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Author: Emma Grant and Helens
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Xan spars with Obi and meets up with an old acquaintance.
Category: POV (Xan), Qui/Xan, Xan/other, AU
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em.  No harm intended.  No money made.
Feedback: Of course! We crave it.
Note: Thanks to the usual folks!


The salle is empty when I arrive, and for a moment I wonder if I'm in the right place.  I check the display by the door, though, and sure enough, it's marked for this date and time: "Reserved, Kenobi."  I step out into the center of the empty space, discarding my robe and stretching a little.  I'm still getting used to moving around in these clothes again.  I stop to shed a few layers, leaving only a loose undershirt on over my leggings.  I swing my arms around, relieved.  Qui-Gon wouldn't approve, of course -- he'd probably feel compelled to remind me that I need to be prepared to defend myself even when I'm uncomfortably dressed.  I grimace, wondering if he has any idea just how uncomfortably dressed I've been at times during the last ten years.  I've managed to take care of myself pretty damn well, without Jedi robes to hide behind.

I begin to go through an easy kata to warm up.  The movements are familiar and natural, yet a little bit uncomfortable -- I've really let myself get out of practice.  This could be quite embarrassing.

The door slides open and I feel the presence of Qui-Gon before I turn to see him.  I groan inwardly.  Must he be here to watch his padawan humiliate me?  He's probably getting back at me for last night.

I turn to him and try to smile, though I'm sure it comes off as a smirk.  "Qui-Gon.  What a surprise."

He seems distracted, uneasy... worried.  He glances quickly around the room.  "Obi-Wan isn't here?"  

The concern in his voice catches me by surprise.  I shake my head.  "No, he hasn't arrived yet."  I glance at the chronometer on the wall.  "In fact, he's late."

Qui-Gon sighs heavily and I can feel a wave of concern ripple through the room.  It unsettles me slightly.  I instinctively reach out to him to comfort him.  He reaches back and, before we know what we're doing, we're intertwining our senses together, wrapping the Force around each other.  He looks up at me sharply and pulls back, embarrassed.

"No, it's all right," I say, closing the three meters between us to place a hand on his shoulder.  "Has something happened to Obi-Wan?"

A mask seems to fall from Qui's face as he meets my eyes.  He looks very worried.  "He didn't come home last night.  He's shutting me out.  I was hoping..."  He closes his eyes and takes a calming breath before continuing.  "I'd hoped to find him here, with you."

"You haven't seen him since last night?"  From what I've heard, Obi-Wan is a model padawan.  The thought that he would disappear and then shut his master out is almost shockingly bizarre.  No wonder Qui is worried.  Not sure what to do, I take his hand in mine and squeeze it slightly.  He squeezes back.

"Since yesterday afternoon, actually.  He had a dinner date with a young senator, and he didn't come back.  I felt some emotional distress from him last night, and then... he simply closed himself off."  He shakes his head.

"That doesn't make any sense," I say, almost to myself.  "Have you contacted the senator?"  

"I left a message with his assistant," he says, releasing my hand enough to interlace our fingers.  "She said he'd canceled his appointments for the morning and asked not to be disturbed."  He shakes his head as if clearing his thoughts, squeezing my hand a little.

The intimacy of this moment strikes me now -- I can feel his emotions all around me: his fear, his vulnerability.  We're standing so close that if I leaned forward I could press my body against his.  I look down at our fingers, locked in their own comfortable embrace.  I look back up at him, to see those blue eyes staring into my own.  

I want to hold him, to pull him against me and assure him it will all be fine.  I want to help him.  I want...

I let go of his hand and step away.  This isn't a good idea.

Qui-Gon's eyes widen and he spins toward the door just before it slides open.  Obi-Wan is standing there, leaning in the doorway and staring blankly at us.  He looks tired and worn down, as if he didn't sleep much last night.  He nods at Qui-Gon, bows slightly to me, and then sheds his robe, tossing it to the side.  I narrow my eyes at him and he returns my gaze hesitantly.  He has no idea how much trouble he's caused, has he?

Qui-Gon stares at him for a moment, jaw hanging open slightly.  I can feel a mixture of relief and frustration emanating from him.  

"Padawan?"  I turn my head instinctively at the sound of that tone of voice before I remind myself it isn't me he's addressing.

Obi-Wan turns to face him, hands clasped behind his back.  His manner is perfectly serene.  "Yes, Master?"

Qui-Gon takes a deep breath.  "Where have you been?"  

Obi-Wan's face scrunches a bit in confusion.  "Sorry?"

"You didn't come home last night."  Qui-Gon's voice is tight.  "You were...  I was worried."

Obi-Wan swallows at that, and glances quickly at me.  It's clear he's uncomfortable being scolded in front of me.  I ought to back away and give them privacy, but I'm curious, not to mention a little irritated at Obi-Wan for upsetting Qui so much.  I fold my arms over my chest and raise a questioning eyebrow at him.  Let him squirm.  

