Fic: Sweet and Glorious or: The Jedi, the Prince and the Bodyguard 6/8
Title: Sweet and Glorious or: The Jedi, the Prince and the Bodyguard 6/8 [complete]
Author: laeglass
Pairings: Viggo/Orlando, Qui-Gon/Obi-Wan
Rating: NC-17 overall
Category: Action/adventure, AU, romance
Disclaimer: Qui and Obi belong to George Lucas. Viggo and Orlando belong to themselves. This is fiction and I'm making no claims.
A/N: My thanks to the wonderful silvan_lady for beta *squishes*. Dedicated to zee113. Feedback is loved and cherished.
Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Kissing Orlando had to be addictive, Viggo decided; he couldn't otherwise explain his reluctance to pull back from Orlando's lips. He felt light-headed and starved of oxygen, and couldn't wait to kiss him again.
"Will you marry me, Orlando?" Viggo asked as soon as he regained his breath. Orlando's face lit up in a beatific smile.
"Well, as soon as I'm of the marrying age, I certainly will!"
They shared another kiss, tasting each other and revelling in the rightness of it. Orlando finally surfaced with an impish smile, his eyes dancing.
"You'll have to ask my father for my hand, though."
"I imagine I can manage that," Viggo said, grinning. "I have it on good authority that your father approves of me."
"Oh, I'd say so too," Orlando said, and moved his body against Viggo's in a way that inspired less than pure thoughts in his lover's head.
He'd spied a small security device attached to the ceiling in the farthermost corner, which in all likelihood was recording - but hopefully not transmitting live - everything that took place in the safe room, and Viggo most certainly didn't want to supply the King's guard, or the national guard with incriminating material concerning himself and the prince.
He regretted the necessity to abstain because it meant he couldn't do what he most wanted; take Orlando in his arms, lower him down on the floor and love him until the door could be opened again.
"As soon as we get out of here I'm taking you straight to bed, and I don't intend to let you leave it until it is time for the wedding," he murmured in Orlando's ear.
Orlando pressed his body closer, his voice smoky when he spoke. "I don't want to wait; we've waited long enough."
Viggo felt Orlando's hardness through the layers of cloth, and fire surged in his veins. Goddess take the consequences, but he wanted Orlando now.
"Beloved, there is a recording device in the corner, and I don't want to share the sight of you in your pleasure," Viggo said in a low voice, his voice strained. "Nor do I particularly care about being taken straight to jail from here for taking advantage the prince in a stressful situation."
"You are my betrothed," Orlando said loudly, "and you have my leave to touch me in whatever manner you desire. Love me, Viggo."
Viggo pulled him into his arms and turned his back to the security gadget, hiding Orlando from view with his own body, and took his mouth again. He was achingly hard and he sensed the answering need in Orlando; he was making small whimpers in his throat, sweeter than any sounds Viggo had heard previously, and when Viggo eased his hand into Orlando's trousers, the prince cried out.
He rested his forehead on Viggo's shoulder as the older man stroked him from root to tip, panted breaths escaping from his parted lips.
"I've been with others," Orlando said suddenly, swallowing. "I wish that I hadn't. I haven't ever wanted anyone but you."
"No regrets, Orlando," Viggo said and kissed him, and to Orlando's surprise he truly had none.
Needing to share the pleasure and touch the man he loved, he ran his hand down Viggo's chest to his groin, and caressed the hardness he found there, first through the fabric, and then easing his hand through the opening, touching bare skin. Viggo hissed as cool, slender fingers encircled his cock and started to stroke him lovingly.
Their lips locked again as they sought a mutual climax, whispered endearments mingling with groans and whimpers, and finally they fell over the edge, Orlando following Viggo to a blinding orgasm that made all his previous affairs, now matter how intense they had seemed at the time, fade into insignificance. There was only one man for him, this man who was now trembling as they held each other, and he gave his thanks to the Goddess who was kind, and generous.
* * *
Obi-Wan reminded himself that as a master of the Jedi Order, Qui-Gon was aware of Master Yoda's teachings; anger, among other negative things, was a sure-fire way to the Dark Side. Certainly his master would bear that in mind and, consequently, wouldn't be *too* angry with him. He hoped.
"I believe that I've neglected to correct you regarding a failing, Padawan."
The Jedi master sounded serious, and for the first time since his early teenage years Obi-Wan was unable to meet Qui-Gon's eyes, sensing his disappointment and his banked anger.
"Master?"
Qui-Gon sighed with impatience.
"You have been blocking increasingly during the past months, something which I should have remarked on earlier. Did you know, Obi-Wan, that because the bond was created by the Force, and indeed, by its nature works through and around the Force, hindering, or smothering it altogether -" here Obi-Wan's ears started to burn guiltily "- will disturb your Force-sensitivity?"
The apprentice swallowed. No, he hadn't known that. In fact, he was quite certain *that* particular titbit hadn't ever been taught in any of his classes.
"No, Master." It came out as a croak.
"I suppose I should be glad. I would hate to think that my padawan would knowingly choose to impair his use of the Force in the middle of a battle."
The Jedi master sounded acerbic, but Obi-Wan clearly sensed the sentiment behind his words. Obi-Wan had unknowingly put himself at great risk, and Qui-Gon was blaming himself for that ignorance; indeed, for not interfering earlier with a practise that could prove harmful - and had.
"I'm sorry, Master, for disappointing you. I --" He floundered. This wasn't Qui-Gon's fault, and it wouldn't do to have him blame himself for Obi-Wan's stupidity. His master deserved to hear at least one plausible reason for his actions, and he scrambled around his brain to find a vague enough explanation. "I have struggled with an inner conflict of sorts, of the emotional kind. Master, I promise to meditate more on the subject of it. This won't happen again."
