Title: Managing the Memories
Fandom: Star Wars
Rating: NC-17, slash, het, forced sex
Parings: Qui-Gon/Obi-Wan, Obi/OFC
Disclaimer: None of this universe or its characters are mine. The Star Wars universe, concept, Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon all belong to Lucas. Siri and Adi belong to Jude Watson's Jedi Apprentice (official) book series. This is just a creation by a humble fan who gets nothing but entertainment from this (and maybe a little squickage, but that's her own fault).
Summary: Sequel to 'Fighting the Feelings' in which Obi-Wan attempts a recovery, only to be knocked down with memories of the worst possible sort of torture
Managing the Memories
After confessing all that he could remember and still being embraced by Qui-Gon and the Force for it, Obi-Wan slept for days on end. He slept in a deep, peaceful sleep of the sort that he had not experienced since before the mission. He woke periodically for a drink of water against a sore throat, or to use the 'fresher. Qui-Gon assisted him with both and the Padawan fell back to sleep each time before Qui-Gon could pull the blankets up over him.
The first time he woke to Qui-Gon's absence, he began to cry with worry. He shouted Qui-Gon's name through their bond so hard that Qui-Gon came in from the main room, holding his head in pain. "I was just making myself dinner," he explained. "I did not leave you. I told you I would not." Qui-Gon's stomach rumbled in emptiness and Obi-Wan took it as a good excuse. He fell back to sleep. Qui-Gon made a point of being there almost every time Obi-Wan woke after that, but there were a few times when he was elsewhere and Obi-Wan would stop and sense him to be sure he was close before falling back to sleep. He knew his master would not leave him. But it didn't hurt to make sure.
Obi-Wan woke and stayed awake finally, finding Qui-Gon reading in bed beside him. He sat up, sniffling a little. Qui-Gon was ready with a tissue and rubbed very gently. "Feeling better?" asked Qui-Gon, checking his Padawan's forehead for fever out of habit.
Obi-Wan nodded. Ever since he'd let Qui-Gon in and told him everything he could remember, ever since he'd released all his emotions to the force and let it do with them what it would, ever since he'd felt comfortable enough to let himself sleep without the reoccurring images of torture, he'd felt better. He still had a bit of the sniffles, but that was to be expected, really. "Could I have sub breakfast, Baster?" He smiled weakly. "I'b feelig a little hugry." This wasn't much of a shock as Obi-Wan hadn't eaten in over four days.
"I'll start you off with something small," said Qui-Gon, helping him sit back and tucking him in. "So it doesn't upset your stomach." But the toast did not upset his stomach, nor did the jam. Nor, in fact, did the scrambled eggs, hash browns, yogurt, waffles, or fruit. It was past lunch when Obi-Wan finally felt full, and turned his mind to other matters that had been long denied. He tugged at Qui-Gon's robes, snaking his hand beneath his tunics, pressing it against the bulge in his master's leggings.
But Qui-Gon rebuffed his advances. "Obi, I love you," he said softly, inching away from Obi-Wan on the bed. "And if you feel ready, I will be thrilled to lie with you. But you've been asleep for days and... well, frankly..." he hesitated as though he could not think of how to say it tactfully. "You reek, Padawan." Obi-Wan sniffed, trying to verify this. But his nose was too filled with his cold to tell him anything of use. "Trust me," Qui-Gon stressed. "I know your little nose is all stuffed up but I promise you, Obi-Wan, you have never needed a shower more in your life. Including that head-first fall into--"
"Dod't say it!" Obi-Wan interrupted, cringing at the memory of so much dung and mud clinging to him. As though his nose disapproved of the memory, it tickled too quickly for either man to react to. "ehhTchhhh! hehChhhhh! hehChuhhhh!" Qui-Gon rubbed his nose for him, then pulled back a little further than normal so that the distance was noticeable. Deciding he should do something about his stench right away, Obi-Wan pulled himself out from the blankets, at first slightly unsteady on his feet. But he found his balance and headed to the 'fresher, looking forward to a warm shower.
"And make it a long one!" Qui-Gon called after him, making Obi-Wan chuckle.
