Xanatos' quarters were empty. Fear tickled the nape of his neck as he headed for the common area of the seraglio, looking for Xan. He rounded the corner and slammed into Mathius, who immediately dropped to his knees. "Your pardon, my lord."
"Did you come from the gardens? Where is Xanatos?" Obi-Wan demanded.
Mathius did not look up, but his reluctance was made clear by the pause before his answer. "I saw him go into the quarters of the newest slave, Majesty."
Obi-Wan turned his head slowly in the direction of Qui-Gon's quarters, and then he was moving, anger lending speed to each stride. The doors parted for him as he approached, and he stopped dead just inside the room, chest tightening.
Qiu-Gon and Xanatos knelt together on the floor, their faces calm and relaxed with meditation. A Jedi and a pleasure slave, he mused, feeling irrational rage surging through him, swirling around him, creating darkness in its wake. As if on cue, the two men opened their eyes in unison and met his furious gaze.
"I did not give you permission to come here," Obi-Wan said quietly, eyes locked to Xan, who rose to his feet smoothly in the next instant.
"I have never needed permission to move about the seraglio as I pleased," Xan answered, "and certainly not to visit another slave."
"You would carry out this charade?" Obi-Wan snarled. "What has passed between you?"
"Nothing of what you suspect," Xan said, stepping forward, straightening under Obi-Wan's scrutiny. "What troubles you?"
"The Sith," Obi-Wan said, shifting his gaze to Qui-Gon. "Your presence here is no secret and will not remain hidden from their inspection. When they learn of you, I cannot guarantee your safety."
"You came to warn me," Qui-Gon said incredulously.
Obi-Wan felt his own struggle magnified in the faces of these two men, both looking at him with their own brand of concern. Again the anger rose, curling like a fist around his heart. It tempted him, enticed him, for it was not such a long journey into the darkness - just a small step.
"You must not," Xan said urgently. The older man stepped forward, cradling his face between his hands boldly, tenderly. "You must release your hate, let it flow into the Force."
Obi-Wan knocked Xan's hands away. "I have had enough teachers." Helpless frustration overwhelmed him. "I cannot defeat their Darkness unless I match it. It is the way of the Sith, the way they understand."
"You cannot defeat the Darkness unless you remain in the Light." Qui-Gon stood, exchanging a glance with Xanatos, and moved forward. "No matter what they have taught you, you must restrain your anger."
"Peace over anger, honor over hate," Xanatos murmured softly.
"Strength over fear," Qui-Gon finished, with a startled look at his former apprentice.
"Don't spout Jedi platitudes to me!" Obi-Wan closed his eyes, consumed with a desire to kill Bruck Chun stronger than any he had ever felt, and pulled his anger back into himself, letting it build.
"No!" Xan gasped, and then his pleasure slave's hands were on him, pressing him back against the wall, and a warm, willing mouth covered his own. "Use me," Xan murmured, tearing at his clothes. "Turn your anger outward, into me."
"I will *not*," he growled, gripping Xan's arms with bruising strength. "This is not the answer."
"You can't hurt me," Xanatos said, his voice low, eyes glittering. He yanked Obi-Wan closer. "You know that. You know I want this."
Obi-Wan crushed Xan's mouth with a fierce, punishing kiss, heedless of the other man in the room. Xan met his strength with equal strength, melting into the searing contact of tongues and teeth, offering himself completely. Obi-Wan ripped away the spartan tunic and feasted on the bare skin beneath, biting heedlessly, taking and tasting and reveling in the knowledge that Xan was ready, was his. As if to confirm his thoughts, Xan's hands guided him, leading him across the expanse of his body, letting him take his pleasure at will.
They found themselves on their knees, lips touching with sensual, sure grace, savoring a kiss that drew low moans of pleasure from Xan, sounds which hardened Obi-Wan's cock and sent fire into his blood. Savagely, Obi-Wan shoved Xan down, and they tumbled to the ground, mouths locked together as he stripped his slave of his clothes, tearing them from the compliant body without care.
"Yes," Xan hissed, throwing open his arms as Obi-Wan quickly removed his trousers and covered Xan's nude body with his own, rubbing their erections together.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, Obi-Wan could sense the Jedi nearby, could feel his shocked arousal, and it excited him. He did not bother to speak; he simply opened the bond between them and allowed him to feel it all, to understand without words. He crawled down Xan's body like a predator, looking for the cock nudging greedily at him, taking it without preamble into his mouth and sucking hard. His hand closed around the soft sac beneath, playing with the sensitive flesh there, squeezing it lightly.
Xan's hips lifted from the soft carpet, driving his cock deeper into Obi-Wan's throat as a finger slipped inside his body. "Master!" The sound of that word, that broken cry, nearly sent Obi-Wan into orgasm then and there, but he controlled his body, grinding his erection into the carpet beneath him and concentrating on Xan's pleasure. He could feel the darkness within him fading, dispelled into this taking, this willing sacrifice. Within moments, he forced a throaty, incoherent groan from Xan as he came, flooding Obi-Wan's mouth with his release.
And realized that Qui-Gon was with them, kneeling behind Xan, his blue eyes hot and intense as he watched the Regent preparing to claim his slave.
Their eyes met over Xan's trembling form as Qui-Gon removed his tunic, tossing it aside. Then the trousers, without finesse, which joined the tunic. His erect penis touched his belly, and Obi-Wan could no longer control the lust driving him.
In one smooth motion, he lifted Xan's legs, draping them over his shoulders, and drove inside the other man's tight channel, releasing a ragged breath as Xan rolled his hips up to meet him. Nearly mindless, he penetrated deeply, filling Xan as far as he could go, stopping only to lean forward and adjust his angle. And then he was moving, spurred on by Xan's breathless sighs, thrusting rhythmically, faster and faster until the darkness in him met the light and exploded into the Force.