He hoped that Qui-Gon would assume a love affair gone wrong, or something of equally personal - and frivolous - nature, and leave the matter be. However, the disappointed frown on his master's face wouldn't dissipate. If anything, he looked even sterner.
"You are nearing your knighthood, Obi-Wan."
"Yes, Master," the padawan said.
"I trust that you have already meditated on your... conflict." There was a slight pause, and then Qui-Gon cleared his throat. "The main reason I haven't wanted to draw attention to it is that I realise that at your age you both need and deserve your privacy. You've increased your shielding against our bond this last year. Does this have to do with your conflict?"
"Yes, Master." Obi-Wan's voice was a mere whisper.
Qui-Gon's eyes narrowed, a sure-fire way to tell that he was slowly losing his vaunted patience, something that hadn't happened since Obi-Wan was fourteen and had pulled an incredibly thoughtless prank that involved Master Yarael Poof and a stolen speeder.
"That is all you have to say? I believe that as your master I am owed a better explanation. You risked yourself needlessly, Obi-Wan. What do you have to say for yourself?"
The padawan remained silent, knowing that whatever he said would just get him deeper in trouble. It *was* inexcusable, he knew that, but somehow he had thought that the fact that his master didn't say anything made it alright. Clearly, he should have known better.
"You cannot find it in you to trust your master?" Qui-Gon asked, sounding stern. "You have your right to your privacy, as long as it doesn't interfere with your training; however, it's starting to become clear that this... whatever this is, *does* affect your training, and it must be resolved. Before you get yourself killed."
Obi-Wan hung his head, sensing Qui-Gon's increasing impatience and waiting for the inevitable command.
"Speak to me, Padawan."
No response. Obi-Wan's hands clenched into fists, hanging onto his slipping control by dint of will.
"Sith hells, Padawan, you will *not* keep secrets from me!"
Qui-Gon felt the Force around them electrify with Obi-Wan's feelings, and for a brief moment wondered what had just been unleashed. He learned the answer a second later; Obi-Wan's shields were slipping along with his control, and fast. Obi-Wan's eyes whipped up to meet his master's, his voice cracking along with his resolve to keep quiet.
"What would you have me say, Master? That I'm shielding because I don't want you to know the truth about me? That every day, every second I break the Code in my heart; that every day finds me reciting that one line in the vain hope that it'll prove true. Is that what you would have me say?"
They stared at one another. Obi-Wan, for once, didn't bother shielding against the training bond, deciding that it was time for his master to learn the true depth of his mind's turmoil. He felt, and saw, the Jedi master flinch, but the elder Jedi remained open to the bond, accepting the flow of his apprentice's feelings. Fear, anger, anxiety all rolled into one.
"And what is that, Padawan?" Qui-Gon asked softly.
"There is no passion," Obi-Wan recited, his eyes now fixed on his Master's mouth. "There is serenity."
"You think it isn't so." Softer still.
"I *know* it isn't so. Not when I want to --"
The Force whispered to Qui-Gon a split second before he had his arms full of a warm, young padawan, Obi-Wan's lips all but melding to his. He would have staggered backwards in surprise with his lapful if not for a quick application of the Force to keep them upright.
They were both unprepared for the flaring of their bond; what had essentially been a basic link to exchange thoughts and share surface emotions now surged with renewed energy, all but incinerating their innermost shields the moment their lips came together, and physical connection was forged at long last.
Qui-Gon's knees weakened as he was hit by the strength of Obi-Wan's love for him. It was pure and it ran deep, the Force was but all but singing this basic truth, one that he had been fully oblivious to; Obi-Wan loved him without reserve. And not only that; his padawan was burning for him, for his touch, his desire a palpable wave of heat as it reached Qui-Gon. He flushed as he realised that Obi-Wan was still a virgin, and his desirable padawan had been waiting for him to take notice.
//I thought you and Garen --// he stuttered through the expanding bond, unable to form intelligent words under the tide of their shared emotions.
//Never, Master, there's never been anyone but you...//
Obi-Wan was reduced to near speechlessness, by the force of the feelings coming from his usually reserved master.
Qui-Gon had loved him since he was seventeen, but had ruthlessly buried his more tender feelings to his subconscious, willing them not to emerge until Obi-Wan's knighting day, and then *only* if Obi-Wan showed any signs of desiring such an union. He'd be content to love Obi-Wan all his days, from afar if need be; what mattered most was that Obi-Wan fulfilled his potential to become a skilled Jedi knight, strong in the Force and dedicated to his service to the light.
The rare glimpse into his master's soul revealed, however, that this peace had been reached through countless hours of meditation, hours that were easily undone by the sight of a smiling Obi-Wan in the training salle, or a flushed and wet Obi-Wan coming out of the 'fresher, or a studious Obi-Wan nibbling on the end of his padawan braid as he calculated his astrophysics exercises.
The Jedi master blinked his eyes that were suddenly clouded with tears. He released his padawan's mouth, and brought his hands up to thumb Obi-Wan's tears off of his face. Obi-Wan looked as thunderstruck as he felt.
"You... love me?" It was Obi-Wan who spoke first.
"I have always loved you, my Obi-Wan, and I always will."
Obi-Wan looked dazed. It was one thing to know that your master cared for you, or even *loved* you, quite another to hear it spoken aloud, and yet very much another to feel the emotion flowing through you, drowning your ego and your sense of self until all you needed or wanted was to lose yourself in the one you craved with all your being.
"I love you, Master," he whispered, a bit shyly.
It was a very small admission to make, now that Qui-Gon had been bombarded with every thought, every emotion and every wish he had kept so close to his heart. Qui-Gon smiled.
"I know, my Obi-Wan. And I'm honoured by your love."