Obi-Wan had every intention of taking his time in the shower. It felt warm and soothing all around him. He lathered and scrubbed hard, rubbing a washcloth all along his body, concentrating on a few key areas for longer than others. Then he took a handful of shampoo and worked it into his hair, letting the bubbles run down his neck to his chest and back. He gently massaged the strands of hair that made up his braid, reflecting for a moment on his life, his duty, his commitment.
No matter how much they had hurt him, or how much he had suffered, he had now exactly what he'd had before the mission. He was lucky, so lucky to have been chosen. And lucky to have developed more than just a training bond with his master. There were things in both their pasts that made them hurt, but to deal with them instead of repress and internalize them was as much being a Jedi as wielding a lightsaber.
The steam from the shower filled the whole stall. It cleared Obi-Wan's head a bit, by way of making his nose run and tickle terribly. "hekshhhh! Hihtchhhh! Hehshhhhh!" Though in the shower he had to worry less about covering his nose when he sneezed. He sniffled and rubbed a few fingers against his nose, letting the shower wash over his face and body. "ihhhKshhhh! huhShhhhhh!"
The door to the refresher opened, and Obi-Wan ran his hand over the fogged glass stall door to see Qui-Gon. A sense of urgency and apology came through to Obi-Wan through their bond. "I'm sorry," the Jedi Master said, voice a bit strained. "I couldn't wait any longer. Do you mind?"
Obi-Wan did not need Qui-Gon to gesture at the toilet as he had already understood and been working to hold back laughter. "Go right ahead," he said, turning back to the water to rinse the last of the shampoo out and to give Qui-Gon a bit of privacy. Obi-Wan looked back over as his master tucked himself away, flushed, then began washing his hands. //Qui-Gon?// Obi-Wan called softly.
//You all right?// Qui-Gon replied, full of anxious worry, leaving the water running in the sink as he turned to be sure Obi-Wan was not about to faint or be sick or something of that sort.
With a smile to think of how very much Qui-Gon cared for him, he nodded. //I was just going to wash myself again and I thought, perhaps, you might like to help?// Silence followed where his master's answer should have been. A long, awkward silence, and Obi-Wan suddenly had the idea that perhaps his master was repulsed by the idea and trying to find some way of letting him down gently. Would Qui-Gon really want him again after all he'd been through? He was still sick, too, so perhaps that was part of it. "ehhHetchhh! Hitchuhhh!" Or perhaps Qui-Gon still thought him too weak. //I'm sorry,// he said quickly. //I take it back. Forget I said anything.//
"No," called Qui-Gon just loud enough to be heard over the rush of the shower. He opened the door and stepped inside quickly so as not to let the steam out. "I only wanted to be sure you were ready. I'll understand if you don't want to. There's no rush."
Obi-Wan smiled. "I ab ready, Love."
"Then I'll help," he said softly into Obi-Wan's ear from behind. Then he gently kissed behind it. "But you already smell as though you've washed."
"That is why I ab ready," he said with a sheepish smile, hanging his head so Qui-Gon could not see him blushing. He wanted to feel Qui-Gon again. Not just his comforting touch or his tender kisses, but the way the man made passionate love to him, taking him with such force and sweetness.
"I understand," said Qui-Gon, stepping into the warmth of the spray. He swung his head around in a circle, letting the water take his hair first. The spray glanced off his head at angles as he moved it, hitting Obi-Wan, letting the younger man know how close he was. Then his arms wrapped around Obi-Wan from behind, one holding the bar of soap, the other running here and there all over his body, as though to feel out the parts that should be washed.
Obi-Wan closed his eyes, taking in the sensations he had long since been without. The brush of lips on the back of his neck, the stroke of a hand on his inner thigh. The thump of a heart against his back. But when Qui-Gon's hand moved to grab Obi-Wan's cock, they both found it still limp. Not entirely too surprising, considering how much he had tried to restrain his sexual desires over the last month and a half, but still not what Obi-Wan had been hoping for during his first encounter with Qui-Gon in the longest time. He had really thought that he'd been ready.