He looks down, padawan braid swaying slightly with the motion. "I apologize, Master.  I... had some thinking to do.  I spent the night in the Halik Gardens, meditating."

"You weren't in your morning classes either.  I asked."

Obi-Wan's head lowers a bit further, and he flushes.  "No, Master.  I was still... meditating.  I'm sorry I worried you."  His voice is quite soft and I have to strain to hear it.  

Qui-Gon pauses and glances at me as if he's just remembered I'm here.  Interesting.  Is he so comfortable in my presence he can forget about me, even for a moment?  Or is he that upset with his apprentice?  He inhales smoothly, calming himself.  I can feel the connection between us fade into a slight buzz.

"We'll discuss this later," he says quietly, and then turns back to me.  "Do you mind if I observe?"

"Yes," I smirk.  "Though I doubt that will deter you."  I raise my lightsaber hilt to my forehead in a mock salute before stepping onto the mat.  

Qui-Gon says nothing, though I can feel a spike of frustration from him.  Oddly, I sense amusement from Obi-Wan.  I turn to face him.  He bows slightly, properly acknowledging my higher rank -- before he proceeds to obliterate it by wiping the floor with me.  Qui-Gon finds a place to stand at the side of the salle, arms folded into the sleeves of his robe in a familiar gesture.  A witness.  Fabulous.

I'm about to get my ass kicked by a padawan more than ten years my junior.  Resigned to my fate, I ignite my 'saber and take a defensive stance.  I'm not going to be the one to start this.  Obi-Wan mirrors my gesture and we begin to circle each other slowly, waiting to see who will make the first move.  The serenity so recently on his face has been replaced by a tight, almost severe expression.  

He's probably got some pent-up resentment to release on me after our meeting a few days ago.  I feel badly that I didn't recognize him -- I was very fucked up that night, and details like faces just didn't stick -- but what I said was true.  There was nothing remarkable about him that night.  He was quite cocky after class that day, acting as if I should have thrown myself at his feet and begged to be taken again.  Arrogant little twat.

Obi-Wan strikes quickly, starting a series of moves that have a familiar rhythm -- ah yes, I remember this one.  He must be giving me an opportunity not to make a complete fool of myself.  I respond, trying to keep up, trying to ground myself in the Force the way I'm supposed to.  It requires more concentration than I expected, and I find it is all I can do to defend myself.  I manage to stand my ground, even push him back at one point, but he's very quick.  He's every bit as skilled as Qui-Gon said.  I shake off my rising apprehension and shrink back a meter.  Is he that good or am I that bad?

I see an opening and I take it without thinking, aiming a blow for his neck.  The next thing I know, my lightsaber is flying across the room and I have a burn on my chest.  

"Shit," I hiss, stepping back and rubbing at the singed spot on my shirt.  Our 'saber settings have been turned way down, but it still stings when you're hit.  I flash Obi-Wan a wry grin as I retrieve my lightsaber.  "You are as good as they say."

He tries very hard not to smile smugly, but doesn't completely succeed.  We begin again, and this time I take the offensive, pouring myself into the movements, each strike full of power and speed.  He responds easily with equal power -- I can feel it swelling around him.  My frustration starts to rise, and I let it.  I can't compete with him on his terms.  I was never good at a straight fight.  My growing irritation gets the better of me and I let the balance of the Force within me shift slightly.  Not so much that they'll notice, but just enough.

Everything slows down around me, and I can now think clearly about Obi-Wan's movements; I can see what he's going to do next, and can counteract it.  He's going to strike low, then cut back to my shoulder.  I can see it in his muscles, in his face.  I spring up and let the Force carry me back, and he misses, knocked off-balance by my not being there to strike against.  I give him a little push with the Force, enough to pull his feet out from under him.  Time resumes normal speed as he hits the mat, and I stand over him, 'saber tip a centimeter from his throat.

I feel Qui-Gon's surprise as a buzz in the back of my skull.  Obi-Wan blinks, as if he's not sure how that happened, then squints up at me.  They're not suspicious, though they will be if I'm not careful.  I carefully ignore Qui-Gon's gaze, keeping my eyes focused on the padawan on the floor at my feet.  Seeing him flat on his back like this, panting a little, sweating, knees raised and parted...

Force.  It's not enough to really distract me, but it gives me an idea.  I won't be able to pull that last trick again without raising their suspicions, so I'll have to do something different.  

I let my gaze travel down Obi-Wan's body, pausing at his crotch for a brief second, smiling slightly before I switch the 'saber off and back away.  He stares at me in return, eyebrows drawn together and lips parted, still breathing heavily.  I step to the side and peel off my damp undershirt.  He liked what he saw in the club last weekend, so perhaps my being bare-chested will distract him a bit.

I turn back to see that he's on his feet, eyes fixed on my chest, cheeks flushed just a little.  Good.

