CHAPTER 25

Kila kept a surreptitious eye on the young boy as she chatted with Padmé, her heart aching for the way he bolted his food and those hazel eyes that were far too wary for a child. Interestingly, he showed no inclination to flee, although she suspected it would be different once his belly was full.

She was surprised at the strong maternal urges the gangling youth inspired in her – there was something about him … Shaking off her preoccupation; she leaned over and topped up his bowl with more broth then handed him several more pieces of Corellian flatbread. "Thanks, lady," he muttered around a mouthful of flatbread.

"You're welcome," Kila said and patted his grubby hand. He flinched back – his eyes suddenly large in his too-thin face – and Kila seethed. The boy was simply starved for affection. "Eat up, kid – you're too skinny."

The boy looked at her assessingly then shrugged and returned to his meal.

Kila smiled at the scruffy brown head then turned back to Padmé, and resumed her conversation.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

An hour or so later, Padmé bid Kila goodbye and stepped into the swoop piloted by Dormé.

Kila put her hand on the skinny boy's arm. "So … what now?" she asked.

"What ya mean?" the boy returned.

"You've had a meal and rain is threatening," Kila said. "Have you somewhere decent to stay? If not, I have a spare room."

"Ain't no-one owns me, lady – not no more!" the boy said angrily. "I work for myself."

"I'm not trying to buy you," Kila countered. "I was a slave for many years on Tatooine – I'm not about to subject someone else to that."

Again; another sharp assessing look from those too-old eyes. "Your guy … he ain't gonna want some scrawny kid from the streets messin' up his place."

Kila smothered a grin – Obi-Wan had recently educated her as to Qui-Gon's propensity for collecting strays. "Oh, you have nothing to worry about there, believe me. Qui-Gon has to be one of the best people I've ever met."

The boy shrugged his shoulders. "All right, then," he said.

They moved along the street then he suddenly said; "So … he a Jedi, too?"

"All his life," Kila replied, immeasurably pleased that the boy was showing even a little interest. "He's been a Master for about thirty years, but he's only recently got onto their Council." She chuckled. "He's a bit of a rebel – your kind of Jedi."

They got to the transport stop and the rain came down. Kila flung her cloak around the boy – those rags he wore were no protection at all. The boy moved away quickly. "I can't take your cloak, lady – you'll get soaked," he said. "Me … I'm used to it."

Kila smiled at the rough chivalry – there was something about this lad that was charming in a brash fashion. He'd probably grow up to be quite the loveable scoundrel. "We'll share," she said, holding the cloak open. "No sense in you getting soaked, you inane infant."

The boy scowled, but got back under the cloak. "I ain't an infant, lady – I'll be 12 in a few months."

"Oh, forgive me, Ancient One," Kila teased. "It was less than two hours ago that you were calling yourself a little kid." The swoop pulled up near them and Kila ushered the boy on, returning the pilot's scowl with one of her own. "He's with me," she said, casually moving her cloak to show the blaster. She rarely carried the kriffing thing but something had made her belt it to her side today.

"Ahh … of course," the pilot croaked.

It was only a short journey to the Jedi Temple and both Kila and the boy were silent throughout. The lad regarded everyone warily – as if he expected to be beaten or thrown out – and Kila divided her attention between her wedding gown and the puzzle of why she was so drawn to this skinny cynical youth.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

The boy followed Kila into the apartment and looked at it curiously. Big, clean, comfortable-looking. He eyed the various holos and wondered what he could get for the frames.

"Don't even think it," Kila said, and he started. Was she psychic? "This is where you can sleep," she added, flinging open a door and showing a small but comfortable bedroom. "Fresher is next door – I suggest you use it. I'll get you some clean clothes while you're showering."

"A real water shower?" he blurted out.

Kila laughed. "I felt the same way the first time I had one," she confided. "I always feel so much better with a water shower than with the sonics." She pushed him gently into the fresher. "I'll get you some things – leave you in peace."

With that she bustled out of the fresher, leaving the lad staring after her, his throat curiously tight. He couldn't remember the last time he had cried, but he was perilously close to doing so now.

He ripped his ragged clothing off then stepped into the shower cubicle and switched on the water. Gods … he'd never felt anything so good!

When he stepped out of the fresher many minutes later, clad in clean pants and shirt, his nose twitched as he detected the unmistakable odor of Mandalorian Sweetcake. He went cautiously into the living area to find Kila curled up on a couch reading and eating a slice of cake. "Better?" she asked. He nodded cautiously. "Good," she continued. "Have a seat, kid, and stop looming. You're too young to be so tall already."