Obi-Wan was on the boarder of being horrified with himself, while Qui-Gon simply gave a light chuckle. "I'll have to work harder, it seems." Obi-Wan's head was grabbed and turned, Qui-Gon's lips pressing hard into his, tongue making its way in. Suddenly he twitched down below in reaction, then had to pull back from Qui-Gon lest he get sick. Something was wrong, very wrong. From the moment the pleasure had come over him, he had felt the need for something. Not the need to feel Qui-Gon's kiss and touch. Not the need to feel Qui-Gon inside him. No, his body coursed with the need to feel pain. And Obi-Wan did not want to want that.
"Qui..." he whispered, not sure what to say. How could he explain when he did not understand, himself? Qui-Gon began to stroke him, fist closed tightly around his cock for maximum coverage. Obi-Wan leaned back helplessly, gasping as the sensations filled him. He wanted this so badly. But then his body cried out for pain and he nearly threw himself forward against the wall to satisfy the desire. "Stob it," he whispered so softly his words were lost in the downpour of the water. He whimpered when Qui-Gon continued. The elder man had reached a hand over to pinch a nipple, running his thumb over it, pulling Obi-Wan closer to him while all the while rubbing his own cock against Obi-Wan's rump.
Obi-Wan heard things in his head he was sure were not real now. They were echoes of the past, invading the now which should have only been filled with love and sensuality. But he heard them just the same, and that desire to be hurt became all-consuming. His fists clenched and the rest of his body tightened, and he pulled away from Qui-Gon with a much louder, "Get off!"
Obi-Wan nearly slipped on the tile floor of the stall, but when Qui-Gon reached out to help steady him, he pushed the man away so hard he smacked against the stall door. "Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said, trying to figure things out. "If you weren't ready, all you had to do was say it."
Obi-Wan's head pounded in confusion. He wanted Qui-Gon so badly, and yet, there was the pain. "It's dot that," he said, hanging his head and pressing his hand to his forehead to keep it from throbbing. "I just cad't... I deed..."
"You need more time?" Qui-Gon tried to finish for him. "It's all right, I understand." He tried to take Obi-Wan in a hug, but his Padawan pushed away, flattening himself against the wall of the shower, beneath the spout so that he avoided the stream of water. "We'll take it slow," Qui-Gon soothed. "I won't touch you there, I promise. I'll just finish soaping you and we can go lie down and talk if you like. I'll keep you warm and pet you and we'll just slowly get used to touching again."
But even the thought of that made Obi-Wan feel terribly sick. "Get away!" Obi-Wan panted, eyes filling with tears as blood flowed away from his erection. "Blease, Qui." But Qui-Gon took a step forward to comfort Obi, and he was forced to cry out, "Go, Baster!"
Quickly, Qui-Gon left the shower stall, shutting the door behind. He wrapped a towel around his shoulders, shivering as the cooler air of the 'fresher struck him. "Would you like me to wait for you?" Qui-Gon asked, fingering Obi-Wan's towel on the rack and trying desperately to think of something he could do to make Obi-Wan feel better.
"Just go," Obi-Wan called through tears. Frustrated with urges and overwhelmed by it all, he flung his head back, cracking it hard against the wall. Dark spots floated in front of his eyes, and he slumped down against the wall, unconscious. The hot water still rained down around him as though nothing had happened.
There was the blonde one who somehow seemed to get off on the fact that he was sick and every time he sneezed she'd scream with pleasure and ride him ruthlessly. Then there was the one with the black hair who tore him apart each time, fucked him completely senseless, drugged him more often than not, and ended every single session with a sharp slap. And then there was the third... the brunette... the worst of the three. He could distinctly hear her coming down the stairs, her high heels clicking on each step.
She drew close, a sickly sweet expression on her face, and when she spoke, she did so in the tenderest of whispers possible. "Hello my pet," she said, caressing his cheek where the black haired one had left her mark. "You aren't looking too well at the moment," she observed. "But I think we can do without that device my sisters so love, don't you?" The first time she had asked, he had been relieved and overjoyed. She had spent nearly three minutes unhooking him and sliding it off as gently as possible.