I stand ready once more, smiling at him, wetting my lips.  He comes at me, pulling a classic maneuver.  I begin the standard defense, then switch tactics, catching him by surprise.  I use his fleeting distraction to my advantage, pressing him back several meters with a series of quick blows.  He scrambles away, trying to collect himself.  

This is going well.  I try to appear serene, letting my eyes rake over him.  My gaze lingers on his crotch before I let a smile grace my lips.  I meet his eyes and push an image towards his mind -- an image from last weekend, of him pounding into me hard.  I embellish it a bit and remove the memory of his lack of finesse, but the desired effect is achieved.  He grits his teeth and swallows hard.  I swear the bulge at his crotch has grown a bit.  I smile.

He narrows his eyes.  I'm cheating, of course, but it wasn't really a fair fight to begin with.  He's probably done this himself.  He erects an impressive shield before sprinting towards me, hurling himself at me in a blur.  I'm surprised, not only by the fury he's unleashed on me, but by the sheer purity of it.  That sort of power isn't easy to come by.  I have to dip into dark places to find it, but he doesn't have to, it seems.  I find it fascinating, and I egg him on, dropping back enough to let him think he's winning, then pushing back when I can.

He relaxes a bit, dropping his mental defenses.  Perfect.

I summon an image of me on my knees before him, sucking his cock with abandon, and let all the desire I can muster shine in my eyes.  I strike hard, anticipating the image to have stunned him momentarily.

But he smiles at me -- smirks, really -- and blocks every blow with perfect timing.  There is a minute pause, and I can feel the currents in the room shift as he begins to press me forward again, striking so quickly that I have a hard time keeping up without shifting away from the light again.  

I can't afford to do that now.  Not yet.  I can afford to lose this sparring match today.  I back away.  He presses on.

Then the image hits me -- Obi-Wan on his back on the floor, with Qui-Gon between his thighs, head bobbing...

I'm so stunned that I actually freeze on the spot.  My 'saber is knocked away and I'm backed against the wall, hands up in submission and his 'saber against my throat -- before I have a chance to think.  

I can only stare helplessly at Obi-Wan as a sly grin spreads across his face.  He leans close in, so close that his nose brushes mine.  The buzzing of his 'saber at my throat fills my ears, and the blue tint of it casts a strange pall on his features.  

For a moment, I think he's going to kiss me, and I find that I want him to.  I want it very much.  But he backs away, still smirking, extinguishing his 'saber and bowing slightly.

It hits me then -- he showed me what I've always wanted, what I never really had: Qui-Gon worshipping him, loving him, making love to him.  To him.  To Obi-Wan.  Was that real?

I glance over at Qui-Gon, who's just approached the mat.

"That was... unconventional," he says, crossing his arms over his chest.  "I suggest you spar before Master Chefor next time.  He'll be able to help you more than I can."  He looks down at that, and I realize that he knows what's transpired here.  He saw it all.  

I step back and turn away for a moment, heart pounding in my throat.  


I don't turn around yet, struggling to collect myself.  After everything that happened between us years ago, could it be true that he and Obi-Wan...?  I take a deep breath.

"Padawan," I hear behind me, "I'd like to speak with you this evening."

"Yes, of course, Master.  I... I've got a class, so I should go."

There is silence as some unspoken communication occurs, and then I hear the sound of Obi-Wan's footsteps receding, and the door sliding closed behind him.


"Fuck you," I hiss, whirling to face him.  He retreats a little, clearly surprised at the venom in my voice.  I stalk towards him slowly.  I want to ask him if it's true, if he and Obi-Wan...

But I can't.  I don't think I want to know.

Qui-Gon says nothing for a long moment, staring at me blankly.  Finally he exhales and looks away.  "What have I done to you this time?"

I shake my head.  "Nothing," I sigh, bitterness filling my mouth.  "Absolutely nothing.  You never--"  I bite off the phrase, swallowing hard.

He makes a frustrated sound and comes to stand in front of me, hands on his hips.  "What do I have to do, Xan?  I have tried -- I really have -- but I can do nothing right around you."

I shake my head and back away, but he catches me by the shoulders and holds me there, staring into my eyes.

"Why can't we put this behind us?  Why can't we just... be friends?"  His hands squeeze my shoulders and he pulls me a little closer, shaking me just a bit.  "We have both changed a great deal since then.  I want to get to know you again.  I want to know the Jedi you've become, the man you are."  

I close my eyes against the rising hope, willing myself to replace it with anger.  I do not want to trust him again, to make myself so vulnerable.  I don't want him to know how much his rejection still hurts me, how much I still feel for him, what I still want from him -- what I know he'll never be able to give me.  I try to breathe evenly.  It helps a little.  I open my eyes.

He has been watching my face carefully, and his expression has gone from frustration to concern.  His hands move from my shoulders to my face, his thumb stroking the scar on my cheek.  It ought to offend me, but at this moment it seems an incredibly tender gesture.

