Guedeh la Flambeau - This Guedeh is the instant of brilliant
seduction experienced by a moth before its body joins with the flame
it loves so much.
Obi-Wan could not keep his body from trembling in anticipation.
During their stay on Vau'Karreh he had been witness to pleasures of
all kinds and to such excess that it had made him feel bolder,
bawdier, more sensual.
Sensual was hardly a word he usually associated with a Jedi Padawan.
Life was usually so ascetic at the Jedi Temple, he could hardly
recognise himself. It was too easy to forget who you were here and
lose yourself to the planet's corporeal charms.
This evening had been like so many others on this planet: laughter,
rich food and intoxicating beverages. What made it different was
that Qui-Gon had joined him in the informality of the street, and,
for once he got to openly bask in the ardour of the older man's
affection for him. Something that they would never, no, could never
do on Coruscant.
He stood near his Master to watch that evening's parade and the gaudy
floats took on a beauty of their own to the young man, as he easily
snatched the long strings of metallic beads, thrown by the boisterous
krewes, out of the air and wound them around Qui-Gon's neck, earning
him at the very least a smile and at the most a quick kiss to the
inside of his wrist that caused his pulse to speed and the heavy
evening air to seem even warmer.
He stood just behind the older man, his arms looped loosely around
broad shoulders, where they sat, just outside the wrought iron
fencing of one of the old garden, near their quarters, having their
palms read by a large, smiling woman who went by the name of Madame
Coco. He laughed lightly at Qui-Gon's weak protests to some of her
predictions, assuring the woman that if all of this was indeed true
he would have had some warning of it in his morning meditations and
being summarily ignored.
Obi-Wan thought the evening was almost perfect as they watched a good-
natured and ribald roast of partygoers by their friends and
companions in one of the narrow streets. He rested his head against
his Master's solid chest and his arm wound possessively around his
trim waist while they watched the proceedings.
A frisson ran through his body when he thought again about how short
their time would be on this planet. For them to explore the depth of
this new relationship. Once they left, they would once again have to
resume their station in the Jedi. In order to openly pursue such a
relationship, they would have to forfeit their vows to the Jedi and
leave the Order. This was something, he had to begrudgingly admit,
neither one of them was ready to do.
When the young man that Obi-Wan had been lavishing attention on just
a few nights ago took the stage, he called for a toast to the two
Jedi. Obi-Wan, laughingly, pulled Qui-Go to the stage to receive
their public ribbing, but all the young man did was produce two
lacquered papier machée of burnished copper to be put on the Jedi.
At first, Obi-Wan laughed and waited for the joke to begin. The
anger being barely contained behind his Master's shields caused him
to look in the older man's direction. Even though his regal features
were concealed behind a façade that obscured his expression and made
his face even more unreadable than even during the most intense
negotiations, the eyes that glared at Obi-Wan's friend had become
cold, hard points of light. That was when Qui-Gon had slipped like a
shadow into the crowd and Obi-Wan had not seen him since.
The night air shifted the white sheers in their quarters in slow
billowing waves. The wooden floor creaked beneath his pacing
footsteps. He had been so upset by Qui-Gon's disappearance that he
had returned to their quarters, knowing the older man would have to
return there eventually.
Several hours passed and still no word from Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan
desperately wished he knew what had upset his mentor so badly and
with equal fervour hoped it wasn't him.
He heard the door to their quarters open and close and felt the
warmth of his Master's presence wash over him and he breathed a sigh
of relief. The earlier anger was gone and Obi-Wan felt only
affection and arousal through their bond. As the older man drew
nearer, the heat grew more intense until Obi-Wan started to shift
uncomfortably as the humid air started to feel dank and stifling.
The tall and powerfully built Jedi sent a soothing caress through
their training bond, reassuring and calming the young man. Obi-Wan
felt gentle hands cup the sides of his face and turn him to look into
his Master's eyes. He felt the ghosts of Qui-Gon's warm, blunt
fingers press into his face through the polished surface of the mask
he had forgotten was still there. His Master still wore his mask
also, so his expression was all but buried, only his eyes held the
silent apology. Obi-Wan drew their faces together so the masks
bumped against each other then scraped slightly as he lightly moved
his face against that of his Master in a closed-lipped parody of a
lover's kiss.
Obi-Wan pulled back slightly and sent a query to his Master through
their training bond, asking him about his earlier reaction and
disappearance. Without saying a word, Qui-Gon turned him to face the
mirror at the end of the young man's bed and then stood slightly
behind him.
Obi-Wan's eyes raked up the two reflected forms before him. He and
his Master were similarly clad in loose leggings and wrapped in
beads. His Master was taller and broader in the shoulder than he
was, but nothing out of the ordinary and certainly nothing to cause
offence. Then Obi-Wan's eyes shifted to their faces and his heart
froze. The smooth, coppery masks that covered their usually
dissimilar faces were exactly the same, expressionless, featureless,
and androgynous.
Obi-Wan felt the sting of comprehension fill him when he realised
that this was how people saw them: neutered facsimiles of their
species. What was worse was the dawning truth that that was how they
were. Serenity over passion. Peace over anger. Away from the
confines of the Temple, these simple tenets had been thrown into a
harsh light and exposed for what they were. Delusions to be placed
over emotion, decoys to keep a barrier between the Jedi and the
people they served
No matter what he did or ever tried to do, there would be a barrier
there between him and those around him. A counterfeit of serenity
that he wore as sure as the oval-eyed abomination on his face.
