Obi-Wan stared up at the man who had just pleasured him, trying desperately to focus, to gain control of the situation. His body trembled with the aftershocks of ecstasy, made more powerful by the strange, inexorable commands of the Force. He felt it tangibly, as though the command had been spoken softly in his ear - he was tied to the man he meant to enslave, and there would be no compromise.

His gaze was locked to the passion-darkened blue of Qui-Gon Jinn's eyes, and he took in every detail of his would-be slave as the man knelt before him on the bed. Long hair, unbound, falling about broad shoulders, tinted with hints of silver and duller gray. A heavily muscled chest, narrowing into a flat belly, rising and falling with quick breaths. Large hands with long fingers, resting on parted thighs, fingers curled against sweat-sheened skin. A glistening shaft, wet with evidence of passion, which seemed to respond to the intangible touch of a look as Obi-Wan's eyes brushed across it.

It was impossible, but true. There was some sort of bond between them, growing stronger by the moment. The thought widened his eyes and brought a tinge of panic to his heart. It was not what he wanted, or needed; it could not be allowed to interfere with the good of his world.

"No," he said. Then, in a stronger voice, "This cannot be."

"But it is," Qui-Gon answered softly.

With one fluid movement, the Regent rolled from the bed and was on his feet, moving away, putting distance between them. Qui-Gon moved to rise, but Kenobi turned, stopping him with a look. "Stay where you are," he demanded, and Qui-Gon settled back.

"It is not an accident, you and I together, in this place," Qui-Gon said, and his voice was like the touch of fine silk, raw and sensuous against the Regent's skin. "The Force has brought us together for some purpose."

"The Force," Kenobi said scornfully, trying to ignore the inherent truth in the words spoken by the Jedi. "You came here to hide from the Sith. I had you captured for my own purposes. The Force does not speak to me."

"Yet you use it, and you understand it..."

Kenobi turned to face him, body a coiled mass of muscle, tense and tight. "That's no concern of yours," he said coldly, bending to the floor to pick up his clothes. "Your only concern is my pleasure. Get up."

Qui-Gon got to his feet and reached for his own clothes, but Kenobi stopped him with a bruising grip on his wrist. "Kneel," he hissed, pushing the Jedi back a step.

Qui-Gon went to his knees on the floor, facing the Regent, looking up at him. "Bow your head before me," the other man commanded, and Qui-Gon complied, hair falling forward across his face. "Nothing exists here but my will, Jedi, and your obedience. You have nothing of your own. You are nothing."

He could feel the other man's hesitation, a strange mix of desire and disbelief mirroring his own. Chaotic impulses swirled in Obi-Wan's mind, courses of action, possibilities. He shoved them savagely to the back of his consciousness.

Trousers, then tunic, and his body was concealed from view, but he found it more difficult to quash his emotions, to tuck them into places Jinn would not find them.

"You feel it," Jinn said, and there was wonder in his voice.

"I feel nothing but lust, and that has been satisfied," Kenobi answered, anger surging within him. He reached down, took hold of the Jedi's chin, yanked it up. "When you address me, you will use respect. I am your master."

Qui-Gon's eyes rested on his, burning into him with a steady, knowing gaze. "Yes, master," he said, and although the tone was even, the words sounded like mockery, adding fuel to Kenobi's rage. Kenobi released him and stepped away. Qui-Gon spoke again, and his voice was filled with steel. "But I am not your slave...master."

"Say what you like. You are my prisoner, and you will do as I command. You still have one option - agree to be my bodyguard, and I will release you from a life in the seraglio." Kenobi saw a tiny hint of indecision flicker through the other man's eyes. "I will not ask you again."

"I would prefer a choice made without conditions," Jinn said slowly. "Because I have no freedom, my answer to you is meaningless."

"Then you will remain here," Kenobi said, taking satisfaction in the dark thrill the words brought him. Jinn's face was impassive, but there was turmoil behind the mask of calm. "Beginning tomorrow, you will be instructed in the erotic arts. Learn what you need to know to be useful to me, or suffer the consequences."

