I arrived back at the Temple late at night, a good five cycles before Obi-Wan was expecting me, but didn't want to contact him, either through our bond or through the comlink. I wanted my homecoming to be a surprise, so that, before anything else distracted us, I could thank him face-to-face for the generous and caring gesture he'd made while I'd been on the Rhialtan moon. Reaching surreptitiously through the bond and looking through my Padawan's eyes, I was somewhat disappointed to find that he wasn't in our quarters. Rather, he appeared to be headed for one of the training salles.

I followed and arrived a few clicks later only to find the salle deserted, with most of the Padawans having gone back to their quarters or out of Temple for a bit of entertainment if their Masters permitted. Obi-Wan had probably stayed in Temple during the two days I'd been gone, and I didn't know whether to smile or shake my head at his devotion. My Padawan's vibration called to me from the dressing room beyond the training area. Pushing through the doors, I headed through the maze of narrow corridors and lockers in time to hear a snatch of conversation wafting over one bank.

"I want him back, Obi-Wan."

I knew that irritated voice: it was Dagan. All but lurching to a halt, I skulked up against the lockers and shielded my presence in the Force as best I could. Dagan certainly wouldn't sense me -- we'd never been close enough for that -- but Obi-Wan's sensitivity was such that it was a definite possibility.

"So you want him back." Obi-Wan's tone was sardonic silk. "You sound as if you're expecting me to gift-wrap and deposit him at your door. I think that you're forgetting Qui-Gon gets a vote. I don't seem to recall hearing him cry out your name lately when he's climaxed. You threw him away, remember? Thought you'd found someone better. Things didn't work out and so now you're back, trying reclaim him?"

"The entire Temple knows that he doesn't really want you, Kenobi. He's just licking his wounds until I come to my senses -- which I have."

"Talked to the entire Temple, have you? Or maybe you took a survey. I used to look up to you, Dagan. Now, all I can see is a pathetic bastard who dropped his shiny toy and now he wants to pick back up." Obi-Wan laughed, a bitter sound. "You think that I'm a shite-shy little first-year Padawan who will shrink back and just let you have him? In your dreams, Sharat, because that's the only place you're going to screw Qui-Gon again as long as I'm around. Shall we spar?"

Obi-Wan slammed his locker door, and Dagan growled something I didn't catch. I waited until the two had cleared the changing room before heading with all haste up the back stairs and onto the Masters deck. The small room was dark-screened and Force-shielded; Masters could watch their Padawans in privacy here, exchange covert conversation and criticism and learn how their apprentice's progress looked to others. The room was as empty as the salle tonight, and I was in time to see Dagan and my Padawan finish their warm-ups on opposite ends of the matt. I felt Obi-Wan ground properly within the Force and release his anger before walking to the center of the room.

Adjusting the salle's amplifier controls, I was able to pick up sounds inside the room just as Dagan approached my Padawan. Foregoing the traditional words to be uttered at the beginning of every practice engagement, the two men barely saluted each other before igniting their sabers. If there had been sharp teeth in their prior conversation, I could tell that there were to be poisoned fangs in this sparring session.

Dagan launched himself at Obi-Wan, who easily parried and then repelled the Jedi with a Force shove at his forehead. Knight Sharat had no choice but to stumble backward or risk serious injury to his neck. Dagan next turned to the hit-and-run technique for which he was famous; his hitting was hard and fast, while his running consisted of extensive aerial gymnastics. Obi-Wan shook his head, gave an ironic smile, and burrowed into defending himself, waiting for Sharat's energy to run out. Such was my former lover's ego and impatience to show off that I knew he'd exhaust his resources sooner rather than later.

While watching Obi-Wan keep up with the knight, but not challenge him quite yet, I reflected that Dagan reminded me of Xanatos in several ways, none of them pleasant. Uppermost was his seeming tendency to blame others for situations he'd inspired all by himself. If I was any judge of Obi-Wan's abilities, I predicted that, in Dagan's arrogance and apparent desperation, he had already underestimated my Padawan's abilities and knew it. Xanatos had made the same mistake in our last, fatal encounter a few years back.

