You have something to hide
Should have hidden it, shouldn't you
Now you're not satisfied
With what you've been put through


Hands on his body dragging him from the abyss of sleep. Touching, teasing, drawing a harsh gasp as they stroked and fondled him into complete wakefulness. Work-worn calluses, somehow feeling as soft as the finest Volarian silk, combining strength and grace in one all-encompassing touch.

A mouth; nova hot and far too knowledgeable for his peace of mind. Tasting, licking, drinking down his essence as if he were a sustenance vital to life itself. Lips still swollen from last night's kisses pressed against aching flesh, the soft glide replaced by pleasure/pain as white teeth closed, marking the skin, claiming, taking.

Eyes - blue-green and as changeable as the sea, currently storm dark with the raging tempest burning deep within them, hooded with the downsweep of heavy lids. Eyes that held no secrets, only promises of uncompromising desire and unrivaled pleasure, eyes that held his heart, his soul, his very life.

The soft brush of hair. The long, thin braid sliding along the bare skin of his thigh, the close-cropped velvet denying him a hand-hold except for the short tail in the back.

The touch of the mind; the incandescent burning of a bond deeper than any he had known or had dreamed of knowing. The all-encompassing need to be one, to devour and be consumed at the same time, to find the perfection of complete understanding that had been reached the night before and to never lose it again.

My Obi-Wan. The thought was growled out possessively as Qui-Gon's hands tightened in his Padawan's hair, tugging enough to get the younger man to look up at him.

Seeing the same unbridled need he felt reflected in the Jedi Master's cerulean eyes, Obi-Wan smiled, a feral expression of his desire. The truth before him was so much more astounding than any dream he had conjured up as to be laughable. Seeing his Master was nothing compared to touching him and less than nothing compared to the raw emotion that still arced between them. Flesh was seared to the bone by a touch, permanently branding the others' imprint on the consciousness, fusing two parts into a singular, unique whole.

My Qui-Gon. The answering thought was laced with the knowledge that things would never again be the same between them. A subtle shift in their relationship had occurred, twining their consciousness together, forging new, unbreakable bonds between them.

Keeping his eyes fixed on Qui-Gon's, Obi-Wan dipped his head, running his tongue along the older man's erection before licking his lips like a child who has tasted an especially sweet treat and is determined to savor it to the fullest. The desire-filled groan he was rewarded with called for a repeat performance and the apprentice's head descended again, moving slower this time, eyes locked on his Master's expression.

Silver-tinged hair splayed out around the head thrown back against the mattress, powerful hands clenched in the sheets, back bowed upwards in a silent plea - this was the vision that greeted Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon's eyes may have been closed, but the sheen of sweat that coated his skin and the tension vibrating through the larger man's body were close enough to Obi-Wan's fevered imaginings as to bring a secretive smile to his lips.

"You find this amusing?" Qui-Gon's voice was dark and tight with the need that spiraled through him, centering on the trails of humid warmth being tracked over his cock.

Most assuredly not, Master. I am merely enjoying the sight before me. At Qui-Gon's wordless growl, Obi-Wan took pity on the other man, granting him the temporary relief of lips closing around him and sliding downward.

In an attempt to regain some kind of control, Qui-Gon reached for the Force only to find it slipping through his fingers like so many glittering beads. Concentration was impossible, his whole world had narrowed down to the aggressive motion of his apprentice's head over his groin, the harsh suction that demanded nothing less than total surrender from him and the incessant probing of Obi-Wan's fingers as they searched out, then sparked the gland within him. The massive overload of his senses triggered a convulsive wave that swept through the older Jedi like a tidal storm, leaving him panting and shaken with the force of his climax.

Taking advantage of Qui-Gon's stated lethargy, Obi-Wan worked his way back up the larger man's body, pausing in his mission only to renew the slowly fading bite marks that dappled Qui-Gon's skin. When his goal was within reach, Obi-Wan caught his Master's lower lip between his teeth, tugging enough so that Qui-Gon opened his eyes, then pressed his tongue inside that inviting cavern, letting the older Jedi taste himself.