"Yes, my lord," Jinn said unexpectedly. Kenobi felt the power of that acquiescence deep in his body, and repressed a shiver. Such easy grace, and enormous power, surrendered a fragment at a time.

The Regent had no intention of losing control again.

******

Morning brought with it another round of debates and meetings for Obi-Wan. He found himself dreading the endless, mostly pointless discussions regarding the wisdom of resisting the Sith. He sat at the Council table, trying not to drum his fingers against the polished surface, and freed his mind to think of more pleasant things.

Anakin sat beside him, solemn and attentive, and Obi-Wan watched him processing the information presented by his advisors, nodding gravely. The boy wasn't just putting on a show; he was keenly intelligent, and almost frighteningly aware of things the rest of them could only begin to see and sense.

Obi-Wan had made progress in helping Anakin to see both sides of most issues. If he had even the most remote chance of making the boy into a fair and compassionate ruler of his world, he would have to conquer the restless edge of self-interest inside the child.

"Obi-Wan?" the boy said suddenly, drawing the Regent back from his reverie.

"Yes, Anakin?"

"Is the Emperor wise to hunt and kill the Jedi?" the boy asked.

Startled, Obi-Wan considered his answer. "Why do you ask?" he stalled, wishing he had been paying attention to the discussion. He could feel the eyes of every advisor at the table boring into his skull.

"Ambassador Windu has said that the Jedi must die to bring order to the galaxy. Yet Chancellor Valorum disagrees. I sense that you disagree, too. Which is true?" the boy asked bluntly.

"As with many things, there is no simple truth," the Regent said, choosing his words carefully. He caught and held Windu's eye until the man looked away, afraid.

"But are the Jedi evil?" Anakin persisted, with the natural curiosity of a nine-year-old.

"They are not. They seek to promote a balance in things, between light and darkness. Their views on many things are not unlike my own. You must learn to see both sides, Your Highness, and not bow to the opinions of others, even those you trust." Obi-Wan saw the frown cross the boy's face, and added, "It is not a simple thing to understand, but with time, you will learn to see this balance."

"But what if you can't do what you are supposed to because the balance will be wrong?" Anakin pressed.

"Then you must decide which is more important, your duty or the balance of things," Obi-Wan said.

"My lord Regent," Minister Gallia said, in a tone of warning. "Perhaps he is too young to understand the fine distinction-"

"I am not too young, and you will address me directly, Minister." Anakin's voice became sharp, and Obi-Wan felt something new in the Force - fear. The Ministers were afraid of the boy, of his power, of the knowledge he was accumulating.

"My apologies, Highness." Gallia inclined her head to show her respect.

"People often do things which are against the natural balance of order, because they have personal needs and beliefs," Valorum said, and Obi-Wan nodded his approval. "You will find this to be true, and must be wary of judging others, because things are rarely as clear as they first seem."

"There is other business to discuss," Windu interjected, cutting off the lesson. "Word was received last night from one of our contacts. The Emperor has dispatched his personal advisors to inspect worlds on the fringes of the Empire. Taganor is likely to be a target."

"Undoubtedly," Obi-Wan agreed, even as his mind launched into examination of the reasons for such activity. The Emperor was known to be growing more and more paranoid as his power increased. It would not do to have his representatives decide that Taganor should be ruled by someone other than Obi-Wan, someone who would teach Anakin to be controlled by his fear and hate. Having a Jedi in their midst would indeed be a problem.

As if she read his thoughts, Gallia spoke up. "This brings us back to the Jedi, my lord. What will the Sith think if they discover -"

"I have had enough of this." Obi-Wan rose and rounded the table, stopping between Windu and Gallia. "The Sith will know only what we tell them, what we show them. We have a new slave in our midst, a former Jedi, and he has been consigned to the harem. Tell them nothing beyond that, and there will be nothing to explain." He leaned forward, adding in a low voice, "Tell them too much, and you will answer to me."

"Excellency, there is an incoming communication from Coruscant." Valorum caught his eye from across the table. "From the Emperor."