It didn't take very long for Dagan to decide that his aerials were wasted on this upstart Padawan. Grounding himself, he began the attack in earnest, only to discover that Obi-Wan had been holding back. After spending years with me, my Padawan could easily best a taller, stronger opponent, as Dagan fast found out. More than that, the knight now found his own techniques being used against him, as Obi-Wan leaped into the air and slashed downward with his lightsaber in a fierce offensive that had the knight ducking and rolling to evade serious injury. /I sent him to you learn aerials,/ I thought smugly, /there's nothing else you could teach him; there never was./

Dagan came up dancing on the balls of his feet, only to discover that he'd miscalculated: Obi-Wan was now behind him. Rather than mime taking the Jedi's head and end the sparring session, Obi-Wan chose to slap the Dagan's butt with his lightsaber. Shouting a laugh as Dagan yelped his outrage, Obi-Wan gave a feral grin and danced backward. The knight's control shredded completely with that very personal attack, and I thought perhaps Dagan's Master had done him a disservice to have seen him knighted without rooting out that particular childish reaction.

"You little bastard," the speakers in the room provided -- the only conversation thus far in the room.

Obi-Wan arched an elegant eyebrow and nodded. I knew that look, that acknowledgment. It said, 'This bastard is having a good time at your expense, and he plans to keep doing so. Not much you can do about it.'

Dagan roared into another offensive, but Obi-Wan riposted and drove him back to the point that the knight nearly lost his saber as well as his balance. Centering over his own point of gravity, Obi-Wan sobered abruptly and gathered the Force inward. Narrowing his gaze and his focus, he pushed his advantage, advancing and slamming Dagan's blade once, twice, three times until the knight went down on one knee with his blade raised in a desperate attempt to ward off further blows.

It didn't work. Obi-Wan continued to pound him. Dagan continued to yield until he was leaning back awkwardly, with the back of his head almost touching the mat.

"Yield," Obi-Wan growled.

"I... yield," came the unwilling, gasped words, forced through gritted teeth.

Obi-Wan checked his next blow, stepping back and bowing slightly, but not extinguishing his lightsaber. He'd learned all too often in other battles to never turn his back on an opponent unless it was well and truly finished. This one was not, and probably never would be.

"I acknowledge your defeat, Knight Sharat, and look forward to our next session."

The usual words were said softly, but with the same bite as I'd heard in the changing room. Stalking around Dagan, my Padawan left the knight panting. Foregoing the changing room, he exited the salle and headed for our rooms. I stood in the darkness a few minutes more, pondering what I'd just witnessed and my churning emotions regarding it. Obi-Wan's own feelings were all too clear to me through the bond.

My Padawan had thought me far away from Coruscant. He had thought himself and the bond to be very much alone this night at the Temple. As a consequence, he hadn't bothered to shield as tightly as he normally did when I was around. Through that open bond had come a fury of thoughts and emotions that left me in absolutely no doubt of how important I was to my Padawan.

In a matter of ten clicks, I'd seen Obi-Wan wipe the floor with one of the most capable knights in the Order. The protective ferocity thrumming still thrumming through the bond told me that, rather than fighting on his own behalf, Obi-Wan had fought to defend and claim *me*. More than that, he'd taken great pride in being able to do so. /That one was for you, Master,/ was uppermost in his mind now, and he knew all too well and took great pride in the fact that his technique had been grounded in what I'd taught him.

He had learned well. Very well.

Now, on his way through the Temple, Obi-Wan continued to think, while I continued to eavesdrop. /How dare he just waltz in and expect me to curl up and die where Qui-Gon's concerned? So we're not lovers? Fine. So Qui-Gon's not interested in making love with me? Fine. Dagan doesn't know that, doesn't need to know that. Sharat was my Master's lover, and look what that did. Not sharing a bed with him sure as hell doesn't mean that I love Qui-Gon any less, or that I want him any less, or....

/Damn, but I can't help feeling that he's mine! I love him so fucking much, it's bad enough thinking that he's going to find someone new eventually, but I really can't stand the thought of him going back to that little shite. If Qui-Gon wants to do that, I'll have to suck it up and accept it, but... but... dammit, NO, he's not going back to him! If I have to fight Sharat again and again, if I have to follow my Master around every minute of every day to keep those two apart, I'll bloody well do it. Even if Qui-Gon doesn't want me, he doesn't have to put up that particular arrogant bastard who will never love anybody but himself./

Vaguely, I was aware of Dagan shuffling his humiliated way into the changing room. Still awash with Obi-Wan's emotions, as well as my own stunned amazement, I stood in the empty room and debated whether to reach through the open bond and assure my Padawan that his battle had not been in vain; Dagan Sharat would be seeing nothing of me.