The bond had lost some of its intensity as their lips parted, but Obi-Wan could still feel his master in the back of his mind, the feeling quite different from the custom training bond. He felt Qui-Gon's surprise, his joy and his... regret?
Obi-Wan's eyes sought Qui-Gon's, suddenly distressed. If his master were to claim now that they should meditate together and release their inappropriate feelings to the Force, he would certainly perish from sheer frustration.
Qui-Gon chuckled suddenly.
"You will not die, Padawan. And I will suggest no such thing. You can release your anger and your fear, Obi-Wan, but not love. Never love."
"Then... why..." Obi-Wan wasn't sure what to ask.
Qui-Gon sighed. "Padawan. I thought we would come to this moment, indeed, if we *ever* would, in two years at the earliest. *After* you had been knighted."
Obi-Wan's brain immediately supplied that his master would have preferred to wait. Would have preferred an older Obi-Wan, one who was his equal, not his student. Perhaps Qui-Gon would even have preferred an experienced lover, not a young man who had to be the oldest virgin of the Order.
He blinked slowly, not trying to think of the long years stretching ahead as he replied, "Master, if you want us to wait until... until my knighting--"
Qui-Gon's hands framed his face, and his lips were tasted in a gentle kiss. The master sighed.
"Obi-Wan, this last year has been difficult for you because of your need to bury your feelings. As your master I cannot believe that more of *this* would prove useful to your training and your growth; and at any rate, you cannot shield against our bond to the extent that you have. There is a reason why padawans and masters are discouraged to enter this particular path, but now that we're on it we'll have to go forward in the direction that the Force has chosen for us."
"But you would have waited until I was made knight?"
Qui-Gon nodded, and then soothed the small pinprick of hurt with a mental caress.
"Not out of preference for any particular age, or status, Obi-Wan. But your training comes first. It must always come first, no matter if we are a bonded pair, or lovers, or simply master and his padawan. Which means no more blocking the bond, and no more hiding things from your master."
He'd spoken the last words sternly, but felt a quick surge of surprised joy coming from Obi-Wan at the mentioned prospect of becoming bonded, and couldn't suppress a smile.
"Obi-Wan. That, at the very least, should wait until your knighting," he said gently.
"I can wait, Master," Obi-Wan said confidently, and his Force signature was singing with his happiness.
Qui-Gon couldn't resist the smiling mouth and indulged himself by tasting the lips that haunted most of his waking dreams. Obi-Wan's happy sigh was lost in the kiss as he wrapped his arms around his master, coming to stand on tiptoes as Qui-Gon straightened to his full height. Lips nibbled and sucked, a smooth cheek rubbed against a bearded one, but as Obi-Wan sought to mould his frame against Qui-Gon's the master gently ended the kiss.
He held his padawan close, however, tucking Obi-Wan's head under his chin, and the padawan allowed himself to be lulled by the sound of his new lover's steady heartbeat.
An old memory resurfaced in Obi-Wan's mind; back when he was still sixteen and most decidedly in the throes of his Padawan Crush. He had been dreaming of his master's hands, imagined Qui-Gon making love to him, and had woken to a gentle hand on his shoulder, and Qui-Gon's voice calling out his name. He had spurted his release all over himself just as he jerked awake, gasping at the intensity of his climax as he met his master's eyes, suddenly aware that his shielding had slipped and he was feeding his emotions into their bond.
Obi-Wan had blushed scarlet, certain that inside his master was either howling with laughter or cringing in disgust, but Qui-Gon had touched his shoulder kindly and invited him to a shared meditation. The mortified apprentice had scrambled up from the bed, and settled on the ground, facing his master who watched him gently.
"Release your anxiety, Obi-Wan. Nothing untoward or abnormal has happened. Now, find your centre."
They had meditated together, and when Obi-Wan resurfaced an hour later a new seed had been planted inside him, one that would grow the infatuation into steadfast love.
He felt Qui-Gon's pleasure at this memory, and realised he had shared it through their new bond. He felt giddy at the thought that he could tell his master everything, could reveal every secret wish and glance, and *know* that his love wasn't only received with affection; it was returned.
//Obi-Wan?// Qui-Gon sent a moment later.
//Yes, Master?//
A mental sigh followed which piqued Obi-Wan's interest.
//You haven't always made it easy for me to be a proper master to you, either.// Before Obi-Wan could project a momentary sense of hurt, Qui-Gon continued. //If you once upon a time thought me that irresistible, would you want to know what it's been like for me these past couple of years as you've grown up?//
Qui-Gon offered him the memory of walking behind Obi-Wan to the healers while scolding the aforementioned apprentice, soon after Obi-Wan's seventeenth birthday (Obi-Wan now remembered that he had sprained his wrist rather badly after attempting too complex a kata, having wanted to impress his master); the jolt of realisation that his eyes were most decidedly glued to his apprentice's tempting backside and the arousal that followed, resulting in him throwing his shields up hastily, and thanking the Force that it was customary for a padawan to walk *behind* his master, lest he spent his remaining years as Obi-Wan's mentor in the state of perpetual arousal.
Oh, Force; the Strut, as he'd dubbed Obi-Wan's swaggering walk, had caused the master many a sleepless night in the years to come. One look at the swinging hips and he would be back to square one, showering in cold water and reciting the Code in his head over and over again.
//Master! I never knew!//
//I have years of experience on you, Padawan,// Qui-Gon returned dryly. //I wouldn't be much of a master if I couldn't conceal my yearning for my padawan.//
//And yet you wouldn't have me shield against our bond,// Obi-Wan sent.
A gentle mental caress had him smiling.