Then she smiled and took a gentle hold of his cock with one hand. She leaned forward and ran her tongue over one of his nipples, then the other, teasing them until he became hard in her hand. "Like that, do you, Pet?" Without the device hooked up to him he could freely answer, but did not want to encourage her, especially when the answer was already so obvious. "Answer!" she hissed angrily, and he quickly decided that he preferred her pleased to angry. Hastily he nodded. "That's a yes?" He nodded again, and her smile turned into a malicious grin. Without any warning what-so-ever, she punched him hard in the stomach.
He gasped, winded, and bent in half as much as his restraints would allow. He wanted to swear, wanted to use the force to push her away, but he quickly calmed himself and tried to look as though it had not hurt quite as much as it appeared to have.
"Good boy," she soothed. "You get a reward." She took a few steps back and began to strip for him. She made bold, exaggerated movements, putting on a show for him. First off with her top, and she bounced, her large breasts presented to him. Then her shoes, one by one, gesturing towards the curves in her legs. Then her skirt, under which she wore nothing.
She giggled as she finished, expecting to see him pleased, but he was limp again. "Not your thing?" she asked coldly. Obi-Wan was too stunned to reply. "Answer!" He shook his head and she started to laugh. "Well, well. My sisters certainly can pick them, can't she?" She was nearly doubling over with laughter. "Not only are you sick but you're not even attracted to women."
The woman came closer, so her face was right up to Obi-Wan's. "Well, good thing is, it doesn't take attraction to turn a sweet pet like you on." She grabbed his balls, tickling seductively as she dropped to her knees. She worked her tongue over the head of his cock before taking him entirely in her mouth. Stroking, sucking, simulating. Obi-Wan gasped, trying to keep from being aroused. It felt just as it did when Qui-Gon pleasured him in the early morning hours. He recalled his master's tender touch and gentle stroking. He did not want to remember Qui-Gon and feel even more aroused. But it was impossible to resist the physical sensations and he began thrusting towards her.
She pulled away, wiping her mouth with her hand. "Liked that, did you?" she asked. Obi-Wan nodded, a pained expression on his face. She ran a hand down his front. "Did you have a man who did that to you?" she asked. Obi-Wan pulled from the force all courage he had to look genuine as he shook his head 'no'. But she smiled anyway. "That's a yes," she guessed. "And did you think of him while I sucked you, pet?" He shook his head again, desperately willing her to believe him on this account. She did not.
In reaction, she punched him hard in the stomach again, then once in the face. He shook in his bindings, unable to block or brace for the hits. She laughed. "You will be punished for feeling such pleasure at his memory, at your physical attraction to him. I do not need pain to make you come, but if you come, I will make you feel such pain..."
And she began, sucking and licking every part of him. Rubbing his testicles soothingly. Stroking soft, then hard, then soft again. And every time he broke into feeling the please she hit him, or bent his arm or hand in a way that made it snap. As the pleasures increased, so did the pain, until he strained to keep his eyes open, his mind off Qui-Gon, and his body whole. As he came in her hands, against her front, she kneed him hard in the groin.
He hung there afterwards as she put the device back on him, throbbing with pain, tears streaming down his face from it all. He could endure the physical just fine. The broken bones and bruises would heal. He could even put up with the taunts about his sexuality. But with her constantly linking what she was doing with what Qui-Gon did, and punishing him for it with such pain, that was unbearable. And as he hung there in the dark afterwards, he swore to forget every bit of it. The very last thing he wanted was for Qui-Gon to find out about it and if it were somewhere in his mind, his master would find it. So he trained himself to block it out, every bit of it.
"Ngh!" Obi-Wan woke not long after, feeling dazed and disoriented. He expected to see the shower, or the 'fresher, or even the dungeon. But what he got was the ceiling of the bedroom. But his head was not on a pillow, but a rough, scratchy towel. His confusion was worsened by the intense pain in his head. He brought his hand up to the side of his head, feeling wet hair and something a little more sticky than just wet. He only had time to glance at the bright blood on his palm when Qui-Gon jumped, noticing he was awake.
"Don't touch!" he exclaimed, rushing over to his side and wiping Obi's hand clean. "I haven't had time to bandage it properly. Now hold still." He pressed several layers of gauze to Obi-Wan's head and then wrapped a bandage all the way around. "What were you thinking, Padawan mine?" he whispered, full of concern.