Obi-Wan was in love with me. I had known that we shared a tight training bond and that we were intimate friends. In hindsight, I could see that he'd nursemaided me carefully through my breakup with Dagan. I had also been well aware that Obi-Wan enjoyed being with me and didn't appear to be seeing anyone else. Nor had he seemed interested in expanding his social horizons for a number of months, not since Dagan had left my life and we'd shared a kiss at Indiscretions.

Obi-Wan was in love with me, but what was I permitted -- what did I dare -- to feel for him? Bowing my head, and opened myself to the Force. It shone like a beacon of dancing light across our bond, showing the way. *This* was where I was meant to be. *This* was why all of my past relationships had never quite worked out, and why it had always felt so good to just be with my Padawan.

Yes, he was young. But not too young. He'd been the one constant in my life since Xanatos had left, the one to help me heal then, and again when Dagan had left. He had been patient and loving for years, meeting my needs and setting his own aside for how long? How was it that I'd been so blind to the belonging that was already between us? How was it that Obi-Wan had never told me how he felt?

I was stunned to realize that I shared Obi-Wan's feelings of possessiveness and defensiveness. We'd fought side-by-side more often than I could count, and part of me had risen up in every battle to insist that the will of the Force should do whatever it wished with me, but Obi-Wan should not be injured. Events hadn't always listened to me, but I'd always assumed that my insistence was merely evidence of a Master's natural protectiveness for a Padawan. Now, with the Force pointing the way, I could see our mutual feelings for what they were: the foundation of a soul-bond wherein we loved each other so deeply that we would each guard the other's life with our own. Were one of us to die tomorrow, one's death would affect the other for life. Should that bond be acknowledged by both of us and allowed to expand and strengthen, we would become so entwined that neither one of us be able to outlive the other.

I had no objection to that, for a life without Obi-Wan was not a life I wished to live. My Padawan's actions over the past years and his words this night had made me see that he felt the same.

Possessiveness and defense... when had that pattern between us been established, I wondered? Did its roots go back to the first time he'd called out to me, when he was not yet my Padawan and we did not share a conventional bond, but I'd heard him nonetheless? Had the Force used that first fight we had shared, against a murder of draigons, to begin the link that had grown into so much more over the years without either of us being the wiser?

We'd shared but one kiss since then, and I hadn't known that Obi-Wan had wanted me. Or perhaps, to be more truthful, I hadn't believed that a man as beautiful and perfect as Obi-Wan had become could ever want someone as scarred as I was and as scared as I could be on occasion. He'd never allowed me to see his possessiveness before; always, he'd acted the dutiful Padawan, subject to my whims and needs and entirely focused on his lessons.

Except when he had insisted that I dance with him on private excursions out of the Temple. Except when he insisted that we continue sharing time together beyond that which was required of a Master and his Padawan. Except when he had manipulated things so that there was no one else of any consequence in our lives, that we live as monks if my lovers were going to keep hurting me.

I could see it all so clearly now. I could see, too, that I had accepted and condoned my Padawans machinations without fully realizing what was behind them. Bowing my head, I admitted to myself that I'd taken advantage of Obi-Wan's possessiveness and his defending me, even as I'd closed my eyes to it. For many months, now, I'd been contented to let the Temple rumors grow: Obi-Wan and I were lovers, those rumors said, and we'd already established a lover's bond: only my sense of privacy or Obi-Wan's impending knighthood -- choose your debate -- had prevented us from approaching the Council and requesting official sanction. I'd been proud and secure behind that rumor, never questioning my own motivations, much less my Padawan's.

Only Dagan had seen through those rumors. Only Dagan had sensed that, as close as Obi-Wan and I were, sexual sharing was not part of that intimacy. Not yet. Dagan knew all too well how I behaved toward a lover; apparently, I had offered him clues by not living up to my part of the bargain in public.

Rising from my meditation, I realized that my oversight was one which could be corrected just as soon as the Force revealed the proper way to do so. Obi-Wan needed me as a man needs another man, and he would have me. I would also have him. The bond would grow between us, uniting us more closely than either of us probably imagined two people could be united. And then, Force help the next knight who tried to come between us.