//You don't yet possess the necessary skills to shield without impairing yourself in some way, Padawan. Besides, you are young, Obi-Wan. Denying yourself, and controlling yourself to this extent takes much more of a toll on you. But please don't think I care for you any less.//
Obi-Wan shook his head wordlessly. He had *felt* the extent and the depth of his master's love and devotion for him, and would never doubt it, come what may. He suspected that Qui-Gon's love for him was purer than his own; more selfless, at the very least. Qui-Gon would have been content with his happiness, while he was burning to have Qui-Gon's heart, and despairing that it would ever be so.
"You are not selfish, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said, brushing Obi-Wan's forehead with his lips. "Trust me, Padawan; whatever peace of mind I had reached in that regard came through hours and hours of meditation. Although, I must admit that I had some hopes set up for your knighting day."
"As had I, Master," Obi-Wan said almost shyly.
The truth of that statement made the master's head spin. His Obi-Wan would have waited. He wasn't blind to the fact that wherever they went - and they didn't even need to leave Coruscant, for Force sake - people approached his padawan, and the countless propositions and offers that he received weren't all
innocent in nature. It seemed that Obi-Wan had rebuffed all their advances, and chosen to wait for his master. It was beyond touching. It was humbling.
"Master, what just happened with the bond?" Obi-Wan asked suddenly.
Qui-Gon cleared his throat. He had a few ideas, but didn't feel comfortable sharing them with his padawan. Not quite yet.
"I wouldn't want to speculate, Padawan, but... I feel that we have entered a new sort of bond. It certainly allows us to share *more* than our training bond, in any case. Don't be worried; we'll sort this out as soon as we return to Coruscant."
"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan said happily.
"And now, Padawan, that we've reached these conclusions, 'tis time we return to the mission at hand. I doubt it will harm us to clean some of this mess. It is, after all, still another day before Prince Orlando and Viggo will be able to join us."
Obi-Wan sighed. "Yes, Master."
* * *
Viggo and Orlando emerged from the safe room a day later to a different world.
They had loved, and they had talked, and Viggo had asked for Orlando's forgiveness again, something which Orlando happily granted, not wanting to waste time on regrets and blame. The love revealed didn't change the fact that the end of the world as Orlando knew it was nearing, but it made it bearable.
The Jedi, on their part, had considered the happenings of the previous day, and had reached the inevitable conclusion; Orlando not only shared the sentiments of the Nationalist faction, but was personally involved. Obi-Wan insisted that Orlando wasn't a terrorist, nor had the staged attack caused them any harm, and as such, they should speak with the young royal ere reporting to the king.
Qui-Gon had considered this, and then agreed. He had sensed no malice in Orlando, either. Even more telling had been Orlando's reaction upon Viggo getting shot; the prince had immediately acted in his defence, without thinking. He had a good heart, then, at least, even if his involvement with the Nationalist faction had divided his loyalties.
Orlando went to the Jedi who were standing side to side, and descended to one knee before Qui-Gon, bending his head in supplication.
"I beg your forgiveness, honoured Jedi. You were caught in a political plot that shouldn't have concerned you at all. I pray that neither of you were wounded."
"No, neither of us were." Qui-Gon didn't say more, and Obi-Wan resisted the urge to throw a look at his master. Couldn't he make this any easier for Orlando? Instead, he kept his hands tucked in his sleeves, and waited.
"I have no excuse for my actions. I've been thoughtless, and placed others in needless danger. If you so wish, I will give myself over for questioning."
Orlando willed his hands to stop trembling where they were laced on top of his knee. He and Viggo had talked about this at length while in lockdown, and Orlando had reached the conclusion that if he wanted to become, no, *be* the kind of man and prince he truly wanted to be, he'd have to own up to his actions, and take responsibility for the scheme that had backfired so badly. Even if it meant that he would be cast out from his family, or thrown in jail. Viggo had expressed rather thoroughly that Orlando would have his support, come what may. He would speak out in Orlando's behalf, at the very least; plead, if need be.
Orlando felt the gentle prod of another's mind against his, and steeled himself. Qui-Gon was feeling him for sincerity, and soon the touch was gone.
"Please, rise, Prince Orlando. I would prefer not to hold a conversation staring at the top of your head," he said, his light tone robbing the words of any insult.
Orlando snorted at the repressed humour and rose with fluid grace. Thankful to feel Viggo's quiet support beside him, he bravely met the Jedi master's eyes, and --
-- met compassion.
"I believe in your sincerity, your Highness," Qui-Gon said. "You didn't intend for anyone to get hurt."
"I most certainly didn't," Orlando said vehemently. "I regret that things went awry. And I apologise for my part in it. I -- I believe I thought that the outcome did justify the means."
"And now?" Qui-Gon asked seriously.
"And now, while I cannot regret the sentiment behind the scheme, I find that there are things one shouldn't play with; that there must be another way, always. Besides, anything worth having is worth fighting for." Here he threw a glance at Viggo, and Obi-Wan could have sworn that the bodyguard flushed at the look. "I will talk to my father and tell him what I have done; and, if he can find it in his heart to forgive me, I'll try and appeal to him again about our situation."
Qui-Gon nodded, appearing satisfied. The prince had grown up overnight, it seemed; there was quiet confidence in him which belied his young age.
"I suggest you do that, your Highness. On our part, there are no demands. As you have stated, this is an internal conflict, and as Jedi, or as Republic representatives, we have no authority - and speaking plainly, no will - to get involved in what is state business. The Jedi's jurisdiction does not extend to internal matters. I trust that King Arold will consider your appeal, Prince Orlando."
Obi-Wan went to the prince and stroked his hand down Orlando's arm, drawing a smile from him at the gesture of support. Viggo watched them with a smile of his own, pleased that someone had seen through Orlando - and even more so, himself - and had been brave enough to make him face his own inner struggle. And... was the Jedi padawan actually exuding a glow of his own?
Orlando seemed to sense it also, narrowing his eyes in curiosity as he looked from the master to the apprentice.
"Did something happen while we were locked in the safe room?"