"Maybe you're too short," the boy shot back without thinking.

To his surprise, Kila guffawed then shoved the cake platter over to him. "Help yourself," she said then returned her attention to her book.

The boy sat down near the cake and reached out for a slice. He wolfed it down then took a second slice with a wary glance toward Kila. She didn't even raise her head from her book.

So far so good. But he would wait and see. He hadn't survived this long by trusting people.

The door opened and a very tall man came in. He gave a curious glance to the boy then Kila got up. "Hello, love," she said warmly.

"Hello," the man replied. The lad gathered that that was Kila's guy but couldn't recall his name. The big man turned to the lad and regarded him steadily from his towering height. "Enjoying Kila's cake, young man?" he inquired humorously, touching his upper lip.

The lad felt his own lip then hastily wiped off the cream mustache with his hand. "Yeah; it's good," he said.

"Are you visiting with us?" the big man continued, taking a seat near his betrothed and wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

"I … dunno," the lad mumbled, feeling himself grow hot under the collar as Kila snuggled into the man and kissed his neck. He was nearly twelve, after all – the hormones were flowing.

"Oh?" The man regarded him with eyes that were way too sharp for an old guy. "I'm Qui-Gon Jinn, by the way."

He extended his hand and the lad shook it, startled by the respectful gesture. "Good to meet ya," he replied but didn't offer his own name. He wasn't ready to trust them that much.

"No name, hey?" Qui-Gon said. "Do all Corellian boys go by "Hey you" or is it just you?" Then he yelped when Kila drove her elbow into his side.

"Don't tease him, you horrible old man!" she scolded with obvious affection. She turned to the lad and handed him a glass of blue liquid. "Ignore him," she advised with a grin. "I forgot to warn you about his penchant for mischief."

His what? To cover up his feeling of ignorance, the lad sipped warily at the liquid – on what remote planet was milk blue, anyway? – surprised to find that it was actually good.

He watched as the two Jedi continued their good-natured bickering and snickered when Kila put out her tongue at Qui-Gon.

"Don't point that thing at me unless you intend to use it," Qui-Gon teased.

"Please, dear; we have company!" Kila exclaimed in a shocked tone. Then she giggled. "Yoda deserves a medal for not killing you as a youngling."

Qui-Gon tugged Kila's hair. "Brat," he retaliated.

These people were weird, the boy decided now. But he couldn't help liking them.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Several hours later, the skinny lad – who didn't look quite so forlorn after a good meal and a wash-up – stood up and yawned. "I … I'm a bit tired," he said. "I'm gonna go sleep."

"All right," Kila said, fighting the urge to kiss his cheek. "Sleep well and we'll see how tomorrow goes."

"Yeah," the boy said gruffly. "Night, sir," he added then bent and pressed a hasty kiss to Kila's cheek. "Thanks for … ya know," he offered almost bashfully.

Then he was gone.

"Oh, khest …," Kila murmured, stunned at the spontaneous gesture of affection from the rough and tumble lad.

"As Obi-Wan would say, have we adopted another pathetic life-form?" Qui-Gon asked mildly.

"Too soon to say," Kila replied. "I met him earlier today – he was planning to rob either Padmé or myself." She sighed. "There's something about him, Qui-Gon … I've never wanted to mother someone so much. I think he could be a good kid if he wanted."

Qui-Gon nodded his head. "The boy is simply starved – physically and emotionally. It would be a very big job, even if we were able to take him in permanently. The lad may be a runaway in which case he belongs back with his family."

"Maybe … but what little boy runs away from home if he's happy there?" Kila argued. "He's very streetwise – that means he's been on his own for a long time." She sighed then slipped her arm around Qui-Gon's waist. "Anyway, it could all be a moot point – he could leave before the sun comes up."

"One day at a time," Qui-Gon said. He cupped Kila's cheek with his large worn palm, and then kissed her sweetly. "You have such a soft heart, my love."

"And you don't?" Kila replied, thinking of how much he still loved little Anakin Skywalker – more than thirteen years after his death.

"Oh, I do – I don't deny it," Qui-Gon admitted. "I've never been ashamed of my warmer emotions." He grinned suddenly. "I recall how Master Yoda and I could sit for hours debating our emotions. I think he despaired of my ever mastering them. Yet he was one of the first to support lifting the ban on attachments."