Obi-Wan felt the sweeping thrill of apprehension that always accompanied such messages. He gave a brisk nod and moved into small circle where his image would be captured by the holoprojectors. Anakin came to stand beside him, and as the Emperor's image appeared, they knelt, heads bowed.

"I have felt a disturbance in the Force, Kenobi. It would seem that your world is at the heart of it. Is there something you wish to explain?" The Emperor's gravely voice was soft, almost pleasant, but the underlying menace was palpable.

"No, Master. There is no cause for concern." Obi-Wan blanketed his emotions with effort, pressing them down into what he hoped was a place the Emperor could not sense.

"Perhaps that is all there is. Nevertheless, I am sending someone to Taganor to be my representative on that world. You will welcome him, Kenobi."

"Yes, Master."

The Emperor's image vanished, and a quick tremor went through small body next to Obi-Wan's. "He is sending a Sith Lord?" Anakin asked, turning concerned eyes to Obi-Wan.

"It is nothing for you to fear. You will become a Lord of the Sith one day." Obi-Wan felt the wrongness of the words; they cramped inside his throat, clutching and pleading for retraction. He squeezed the boy's shoulder reassuringly. "Go on to your lessons, now."

He watched Anakin trot toward the door, and as Valorum moved to follow, he exchanged a glance with his chancellor, who nodded his understanding.

It was time to accelerate the boy's training.

******

"No." Qui-Gon's voice was firm, his answer absolute.

Ket'al sighed, and crossed his arms against his chest. "The Regent has ordered it, and you have no choice."

"I have a choice," Qui-Gon answered determinedly.

Daro rolled his eyes and came to stand beside Ket'al. "Do you want them to do dreadful things to me?" he demanded.

"Of course not," Qui-Gon said immediately. "But there are other ways. You will tell me what I need to know, and Kenobi will never know the difference."

"Oh yes, he will." Ket'al's voice was low and grim. "He will know immediately that you are lying. He can always tell, and he has sold slaves for it. I don't particularly wish to be sold simply because you are stubborn."

"Besides, he decided on the lessons himself. He's seen the results of the training. Don't you think he'll figure out that you haven't been trained properly?" Daro said with exasperation. He tugged his tunic over his head and threw it to one side. "There's only one way to do this, Jedi."

"I'm afraid he's right. And Daro will most certainly suffer for it if you aren't willing to learn." Ket'al shook his head. "It is not necessarily an unpleasant thing, Qui-Gon. Is there some other reason for your refusal? Are the Jedi celibate?"

"No," Qui-Gon answered, trying not to notice that Daro had finished removing his clothing and was draped across the couch, listening intently. "It is accepted among the Jedi that commitment to the Order means forfeiture of a normal life, with marriage and children. But we are not required to be celibate. However...." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "We are not casual in our approach to pleasure. Most partners are long-term."

"You will have to leave that life behind," Ket'al said quietly. He touched Qui-Gon's face with one hand, and his eyes reflected the grief in Qui-Gon's heart. "This is a different place, a different approach. You must let us teach you what you need to know. Please."

For a moment more, the Jedi struggled with himself, until finally, he signaled his agreement with a mute incline of his head.

"I can't believe I get to train the new favorite," Daro said, gloating a little.

"I didn't want favored status," Qui-Gon said, fighting the urge to push Ket'al hands away as he was divested of his clothing.

"But you have it," Ket'al said simply. "Don't protest against it too much. You may find it to be a desirable thing, after a while."

Qui-Gon said nothing as Ket'al moved away, leaving him naked in the middle of the room. Expectantly, he looked over at the two men. "What happens now?" he asked, impatient to understand what would come next.

Ket'al turned to him, and his appraising green gaze swept the length of Qui-Gon's body. "We have been instructed to start with the lesson of touch," he said slowly. "Certain things are universal, but we will teach you how best to please the Regent, and how to please anyone you may have occasion to touch..."

"Because I may not always be here," Qui-Gon supplied, and Ket'al nodded.