"That's right, my pet. Think of your man and the way he touches you. The way he cares for you. Think of your man and be ashamed at being so hard for him."
Obi-Wan shrugged his shoulders. "You should have just left be."
"What, to slowly bleed to death, crumpled on the floor of the shower?" Qui-Gon looked quite shocked at the idea. "Obi-Wan... my Obi-Wan..." His face softened as he gently caressed his Padawan's face. "I love you."
"When he touches you like this, does he tell you he loves you?"
Obi-Wan pushed him off. "You dod't uderstad," he breathed, closing his eyes. He tried to get up, but things went blurry and he was pushed back down as the dizziness and Qui-Gon took over.
Qui-Gon, lying beside him now, wrapped his arms loosely around Obi-Wan. "It'll be all right. I do understand. You told me everything, remember?"
But Obi-Wan shook his head. "Dot everythig."
Qui-Gon was a little taken aback. "I thought you said you told me everything." He wiped Obi-Wan's nose with a handkerchief, then gently stroked his face.
"I told you all I could rebeber." He sniffed and grabbed the handkerchief from Qui-Gon, rubbing his own nose. "But there was sobethig I blocked out so I would't rebeber it."
The look in his eyes told that he had expected this from the start. As though he had sensed something lurking in the back of Obi-Wan's mind that even the young man had not noticed. And that Qui-Gon had played a part in helping protect Obi-Wan from this something until he had dealt with his physical and emotional pains. But, perhaps, he had not counted on it coming to the foreground quite so soon. "You remembered?" Qui-Gon asked.
Obi-Wan nodded. He cupped a hand over his nose and mouth, breathing heavily. "hehIhtchhhh! ihhhshhhh! hih-hitchhh!" He sniffed hard and blew his nose harder. Qui-Gon gently stroked his cheek, then took the long strands of hair and began braiding, casting worried glances at Obi-Wan as he did so.
He felt sick. And it was worse every time Qui-Gon touched him. Every little touch came with a surge of pleasure and every bit of that pleasure made him expect pain. But the force urged him on and the only person he wanted to comfort him was Qui-Gon. So he closed his eyes and fell into his master's arms with sniffles and more tears and looks of pain on his face in between.
"Hush, my Obi-Love," the master cooed, hugging Obi-Wan tightly. "Whatever happened to you... it could never make me think less of you. And I will help you through every bit of it."
"You wod't wadt to whed I tell you," Obi-Wan snuffled, pulling out of the hug.
Qui-Gon shook his head. "Let me be the judge of..."
Obi-Wan was going to sneeze again, a hand again cupped at his nose and mouth. Qui-Gon swooped in with a fresh spot on the handkerchief and a strong hand to steady Obi-Wan's head. Obi-Wan tried to pull away from the touch, but it was no use. "hehUrshhhh! Hihtchuhhh!" Sensing that the sneezes were not yet done, no matter how Obi-Wan squirmed, he kept the handkerchief in place. "huhTchuhhh! Hehtchhhh! HIHkchhhhh! Heh-EHChshhhhh!" He sniffed and coughed from the congestion.
"Bless you," Qui-Gon said softly. "Those were some big ones, huh?" Obi-Wan looked back at him coldly. "That won't work," Qui-Gon said with a smile. "You've already tried the cold and rude routine. I know you too well. You're hurting and you need to tell me. Or," he said, standing up to get rid of the very well used handkerchief. "Or you need some time alone to center yourself with the force before you tell me. The choice is yours." He threw a look back over his shoulder. "But you will tell me and I'll still love you, I promise."
But that was a promise Obi-Wan could not accept, for his master did not fully understand the conditions. Obi-Wan shrugged. He didn't know what he wanted to do. He rubbed at his nose, thinking how much easier it had been just to stay asleep these last few days. "I thig I deed to beditate..." he yawned. "Add sleeb a little first."
With a nod, "As you wish, My Padawan. I'll let you alone to do so, but I'll just be in the next room if you need me."