They were surprised to see the unflappable Jedi master blush.
tbc in chapter 7
Author: laeglass
Pairings: Viggo/Orlando, Qui-Gon/Obi-Wan
Rating: NC-17 overall
Category: Action/adventure, AU, romance
Disclaimer: Qui and Obi belong to George Lucas. Viggo and Orlando belong to themselves. This is fiction and I'm making no claims.
A/N: My thanks to the wonderful silvan_lady for beta *squishes*. Dedicated to zee113. Feedback is loved and cherished.
Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Kissing Orlando had to be addictive, Viggo decided; he couldn't otherwise explain his reluctance to pull back from Orlando's lips. He felt light-headed and starved of oxygen, and couldn't wait to kiss him again.
"Will you marry me, Orlando?" Viggo asked as soon as he regained his breath. Orlando's face lit up in a beatific smile.
"Well, as soon as I'm of the marrying age, I certainly will!"
They shared another kiss, tasting each other and revelling in the rightness of it. Orlando finally surfaced with an impish smile, his eyes dancing.
"You'll have to ask my father for my hand, though."
"I imagine I can manage that," Viggo said, grinning. "I have it on good authority that your father approves of me."
"Oh, I'd say so too," Orlando said, and moved his body against Viggo's in a way that inspired less than pure thoughts in his lover's head.
He'd spied a small security device attached to the ceiling in the farthermost corner, which in all likelihood was recording - but hopefully not transmitting live - everything that took place in the safe room, and Viggo most certainly didn't want to supply the King's guard, or the national guard with incriminating material concerning himself and the prince.
He regretted the necessity to abstain because it meant he couldn't do what he most wanted; take Orlando in his arms, lower him down on the floor and love him until the door could be opened again.
"As soon as we get out of here I'm taking you straight to bed, and I don't intend to let you leave it until it is time for the wedding," he murmured in Orlando's ear.
Orlando pressed his body closer, his voice smoky when he spoke. "I don't want to wait; we've waited long enough."
Viggo felt Orlando's hardness through the layers of cloth, and fire surged in his veins. Goddess take the consequences, but he wanted Orlando now.
"Beloved, there is a recording device in the corner, and I don't want to share the sight of you in your pleasure," Viggo said in a low voice, his voice strained. "Nor do I particularly care about being taken straight to jail from here for taking advantage the prince in a stressful situation."
"You are my betrothed," Orlando said loudly, "and you have my leave to touch me in whatever manner you desire. Love me, Viggo."
Viggo pulled him into his arms and turned his back to the security gadget, hiding Orlando from view with his own body, and took his mouth again. He was achingly hard and he sensed the answering need in Orlando; he was making small whimpers in his throat, sweeter than any sounds Viggo had heard previously, and when Viggo eased his hand into Orlando's trousers, the prince cried out.
He rested his forehead on Viggo's shoulder as the older man stroked him from root to tip, panted breaths escaping from his parted lips.
"I've been with others," Orlando said suddenly, swallowing. "I wish that I hadn't. I haven't ever wanted anyone but you."
"No regrets, Orlando," Viggo said and kissed him, and to Orlando's surprise he truly had none.
Needing to share the pleasure and touch the man he loved, he ran his hand down Viggo's chest to his groin, and caressed the hardness he found there, first through the fabric, and then easing his hand through the opening, touching bare skin. Viggo hissed as cool, slender fingers encircled his cock and started to stroke him lovingly.
Their lips locked again as they sought a mutual climax, whispered endearments mingling with groans and whimpers, and finally they fell over the edge, Orlando following Viggo to a blinding orgasm that made all his previous affairs, now matter how intense they had seemed at the time, fade into insignificance. There was only one man for him, this man who was now trembling as they held each other, and he gave his thanks to the Goddess who was kind, and generous.
* * *
Obi-Wan reminded himself that as a master of the Jedi Order, Qui-Gon was aware of Master Yoda's teachings; anger, among other negative things, was a sure-fire way to the Dark Side. Certainly his master would bear that in mind and, consequently, wouldn't be *too* angry with him. He hoped.
"I believe that I've neglected to correct you regarding a failing, Padawan."
The Jedi master sounded serious, and for the first time since his early teenage years Obi-Wan was unable to meet Qui-Gon's eyes, sensing his disappointment and his banked anger.
"Master?"
Qui-Gon sighed with impatience.
"You have been blocking increasingly during the past months, something which I should have remarked on earlier. Did you know, Obi-Wan, that because the bond was created by the Force, and indeed, by its nature works through and around the Force, hindering, or smothering it altogether -" here Obi-Wan's ears started to burn guiltily "- will disturb your Force-sensitivity?"
The apprentice swallowed. No, he hadn't known that. In fact, he was quite certain *that* particular titbit hadn't ever been taught in any of his classes.
"No, Master." It came out as a croak.
"I suppose I should be glad. I would hate to think that my padawan would knowingly choose to impair his use of the Force in the middle of a battle."
The Jedi master sounded acerbic, but Obi-Wan clearly sensed the sentiment behind his words. Obi-Wan had unknowingly put himself at great risk, and Qui-Gon was blaming himself for that ignorance; indeed, for not interfering earlier with a practise that could prove harmful - and had.
"I'm sorry, Master, for disappointing you. I --" He floundered. This wasn't Qui-Gon's fault, and it wouldn't do to have him blame himself for Obi-Wan's stupidity. His master deserved to hear at least one plausible reason for his actions, and he scrambled around his brain to find a vague enough explanation. "I have struggled with an inner conflict of sorts, of the emotional kind. Master, I promise to meditate more on the subject of it. This won't happen again."
He hoped that Qui-Gon would assume a love affair gone wrong, or something of equally personal - and frivolous - nature, and leave the matter be. However, the disappointed frown on his master's face wouldn't dissipate. If anything, he looked even sterner.
