"No bodyguard," Obi-Wan said firmly, cutting off Valorum's protests. "The perimeter shields are on, and we will be well within the fortress grounds."
"You'll be out of range of any holoimagers; no one will be able to monitor you. This is foolishness! Those shields did not prevent the previous attempt on Anakin's life, and they won't stop someone from getting to you."
Valorum's stern warning was met by mild eyes and an indulgent smile.
"I'll be safe enough."
"Your mind won't be on your safety." The words were sharp.
Obi-Wan sighed. "That's the point, Valorum. I'm tired of thinking. It's time for me to do what I should have done in the beginning."
"This isn't what you had planned for the Jedi in the beginning," Valorum reminded him.
"Plans change." Kenobi fastened his tunic, wincing slightly as he did so. He concealed a slender knife in a leather sheath designed into his tunic. As he moved out into the hallway, Valorum kept pace with him, matching his purposeful stride with long, graceful steps. "Are you planning to be my bodyguard now?" Obi-Wan asked, amused.
"I'll see you safely to the terrace," Valorum answered stubbornly, glaring at the Regent. Kenobi hid his smile, and the pair progressed the rest of the way in silence.
Kenobi knew Jinn was waiting for him even before he descended the stairs to the lower terrace. Their fledgling bond had begun to hum with the resonance of nearness. Fighting the urge to clamp down on the thin threads of emotions he was bleeding into the link, Obi-Wan reached out tentatively and encountered apprehension, overlaid by calm. He stopped Valorum with an outstretched hand. "Far enough, Chancellor. From here, I go alone."
"Yes, Excellency. But it is no less foolish than it was a few moments ago." Stubbornly, Valorum folded his arms across his chest and returned Obi-Wan's scowl without flinching.
"Point taken, Valorum. Now go away." Curt, and equally stubborn.
"Yes, Excellency." With just a faint hint of mockery, Valorum bowed and ascended the steps into the fortress.
Obi-Wan continued down the curving stone steps, drawn by the strange lure of the bond. He knew he could find Jinn in a crowd with little effort, and wondered if the reverse was true. Such musings were dangerous; he had not wanted the bond, but the fact remained that it existed. He thought that perhaps it was time to see what value it might have to him. The Force had created their link for a reason, and he was ready for answers.
He stepped out onto the terrace and stopped short, staring. Gone were Qui-Gon's torn and ragged Jedi robes. The man wore a midnight blue vest, open in the front and descending in a V to the top of his black silk trousers. His feet were bare. The Jedi moved fluidly the moment he saw the Regent, dropping to one knee as if it had always been his habit, lowering his gaze. Kenobi watched with pleasure as Qui-Gon's hair fanned smoothly across his broad shoulders, silver and brown against blue.
"Nicely done," Kenobi said, crossing his arms across his chest. "You've obviously learned your lessons well. The slaves of my seraglio are able teachers."
Qui-Gon raised his head, and his eyes were placid blue as he answered, "I have done as you required to ensure the safety of the boy, Daro. Now will you lift that threat from me?"
"I'm not satisfied of your obedience. Yet. Stand up." Qui-Gon rose immediately, and Kenobi allowed himself the luxury of looking at every inch, every part of the other man. From somewhere deep within, a tendril of desire curled around his judgment as he quashed the urge to remove the clothing and see the rest of Jinn's body. The frank examination raised the specter of unease in their bond, and one corner of Obi-Wan's mouth quirked up in a smile. "Walk with me."
"Where are we going?" Qui-Gon asked immediately.
"There are still lessons left to learn, Jedi. And one of them will involve teaching you to hold your tongue unless you have my permission to ask questions." The rebuke was immediate, quiet, absolute, and Qui-Gon lowered his head.
"Yes, my lord."
Kenobi stood a moment longer, considering the paradox. Jinn was ill at ease, but it was not because of the role he played, or the fact of the submission demanded of him. Qui-Gon wore a mantle of stillness on the outside, and were it not for the bond, Obi-Wan would not have known how deeply the man was troubled. It intrigued him.