Obi-Wan couldn't really see why he would need his master just to meditate, given that he wasn't a little boy anymore who needed to be led to the force, but nodded back. Meditation was broken several times by the need for water or for blowing his nose. By the end, he resorted to sitting against the headboard for support, holding a handkerchief to his nose as he slipped off to be one with the force and release everything into it, waiting for signals and messages to slowly flood back into him with comfort and purpose. What came to the surface, however, was none of that.
"Hello my pet," cooed her voice through the darkness. Obi-Wan shuddered, recognizing it at once and wishing it could have been one of the other two. Preferably the one who liked his sneezes, for he was starting to feel a lot worse. He was beginning to think that being chained up in a wet, cold dungeon for days wasn't really the best of locations when one already had a sniffle. "How are you doing this evening?" she asked. Was it only the evening? Obi-Wan had supposed it was at least the morning. But time seemed to move along at a much different rate than he perceived, cut off from all indications.
The brunette ran a hand over his body, inspecting the injuries, from scratches to burns where electric shocks had been administered one too many times. "Looks like they've had their fun," she said, tapping his reddened nose. "But they've needed the device now, haven't they? You wouldn't be attracted to them otherwise." She reached up and unhooked it in one spot, then went to work unfastening it and slipping it off Obi-Wan completely. "I on the other hand... I know your secret, don't I, my pet? I know what that man you loved did to you. And I can do it right back just as well, can't I?"
Obi-Wan was shaking. He didn't mean to, but he was terribly cold, completely naked now, and entirely exposed. And worst of all was the fact that she was right. The way she touched him was so much like the way Qui-Gon did. If only she had just been like the others, then he could have kept all emotions out of it. But no, not with her. Not when she got Qui-Gon involved. Not when she used his love to make him perform and then punished him for it.
"You didn't answer me!" she fumed, smashing a fist into his gut. He doubled over as much as he could in the restraints, gasping for air. His head pounded, filled with illness and ache. But he nodded, holding back tears, holding back a cry.
"That's better," she said, suddenly sounding sweet again. "Now, I think I'd like to start up top and work my way down, if you don't mind." As though Obi-Wan had a choice about it. She jumped on top of him, sitting on his lap, securing her position by wrapping her legs around his behind, putting pressure on his rump. She kissed his cheeks, then chin, then moved to his lips, kissing passionately. "Close your eyes," she commanded in between kisses. "And pretend I am that man you still pine for." Obi-Wan tried desperately to think of something, anything other than Qui-Gon with his eyes shut. But it was no good. Sensations flooded him. And though he could put up with the touches, they were indeed too similar to Qui-Gon's.
But suddenly, his nose tickled and breath caught. He could not pull away from her kisses for she held his chin in her hand. "hehUmffshhhhh!" he sneezed, trying to hold it back but not succeeding well. She jumped back, repulsed as he sniffed pitifully. He needed to blow his nose, for it still tickled something terrible.
"That was not a very smart move," she said, wiping a hand across her face. She aimed a kick at him, hitting him square in the chest with such force that she slammed back against the wall, hitting his head with a painful crack. Then her fists punched him like a bag, one after the other, pummeling him until blood ran from the corner of his mouth from internal injuries.
Noticing this time that he was going to sneeze, she backed away, glaring at him. "hehshhhh! hehIhshhh! Ehtchuhhhh!" He sneezed, sniffling like mad, wishing Qui-Gon were there to wipe his nose clean.
But the only other person there was the brunette. "I bet that man of yours took care of you when you sneezed, didn't he?" she asked, circling him. "Didn't he?" she repeated, raising her voice again.
Broken, sick, and feeling as though he could not possibly feel worse, he nodded truthfully.
Her fists found him again, pummeling him and increasing with intensity every time he sniffled. Just as he was ready to cry at the pain, she backed off. She was now ready to do him in. "Now you will enjoy yourself," she said, taking his cock in her lubricated hands and rubbing vigorously.
Obi-Wan panted, aching with pain, fatigue, and sickness. He wanted no more. He wanted this to end. And he wanted Qui-Gon. Oh, how he wanted Qui-Gon. He wanted Qui-Gon to take him in his arms and hold him. And he wanted Qui-Gon to fuck him properly.