Serenity was the way of the Jedi, but at what cost?
Qui-Gon shifted Obi-Wan back around to face him. The young man
reluctantly met his gaze and felt the affection surround him. He
drew his Master's body to his own and felt the heat of the older
man's arousal pressing into his abdomen. Obi-Wan closed his eyes and
started to grind his hips slowly against the solid form before him.
He wanted to live in the moment and enjoy what his Master could offer
him and swallow the bitterness inside him because he knew that it was
all the older man was ever going to be able to offer him. It was an
uphill battle he was afraid he would lose if he were offered more.
He sensed Qui-Gon's finger's scrape lightly against the slippery
surface that separated him from the tender caress. Qui-Gon leaned in
and nuzzled the cool, polished shell into Obi-Wan's neck, increasing
the trembling in the young man. He gasped and arched as he battled
the myriad of thoughts swam into his brain.
As Qui-Gon ran his polished, alien face down Obi-Wan's torso, the
young Jedi gasped into his mask and he found its confines stifling.
His breath trapped and kept too near to his face by the mask he
wore. He was suffocating under it. He wanted to tear it away and
breathe free, but something stayed his hand.
He panted and gasped for air under the unforgiving surface as he was
thrown to the bed and deft fingers found the laces to his leggings
and undid them. The maddening plane of his master's concealed face
rubbed against his hardened shaft and he moaned and writhed
underneath the satire of a lover's touch. The heat radiating from
the body he loved so much was threatening to consume him hole, but
the maddening barriers placed between he and his Master held him
back. They impeded and stifled them, threatening to extinguish the
flame that should never be, but stubbornly burned hotter than any
star.
Obi-Wan obeyed without question as the maddeningly gentle touch
guided him over to his belly and his gasp was muffled as the back of
his leggings was yanked down and the cool air hit his naked buttocks.
He moaned in protest and he felt the weight of his Master's body
shift away from him, but groaned as it came back, and something cool
and slick was drizzled down his crevice, heating quickly against the
flush of his skin. His groan turned into a moan as hot fingers
prepared him and stretched him. Obi-Wan opened his eyes and looked
into the reflection in the mirror. There he was, the perfect,
passionless, expressionless Jedi being methodically prepared by his
equally expressionless partner for what was meant to be the most
intimate of joinings.
Was this all that was allowed to them? A methodical release of
desire as opposed to making love? Obi-Wan wanted to rail against the
unfairness of it, but all thought was momentarily driven from his
mind as he felt his Master position himself behind him and breach his
body.
The slow burn of the welcomed intrusion grounded Obi-Wan in the
undeniable reality of the situation, even if the rest seemed like a
dream to him. Something about being taken by this masquerade who
wore Qui-Gon's Force signature was at once enthralling and
devastating for the young man. He gasped and pressed back underneath
the other man. He heard a muffled grunt from the man above him as he
took him to the root and rested there.
Slowly, the body behind him started to move and Obi-Wan looked into
the androgynous face in the mirror and sought out his Master's eyes.
The indigo eyes that peered at him through the almond shaped holes
cut into the mask's surface were filled with love and hope. He
looked away again, unable to acknowledge the truth. He groaned low
in his throat as the tempo picked up and the thrusting of the body
behind his became more frenzied and desperate.
He cursed the barriers between them; always they would be like this.
Intimate and separate. Together and alone. Master and apprentice.
Never allowed to love one another the way they wanted to. He arched
and gasped as the length that speared into him rubbed across the
sensitive nub buried deep within his body and his Master's hand
snaked underneath his hip to grasp the straining flesh there. This
much he could allow but no more. For the first time, he was thankful
for the masks that hid them from each other.
He knew in one terrible instant that if he had one taste more than
this; if he saw the emotion on the older man's face as they bucked
and twisted together in this primal rhythm, he would be lost. He
would never be able to go back. He told himself it was better this
way, this was allowed. Permissible. Acceptable. All of it hung on
the balance of the barriers erected between them, the ones that
should never be crossed. The ones it was forbidden to cross.
The relentless thrusting into his body and manipulation of his
sensitive cock became like any other kata to him behind his disguise
of borrowed serenity. He moaned and bucked and accepted the pleasure
the body behind him was giving. He looked up again and this time
saw that his Master had removed his mask and now it was Qui-Gon whole
and complete who moved and drove within him. Their eyes locked again
and Obi-Wan felt he was falling forward into a bright abyss and Qui-
Gon's soul extended to him.
Obi-Wan rested his head against his arms and screwed his eyes shut,
wiling the image out of his head. Perhaps they should be no more
than drones exacting their roles. There was comfort to be had
there. He had been taught from a young age that the impulse to
possess and be possessed by another was wrong. A deadly trail that
led to jealousy and anger. But still the light of Qui-Gon's spirit
called to him and, entranced, he would always move toward it.
He jerked under his Master's weight, the length that filled him
suddenly expanded as he felt the older man pour his very essence into
his willing body. The mask Qui-Gon had worn, fell uselessly to the
floor and a tongue traced the delicate shell of Obi-Wan's ear.
"I love you." Barely a whisper against his sweat-dampened hair, he
heard it and sobbed out loud as he came.
It would have been kinder if he had never known.
Feed the Muse
