I don't like losing. Losing is for weak fools, not for me. But I have not lost. I have merely suffered a slight setback. I can learn from my mistakes.
What did I learn from my mistakes? What were my mistakes? I ponder this, going over the evening minute by minute, second by second, trying to pinpoint the moment I lost control of the situation. Or did I ever have control?
Slamming my fist into my pillow I get off my bed and pace the room, the events of last night still going through my mind. There must have been somewhere...
I stop. There. When I handed him the lube. That was when I had control. He was off balance, not expecting it to be like that. He had prepared himself for one thing, but that was not what happened. Yes, I had been in control there. Now... when had I lost it?
Oh, there. The minute I entered him. The minute I began acting exactly as he thought I would. Sith-hell! Right after that I came, far too early. I had lost control of him, then myself, and consequently the whole situation.
I lie back down in bed, and begin to plan for tonight.
***** I've won. For now. But what have I won? Nothing. What do I have to lose? Everything. My Padawan's soul, my own soul, the future of the Republic itself. It has occurred to me, in these past few days, that this is a lot for one man to carry. But carry it I must. For there is no one to share it with.
Sometimes, I wish Qui-Gon was here. Just to hold my hand once in a while. To make me smile. Just be there so I could watch him sleep and know that Light is stronger than the forces of Dark. But most of the time, I am glad that he is gone, that he doesn't have to see what is happening here. I never could bear to see my beloved in pain. But oh, sometimes I miss him so.
I healed the injuries to my hands and face last night. Down my neck to where my tunic would cover, likewise partially up my wrists. I was half asleep when he came into my room. He checked me very thoroughly. First to be sure I had healed everything that would show, then that I hadn't healed anything else. He ran his fingers over every inch of my body, examining me with his touch, sight, and Force-sense. For all his concern it was the most impersonal examination I have ever undergone. Perhaps I simply forced myself not to feel it.
I feel that I must do something. Passivity, while a trait I can feign, is not natural to my disposition. But if I move to expose him in any way, he will leave. If he leaves I will no longer be able to exert even the little control I have over him now. I sigh and turn over, wincing as a particularly sore spot rubs against the sheets.
For now I will play his game. As a Jedi I can remove myself mentally from a situation. This should allow me to endure next the time he rapes me. But, for all my Jedi trappings I still cringe ever so slightly at his touch. My dreams are the only place where I can escape his presence. Someday, I hope, that instead of this, Qui-Gon will become my reality, and Anakin my dreams.
*****
Five minutes left. Five more minutes of listening to this dried up old stick yack at us. Jedi dead and gone do not concern me. It is the living I care to think about. My thoughts as always, lead to Obi-Wan. I love the way he moves, the way he sometimes struggles sweetly against me. I carefully bring my thoughts back to the here and now, the instructor, Master Pe'll looks as though he is wrapping up. One more minute passes slowly by, then we are dismissed.
I head directly back to our quarters. I know Obi-Wan will not be there. He has taken to meditating in the gardens between my last class and dinner. That is, he meditates when he is not in meetings.
Today I am glad of this time, for it gives me time to prepare for tonight. I grab what I need out of my room and settle down on the couch with a glass of some kind of fruit juice. Yes, tonight should be very interesting.
*****
"Do you require me?" Ah, at last. I wonder if he knows that I dream of those words.
"Yes." I get up and move toward him. He looks so serene and still, almost a statue. When I reach him I put my hands gently on his shoulders and push him slowly until his back comes into contact with the wall. Then I almost tentatively grasp his wrists and trap them against the wall on either side of his head. Slowly I bring my face closer to him. He turns his head at the last second, evading the kiss. I follow the motion and capture his lips with my own, insisting he surrender to me. Eventually he does, parting his lips and becoming even more pliant, if that were possible.
Still ravaging his mouth I maneuver us into my room. I lie him back on my bed, and slowly begin to remove his clothing. As I go I spare some energy to heal his small injuries. I want his body to be a clean slate for tonight.
I can feel him fighting his arousal. He doesn't want to want this.
Without warning I get off of him and slowly strip. When I'm naked I get on the bed, leaning against the headboard. I motion for him to come closer. He does and I pull him into my lap, his back against my chest. I pull my knees up between his legs and spread them slightly, gently forcing his legs far apart. His arms hang loose at his sides.
I run my fingers over his body. They move over his neck and down his chest. I stop and tease his nipples, pinching them until he makes a low moan. One hand stays there whilst the other dips lower, testing the muscles on his abdomen and feeling the smooth skin of his inner thigh. His eyes close as I run one finger over the tip of his semi-hard cock.
Time for the secret weapon, I think with glee, and with a small flicker of the Force, the view screen at the foot of my bed turns on. It is showing the security vid. Right now all that can be seen is Qui-Gon, asleep with a sheet half covering him. "Obi-Wan?" I whisper.
"What?" he sounds weary, his head does not leave my shoulder nor does he open his eyes.
"Look." He begrudgingly lifts his head and opens his eyes.
"No..." His eyes are fixed on the screen. As we watch Obi-Wan enters the room. He stands beside the bed for a minute, just watching his Master sleep. Then he shucks off his clothes and crawls into bed. Qui-Gon murmurs something in his sleep as he unconsciously snuggles closer.
I take my eyes off the screen to look at my Obi-Wan. There are tears running down his cheeks. "Qui-Gon." he whispers. I have caught him completely unawares. I turn his face and lick the salty tears away.
The scene on the screen changes now. I have edited the vid for maximum effectiveness. For a while the vid will show nothing but him and his Master making wild, passionate love to each other. I can tell he is deep in remembrance, for now he does respond to my touches. With subtle Force-touches I lead him deeper into memory and confuse his perception of the moment.
"Master... please... Qui-Gon..." He is arching into my hand now, the picture of sensual abandon. The only stain on my pleasure is that it is not my name he is calling out. Someday, I promise myself, someday he will.
Now, coming from the speakers, I can hear Qui-Gon calling out, his voice matching his former Padawan's. Hearing his Master serves to drive Obi-Wan forward. The sound of Qui-Gon climaxing seams to push him over the edge, I pump him one more time and he comes into my hand. He collapses, and for a precious moment I hold a willing Obi-Wan in my arms.
Meanwhile, I still have a rather substantial hard-on. But I will not make the mistake I did last time. Oh no. As I think I stroke his face, amazed at how young and innocent he looks in repose.
I look up suddenly and glare at the image of Qui-Gon on the screen. He took what I can never have. Angrily I turn it off. Soon, I tell myself, soon you can have him all to yourself.
Soon we will be told that we have a mission. I'm not sure where. The council should inform us sometime in the next few days. I run my hands through his hair as a grin settles on my face. It is the last mission he will ever receive.
*****
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