Kila returned the grin. "Let me guess; you were the first, weren't you?"

"How did you know?"

Kila snorted. "Oh, please. If I was to look up the word 'trouble' I'd find your picture as an illustration."

Qui-Gon sighed. "I must have a masochistic streak or something to put up with all the abuse I get from you."

"You love it," Kila retorted, placing her hand on his thigh and squeezing the taut muscles. "Oooh …," she voiced her approval of said taut muscles.

A rumble of laughter issued from Qui-Gon's chest. "Wanton lass," he teased, effecting a strange brogue Kila had never heard from him.

"And you love that, too," Kila replied, starting when a warm hand slipped in under her shirt to caress a cotton-covered breast. "Ah … we've got company, remember?" she managed to say as her mind turned to mush. "Let's take this into the bedroom."

He pinched a nipple and she squeaked. "Sensible as always," the man commented airily, getting up and holding out his hand to her.

Kila tucked her hand into his and they made their way to their bedroom, turning off the luminaters. When they got to their bedroom, Kila paused, feeling suddenly uncertain. Their young guest was using the spare bedroom so she couldn't change for bed there. Maybe it was time to pluck up the courage and undress in front of Qui-Gon.

While she had vacillated Qui-Gon had stripped down completely – it was awfully warm tonight. He bent to pick up the discarded clothing and she sighed in appreciation as his taut rear end flexed.

It's now or never, Kila, she told herself. She unbuttoned her shirt swiftly, and then shrugged out of the sturdy undergarment. Then she bit her lip and pulled at the drawstring of her pants. As her pants and briefs fell to the floor she looked up uncertainly. Qui-Gon gave her a warm smile then turned away to put his clothes into the wash basket.

Kila dumped her own clothes into the basket then got into bed – it was far too hot for a sleep shirt but she felt terribly exposed. Qui-Gon got in beside her and gave her a wicked grin. "Now … where were we?" he asked, and then swallowed her burst of laughter in a hungry kiss.

FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE-FORCE

Firm where she needed to be, soft where he liked her, Qui-Gon explored his lover's nude body with the sure strokes of an experienced man. She trembled when one of his hands slipped between her thighs but parted her legs slightly to allow him to stroke the soft delicate skin of her inner thigh.

His experienced eye discerned her arousal and he cupped the center of her femininity, feeling the warmth and slight dampness. A bright blush covered her face and chest and she squeezed her eyes shut.

Distress, embarrassment and even humiliation radiated from her and Qui-Gon lifted his hand away quickly. "What is it?" he asked gently.

Kila heaved a sigh, and then bit her lip. "Sorry," she muttered. "I know we're getting married soon, but part of me feels like … like I'm doing something wrong. I know that's stupid and illogical – but that's how I feel."

Qui-Gon was vividly reminded by those words of the shy inexperienced girl-woman he'd met only a few short months ago. She'd never been shown that sexual intimacy could be pleasurable – had only ever seen the seedier side at Gardulla's palace. She'd come a long way in the last few weeks, but there was still a way to go for her to claim her sexuality.

"It's not stupid," he told her firmly. "If you don't want me to touch you a certain way, just tell me. I'll follow your lead. I want us to have a long, healthy, active sex life – it should never be an obligation for either of us. We just have to talk to each other."

Kila sighed then nodded her head. "I do want to be able to make love with you," she said, resting her hand on his abdomen and playing with the line of hair that led down to his groin.

That small hand slipped round to his back and rested briefly on his buttocks, before stroking the divide between his cheeks. And now Qui-Gon tensed, flashing back to when the Togorian had raped him. "Kila … don't," he said.

She pulled her hand away and sighed again. "Too soon," she surmised correctly.

"Mmm," Qui-Gon agreed. Her tiny soft fingers were the antithesis of the Togorian's claws and penis, yet he'd feared violation nonetheless.

Kila gave a soft sigh then cuddled into him, resting her head on his chest and a hand on his abdomen. "We make quite a pair," she said sardonically.

"Mmm," Qui-Gon replied softly. He raised his head when he heard a door creak and saw light. "Our young guest is wandering," he said. "I'd better see what he's up to."

"No." Kila tangled her legs in his to prevent him moving, heedless of the fact that he could overpower her easily. "I need to know if he has good in him – and to do that, I have to trust him."

Qui-Gon looked at her sweet, determined face and wondered if she was going to exercise 'the pout'. "All right," he acquiesced quietly. "They're only things – they can be replaced.