Leaving the salle, I wound my way through the endless corridors to return to our quarters. Reaching through the bond, I alerted Obi-Wan to my presence, but found myself now blocked by a soft wall of mental static. Entering our rooms, I found my Padawan kneeling on the balcony, in deep meditation. No doubt he was working to release the thunderclouds of emotion Dagan had inspired. Hanging up my cloak, I joined Obi-Wan. Kneeling in front of him, I braced my palms on my thighs and waited for him to complete his meditation.

He sat there, all sculpted beauty within and without, glowing in the Coruscant night, and I thanked the Force for sending him to me. I'd been slow to realize how precious he was and how much I needed him, but no more.

His shields gradually lowered and his focus returned to the moment. Rolling his shoulders, he stretched to release the last bit of tension before opening his eyes and looking back at me.

"Welcome home, Master. Would you care for some tea?" His manner was calm, but love and a far-too-eager welcome was revealed in his eyes.

"Other Padawans are never so happy to see their Masters," I observed. "Indeed, I believe that other Padawans are all to eager to get rid of their Masters."

"You're not another Master. You're my Master."

Those grey-green eyes were indeed windows to his soul. If I ever wanted to know how Obi-Wan truly felt, I had only to lock gazes with him. If he had been a puppy, he would have been wriggling all over. I wondered what that wriggling would feel like, were it to take physical form against me. For a moment, I simply looked at him, until the moment lengthened to the point that Obi-Wan began to tense under my scrutiny.

"Um... How was the conference, Master?"

"Your breakfast was its highlight, and I thank you. I went well-fortified into battle." Catching his Padawan braid just below his ear, I caressed down its length, marking each tie and remembering its meaning. "You've come a very long way since Bandomeer, and you must know that I'm very proud of you. I've come to another conclusion as well, Obi-Wan."

"What might that be?"

"That I love you."

His eyes widened. I heard him stop breathing. Releasing the braid, I caressed down his arm to capture his hand. Turning it palm up, I brought it to my mouth and kissed each fingerpad.

"'These limbs, these eyes and hands which here I find; this panting heart wherewith my life begins, where have you been?'" I murmured.

I licked his forefinger, new-loving the taste of him. Drawing it into my mouth, I sucked slowly and gently and dropped my shields so that my Padawan could feel all that I was feeling.

He jolted at the contact; I felt his arousal leap into being. "Master!"

Releasing his finger, I went up on my knees and cradled his skull to sift my fingers through his short hair. Pulling at the tie binding his Padawan tail, I carded through the longer hair it contained, lowered my head and kissed my way up his jaw to just in front of his ear. His arms went around me, his fists clutching at my tunics. Rising to meet me, he arched in my arms and rubbed against me.

Lapping at his earlobe, I worried the soft skin and continued. "Where have you been, Obi-Wan? Behind what curtain where you hid from me so long?"

"I thought--"

My fingers found his mouth. "No thinking, just feel right now."

Obi-Wan kissed my fingers and rubbed his cheek almost frantically against them. "Gods, Master! One touch, and I feel--"

"Undone, as do I. But hush. Let me speak."

He whimpered but obeyed, and in his eyes I saw all of the trust, the love, and the need that had built in his heart since he had been a boy of twelve. I knelt in wonder of all that had been given to me in this lithe, strong body; mine to mold, mine to teach, mine now to love.

Kissing him gently, I breathed into his mouth and felt him shudder. "Force grant me the time to give back all that you've given me. 'Yours are the smiles, the tears, the lips and hands and eyes... Treasures which I now receive.'"

I kissed his eyelids and nibbled his eyebrows. Brushing my mouth against his lips once more, I felt his breath mingle with mine. Rocking back on my heels, I pulled Obi-Wan along with me and settled him across my lap, for once grateful to be such a big man so that my Obi-Wan fit so well against me. He settled in my arms, giving a sigh and scratching his fingers lightly through my beard before setting in and bracing his hand against my chest.

"Treasures," he echoed, pressing a kiss to the underside of my chin. "I can feel your heart beating."

We stayed like that for a long time, with my hands caressing his back and his delving beneath my tunics to explore my chest hair and nipples and collarbones, learning the feel of me as I learned his small noises of joy and desire. The bond thrummed between us, wrapping us in a cocoon of love and desire that we were both contented to savor. The moon rose eventually, telling us that it was very late. So late that I urged Obi-Wan on his feet, only to rise with him and issue an invitation.

"Sleep with me."