"You are nearing your knighthood, Obi-Wan."
"Yes, Master," the padawan said.
"I trust that you have already meditated on your... conflict." There was a slight pause, and then Qui-Gon cleared his throat. "The main reason I haven't wanted to draw attention to it is that I realise that at your age you both need and deserve your privacy. You've increased your shielding against our bond this last year. Does this have to do with your conflict?"
"Yes, Master." Obi-Wan's voice was a mere whisper.
Qui-Gon's eyes narrowed, a sure-fire way to tell that he was slowly losing his vaunted patience, something that hadn't happened since Obi-Wan was fourteen and had pulled an incredibly thoughtless prank that involved Master Yarael Poof and a stolen speeder.
"That is all you have to say? I believe that as your master I am owed a better explanation. You risked yourself needlessly, Obi-Wan. What do you have to say for yourself?"
The padawan remained silent, knowing that whatever he said would just get him deeper in trouble. It *was* inexcusable, he knew that, but somehow he had thought that the fact that his master didn't say anything made it alright. Clearly, he should have known better.
"You cannot find it in you to trust your master?" Qui-Gon asked, sounding stern. "You have your right to your privacy, as long as it doesn't interfere with your training; however, it's starting to become clear that this... whatever this is, *does* affect your training, and it must be resolved. Before you get yourself killed."
Obi-Wan hung his head, sensing Qui-Gon's increasing impatience and waiting for the inevitable command.
"Speak to me, Padawan."
No response. Obi-Wan's hands clenched into fists, hanging onto his slipping control by dint of will.
"Sith hells, Padawan, you will *not* keep secrets from me!"
Qui-Gon felt the Force around them electrify with Obi-Wan's feelings, and for a brief moment wondered what had just been unleashed. He learned the answer a second later; Obi-Wan's shields were slipping along with his control, and fast. Obi-Wan's eyes whipped up to meet his master's, his voice cracking along with his resolve to keep quiet.
"What would you have me say, Master? That I'm shielding because I don't want you to know the truth about me? That every day, every second I break the Code in my heart; that every day finds me reciting that one line in the vain hope that it'll prove true. Is that what you would have me say?"
They stared at one another. Obi-Wan, for once, didn't bother shielding against the training bond, deciding that it was time for his master to learn the true depth of his mind's turmoil. He felt, and saw, the Jedi master flinch, but the elder Jedi remained open to the bond, accepting the flow of his apprentice's feelings. Fear, anger, anxiety all rolled into one.
"And what is that, Padawan?" Qui-Gon asked softly.
"There is no passion," Obi-Wan recited, his eyes now fixed on his Master's mouth. "There is serenity."
"You think it isn't so." Softer still.
"I *know* it isn't so. Not when I want to --"
The Force whispered to Qui-Gon a split second before he had his arms full of a warm, young padawan, Obi-Wan's lips all but melding to his. He would have staggered backwards in surprise with his lapful if not for a quick application of the Force to keep them upright.
They were both unprepared for the flaring of their bond; what had essentially been a basic link to exchange thoughts and share surface emotions now surged with renewed energy, all but incinerating their innermost shields the moment their lips came together, and physical connection was forged at long last.
Qui-Gon's knees weakened as he was hit by the strength of Obi-Wan's love for him. It was pure and it ran deep, the Force was but all but singing this basic truth, one that he had been fully oblivious to; Obi-Wan loved him without reserve. And not only that; his padawan was burning for him, for his touch, his desire a palpable wave of heat as it reached Qui-Gon. He flushed as he realised that Obi-Wan was still a virgin, and his desirable padawan had been waiting for him to take notice.
//I thought you and Garen --// he stuttered through the expanding bond, unable to form intelligent words under the tide of their shared emotions.
//Never, Master, there's never been anyone but you...//
Obi-Wan was reduced to near speechlessness, by the force of the feelings coming from his usually reserved master.
Qui-Gon had loved him since he was seventeen, but had ruthlessly buried his more tender feelings to his subconscious, willing them not to emerge until Obi-Wan's knighting day, and then *only* if Obi-Wan showed any signs of desiring such an union. He'd be content to love Obi-Wan all his days, from afar if need be; what mattered most was that Obi-Wan fulfilled his potential to become a skilled Jedi knight, strong in the Force and dedicated to his service to the light.
The rare glimpse into his master's soul revealed, however, that this peace had been reached through countless hours of meditation, hours that were easily undone by the sight of a smiling Obi-Wan in the training salle, or a flushed and wet Obi-Wan coming out of the 'fresher, or a studious Obi-Wan nibbling on the end of his padawan braid as he calculated his astrophysics exercises.
The Jedi master blinked his eyes that were suddenly clouded with tears. He released his padawan's mouth, and brought his hands up to thumb Obi-Wan's tears off of his face. Obi-Wan looked as thunderstruck as he felt.
"You... love me?" It was Obi-Wan who spoke first.
"I have always loved you, my Obi-Wan, and I always will."
Obi-Wan looked dazed. It was one thing to know that your master cared for you, or even *loved* you, quite another to hear it spoken aloud, and yet very much another to feel the emotion flowing through you, drowning your ego and your sense of self until all you needed or wanted was to lose yourself in the one you craved with all your being.
"I love you, Master," he whispered, a bit shyly.
It was a very small admission to make, now that Qui-Gon had been bombarded with every thought, every emotion and every wish he had kept so close to his heart. Qui-Gon smiled.
"I know, my Obi-Wan. And I'm honoured by your love."
The bond had lost some of its intensity as their lips parted, but Obi-Wan could still feel his master in the back of his mind, the feeling quite different from the custom training bond. He felt Qui-Gon's surprise, his joy and his... regret?