I blink as everything seems to slow down.  His breathing.  My breathing.  The movement of his thumb on my cheek.  I lean towards him and it seems to take minutes to close the distance, an eternity before I feel his lips under mine.

He lets me kiss him.  He is stunned -- I can feel that -- but relieved also, as if he wasn't sure if I were going to kiss him or attack him.  His hands drop away from my face and fall to his side limply.  I'm kissing him in slow motion, my lips sweeping across his softly, mapping out the contours of his lips, feeling the soft bristles of his beard against my skin.  I pull away reluctantly, sucking lightly on his lower lip before I do.  I study his face as soon as I can manage to focus my eyes again.

His eyes remain closed for a fraction of a second, long enough for me to know that they had been closed the whole time.  When they open, he stares at me, mouth open slightly as if he is about to speak, though he doesn't.  He exhales audibly.

Fuck.  What have I done?  

"I'm sorry," I whisper.  "I meant no offense.  I have no idea why I did that."  I look away, and then run a hand through my hair in a nervous gesture.  My hair is much too short.  I hate it.  I liked being able to hide behind it, and now I can't.

"No, I..."  He pauses, as if considering his words.  Or his options.  "If you hadn't done it, I probably would have."

I look up as a tiny flame of hope flickers in me.  We stare at each other, an awkward silence stretching between us.  

I can't stand it much longer.  "What now?"

He shakes his head with a sigh.  "Xan, I would be lying if I said I wasn't attracted to you.  I care about you very much -- so much that it surprises me every time I see you.  But we still have so many issues between us."  I nod, feeling both disappointment and relief in equal measure.  "I do want you, but I think we should be very careful.  I don't want to lose you again."

Sunsets on Coruscant can't hold a candle to those on many worlds, but there is something lovely about them.  Perhaps it's the promise and relief of the anonymity of approaching darkness.  You can be anyone you want here at night.  You can escape anything.  

I lean back against the wall, stretching my legs out across the duracrete floor of the balcony, and light the joint left over from my excursion last weekend.  I inhale the thick acrid smoke in short bursts, letting it curl into my lungs of its own accord.  I still my chest, holding my breath, willing myself to relax.  If I concentrate, I can feel the Q begin to buzz in my head, at the base of my skull.  It's a tingly, melty feeling that I enjoy far too much for my own good.  

My lungs start to burn and I exhale, blowing a stream of bluish smoke up into the scrubbed air.  

I close my eyes, trying to remember the way Qui-Gon's lips felt under mine, the way his face looked, the way his voice sounded when he said he wanted me.  It was almost unreal.  Too good to be true.

After all, he didn't kiss me back.  He didn't throw his arms around me and harden against my thigh.  He didn't ask me to come back to his quarters, or even if I wanted to meet him somewhere later.  He just left.

I bring the joint to my lips again for another, longer toke and am rewarded with a burst of sensation that eases the pain in my heart a little.  

He was probably just being nice.  He didn't want to hurt my feelings, or to embarrass me any more than necessary.  He patted me on the head and said, "Let's be friends."

"Fuck you, Qui-Gon Jinn," I whisper as I bring the joint to my lips once more.  "And fuck me for caring so much."

He's my former master, and nothing more.  He cares for me as his ex-padawan.  He wouldn't care at all if he knew what I really was, what I'm really like underneath this oh-so-fucking-proper-Jedi facade I've so diligently worn since reappearing at the Temple.  

Another toke and I'm dizzy.  I slide down onto my back and stare up at the burnt sky.  You can't see stars here.  There's too much light.  I hate this planet.  

I feel like I'm spinning.    

Half an hour later, I'm going stir crazy.  I'm horny, I'm frustrated, I'm high, and I'm a little heartbroken.  There's a cure for all of that.  

I change into non-Jedi attire and head out, not to the sex clubs tonight -- I do not want to run into Obi-Wan Kenobi or anyone who knows him right now.   I walk down K Street for several blocks, heading for a pub I haven't been to in years.  The night air is cool and I'm reminded of many other nights when I walked down this street as a padawan, feeling very similar emotions to the ones I'm feeling now.

Budan's is exactly the same as I remember.  As it should be, of course -- the place is over a thousand years old, and looks it.  This pub has been catering to a mixed clientele of Jedi and government workers for as long as anyone can remember.  It's dark, and old, with many small nooks for private discussions.  It's a place to meet friends, not to pick up strangers.  I'm hoping I'll run into someone I know.  

I settle at the bar and signal to the bartender, a worn-looking humanoid with a large belly and a friendly face.  Budan's sports one of the largest selections of beer in the galaxy.  The number of taps is ridiculously high, and it would take days to scroll through the menu.  I order something fairly obscure -- an ale brewed on a small planet in an unremarkable system in the Outer Rim.  As far as I know, it's only consumed locally.  I spell the name for the bartender, and a minute later he turns from the monitor behind the bar to flash me a grin.  Two minutes later, a glass of frothy purple ale is plunked before me.