He moved off to the last flight of stairs, casting a wary eye at the rumbling sky overhead. Jinn followed three paces behind, as was customary. He stopped immediately and made an impatient sound. "When we are alone, you may walk beside me." A pause, and Qui-Gon took the short step necessary to bring him to Obi-Wan's side. Together, they continued into the garden at the fringes of the fortress wall, and down a powdery dirt path toward the sound of flowing water. Tension throbbed between them, made of equal parts desire and disquiet.
The sky turned thick and dark as storm clouds gathered, rolled over, and gathered again. Kenobi pushed his way through dense underbrush, remembering a time when no vegetation of any kind could be found growing on Taganor. He glanced sideways at Jinn, whose sharp eyes were taking in every detail, imprinting a mental map of the terrain for future reference.
"You're wondering why I've taken the chance, leaving the palace alone with you," Kenobi said, holding aside a wiry branch.
"I'm sure there are perimeter shields," Jinn answered. "You're not a fool."
"No," Obi-Wan agreed amicably. "This is as far as we go." He stopped at the edge of a small, oval pool, fed by a rush of water bubbling over low rocks. "If you're going to run, do it now. Save me the trouble of getting undressed."
Jinn turned to look at him, and the connection between them sang suddenly, ringing with a surge of jumbled emotions crowding and pushing to be felt, to be understood. Qui-Gon took two steps backward, his footing secure on a flat stone.
Qui-Gon's hands rose to the clasp at his waist, and he loosened the vest with a flick of his fingers. It fluttered open as with a sensuous roll of his shoulders, he shrugged it off, and it fell to the green carpet below with a faint whisper of sound. His hands brushed across his nipples, tracing the rock-hard muscles of his chest before dipping smoothly into the waistband of his pants, palms curving over his hips and pushing the fabric away. The trousers puddled around his ankles as he stepped out and away, dropping gracefully again to one knee.
But this time, his eyes were fixed on Kenobi's face, and there was a spark there, a tiny light of promise. "I will not run."
Obi-Wan caught himself staring into those eyes, heard the ragged sound of his own breathing. He motioned with one hand, and Qui-Gon stood before him, hands working the fastenings of his tunic, pushing it open. Large hands touched him, palms brushing like rough silk down his sides, lingering tenderly over the day-old wound. Energy pulsed in those hands, flowing into him, sweeping through his body. He shuddered, reaching up to bury his hand impatiently in the mass of soft hair, wrapping his fingers around the hidden nape.
One unspoken command, and Qui-Gon obeyed. His lips parted and were met with the seductive explorations of the Regent's mouth. Obi-Wan tugged at the corner of the compliant lips with a thumb, persuading them to open further, seducing his tongue into a sultry battle of give and take. Deeper still, further into the taste and territory that was Qui-Gon Jinn, and Obi-Wan felt his inhibitions crack, give way beneath the assault of the other man's reluctant passion. The dictates of The Force and the purpose of the unwanted bond no longer mattered; Jinn was his to take, and he would not wait another day.
The tunic tumbled unnoticed to the ground, and Qui-Gon pressed closer, hands seeking warmth and hardness. Obi-Wan broke away from the kiss and opened his eyes, watching with greedy satisfaction as Qui-Gon's eyes darkened with hunger. Their gazes locked, held, as time slowed to immobility and the universe narrowed to the quivering sweep of hands over sensitive skin, the violent presence of unchecked lust, the rapturous victory of surrender. Fingers worked the fastenings of his trousers, freeing his erection, and circling, teasing, stroking with newly-born skill.