Obi-Wan cried out as two slick fingers entered him, left, then returned as three. The sensation was so familiar, thrusting in and out, pressing hard against his prostate. Meanwhile a hand stroked him, paying special attention to his balls and his head. And all he could do was endure and wish for Qui-Gon.
He came with a fierce yell, then felt hands tight around his neck, strangling it. It was his punishment for feeling pleasure, this. His punishment for it all. He couldn't breathe, couldn't scream. All he could do was think of Qui-Gon. But the more he thought of him, the more pain she inflicted upon him, until he could not even summon Qui-Gon's image without expecting to be strangled or punched. If he could hold out just a bit longer, it would all be over. It would. Qui-Gon had promised.
"Obi-Wan!" Strong hands shook him back to his senses, and he came out of the trance coughing and shaking as though he were covered in ice water rather than sweat. His eyes opened to see Qui-Gon, and he pulled back, crying out in pain. But slowly he realized that those injuries from his memory had long since healed. His bones were no longer broken, his mouth free of blood, the bruises gone. "It's all right, you're here with me," Qui-Gon soothed in his most quiet voice.
Obi-Wan was still in a panic, however, heart still racing, breath coming in quick gasps. "Not..."
"You are," Qui-Gon assured him. "You are back home with me. It's all right."
She gripped his balls in her hand, squeezing with extremely light pressure. "Where you come from, I bet he does this for you. I bet he takes you to bed and fucks you until you gasp. I'll make sure that for every beautiful orgasm you have, you suffer properly in return. And if you please me, my pet, I shall reward you. It's all right to feel ashamed of what you are."
"Not... all right..." Obi-Wan managed. He grabbed for the glass of water on the nightstand and gulped it down between gasps for air. He coughed and sputtered and coughed again. Then his stomach churned and he was nearly sick. He would have been, in fact, if not for his Jedi willpower. Still he dropped forward to his hands and knees and leaned over the bed, just to be sure he did not mess the sheets if his strength and his stomach were to give out.
Qui-Gon reached over, stroking his back gently and Obi-Wan cringed, wincing in pain. Realizing he had use of his limbs now, he pushed the hand away with a grunt. "Calm yourself, Padawan," Qui-Gon said sternly. "What is in the past, what is in your memory... these things cannot hurt you."
"Every time you are with me and think of him, I will hurt you. I can still hurt you."
But it could hurt him. It was even now hurting him. And with such intense pain. Obi-Wan shook his head. "She used you," he said, desperately trying to make Qui-Gon understand. He looked back at his master, flushed with worry and sitting on the bed as though ready to catch Obi-Wan should he fall. "She..." his voice died in his throat as his stomach begged to lose the large breakfast he had taken. Wincing, he tried again, telepathically. //She used you to please me. And then she punished me for thinking of you.//
Qui-Gon said nothing, showed no emotion but calm. He did not yell in anger that he would make her pay. He did not look disgusted and say he never wanted Obi-Wan again. He did not rush to hug Obi-Wan in sympathy. He just sat thoughtfully which, in itself, was much worse for Obi-Wan now had no idea what his master thought of this.
"I'll uderstad if you dever wadt to touch be of be with be agaid," he mumbled, lying down on the bed and burying his head in a pillow. "You cad just let be go." His body tightened, and he sneezed into the pillow, holding it to himself weakly. "hehEhtchhuffff! hutChheph!"
"Obi-Wan," he started, but Obi-Wan pulled away at the slightest touch of Qui-Gon's hand on his back.
"Do't touch be!" he shouted, shuddering now as he held back tears. "Dod't you uderstad? Every tibe you touch be..."
She stroked his cock, firm and tender like Qui-Gon's fingers. And as it grew hard,she thrust her fist into his stomach.
"You feel as though you need to feel the pain of punishment?" Qui-Gon finished. Obi-Wan's head nodded into the pillow. "Then obviously I do understand. But the situation is not going to get any better if we never touch again."