And still, it was not enough.
"More," Kenobi said, shuddering, the force of his climax still rippling through him.
Hands gentled him, touched him, even as Xan's fingers carded through his hair, holding him still. Blindly he turned his head, found his mouth captured in a rapturous kiss. Soft whiskers scratched his face.
"Qui-Gon," he breathed, and a smile formed on the lips against his own.
"Be still," came the lyrical command.
Obi-Wan's head dropped forward onto Xan's chest and he pulled back just enough, sliding free of the body beneath him. Xan rolled out and to the side, stroking his skin, bending his head to lick gently at a sensitive nipple.
Pressure at the entrance to his body made Obi-Wan gasp as he was stretched, as fingers reached unerringly inside him and curled there, producing a kind of intense joy that made Obi-Wan arch back, craving more. Xanatos draped an arm over him and began a leisurely journey down his spine with lips and tongue, nipping and soothing the skin after each kiss.
Powerful, large hands steadied Obi-Wan's hips just as the tip of Qui-Gon's cock slid inside him, and he yielded, breathless with the sensation of the bond between them. It exploded into life, throbbing with his anger and Qui-Gon's acceptance. He was filled slowly, shallow thrusts at first, as he rested his head on his folded arms, surrendering to the hands touching him everywhere. It felt strange to relinquish control, strange and joyful and beautiful, and he gave himself over to the incredible waves of passion, riding them as he was ridden with slow, devastating skill.
It seemed to go on forever, that sweet, seductive joining, and he barely noticed when Xan took a soft cloth and cleaned him briskly, or when gentle hands fastened themselves to his filling penis, stroking him until he was hard and aching once again.
Qui-Gon's arm fastened around him, lifting him, pulling him back on that gorgeous cock and he could only groan his pleasure as Qui-Gon surged up into him, opening him, spreading him further. Nearly enough, he thought, and it was the last sentient moment he had before Xan's mouth descended on his erection, tongue lapping and swirling and pulling the last of his sanity from him as with a roar, he came.
Light permeated his body as Qui-Gon's orgasm tore through them both, brilliant, and he was drowning, falling...and he was caught, carried far from the edge of darkness.
It was enough.
*****
Lord Chun leaned back into the luxuriant comfort of an over-padded chair. It had been quite some time since he had enjoyed such frivolous pleasures. He intended to make the most of what had been thrown his way.
His roving gaze fell upon the black robes, hung carefully near the bed. He raised his hand and traced the markings on his face thoughtfully. His tattoos were brands of ownership just as much as they were symbols of his loyalty to the Emperor. Like cattle, the Sith had become a giant herd of creatures surging toward the essence of life - conquest, acquisition, possession. He intended to be sure he was not just another branded beast in that herd.
Kenobi's downfall would be a crucial step on that path. Perhaps it had been unwise to allow his unguarded hatred of the man to show, but there really was no secret to be kept. From the time they arrived together on Coruscant, praised and elevated as the most promising new recruits into the Sith Order, they had been locked in a mortal struggle to be first, best, brightest. Chun would have been chosen to rule Tatooine - he was sure of it - if only Kenobi hadn't had blood ties to the heir. It was a remarkable coincidence, one his teachers told him was the will of the Force.
He wasn't so sure there hadn't been other factors involved. Kenobi had never faced his Trials, had never undergone the pain and the punishment that brought forth the invincibility of a Sith. He had. He was one of their most prized warriors now, a skilled interrogator, a good investigator. It would not take him long to unearth enough to unseat Kenobi and take his position.
Raising the next Emperor should be his duty. He intended to do it well.
Chimes sounded at his door, and he shifted in the chair. Few people would dare to seek him out; common sense dictated that those who did would be of use to him, in a menial and self-serving sort of way. He rose, shrugging on his robe, and faced the door. "Enter."
Ambassador Windu moved past the doors, bowing low to him, and Bruck smiled. "Welcome, Ambassador. To what do I owe the privilege of your visit?"
"I've come to see if it might be possible to work together," Windu said pleasantly, smiling in return. Bruck nearly laughed out loud. The man stank of fear; it poured from him, permeating the room.
"All things are possible. Please, sit." Bruck moved aside, allowing Windu to pass, and watched as he chose the most comfortable chair. Predictable. "What did you have in mind?"
"I will be your eyes and ears here, and you will remove Kenobi." Windu's eyes darted around the room, and Bruck knew instantly that the man could not be trusted to tell him the whole truth. Already, he was holding something back. Still, he might prove useful.
"And what will be the price for this valuable service you would render me?"
"Get rid of Kenobi." Windu's immediate answer brought them straight to the heart of his need. "He doesn't belong here. I've heard he was born a slave - that doesn't give him the right to rule this planet."
"And I suppose you have an alternative solution." Bruck listened eagerly, ready to be entertained.
"I propose that the Council be allowed to control Anakin until he is ready to assume his position here."
Fool. If only he understood the true importance of the boy. "A reasonable solution, Ambassador. I will take your proposal into consideration. In the meantime..." He placed a hand on Windu's shoulder, noting with amusement how the man's muscles tightened beneath his grasp. "You will inform me of anything which will assist me in making my determination."
"Yes, of course," Windu answered. For a moment, he hesitated, and Bruck thought with amazement that he might be stupid enough to actually reveal his best trick before the game had begun - but Windu caught himself, and said nothing.
"Thank you for your visit, Ambassador." Bruck steered him toward the door smoothly. "I look forward to our association."
Windu bowed low and left his quarters, and Bruck smiled after him as the door closed.
Claiming Taganor would be far easier than he had ever imagined.
End Chapter Nine
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