"You are a most perceptive man, Qui-Gon. Please, sit here." The blond gestured to the couch, and with some reluctance, Qui-Gon sat, reclining slowly.

Fully clothed, Ket'al climbed onto the couch and straddled Qui-Gon's thighs, settling back on his own heels to keep his weight off the Jedi's knees. He placed his hands firmly on the broad chest beneath him, and stroked down, palms flat against Qui-Gon's smooth skin. The touch was feather-light, but firm, and as he brushed across the nipples, they rose in response.

"Gentle, but strong," Ket'al said, as Daro watched intently. "Every time you touch him, let your fingers find their own path. Touch even the places you think are forbidden, and the places which are normally not touched."

Ket'al lifted Qui-Gon's arms and placed them over his head, then ran his hands down the long arms, stopping to rub his thumbs across the sensitive skin beneath the armpit. Qui-Gon drew a hissing breath. "Yes," Ket'al said, voice suddenly husky. "You see how it can be."

Two more hands joined the ones already on Qui-Gon's body, and as Daro's nimble fingers explored his lips, he caught the tip of one between his teeth, sucking it in. Daro reached down to toy with a nipple, scraping his fingernails lightly across the skin, producing a sharp intake of breath.

Ket'al transferred his attention to Qui-Gon's erect shaft, caressing it with a combination of tantalizing short strokes and long, languid ones. It was only a matter of time before the incredible stimulus had its effect, and Qui-Gon gave a soft, disbelieving cry as he was taken just to the brink, then pulled back again with a different kind of touch.

"I understand," he said softly, shuddering against the continued, relentless touches of the two men.

"Not yet, you don't. We've only just started," Daro said, smiling down at Qui-Gon's stunned expression.

******

Vault, somersault, land. As he always had, Obi-Wan relieved his tension and focused his mind through application of the Force, willing his body to follow his commands. It was second nature to him. When he was in tune with the power all around him, the solutions to his problems presented themselves without effort.

He stretched his body, tumbling across the mat with incredible speed, a blur of motion flying about the room. He emptied his mind of the persistent vision of Qui-Gon's face, closed his senses to the remembered smell of sex and sweat, and the heat in his loins. Like a ribbon unfurling, his consciousness became smooth and straight, free of distractions. He was one with the Force, the way he had always dreamed it should be, the way his heart sang to him it would always be.

But it could not be that way forever.

With one last graceful, twisting leap, he landed on the practice mat and slowed his breathing.

"I like the way you do that. Teach me how," demanded a voice from the side of the room.

Obi-Wan turned his head and saw Anakin standing in the shadows, leaning against the wall. "In time, you will be able to do this as well as I can, or better," he said, motioning for the boy to come to him.

For some time, he had considered how he might teach the boy without giving him too much, too soon. Anakin was bright and eager to learn, but there was a dark reserve of hurt and resentment within him. He had been ripped from his mother's arms when he was very small, taken by the Sith when they were alerted to his potential, and delivered into the care of men who cared nothing for the boy. Until Obi-Wan had made his connection to the boy a matter of record, there was no one to guide him, no one to give him affection.

Even now, Obi-Wan sometimes wondered if that small bit of compassion he showed the boy had come too late. The depths of Anakin's heart were hidden from him, concealed by layers of childish emotions, and his defenses grew stronger every day.

"Here," he said, dropping down on a bench and toweling off his sweat. Anakin obediently came to stand in front of him. "You have always known there was something special about your abilities, Anakin. And you've certainly been told that by courtiers often enough." He smiled at the boy, who grinned proudly in return. "Do you know why I was sent here, and why you have been given this world to rule?"

"This world belongs to me because my family came from Tatooine." Anakin repeated what he knew, without drawing any new conclusions. "You are here to rule until I can take control of my own affairs."

"The Sith have left this world alone because you are here. I have tried to use my position as your Regent to make sure that on Taganor, none are harmed by this war between the Sith and the Jedi," Obi-Wan explained, noting the flash of puzzlement in Anakin's eyes. "Do you understand?"