Again, the sardonic eyebrow. "Master, are you asking me to--"

"Not yet, though the temptation is great." I caressed his jaw and lowered my head to steal another warm kiss. The heat of his body was intense; I knew that his desire was no less than my own. "Tonight we shall only sleep. For the future, we shall go slowly and deliberately. I will not rush you, and I will take nothing for granted. You will be courted thoroughly; I owe you nothing less, my Obi-Wan."

Standing there on the balcony, he considered my words. I felt his thoughts flow, felt him compare my behavior to that which he'd witnessed in my treatment of other lovers. I was doing him no disservice by going slowly. Rather, I was respecting his wishes and building a foundation that, Force grant us, would last the rest of our lives and beyond.

Taking his hand, I led him into my chambers. In a matter of moments, we'd prepared for bed and were lying beneath the covers with our legs entwined and his head on my shoulder. Obi-Wan's body was warm and sleepy against mine, if still aroused.

"All of this has come about because I sent you breakfast?" he asked from the edge of relaxation, basking in the love between us.

"It was a fine breakfast, Obi-Wan."

He thought about that for so long, I thought he'd fallen asleep.

"Isn't that going to make the rest of our lives a bit intense?" came the next question.


"So..." Obi-Wan asked, falsely casual, "what do you think you'd like for dinner?"



I've decided that some dreams are meant to come true. So many of my dreams came true on that balcony that night; a few others were put on hold. Always, my Master enjoyed taking his time. When I was younger and more impatient than I am now, I hated that tendency. I saw no reason to go slowly in anything; I wanted to know and learn and be everything right *now*. It took years for me to understand that time was a great teacher, and a great friend. Time let me progress, moment by moment, until I left the impatient, headstrong child behind and become someone worthy to stand with my Master. More time had allowed me to fall in love with him, while even more time had made him realize that he was in love with me as well.

Time rolled forward from that point to let us learn what being in love would mean to both of us. While I'd dated a few Masters -- a *very* few Masters -- I'd never been courted by one before, and certainly not like this. Not with such small attention to detail, loomed over, fussed over, touched constantly in small ways, leaned against, focused on and treated as someone very special to Qui-Gon Jinn, someone who mattered in his life. If this was what Dagan Sharat had experienced with him, along with his passion, no wonder he wanted my Master back. What I didn't understand was how any lover could have thrown Qui-Gon aside in the first place.

Far from interfering with my training, our expanded intimacy intensified it. The bond between us deepened; I saw more easily and more clearly what skills would be required of me as a knight. It made my Master's job just a bit easier, I think; he didn't have to point out every little thing any longer, and I worked hard on my own to acquire the skills, with my Master offering encouragement and welcome criticism. Every day brought me closer to the day of my trials, but I had no fear now that Qui-Gon and I would be separated. My Master was a very devotional man; he had never left any lover, they had all left him. I had no intentions of leaving, and, given the strength of our working bond, I was relatively certain that the Council wouldn't drive me away from him.

For now, however, I was still his Padawan, and he was still my Master. I deferred to him and took orders from him in all of the same things, on missions and during battles, while training and during other lessons. But when it came to our private time together, we were equals. And gods, how he loved me, even without making love to me. I didn't know what he was waiting for until we made love, but I trusted him enough to let him lead our dance.


He had given me a rock for every one of my naming days. My next naming day was no different, but the rock definitely was.

I'll never know if the Council offered us some down time that coincided with my naming day, or if Qui-Gon used his substantial influence and petitioned them first. In any event, the result was the same: my Master announced that my naming day would fall when we were on leave. Would I allow him to make arrangements for a special, off-planet celebration? I had no idea what he had in mind, but of course I was agreeable. Hell, as long as it meant spending time with him, I'd agree to anything.

He asked that I wear my Jedi robes for departure, but to pack only civilian clothing and take nothing else by way of entertainment but one of the Corellian pirate novels he knew that I liked. All right, I could do that. I packed a few other things in a small carryall that fit into our larger duffle; a few cooking supplies just in case of emergency, and another little item I hoped might be necessary some day: a tube of sweet oil used by lovers the galaxy over.

The cruiser Qui-Gon booked passage on was nothing special, and he looked like the epitome of the peaceful warrior as he boarded. I did my best to echo his presentation, even if I was dying of curiosity as to where we were going. Almost immediately, we retired to our cabin for the night flight, where the bunk we shared was narrow and uncomfortable.