Except for his holos of Ani …

He sat up slightly, not quite as willing as Kila to trust the hardened youth, and then started when there was a tap on the door. He flung the cover quickly over their nude bodies then said, "Come in."

The boy entered, his hair tousled, his eyes sleepy, and holding a glass of water. "I didn't mean to wake you," he said. "I just … needed a drink."

"We weren't asleep," Qui-Gon told the lad, looking carefully at him for evidence of subterfuge. So far, so good.

"A 'ight," the lad drawled out in gutter Corellian. "Well … night, sir. Kila."

"Good night, sweetheart," Kila said, sitting up and clutching the sheet to her.

Blushing to the roots of his hair, the lad made a strangled noise and nearly scuttled out of the room. Qui-Gon gave a soft laugh and Kila glanced at him, eyebrows raised. "The hormones are flowing," he said.

"Oh!" Kila looked down at herself. "But I'm twenty years older than him."

"Doesn't matter," Qui-Gon said certainly. "You're young enough and you're no relation." He hugged her when she blushed. "And I have to admire his taste." He laughed again.

Kila stuck her tongue out at him. "I loathe you," she mumbled, sliding down the pillow and under the sheet until all he could see was the top of her head.

"Really? Somehow I doubt that." Qui-Gon burrowed under the covers and sought a plump breast, worrying a sweet pink nipple with his lips. It tightened under his ministrations and he felt her hand slide into his hair, nails scratching gently at his scalp.

She trembled and he heard a sigh issue from her, so switched his attention to the other nipple until it was just as red and taut. He kissed his way down her soft belly, stopping short of her center – she'd been distressed when he'd put his hand there, so would not respond well if he gave in to his urge to see if she tasted just as sweet there as her nipples.

He made his way back up her body then buried his face in her throat, searching out that spot that made her groan. Sure enough, a breathy moan issued from his lover, and he shifted uncomfortably as his own arousal became nearly painful in its intensity.

Soft lips rested on his forehead then Kila said, "You're … hurting."

"Yes," Qui-Gon admitted. "It's nothing I can't handle though." That was a poor choice of words, he had to admit, but he wasn't thinking too clearly right now.

"May I …?" She paused and he could feel the heat of her blush. "Could I … see it?"

Kila had of course seen him nude before, but never when he was aroused. This was a major step for her and he wasn't going to turn her down. "Of course," he said. They turned down the sheets and he rolled onto his back so that his lover could examine him.

The blush now covered her neck and breasts but she regarded him steadily, a hand resting on his thigh, very near to his manhood. That small hand ventured higher and he nodded his permission then moaned when her soft fingers stroked cautiously up his length. "So … ahh … what are you thinking?" he managed to say.

She bit her lip then smiled shyly. "It's kind of … ugly," she said.

Qui-Gon had to laugh at that – she was nothing if not truthful. "I can't argue with that," he said, trembling as her hand continued its stroking motion. "Kila … if you keep doing that I won't be able to control myself," he got out.

She blushed again, but moved her hands away to rest on his pectorals and play with the nipples. "So … it was all right? I didn't push you too far?"

"Force; no!" Qui-Gon was quick to dispel that notion. "No. You're soft and wonderful – I haven't come so close to losing control since my first experience."

"Oh." Kila pulled her bottom lip in between her teeth. "How … old were you? Your first time."

"Fifteen," Qui-Gon said. He smiled at the memory of that fumbling adolescent experience. "She was another Padawan – 17, blonde and beautiful."

"An older woman, hmm?" Kila giggled. "And it wasn't very good."

"Looking back; no," Qui-Gon admitted. "She was a virgin too – our hormones may have been ready, but our hearts and minds weren't."

"So … who?" Kila probed curiously.

"She died a long time ago during a dispute on Ansion," Qui-Gon said softly. Theirs had been an adolescent forbidden love that had lasted barely three months, but they had remained friends until she had died.

"Ah. I'm sorry," Kila said.

Qui-Gon tilted her chin up and brushed a soft kiss over her full lips. "Thank you, my love," he said. "Now … I suggest we get some sleep – we've got a busy day tomorrow." He pulled the covers back over them both and smiled when Kila snuggled her nude body into his without any hint of self-consciousness.

She rested her head on his chest and sighed deeply. "Good night, Qui-Gon," she said.

"Good night, Kila." Reaching out with the Force, Qui-Gon doused the luminater and quiet reigned in their home for the rest of the night.