Obi-Wan's eyes sought Qui-Gon's, suddenly distressed. If his master were to claim now that they should meditate together and release their inappropriate feelings to the Force, he would certainly perish from sheer frustration.
Qui-Gon chuckled suddenly.
"You will not die, Padawan. And I will suggest no such thing. You can release your anger and your fear, Obi-Wan, but not love. Never love."
"Then... why..." Obi-Wan wasn't sure what to ask.
Qui-Gon sighed. "Padawan. I thought we would come to this moment, indeed, if we *ever* would, in two years at the earliest. *After* you had been knighted."
Obi-Wan's brain immediately supplied that his master would have preferred to wait. Would have preferred an older Obi-Wan, one who was his equal, not his student. Perhaps Qui-Gon would even have preferred an experienced lover, not a young man who had to be the oldest virgin of the Order.
He blinked slowly, not trying to think of the long years stretching ahead as he replied, "Master, if you want us to wait until... until my knighting--"
Qui-Gon's hands framed his face, and his lips were tasted in a gentle kiss. The master sighed.
"Obi-Wan, this last year has been difficult for you because of your need to bury your feelings. As your master I cannot believe that more of *this* would prove useful to your training and your growth; and at any rate, you cannot shield against our bond to the extent that you have. There is a reason why padawans and masters are discouraged to enter this particular path, but now that we're on it we'll have to go forward in the direction that the Force has chosen for us."
"But you would have waited until I was made knight?"
Qui-Gon nodded, and then soothed the small pinprick of hurt with a mental caress.
"Not out of preference for any particular age, or status, Obi-Wan. But your training comes first. It must always come first, no matter if we are a bonded pair, or lovers, or simply master and his padawan. Which means no more blocking the bond, and no more hiding things from your master."
He'd spoken the last words sternly, but felt a quick surge of surprised joy coming from Obi-Wan at the mentioned prospect of becoming bonded, and couldn't suppress a smile.
"Obi-Wan. That, at the very least, should wait until your knighting," he said gently.
"I can wait, Master," Obi-Wan said confidently, and his Force signature was singing with his happiness.
Qui-Gon couldn't resist the smiling mouth and indulged himself by tasting the lips that haunted most of his waking dreams. Obi-Wan's happy sigh was lost in the kiss as he wrapped his arms around his master, coming to stand on tiptoes as Qui-Gon straightened to his full height. Lips nibbled and sucked, a smooth cheek rubbed against a bearded one, but as Obi-Wan sought to mould his frame against Qui-Gon's the master gently ended the kiss.
He held his padawan close, however, tucking Obi-Wan's head under his chin, and the padawan allowed himself to be lulled by the sound of his new lover's steady heartbeat.
An old memory resurfaced in Obi-Wan's mind; back when he was still sixteen and most decidedly in the throes of his Padawan Crush. He had been dreaming of his master's hands, imagined Qui-Gon making love to him, and had woken to a gentle hand on his shoulder, and Qui-Gon's voice calling out his name. He had spurted his release all over himself just as he jerked awake, gasping at the intensity of his climax as he met his master's eyes, suddenly aware that his shielding had slipped and he was feeding his emotions into their bond.
Obi-Wan had blushed scarlet, certain that inside his master was either howling with laughter or cringing in disgust, but Qui-Gon had touched his shoulder kindly and invited him to a shared meditation. The mortified apprentice had scrambled up from the bed, and settled on the ground, facing his master who watched him gently.
"Release your anxiety, Obi-Wan. Nothing untoward or abnormal has happened. Now, find your centre."
They had meditated together, and when Obi-Wan resurfaced an hour later a new seed had been planted inside him, one that would grow the infatuation into steadfast love.
He felt Qui-Gon's pleasure at this memory, and realised he had shared it through their new bond. He felt giddy at the thought that he could tell his master everything, could reveal every secret wish and glance, and *know* that his love wasn't only received with affection; it was returned.
//Obi-Wan?// Qui-Gon sent a moment later.
//Yes, Master?//
A mental sigh followed which piqued Obi-Wan's interest.
//You haven't always made it easy for me to be a proper master to you, either.// Before Obi-Wan could project a momentary sense of hurt, Qui-Gon continued. //If you once upon a time thought me that irresistible, would you want to know what it's been like for me these past couple of years as you've grown up?//
Qui-Gon offered him the memory of walking behind Obi-Wan to the healers while scolding the aforementioned apprentice, soon after Obi-Wan's seventeenth birthday (Obi-Wan now remembered that he had sprained his wrist rather badly after attempting too complex a kata, having wanted to impress his master); the jolt of realisation that his eyes were most decidedly glued to his apprentice's tempting backside and the arousal that followed, resulting in him throwing his shields up hastily, and thanking the Force that it was customary for a padawan to walk *behind* his master, lest he spent his remaining years as Obi-Wan's mentor in the state of perpetual arousal.
Oh, Force; the Strut, as he'd dubbed Obi-Wan's swaggering walk, had caused the master many a sleepless night in the years to come. One look at the swinging hips and he would be back to square one, showering in cold water and reciting the Code in his head over and over again.
//Master! I never knew!//
//I have years of experience on you, Padawan,// Qui-Gon returned dryly. //I wouldn't be much of a master if I couldn't conceal my yearning for my padawan.//
//And yet you wouldn't have me shield against our bond,// Obi-Wan sent.
A gentle mental caress had him smiling.
//You don't yet possess the necessary skills to shield without impairing yourself in some way, Padawan. Besides, you are young, Obi-Wan. Denying yourself, and controlling yourself to this extent takes much more of a toll on you. But please don't think I care for you any less.//
Obi-Wan shook his head wordlessly. He had *felt* the extent and the depth of his master's love and devotion for him, and would never doubt it, come what may. He suspected that Qui-Gon's love for him was purer than his own; more selfless, at the very least. Qui-Gon would have been content with his happiness, while he was burning to have Qui-Gon's heart, and despairing that it would ever be so.