"Perhaps I should take the floor?" I murmured, shifting away as he tried for the tenth time to get comfortable in the small space allotted.

"You most certainly will not."

Next thing I knew, he was wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me back hard against him.

"You should have enough room now, if you don't squirm," he said into my ear.

The situation seemed to be causing him a great deal of amusement. He even let me use his arm as a pillow, which confused the Sith out of me; at home and abroad, Qui-Gon had always hated being restricted in sleep, so that he usually negotiated for pillow and arm space.

"Where, exactly, are we going?" I asked, willing my all-to-eager body to ignore the fact that I could feel him right up against me from my shoulder-blades to the backs of my knee caps.

My Master inhaled and his chest moved against my back. Rather than remove his arm from around my waist, he draped his fingers comfortably across my hip. For the life of me, I couldn't figure out why this casual touching should mean more to me than any other man's full body embrace ever had.

"We are going to Dorsia," he answered my question.

"What's on Dorsia?"

I found out soon enough. The next morning, we landed on an off-planet transport platform and took a shuttle down to the surface. The pilot dumped us on the sun-drenched bank of a pristine lake before soaring back up into the clouds and leaving us and nature totally alone.

Dropping our duffle, I stared in disbelief at the peaceful sanctuary around us. Places like this were few and far between in out technology-drenched-sometimes-ruined galaxy. Qui-Gon stood serenely at the edge of the lake with his hands tucked into his sleeves and a smile curving his mouth. His cloak trailed slightly over the grass, and his blue eyes were watchful, assessing my reaction. I tried hard to concentrate on the scenery, as he no doubt meant me to do, and ignored the fact that the mostly-cloudless blue sky matched the color of his eyes.

"Well, my Padawan?"

"There has to be a catch somewhere," I muttered, turning in place. "Are there large carnivores in the woods?"


"Fire-breathing draigons in the mountains to descend after dark and carry us off or shriek all night?"


I eyed the water with great suspicion. "Water serpents, no dabbling in the pond?"

He laughed outright at my expression. "No, Obi-Wan."

I listened for a moment to the silence, broken only by the intermittent song of a bird. "It's too quiet."

"I could sing for you."

"If it gets any more quiet, I might just ask you to do that." I stared expectantly at him. "So what's the catch?"

"The catch," he replied, strolling up to me and taking me by the shoulders, "is that for the next few tens you must forget that we are Jedi and just enjoy yourself with me."

Taking my face in his hands, he kissed me deeply, until my toes curled and I slid my arms beneath his cloak and clung to him. His muscles were hard and warm beneath my hands, and the sound he made as he released my lips made me want to make love to him right there, on the grassy bank.

"Happy naming day, Obi-Wan."

"It can't be my naming day," I murmured, grabbing handfuls of his hair to pull him down into another kiss. "There's no rock."

My tongue caressed his upper lip, seeking permission and getting it. He opened his mouth, and I touched my tongue tentatively to his. He nipped my lip and groaned deep in his throat before sliding his hands over my shoulders and down my back. Cupping my buttocks, he ground me against him until I could feel his substantial need. I rubbed against him sensuously, seeking to increase the contact. He'd never let me get this close before; I intended to take full advantage if this was part of my naming day gift.

Breaking the kiss, Qui-Gon rested his forehead against mine and set up a gentle rocking motion. I matched it, enjoying the friction and knowing by the way his breathing was accelerating that he was enjoying it, too. We stayed that way for a long time, each of us enjoying the mutual need pulsing and intensifying between us, until my Master lifted his head and rasped.

"A rock. You were asking...."

"...about my rock. Yes." I had just discovered that I enjoyed making him all but incoherent. If this was his response to me standing up, what would our actual lovemaking be like?

"Over there, Obi-Wan."

Turning his head, Qui-Gon directed my gaze across the lake. There, in the middle of the water, sat one of the biggest granite boulders that I had ever seen. If I wanted to examine it, I'd have to swim out to it.

"That's quite a rock," I managed, resisting the urge to thrust and rub harder against him.

Shuddering, Qui-Gon set me away from him and gave a crooked smile. Drawing a deep breath, he said, "There's a cabin down the way. Shall we?"

"It had better have a bed. A very big bed," I growled, grabbing the duffle and following him. I had learned patience at my Master's side, but even I had limits, and they were fast approaching.

I only hoped that Qui-Gon felt the same way.


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