"I think so."

"It is time for you to learn what it is that makes you valuable to the Empire." He paused. "I will teach you how to harness and understand the Force. Do you think you're ready?"

"Yes, Obi-Wan!" The boy's eyes shone with excitement.

Obi-Wan smiled at him, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. "Good. Now. Close your eyes and concentrate on that feeling you get when you know something, but you aren't sure how you know." Obi-Wan waited until the boy was completely focused on the sensation. "Open yourself to that feeling, Anakin. Let it tell you what it needs from you."

A long pause, and the tickling sensation of energy being redirected. Obi-Wan closed his own eyes, tracking the flow of the Force, letting it buffet the boy. He could sense Anakin's struggle to channel it, and his fear and dismay that he could not.

"I feel it better when I'm angry," Anakin said, frustrated.

Obi-Wan's heart dropped when he heard the words. "Never use the Force in anger, Anakin," he said gruffly. "You will lose control of yourself and you won't be able to do what you must."

"That's not what Ambassador Windu says." Anakin's voice became bolder, less unsure. "He says anger is power. I've heard others say that, too." The blue eyes lit with something ferocious for a moment, but the spark died away as Obi-Wan frowned.

"Anger is unpredictable, and it burns through the body too quickly. It has its place, but you will never be truly powerful if you rely on it to give you strength. Control of the Force comes from being calm and listening to the Force when it speaks to you."

"I don't hear it saying anything," Anakin said, and a hot flush rose in his cheeks. "Maybe I'm different from you. Maybe I'm supposed to use my anger. How do you know I'm not?"

"There are some things that are the same for everyone," Obi-Wan said, leaving the bench and dropping to one knee on the mat in front of Anakin. "I would not mislead you."

"Maybe not on purpose." Waves of sudden suspicion cascaded out from the boy. "You did say you used your position here. Maybe you are using me, too."

"What does the Force tell you?" Obi-Wan asked, leaning forward, balancing with one arm across his knee.

Anakin's face contorted with the effort of his concentration, and he stared at Obi-Wan. "I don't know," he answered, lip quivering just a little. "I'm not sure."

"Then perhaps we've done enough today, and tomorrow, you will have the answer to that question when I ask you again." Obi-Wan patted the boy's arm. "It takes time, Anakin. But the Force will lead you where you are meant to go, if you allow it. Go and find Valorum, and tell him what we discussed. Perhaps he can help you with your doubts."

"All right, Obi-Wan." With a last troubled look at his teacher, the boy bolted from the room, leaving behind a churning wake of Force-energy.

Obi-Wan stood and considered his position. The boy was already leaning toward Darkness. And after all, Obi-Wan had been sent to see the boy tapped into his full potential. It was so easy to forget that so much more was at stake. It had been so long, and sometimes, he felt weary down to the bone, ready to give himself over to a destiny he had tried to avoid. It was sometimes difficult to resist.

It was certain that the arrival of the Jedi had thrown everything off kilter. Obi-Wan made a sudden decision, a decision that led him to the seraglio, past Jinn's quarters, past the deserted courtyard and the large wing that housed the Forgotten, those slaves he never summoned.

The quarters he sought lay just beyond the entrance to the realm of the Forgotten, in a secluded corner of the seraglio. Many times, he had suggested that Xanatos move nearer to the entrance of the seraglio, as befitted his status. His favorite had declined the offer, preferring his privacy, far away from the prying eyes of others in the harem.

He reached his destination and palmed open the lock. Wisps of steam wafted past as Obi-Wan entered the bath, standing still as the door closed, eyes adjusting to the low light as he searched for his objective.

Xanatos was nude in the water, head thrown back against the tiled edge of the bathing pool, eyes closed, lips parted. Thick, dark locks of hair clung to his damp skin, and his arms made lazy circles in the water. The young slave opened his blue eyes and fixed them on Obi-Wan; there were shadows there, and a vulnerability that took away the Regent's breath in the moment before it was expertly masked.