"Unbelievable," I say as I slide a large number of credits across the bar.  This place is truly amazing -- a legendary establishment.  I take a sip of the ale, and it's everything I remember.  The scent of the hops even reminds me of the man I fucked that night.  We'd both drunk a considerable quantity of that ale, and it was all I could smell on his breath when he kissed me.

"Xanatos," a rich baritone purrs into my ear.  I turn to see a tall, striking man with short blond hair smiling at me.  "It's good to see you."

I smile and gesture for him to sit on the empty stool beside me.  "Aubris -- I've been meaning to comm you.  How have you been?"

"Well, very well," he says as he sits, eyes sliding over me.  "You look good, Xan."

I shrug, not sure how to respond.  I feel like shit, and I'd bet I don't look much better.  I'm sure he's just trying to pick me up.  Do I want to be picked up?  I meet his eyes, which are this amazing shade of hazel.  I'd forgotten how it felt to have those eyes on me.  Suddenly it's as if we're the only people in this room.  Hell, the only two people on Coruscant.

Yes, I think I do want to be picked up tonight.

"You're being overly charitable, I think," I tell him, slipping into the familiar banter of flirtation.  Aubris was always so good at flirting.  He could talk anyone into anything.  I always enjoyed being the center of his attention, and Force knows I could use that attention right now.  I wink at him.  "But far be it from me to be ungracious about it.  If you say I look good, then I must look good."  I tip my glass to him.

His eyes sparkle, and he turns to the bartender.  "Do you have Parsq Reebian Ale?" he asks.  The bartender snorts, rolling his eyes slightly -- not a challenge.  Within a few seconds, a dark red ale is sitting in front of my momentary companion.  He tips his glass to me.

"So what brings you out here tonight?" I ask Aubris.  As if I don't know.

"Looking for company."  He smiles.  Yeah, I could get used to that smile.  For the night, anyway.

"What a coincidence," I smirk.

He tips his glass back and drinks, and I watch the line of his throat.  I imagine what he'd look like with his head tipped back like that, on his knees, sucking me down his throat...

I've fucked him before, years ago when we were both padawans.  He was always one of those gorgeous popular boys that everyone wanted.  He could have anyone, and you always felt a bit lucky that he'd chosen you.  He was a great fuck as well -- he always said the right thing and knew exactly what you wanted.  

"How are you enjoying Master Jinn's seminar?" he asks, smiling as if he knows what I was just thinking.

"I thought I would attend for a few sessions, to see if it would be any benefit to me," I reply, taking small sips of my ale.  "Diplomacy isn't exactly my strength."

"So the rumors about you are true?" he asks, smiling slyly.  

I grin and shrug.  "I can't say.  It's all classified, you know."  He laughs at that, hazel eyes sparkling.  He's still stunning.  "You've earned quite a reputation for yourself as well.  I understand you're generally recognized as one of the best negotiators in the Order."

He smiles modestly and raises his glass.  "Well, to both of us, then.  We've done rather well for ourselves."  

I touch the rim of my glass to his and take a sip, feeling more attracted to him than I care to admit.  He isn't my type at all.  He's too good-looking in a very classical way.  His hair is perfect.  His teeth are perfect.  I'm sure his body is perfect beneath those clothes. .  Not a flaw in sight.  Aubris is slightly unreal, and that's normally a turn-off for me.

He smiles at me, and my stomach flutters a bit.  I swallow several large mouthfuls of my ale in an attempt to keep my mouth occupied, lest I say something stupid.  

This is probably not a good idea, but I'm horny, and he's willing.  I stare invitingly at him for a moment and he takes my hand, bringing it to his lips to trace the tip of his tongue across my palm.  He raises an eyebrow questioningly.  "Come on," he says.  "Let's go back to your place."

I down the rest of my ale, earlier reservations swept away in an instant. This is sounding like a better idea with every passing second.   It could turn out to be a decent night after all.

The door to my quarters barely slides shut before Aubris pulls me into his arms and leads me over to the sofa.  He doesn't jump me right away, which is how these things are usually done, in my experience.  I'm surprised for a moment before I remember the last time we fucked.  It started with him asking me a question:

"What's your favorite fantasy?"

Which is what he asks now.  I look into those hazel eyes and grin, stumbling over my words before I even realized I was going to speak.

"I have this fantasy about being tied up," I reply, twisting my mouth slightly.  

"Oh, really?" he asks.  "By whom?"

"That's none of your fucking business, now is it?" I laugh.  The laugh covers a sudden stab of anxiety -- a thought that I probably shouldn't have answered the question in the first place.

His eyes light up.  "Oh, but I have ways of making you talk," he teases, taking my wrist and holding it in a nice firm grip, one I could only break with a good deal of effort.  "Do you have restraints?"

"Of course," I say, then snap my mouth shut.  What am I doing?  Is this really a good idea?  