"You are not selfish, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said, brushing Obi-Wan's forehead with his lips. "Trust me, Padawan; whatever peace of mind I had reached in that regard came through hours and hours of meditation. Although, I must admit that I had some hopes set up for your knighting day."
"As had I, Master," Obi-Wan said almost shyly.
The truth of that statement made the master's head spin. His Obi-Wan would have waited. He wasn't blind to the fact that wherever they went - and they didn't even need to leave Coruscant, for Force sake - people approached his padawan, and the countless propositions and offers that he received weren't all
innocent in nature. It seemed that Obi-Wan had rebuffed all their advances, and chosen to wait for his master. It was beyond touching. It was humbling.
"Master, what just happened with the bond?" Obi-Wan asked suddenly.
Qui-Gon cleared his throat. He had a few ideas, but didn't feel comfortable sharing them with his padawan. Not quite yet.
"I wouldn't want to speculate, Padawan, but... I feel that we have entered a new sort of bond. It certainly allows us to share *more* than our training bond, in any case. Don't be worried; we'll sort this out as soon as we return to Coruscant."
"Yes, Master," Obi-Wan said happily.
"And now, Padawan, that we've reached these conclusions, 'tis time we return to the mission at hand. I doubt it will harm us to clean some of this mess. It is, after all, still another day before Prince Orlando and Viggo will be able to join us."
Obi-Wan sighed. "Yes, Master."
* * *
Viggo and Orlando emerged from the safe room a day later to a different world.
They had loved, and they had talked, and Viggo had asked for Orlando's forgiveness again, something which Orlando happily granted, not wanting to waste time on regrets and blame. The love revealed didn't change the fact that the end of the world as Orlando knew it was nearing, but it made it bearable.
The Jedi, on their part, had considered the happenings of the previous day, and had reached the inevitable conclusion; Orlando not only shared the sentiments of the Nationalist faction, but was personally involved. Obi-Wan insisted that Orlando wasn't a terrorist, nor had the staged attack caused them any harm, and as such, they should speak with the young royal ere reporting to the king.
Qui-Gon had considered this, and then agreed. He had sensed no malice in Orlando, either. Even more telling had been Orlando's reaction upon Viggo getting shot; the prince had immediately acted in his defence, without thinking. He had a good heart, then, at least, even if his involvement with the Nationalist faction had divided his loyalties.
Orlando went to the Jedi who were standing side to side, and descended to one knee before Qui-Gon, bending his head in supplication.
"I beg your forgiveness, honoured Jedi. You were caught in a political plot that shouldn't have concerned you at all. I pray that neither of you were wounded."
"No, neither of us were." Qui-Gon didn't say more, and Obi-Wan resisted the urge to throw a look at his master. Couldn't he make this any easier for Orlando? Instead, he kept his hands tucked in his sleeves, and waited.
"I have no excuse for my actions. I've been thoughtless, and placed others in needless danger. If you so wish, I will give myself over for questioning."
Orlando willed his hands to stop trembling where they were laced on top of his knee. He and Viggo had talked about this at length while in lockdown, and Orlando had reached the conclusion that if he wanted to become, no, *be* the kind of man and prince he truly wanted to be, he'd have to own up to his actions, and take responsibility for the scheme that had backfired so badly. Even if it meant that he would be cast out from his family, or thrown in jail. Viggo had expressed rather thoroughly that Orlando would have his support, come what may. He would speak out in Orlando's behalf, at the very least; plead, if need be.
Orlando felt the gentle prod of another's mind against his, and steeled himself. Qui-Gon was feeling him for sincerity, and soon the touch was gone.
"Please, rise, Prince Orlando. I would prefer not to hold a conversation staring at the top of your head," he said, his light tone robbing the words of any insult.
Orlando snorted at the repressed humour and rose with fluid grace. Thankful to feel Viggo's quiet support beside him, he bravely met the Jedi master's eyes, and --
-- met compassion.
"I believe in your sincerity, your Highness," Qui-Gon said. "You didn't intend for anyone to get hurt."
"I most certainly didn't," Orlando said vehemently. "I regret that things went awry. And I apologise for my part in it. I -- I believe I thought that the outcome did justify the means."
"And now?" Qui-Gon asked seriously.
"And now, while I cannot regret the sentiment behind the scheme, I find that there are things one shouldn't play with; that there must be another way, always. Besides, anything worth having is worth fighting for." Here he threw a glance at Viggo, and Obi-Wan could have sworn that the bodyguard flushed at the look. "I will talk to my father and tell him what I have done; and, if he can find it in his heart to forgive me, I'll try and appeal to him again about our situation."
Qui-Gon nodded, appearing satisfied. The prince had grown up overnight, it seemed; there was quiet confidence in him which belied his young age.
"I suggest you do that, your Highness. On our part, there are no demands. As you have stated, this is an internal conflict, and as Jedi, or as Republic representatives, we have no authority - and speaking plainly, no will - to get involved in what is state business. The Jedi's jurisdiction does not extend to internal matters. I trust that King Arold will consider your appeal, Prince Orlando."
Obi-Wan went to the prince and stroked his hand down Orlando's arm, drawing a smile from him at the gesture of support. Viggo watched them with a smile of his own, pleased that someone had seen through Orlando - and even more so, himself - and had been brave enough to make him face his own inner struggle. And... was the Jedi padawan actually exuding a glow of his own?
Orlando seemed to sense it also, narrowing his eyes in curiosity as he looked from the master to the apprentice.
"Did something happen while we were locked in the safe room?"
They were surprised to see the unflappable Jedi master blush.
tbc in chapter 7