and tugged off his boots, setting them aside. His fingers caught the fastenings of his trousers and opened them. Holding the other man's gaze, he slipped his hands beneath the waistband and pushed them over his hips, letting them fall to the ground, exposing a hard erection against his belly, dark with the blood of arousal.
Obi-Wan went to his knees on the bed, looking much like a feline about to pounce. "Come here."
Qui-Gon went to him, and climbed onto the bed where the Regent beckoned, kneeling there before him, thighs slightly apart. The smaller man's hands were on him in an instant, with a touch so familiar and possessive it sent a shudder rippling up from the base of Qui-Gon's spine. His shaft was briefly enclosed by warm fingers that tightened roughly as they stroked the quivering length. He was helpless to prevent the tremor of need that followed, or the gasp that fell from his parted lips.
Hands cupped his shoulders, slid down his arms and across his chest. The possessive touch moved down across the belly and the flexed muscles of his back - and then he was released.
"Undress me." Kenobi's own breathing was uneven, and Qui-Gon saw the muscles of his neck tense as he reached for the fastenings of the tight shirt, undoing them with quick motions. His large hands pushed beneath the cloth, opening it, exposing a slim body, lean and muscled. He let the shirt fall free and turned his attention to the trousers, and the swollen shaft freed by his actions.
Kenobi's hands twined in his hair, releasing the tie that held it in place. He drew Qui-Gon close, and their lips met with bruising force, as Qui-Gon opened to the kiss, inviting the tongue that flickered against his. Turning the tables, he teased open the Regent's soft mouth with deliberate, sensual strokes of his tongue, waiting to hear the ragged intake of breath that followed.
In that moment, Qui-Gon Jinn closed his mind to the Code, and to his duty, and to his past. His arms closed around the Regent's body, uninvited, without demand, pressing their bodies together as they grappled for skin to touch, evoking small noises, marking territory.
The Regent moved, falling back onto the bed, and Qui-Gon followed, yanking the trousers from Obi-Wan's legs. He looked at the face of his captor, and knew without words what was wanted. Carefully, moaning softly as his erection pressed against the sheets, he parted the Regent's legs and settled between them, taking the sleek hips in his big hands, lifting them.
Without preamble, he lowered his head and caught the other man's cock between his lips, licking gently around the head, closing his eyes at Kenobi's low, erotic moan. He suckled at the shaft, tightening his mouth around it as he took the young man deep into his throat, keeping a steady pressure as he tasted every inch of that shaft with his tongue.
Kenobi's back arched off the bed, even as Qui-Gon pushed his own hips into the mattress in a rhythm matching the pace he'd set above. The cock in his mouth twitched as the suction surrounding it grew tighter, and pulsed its seed into his throat as Kenobi came, thrashing beneath him. He watched the expression on his captor's face with something as close to pure lust as he had ever experienced, and he came without warning, warm wetness seeping into the coverlet beneath his belly as he released the softening shaft from his mouth.
Spent, Kenobi lay still, and Qui-Gon felt those eyes on him again as he pushed himself up, settling back into a kneeling position between the other man's legs. Neither spoke; neither moved. Qui-Gon could feel the Force-energy swirling around them; its power was immense, and could not be denied. He had not arrived there by accident. That much was becoming clear to him, in the message of the Force, and in the beautiful eyes of the stranger below him.
He had trapped himself, made himself a prisoner by his own actions. Now he would have to decide if this man's life was more important than his freedom, and what he would do if the answer to that question went against everything he believed.
And how he could remain a Jedi, if the Force had bound his heart to a Sith.
End 1/3/2000
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