He's grinning, though, and his eyes are positively gleaming.  "Would you like to try them out?" he asks.

I hesitate -- I only do that kind of thing with people I trust.  I haven't seen Aubris in years, and it's not as if I've ever trusted him.  I start to shake my head, but then the image of what it would feel like to have him tie me down and fuck me comes fully to mind.  And it looks... well, good.  Very good.

I slide my free arm around his neck  "I'm not sure.  You'll have to persuade me."  

He flashes me an amazing grin, and I feel it directly in my groin.  "I promise, you won't regret it."

I lean forward to kiss him.  "I'm not yet persuaded," I murmur, and I bring my lips down on his.  Aubris is an amazing kisser -- he kisses exactly the way I like, hard and forceful and demanding, but really smooth -- as if he's coaxing me into an almost brutal kiss that I didn't know I wanted.  I start reaching for his clothes, and he pulls my hands away, laughing against my lips.

"Let's get you to the bedroom," he teases.

I nod enthusiastically.  "The bedroom, right," I agree.

Standing before my bed, he wraps his arms around me from behind, kissing the back of my neck as he unfastens the buttons on my shirt.  It is dropped to the floor as he plants more kisses on my shoulders.  I remove my pants and boots quickly as he locates the leather cuffs and attaches them to the rails at the head of the bed.  

He moves to stand behind me again and presses me forward, onto my hands and knees on the bed, then down onto my stomach.  I have a slight moment of doubt when he puts the cuffs on me, and I strain against the leather for a moment.  What was I thinking?  Oh, right -- I was thinking with my cock.  Big surprise.  Still, there's something vaguely exciting about this.  He's certainly not going to be able to hurt me.

Unless I want him to.  Oh, that's not a good idea; we barely know each other.  Still...

"You're mine," Aubris whispers behind me.  His tongue traces down my back, ever lower.  "Mine to use and take and fuck, Xanatos."

I moan softly.  I shouldn't be doing this.  I should not be doing this with him.  I'd have been happy to rim him and fuck him and send him on his way.

But at the moment, he appears to have other plans.  His tongue snakes into the cleft of my ass now, wriggling slightly, eliciting a soft moan from me.  I push my hips up against him, and he pulls away for a moment.  I hear the rustling of clothing behind me as he undresses, and then feel his weight settle between my legs.  I'm face-down, so I can't see what he's doing.  It's the kind of thing that never fails to make me hard.

Then his tongue is back, painting soft strokes against my opening, then flicking lightly, making me spread my thighs wider and arch my back.  I moan softly, enjoying the warm slick feeling of his tongue, then the coolness of his breath blown across my skin.  

"Do you like that?" he whispers.

"Oh, fuck yes," I whimper, frustrated that he's stopped doing it.  

"Do you have any lube around?"

Do I?  I grin, though I'm sure he can't see it.  "The drawer, by the bed."  I feel his weight shift to the edge of the mattress and hear the sounds of him rummaging through the drawer.  Something tickles in the back of my mind for a moment, almost a warning...

He whistles slightly.  "Well, now, what have we here?"

"What are you--"

And then there's a hard, cold thing being shoved into my ass.

I cry out sharply in pain and surprise.   It hurt when he pushed it in -- a good hurt, yes, but hurt nonetheless.  My hands clench into fists, and I twist my neck around to look at him as best I can.  "Warn a guy before you do something like that, will you?"  It's a little big for my tastes, and it's... metal.  Metal?  

Oh, no.  It has to be... T'nell gave me a huge metal butt plug as a gag gift last week, to reassure me that there were no hard feelings about what happened between us.  He'd said that next time he wanted strange objects stuffed in his ass, he'd come by and we could try it out.  I remember shaking my head and saying there was no way in hells that thing was getting anywhere near my ass.  I'd shoved it into the drawer and forgotten all about it.

"Do you like it?" he asks, grinning up at me.  I can barely make him out from this position.

I glare at him.  "No, not really."  The way it felt going in, he barely bothered with the lube.  I have to grit my teeth a little.  The burn is starting to fade as my body relaxes, but it's not pleasant quite yet.

"Are you sure?"  He bends his head down and laps gently around the edges of the plug.  I shiver all over and feel a sensation of need shoot from my ass all the way up my spine and into my brain.  "It's your toy, after all.  Are you quite sure you don't like it?" he repeats.

"No," I moan, gasping a little.  It isn't as if I haven't done this before; it's just bigger than I normally like.  He's really pushing the edges of this fantasy, and it's exciting, in a way.  This isn't just the standard "tie someone up and then do things that didn't require restraints" fare.  

I relax a little as he rims me around the plug, and start getting into it more.  In a few minutes, I'm shifting against the bed, trying to get some friction against my cock.  This feels -- good, sort of, even if it's not what I thought we were going to do here.  Yeah, I can handle this.  I'm throbbing all over -- my cock is throbbing, my ass is throbbing, my head is throbbing.  He flicks the base of the plug a bit with his finger and it moves inside me, pressing against my prostrate just a bit.  I shudder.

