Chapter 3
Qui-gon had his arms wrapped around an exquisitely beautiful boy's body, and was kissing him passionately. At first he was unresponsive, but then he swiftly sprang to life; pushing, biting and kicking. The Jedi just couldn't understand how someone could be so beautiful, and yet still so weak and frail.
His mate moaned something, but Qui-gon couldn't make it out. He was so adorable when he whimpered… Pulling away, Qui-gon intended to remove his tightening trousers, but his spiky-haired conquest stalled him by punching him in the nose. Oh… so he wants it rough, eh? Fine, he will be mine nevertheless. With a stiff tug, he exposed the boy instead.
Qui-gon's complete loss of control would've disturbed him under normal circumstances, but at present all he was focused on was the tight little arse laid bare to him like a virgin offering. Unfastening his cream coloured pants with fumbling fingers, his arousal sprang out to greet him – long and erect. While he steadied himself with a hand on the boy's flank, he drove in between the tensed cheeks slowly. The skin was so smooth and soft and so… young…
Young? Who was this young boy in front of him? Something was picking at his mind, preventing him from pushing past that puckered ring and fulfilling his need. He knew this boy well, very well. Like a dazed bantha, he shook his head and mane in dizzying confusion until it slowly seeped in. Obi… Obi-wan Kenobi… my apprentice… my Padawan.
My Padawan!!
What am I doing?!
Qui-gon's head cleared in a flash, almost painfully, and he recoiled from his tensed and trembling Padawan in horror. "What am I doing?" He repeated to himself.
Obi-wan was still half naked, face pressed against the seat and butt still half in the air. Snatching up his robe, Qui-gon gently, if very unsteadily, wrapped it around his shaking ball of Padawan and guided him upright in the cushioned chair. The Jedi Master took one look at his pale, pinched face and realized he had no clue what to do next. The boy was obviously traumatized and withdrawn; his eyes were wide and unfocused, his skin was pallid and clammy, and his body was as tense as durasteel.
After hastily refastening his garments, Qui-gon placed a hand on either side of his apprentice's head and whispered, "I'm sorry… I'm so sorry." He received no response. Through heir bond he sensed that at one point in time during the assault Obi-wan's troubled mind had sought refuge in the force, so no further emotional harm could befall him. How ironic; Qui-gon had taught him how to do that.
"Obi-wan, please…" Never did his voice break a whisper as he begged for his Padawan to return to him. But the younger Jedi still didn't respond.
Be calm. The older man took a deep breath and sorted through all the possible solutions to this drastic problem. He didn't want to damage his apprentice anymore with unnecessary physical contact nor did he want to invade his unwilling mind. All he could do was to encourage and implore through his voice their now taut bond.
After a few more minutes the obliviousness receded from Obi-wan's face and was replaced by fearful anticipation. He shrunk back into the springy seat as far as he could and clutched the far too spacious robe over his nudity.
As though for comfort and reassurance, the older Jedi reached out, but was confronted with enlarged eyes and a shade of skin lighter than before. Definitely no more touching, he confirmed and withdrew his body. Neither of them could speak and the seemingly infinite silence screamed along his senses like a rusty dull blade along raw nerves. He had to say something, that much was clear, but what? How about an apology, you sick bastard? He thought bitterly.
"I… Obi-wan…" He began quietly and licked his dry lips, "I owe you an apology. I do not expect forgiveness, but I am truly sorry."
The boy averted his face and did not speak for a long time. When he eventually did, a lone tear slid down his nose and dropped in his lap. "Why?" The question was hoarse and barely audible.
"I…" A million excuses flooded Qui-gon's mind – It's not my fault, I wasn't in control, I didn't know what I was doing etc. –, but he abandoned them as quickly as they came. No, he would be completely honest and not beat around the bush. "I don't know. There is nothing that can neither excuse the wrongs nor the harms that I have inflicted upon you."
His Padawan nodded his head in acceptance and shut his eyes for a brief moment. "It's almost dawn."
Qui-gon's head swivelled around and peered intently out of the cave's maw. He had been so absorbed in the moment that he hadn't even noticed. Faint veins of magenta and rose streaked out from the irregular horizon to the just lightening sky. The warmth and beauty of that sunrise outside was a stark contrast to the agitation and turmoil inside.
A stream of uneasiness trickled along the Jedi Master's senses, and he realized that there was no more time for conversation and dwelling – they needed to leave. "Time to go, Obi-wan. I sense a disturbance." He explained. "I'll check out the speeder."
With much relief, he took one leap and was free of the stifling confines that he and his apprentice shared. He surveyed the condition of their vehicle and was not pleased with what he discovered. They were very low on fuel as a result of a gaping hole in the tank, and one of the engines appeared as though it would never run again. Obviously the speeder wouldn't function well enough to serve for an air escape.
Running a hand through his loosend hair, he stalked over to the lip of the cave and glanced at the surrounding environment. The cliff that they were situated in was precipitous, but not impossible to descend, and below was dense vegetation that would provide concealment from an overhead enemy. Perfect, he thought.
Qui-gon turned at a shuffling behind him. Obi-wan had donned his own roan red robe and held it securely to him as he extended Qui-gon's own out to him. The teen wouldn't meet his seeking eyes.
Once Qui-gon cleared his throat, he gave Obi-wan the update on their state of affairs and his plan. "We'll climb down the cliff and camp in the forest until the risk of being discovered has ebbed. Then we will either find a transport of our own, or contact Coruscant for aid."
"Right."
"Let's get a move on then."
A/N: Well? Should I continue?