Lips whispered sweet torture as they pressed against his chest, tracing old scars, and Kenobi struggled against the urge to guide their path. Down, over each brown nipple, circling wetly, savoring the taste and tang of skin with the firm point of a tongue. Obi-Wan hissed his approval, but the mouth was skimming lower now, biting a straight line to the tip of his heavy cock. Large hands cupped his buttocks to hold him in place as Qui-Gon's mouth engulfed him, sucking, swirling, inexorable.
His balls tightened in response to fingers and tongue, aching for release. He was too close...control could not be lost so early. He was tempted to fall across the precipice of climax, but Obi-Wan wrenched his body back from the edge, pushing Qui-Gon away. Startled, his slave looked up at him, eyes shining with arousal, lips swollen and wet. Obi-Wan took Qui-Gon's face in his hands, capturing that mouth, forcing his way in, sure of his acceptance this time. Qui-Gon opened to him willingly, and a low moan of primal need escaped into Obi-Wan's kiss, swallowed quickly by their gasps and sounds of pleasure.
In seconds, Obi-Wan stripped away his trousers and boots and grinned at Qui-Gon, whose eyes narrowed only a fraction. "Can you swim?" the Regent asked, stretching his slender body, displaying the fine symmetry of sleek muscle, deliberately drawing Qui-Gon's eyes to his jutting shaft.
"Yes," Qui-Gon grated out, as Obi-Wan dove into the water, feeling the heat of the indigo eyes on his skin as he pushed through the cool depths, exhilarated. He broke the surface near the opposite bank of the pool and stood. Water sluiced off his body, and he touched himself lazily, watching Qui-Gon.
Waiting.
Qui-Gon found himself riveted to the sight of Obi-Wan's slim, muscular body, to the fingers trailing leisurely across his nipples, nudging them to dark peaks by the faintest touch. There was more than a command of obedience in the eyes that watched him, in the body that invited him; there was a need, a challenge waiting to be satisfied.
He arched in the air as his body sought the water, cleaving the cool surface with a tiny splash. He stroked powerfully through the pool, eyes closed, finding his way across the oasis by following the wavering threads of the raw bond. He rose from the water, pushing his hair back, and found himself inches away from the Regent, whose hands were on him, whose mouth was warming him, and his own hands traced erratic patterns, clutching and grasping for control.
Their bodies pressed and melted together, each seeking closer contact. Surges of Force-energy coiled about them, invisible, and Qui-Gon gasped at the power of it, the sheer *perfection* of the realm unfolding around and inside them. He heard Obi-Wan's low, dark moan echoed in that place, wrapped his arms around the sound and the vessel that contained those sounds he most wanted to hear. They grappled for a moment, until he lifted Obi-Wan from the water, settled him on top of slick, warm rocks, regarding him hotly from beneath lowered lashes.
Obi-Wan leaned back, insolent and unconquered. Qui-Gon parted his thighs with splayed fingers, tugging him roughly forward, and descended into passion, shattering the last, vaguely held notions of control and duty.
Qui-Gon nuzzled against the cluster of dark reddish curls, breathing in the mingled scents he found there, closing his eyes as he kissed the pale, soft joint of hip and leg. Obi-Wan writhed, pushing his hips forward, inviting more from him, body arched and taut beneath his hands. He moved down the length of the hard-velvet cock, tongue twisting and teasing, tracing the ridges and finding the vulnerable points. Obi-Wan's eyes burned on his skin, green-amber points of fire, as the rhythm found him and snapped into place. The Force spoke to his body, guiding him, and the deepest, hidden parts of his soul blossomed, reached out, connected with the white-hot center of Obi-Wan's soul.
Following his feelings, he raised his head and accepted the ravaging kiss, vaulted forward onto the rock and held himself over Kenobi's body, trembling, unable to breathe, to think. Obi-Wan pulled at him, rolled them to the side, marking his skin with teeth and touch. A hand closed around Qui-Gon's engorged shaft, stroking quickly, and fingers pushed into the tightness below and between, stretching and preparing him. It was not the first time he'd been touched so intimately, but the sensation drove him to the verge of madness as slivers of ecstasy cut through him, magnified by the emotions surging through the bond.