"I didn't expect you, Master," Xanatos said quietly, stilling the motion of his arms. "I thought you would be with your new favorite." There was a quiet undertone of hurt in the words.

"I have only one favorite," Obi-Wan said, smiling a little at the light that seemed to burst from within Xan when he heard the words. His pulse jumped as Xan rose from the water and hoisted himself out of the pool without effort. Obi-Wan reached for him and found the wet, hard length of Xan's body pressed against him, undulating gently.

His hands slid down the slick length of that body, and he cupped firm buttocks, pressing their twin erections together. He took Xan's mouth in a slow kiss, savoring the quick tongue that insistently flickered against his own.

Obi-Wan was quickly stripped of his clothes and led into the steaming bath. Warm water covered him as he sank into the pool with Xan, and he wasted no time moving back into the circle of those welcoming arms. Soft sounds of water lapping against skin and tile accompanied the urgent sounds of passion.

Obi-Wan tasted Xan's lips, his skin, the tiny sensitive spot on the side of his arched neck. His mouth was thorough, stopping when soft gasps told him he had found what he sought, lingering in those places as the scented water swirled around them with its own caress.

Pushing against the heavy flow of the water, Obi-Wan reached below the surface, fingers slipping easily down the length of Xan's cock, relishing the shiver he produced. He caught a tender earlobe between his teeth, biting hard enough to draw a tiny drop of blood, as the shaft in his hand pulsed. "Are you ready for me?" he whispered, tongue tracing the delicate shell of the ear as he supported Xan's neck with his hand.

"Yes, now," Xan begged, and a moan followed his plea. He turned his head and brought his lips back to Obi-Wan's greedy kiss, even as he was lifted in the water, and hands opened him, preparing the way.

Obi-Wan exhaled a sigh of pure ecstasy as he sank into the tight channel, lowering Xan's body onto his cock slowly. Xan's ankles locked around his waist, and he tilted his body back into the water. Xan slid forward, impaling himself on the thick shaft, taking it as deep inside as it could go.

Carefully, Obi-Wan thrust his hips forward, matching Xan's increasingly wild, rhythmic motions, watching the wanton display through passion-darkened eyes. His breathing quickened, and as Xan's muscles tightened around him, he thrust up, hard, locking himself inside that hidden place. His climax took him quickly, sweeping him away from the body pressed to his, away from conscious thought, into the place between desire and fulfillment. Vaguely, he heard Xan cry out as well.

With shaking arms, he lowered Xan into the water, pressing his face to the curve of his neck, holding him for a moment as the shuddering passed through them both.

"You need have no fear of being displaced, Xan," he said softly, sweeping back the hair which clung to the other man's face, obscuring his eyes. "Jinn cannot match your passion."

"What?" As though he had been burned by the words, Xanatos twisted in his arms, eyes hooded, body tense.

Obi-Wan soothed him with a kiss. "The Jedi is not important," he murmured, lulled into a peaceful state of bliss by orgasm and warmth. He settled back against the wall of the pool, holding Xan in the circle of his arms. After a long moment, Xan relaxed against him, but his heartbeat thudded against Obi-Wan's chest, and did not slow.

---

In the silence of the seraglio at night, it was possible to move about unseen through deserted halls. It was even possible to sneak inside the quarters of the others in the harem, if one was patient, and had the codes. Qui-Gon Jinn's door slid open, and closed, and no one was nearby to see or hear the intrusion.

Qui-Gon lay stretched across the bed on his stomach, legs wrapped loosely in the sheets, one knee drawn up toward his belly. He shifted sleepily, catching his pillow and pawing it up underneath his face.

From the restless shadows, a slender figure emerged, taking hesitant steps toward the bed, stopping as he reached the edge. One hand rose and stilled in mid-air, trembling with indecision. Slowly, he withdrew his hand.

The uninvited visitor lifted his fingers to his face and traced the scar on his pale cheek. His touch lingered there for a moment. His fingertips feathered absently across his parted lips as he whispered one word, reverently, feverishly.

"Master..."

End

To be continued in Chapter IV: Center of Fury

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