"Like that?" he asks.

"No -- yes -- I don't know," I mumble.

"Yes, you do," he whispers, licking again, flicking his tongue around the edges of the plug, tugging at it a little with his teeth.  "Tell me: do you like that?"

I groan, quietly, as that feeling runs from the base of my spine to the top of my skull again.  "Yes, I like that," I whisper.

"Good.  But I think you want something more..."

"Please," I whisper, "fuck me.  I want to feel you inside me."

"I like it when you beg," I hear.

I've never really begged anyone like that before, but right now...  "Please," I moan for him.  "Please, please, please... Aubris, fuck me.  Please.  I need it."

I feel his breath against my ass again, then kisses and little nips that tickle.  "Good," he whispers between kisses.  "You have a great ass, you know.  You look so hot like this, all stretched out for me, ready for me to plow into you."  I can feel him tugging at the plug a little, twisting it slightly.  It's a bizarre sensation -- I recall the thing had some sort of ridges on its surface.  So that's what they're for.

"Come on, Aubris, I want to feel you inside me, please."  My tone sounds a bit desperate -- he ought to like that.

He moans a little, biting down on skin and sucking slightly.  "I know you want this, Xan.  I can feel it."

I start a little at that.  He can feel it?  

I hear the sound of foil being torn behind me, and I feel a sudden relief that he's going to use a barrier.  If he hadn't, I'm not sure I could have done much about it.  The plug is removed swiftly and immediately replaced with something smaller, warmer...  

I can't help but smile a little.  I'd forgotten about that.  He's not hung, though men as good as he is don't have to be.  I wonder briefly why he put such a huge plug in me when he seems so much smaller in comparison.

"Better?" he pants, moving slowly inside me.

"Yes," I hiss.  Force, he's good.  It feels amazing, more so than I would have expected.  I close my eyes, letting him move in and out of me, letting his motions rock my hips against the bed.  Delicious friction.  Oh, yes.  Nice.

"I knew you'd like it," he whispers, leaning over me now as he pumps into me a little faster.  "I love giving people their fantasies.  Tell me more about this one.  Who am I?"

I swallow hard at that, a sickening fear pooling in my gut.  That doesn't sound like a guess.

"Tell me, Xan.  Who are you pretending I am?"

I feel a warm buzz at the edge of my consciousness and have to bite my tongue against the urge to tell him. That felt like...

"It's OK," he whispers.  He leans close against me, melding his body to mine.  "You don't have to tell me."

"No, just fuck me," I hiss.  This isn't quite as good as it was a few seconds ago.

Aubris goes back to moving, quietly, forcefully.  I relax again, and it feels better.  I wish he'd bend down and bite my shoulder...

He does just that.  I laugh, and he gives me a light chuckle in response.  "You're much too easy to read," he murmurs.

I start a little, quickly checking my mental shielding to see if I'm projecting anything.  I'm not.  I frown.  How is he reading me?  This is all just a little too... something.  The eroticism of the situation fades from my mind, and suddenly I'm just being fucked.

The mood is effectively skewered, and Aubris notices immediately.  "I'm sorry," he says.  He pauses, buried inside me, and strokes my back with one hand.  "This isn't working for you, is it?"

"No, it's not," I admit.

He pulls out of me and releases the cuffs, then stretches out beside me as I turn over onto my back, rubbing my sore wrists.  He looks down at me and kisses me gently, stroking strands of hair away from my forehead.  "I'm sorry," he whispers between kisses.  "I thought it was what you wanted."  The kisses become gradually more intense.  

He's a really great kisser.

I snake my arms around him, melting back against the mattress.  He pushes my legs up around his hips, and I tilt up for him, offering him a good angle for entry.  He slides his cock into me again.  I feel a rush of sensation, a slight burn...

"Ohhhh... fuck," I groan.  "Harder, please."

He moves faster, hands at the sides of my head, and he looks into me with those dark hazel eyes of his, pumping hard.  I'm getting really close, and I take my own cock in my hand, stroking in time to his movements inside me.

Then I feel it, a slight buzz at the edge of my mind -- he wants in.  I push him away gently.  I like a good mindfuck as much as anyone, and I know from experience that he's very good.  But not now -- I don't want to let anyone in right now.

He pushes back, harder.  

"No," I whisper, pushing again.

"Please," he whispers.  His eyes are focused on mine like laser drills, and I open up, giving in to him without even thinking about it.  He's there, brushing against my pleasure centers, making me cry out.  I close my eyes for a moment, and wonder how I let him do this to me.  I didn't want this.  But now that he's here, I can't remember the last time I felt so good.  I brush my mind against his, stimulating him in returrn.  He groans, and the sound has me hard and nearly weeping with the need to come.  I need this.  Need Aubris.  Aubris.

"Aubris," I whisper, voice shaking hard.  I look back up at him.