Powerful and predatory, Obi-Wan swung himself over Qui-Gon, spreading his thighs and driving between them, entering him with one long, sweet, deep thrust, and Qui-Gon breathed against the mingled pain as his body stretched to welcome the heat that filled him. Obi-Wan devoured his mouth and matched the strokes of his hand to the fast strokes of his cock. Qui-Gon cried out as a deep thrust touched something inside him, sending joy spiraling through his body.
Qui-Gon reached for the Force, pulled it to him without effort, thinking with the last of his conscious will that this was what the Force commanded, that it was what must be. He recognized his surrender as it rushed through his body, as the sounds bled forth from his throat, and he came, shuddering with triumph and defeat, still enraptured by those blazing eyes. Obi-Wan's climax came swiftly, and he shook with the magnitude of it as he came hard and hot inside Qui-Gon's body.
Layers of understanding opened to Qui-Gon, and with stunning, bittersweet finality, knowledge crashed through every barrier, tasting of regret and reluctance, resonating clear and pure between them.
It was finished; the bond was fully formed.
Clouds drifted across the sky above the valley, tinting the water with shadows and slanting the patterns of dappled light filtering through the trees. Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon lay stretched out in the grass, side by side, not quite touching. The heat from each man's body shimmered in the air, palpable and smoky.
"You knew this would happen," Qui-Gon said quietly, testing the truth of his statement with a gentle push against the bond. The answer came back even before Obi-Wan spoke - resignation, acceptance.
"It was inevitable that the bond would be completed. It exists; there was no reason to believe it would fade if I delayed taking my pleasure from you."
Qui-Gon shivered at the low rich words, spoken so carelessly. "Yet it means nothing to you."
Long moments passed before the answer came, softly, between the secrets hidden by his silence. "It changes nothing."
"You were curious to know what the bond would mean," Qui-Gon said, giving voice to what he sensed within the link between them. "You wanted to know...if your feelings would change."
"Don't think to read me too easily, Jedi." Obi-Wan rolled on his side. Danger sparkled in his eyes. "I was curious, yes. The formation of the bond was a surprise to me, and I don't react well to things I can't control. But I have no feelings for you. I merely desire you. Nothing more."
"The bond must have meaning," Qui-Gon answered, puzzled. "There has to be a purpose for it...it is the will of the Force." Kenobi touched him lightly on the cheek, and Qui-Gon realized he was signaling his own feelings just as clearly as those he was reading from his lover. He flushed with the knowledge, and he sought control, cutting off his feelings as tightly as possible.
Kenobi drew in his breath sharply, and his body tensed. "I can still feel what you feel," he said, frowning. "But it's not as pronounced as it was a moment ago."
"Fortunately, you can't hear what I'm thinking," Qui-Gon answered dryly.
Kenobi answered him with an impatient, quicksilver grin. "Only telepaths can form telepathic Force-bonds," he said knowingly.
Qui-Gon directed a sharp look in his direction. "That's true...but how would you know such a thing?" Immediately, the waves of sensation flowing through to him from Kenobi were choked off, narrowed to a tiny pinpoint of unease and suspicion.
"Two can play at this," Obi-Wan said softly as his shields slammed into place between them. Emotions thrummed at the edges of the bond, suppressed, like percussive thunder in the distance. Their eyes met, held; neither spoke, but Qui-Gon could read the other man's thirst to possess him, could taste it in the back of his throat, because it was his own.
Obi-Wan leaned forward, touching his lips to the corner of Qui-Gon's mouth. Qui-Gon arched into the caress, head thrown back, yielding to the ever-insistent pressure of the kiss, eyes closed.
Then the warmth of Obi-Wan's mouth retreated, and he settled back on the moist grass. Qui-Gon sighed at the absence of his touch. They lay quietly together, listening to the crackle of storms in the distance.
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