It's just time to pay the price
For not listening to advice
And deciding in your youth
On the policy of truth


There was a moment of total surrender before Qui-Gon snapped his arms tight around Obi-Wan's waist, rolling them over in the same motion so that his Padawan was trapped beneath him. "My turn," he whispered, the tightly leashed frenzy in his tone reflected in the harsh light of his eyes.

Leaving one hand in the center of Obi-Wan's chest to hold him in place, Qui-Gon pushed himself backward until he was resting on his knees alongside his apprentice. "Do not move, Padawan." The command was voiced quietly as the older Jedi sat back, his eyes roving over the other man's body with the same abandon his had been touched with earlier.

"Mast-" Obi-Wan began, starting to sit up before the pressure of the Force on his chest pushed him back against the mattress. He could fight it, could easily break free of the hold the invisible hand had on him but chose not to - it was Qui-Gon's turn, after all.

Once Obi-Wan had relaxed again, Qui-Gon settled into a meditative pose, his hands resting loosely on his thighs, his eyes narrowed to thin slits, all traces of the man who had bucked under the pressure of Obi-Wan's mouth gone.

Curiosity and desire burning through him like twin pyres, Obi-Wan fought his own impatience as the moment dragged out with his Master doing nothing more than look at him. Patience strained to the breaking point, he was just about to fling himself at the older man when he felt it, a light ghosting against the skin of his chest drawing his nipples to firm peaks before moving lower.

Firmer now, moving across his ribs and down to the tight planes of his stomach, concentrating around the hollow of his navel, filling and surrounding the depression at the same time. Unable to stay silent, Obi-Wan gasped, squirming and trying to bring more of his body into contact with that elusive touch.

It failed miserably, each twist and turn simply caused the fleeting caress to vanish, only to reappear when he was once again still, worn near to exhaustion by the combination of his raging desire and near frantic movements. "You're enjoying this, I think." The words were gasped out in between deep, heaving breaths that strained the younger Jedi's sweat-soaked chest.

One corner of the Jedi Master's mouth quirked up in a smile that was anything but comforting. "Shall I stop?" he asked, letting the contact grow even fainter. "Or shall I continue?" Now the pressure moved downward and split, sliding along Obi-Wan's thighs, easing them open with practiced skill.

"Don't stop." The drawn out groan accompanied a violent shudder and the spastic clenching of Obi-Wan's hands over empty air.

"As you wish, Padawan."

The warm touch was moving back upwards now, skimming over already tormented flesh, rolling the heavy testicles until they drew up tightly in their sac, spreading the first drops of leakage around the head of the straining flesh until it glistened with moisture.

It was too much, it wasn't enough, it was going to kill him and he would die willingly. Arching up against the unseen hands that worked him mercilessly, Obi-Wan moaned, lost in the rapturous yet somehow unfulfilling sensations. He was on the razor-edge of completion yet it eluded him, the need for physical contact outweighing the skillful manipulation he was being subjected too.

Qui-Gon watched his apprentice's inner conflict for a long moment, feeling the mounting pressure building in his own mind in reaction to Obi-Wan's growing frustration and need. Torture had never been his goal in this exercise and to keep the younger man from his climax any longer would be just that.

Obi-Wan cried out in despair as the phantom hands left his body then gave voice to a throaty shout as Qui-Gon moved swiftly to swallow him. The dark heat proved more welcome than any other he had ever felt and it was only a matter of seconds before the apprentice was came with a force that drew another passionate vocalization from him before hurling him toward the oblivion of ecstasy pulling Qui-Gon along with him through their shared consciousness.

A soft beeping gradually increased in volume, impinging on the Jedis' hazy minds and drawing them back to the reality of the moment.

"Comlink," Qui-Gon muttered, slowly pushing himself off of Obi-Wan's prone body. Shaking his loose hair out of his face, the Jedi Master glanced around the room, searching for the communicator.

A spike of fear that they had been discovered shot through Obi-Wan and he struggled to sit up, his expression wary. "I think we left them in the other room." Many details about the previous evening were unclear, lost in the overwhelming physical memory of the moment.

"Mmm." A look of distraction settling over his features, Qui-Gon rose from the bed and walked into the other room, his strides as fluid and unhurried as always. A short, quiet conversation ensued and the Jedi Master returned, his expression unreadable.

"We have a mission."

On to Part Two



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