"Yes," he whispers, and he pushes a little deeper, first in my body, then in my mind.  He's grasping at something, digging -- finding -- I wince hard and try to push him away.  He pulls back gently, and looks down at me.  "Xan," he moans.

"Don't -- just don't go there," I groan, squeezing my eyes shut as I try to push him out of my mind.  "Please, not now..."


His face swims in my vision, and suddenly it's Qui-Gon in front of me, Qui-Gon inside me, and I come blindly, moaning out loud, my head going back and...

What the fuck?

The orgasm is still pumping through me, but that amazing sensation of relief is completely gone.  I let my cock finish and look up at Aubris, frowning.

He doesn't look quite as beautiful suddenly.  His face -- he's sneering a little, and he's fucking me really hard now.  When did this become just another fuck?  For a moment there, it almost seemed...

OK, all right, enough.  Anger spikes in me quite unexpectedly, and I reach into his mind, and push.  He comes with a sudden, surprised grunt and collapses forward onto me.

Only fair.  He wrecked my orgasm; I can wreck his.

He pants for a few seconds, then rolls off me.  He leans over and kisses my shoulder.  "Intense," he says.  "You've always been so intense."

"I'm surprised you remember," I say, trying hard to keep the ice out of my voice.  This was a bad idea.  I usually don't regret one-night stands until the next day, but this one... I think it's time for him to go.

"Of course I remember, " he says, reaching out to stroke my arm gently.  

"Yeah, sure," I reply.  He shifts away from me.  I hope he's about to dress and leave.  I really want him gone.

"Force, I wish I could stay, but I have an early meeting in the Senate complex."

"No problem," I say, a little too eagerly.  "I understand."  I sit up and stretch, add a yawn for effect.

He smiles up at me.  "You're really amazing -- do you know that?  I always thought so."

I smile coolly, though my skin is crawling a bit.  Leave.  Leave.

He climbs to his feet and gathers his clothes, dressing slowly, casting sly grins in my direction.  I stand, hoping I can speed up the process a little.  I hand him his boots, smiling.

 He takes them from me and then drops them to the floor, pulling me into a kiss.  It's too eager, with entirely too much tongue.  I found this so blindingly erotic only minutes ago?   I don't push him away, but I don't really kiss him back either.  He pulls away and smiles warmly at me.  "I'm sorry I have to rush off like this."

"It's all right."  Go.  Please go now.

"Mmmm..."  Another kiss, accompanied by a grope at my ass.  He pulls away, still smiling.  "I think I'll be able to taste you all day tomorrow."

I have an overwhelming urge to brush my teeth.

I raise my eyebrows and smile vacantly, wondering how I'm going to manage to avoid him for the next few months.  I don't want to see him again.  I don't want to do this again.  I have no idea what to say to him now.  A sudden confusion swells in me: What was I doing, bringing him home like this?  What did I just do?  What happened here?

The sooner he leaves, the better.  I pick up his boots again and press them into his hands.  He sits on the bed and pulls them on, then takes my hand as he finally moves toward the door.  He kisses me again.

"You're amazing, Xan.  I'm glad you're back at the Temple."

Leave.  Please just fucking leave.  I smile and lower my eyes, trying to be gracious.  

"We should get together again.  I'll comm you."

"Great."  Go the fuck away.  Go.  Now.

He palms the door open, winks at me, and then walks away.  I close the door and lock it.

That was a mistake.  What the fuck was I thinking?  Jerking off to porn on the holonet would have been more pleasant and fulfilling than that.  I did enjoy it though, for a while there...  Until he pushed himself into my mind, even after I'd said no.  

What just happened to me?

I sink onto the sofa and immediately wince at the soreness in my ass.  I'm going to feel that all day tomorrow.  Fuck.

I glance at the chrono on the comm panel.  It's after midnight, but I'm wide awake.  The message light is blinking.  I walk over and turn it on, scrolling through.  There are a few text messages from students.

And one video message from Qui-Gon.  The time stamp is twenty-third, just three hours ago.  I select it and have a seat in front of the monitor.

Qui's face appears, looking tired and upset.  "Xan, I don't know if you're home, but... I was hoping..."  He sighs and appears to collect himself.  "Obi-Wan and I had a bit of a falling out and I wanted to talk to you about it.  I need to talk to you.  If you get home soon, comm me."  The message ends.

I sit back in my chair, stunned.  It's probably too late to comm him back.  It'll have to wait until morning.  A desperate sense of loss washes over me.  I could have been with Qui-Gon tonight, talking with him, being there for him.  He needed me, and I was out getting stoned, and fucked by someone I don't even like.

He'll probably think I didn't want to talk to him, that I don't care.  Or worse, he'll know what I was really doing.  That will certainly make him want to sweep me into his arms the next time he sees me.  He and Aubris know each other.  Fuck.

Don't panic.  Don't do this.  You're over-reacting.

I'm not going to get any sleep tonight.


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