There was a certain logic to this as well that made Obi-Wan, even sick and close to tears, lift his head. "I want you, Obi-Wan," the Jedi Master said softly. Obi-Wan winced, and Qui-Gon ignored it, going on. "And I know it won't be as it used to be between us right away, but it makes sense that it wouldn't. What you've been through... what you've been conditioned to feel... it's something not even a Jedi could easily come out of unscathed." Catching the look in Obi-Wan's eye, "Yes, Siri's all right, but she hardly went through the sort of thing you endured. We knew going in that this was going to be difficult emotionally and physically. And you've shown outstanding effort in getting through it in both respects. Now let me help you get through what you felt was so terrible you had to block it from memory. Let me help you through this last bit sexually, Obi-Wan." And this time he reached out and touched Obi-Wan's shoulder and refused to let go, though Obi-Wan squirmed a bit.
//Take me, Master,//
Obi-Wan begged, clutching a bit of the sheet in a tight fist. //Help me get used
to your touch again. Help me feel whole again. Heal
"Scream if you need to," whispered Qui-Gon's gentle voice in his ear. "But know that I do this in love." He kissed Obi-Wan gently on the cheek. "And I will never let you go."
Torn between pushing Qui-Gon away and pulling him closer, Obi-Wan began to shake with the intense emotions that showed through as tearless sobs. Qui-Gon only held him tighter from behind, bending an arm back, then pushing forward, pinning Obi-Wan against the bed. "Master..." he breathed as Qui-Gon held his chin tightly to keep his head in place and repeatedly swept his lips across Obi-Wan's tenderly. "I want... ooooohhh I want you..." Then he winced, expecting a blow to his chest or a stab in his side. But he felt nothing of the sort, which made the tears spill out finally.
Qui-Gon held him down on the bed as he stripped, removing all clothes, all blankets, until it was just the two of them on the sheets, panting with desire and the expected pain which did not come.
Obi-Wan did not have the energy to struggle, or even to lift a hand to his face to cover more sneezes, which shook him. "hutChuhhh! hetchehhh! Hah-hehTchehhh! Heh-ehTCHUH!" At once, he expected Qui-Gon to wipe his nose for him, which, moments later, he did, being soft and comforting as only his master could be with him. But this only hurt more, as he expected punishment for thinking such thoughts. Thoughts he knew deep down were right to have... but thoughts he knew he shouldn't have if he wanted to avoid the pain. But the pain did not come. And the touches and comforting caresses continued.
"You want to feel pain, don't you?" Qui-Gon whispered, sitting on the backs of Obi-Wan's thighs and leaning forward, both hands pushing down on Obi-Wan's back to keep him still. Qui-Gon's kisses traveled across the man's shoulders and down his back in a relaxed pattern.
Obi-Wan whimpered, nodding. "heh-EHChuhhh!"
Qui-Gon wiped his nose for him again, then kissed him hard on the lips. "Then remember what the pain of love is like, my Obi-Wan." He pulled one hand back, gripping his cock. His thumb working in a circular motion, he spread the bit of pre-seed over the head of his cock and as much of the shaft as it would cover. Then, biting his lip in the knowledge that this really would be painful for his young lover, his cock found Obi-Wan's soft ass and penetrated, quickly, before Qui-Gon could regret the movement.
It was hard pushing in at first, and Obi-Wan did indeed cry out. But Qui-Gon was not going to let that stop him. He pulled out halfway, then plunged in, harder, deeper, faster. Obi-Wan was sniffling, shaking, but the look on his face begged for more. "...love..." he whispered in between gasps.
Qui-Gon nodded and then arched his back, riding him harder. His body fell on top of Obi-Wan's, his chest pressing against the man's back as his hips moved forward with a hungry ache and a rhythm that they both knew intimately. Obi-Wan gasped and cried, and Qui-Gon touched his sides, his cheeks, his hair. There was tenderness and fierceness all in one, and Obi-Wan was helpless as ever beneath it all. "P-pain..." Obi-Wan called out
"Yes..." Qui-Gon replied, shoving himself in with a thrust so hard that a shudder passed through the whole of Obi-Wan's body. "Loving pain."
Obi-Wan's breath caught as Qui-Gon sped up, rocking on top of the young man, gripping his shoulders, kissing the back of his neck, then sinking his teeth into the side of his neck. Obi-Wan cried out yet again, but this time it was a strangled moan from the back of his throat. His release was hot and familiar and made him smile despite all that pain and all the touching. Qui-Gon's arms went weak, and he collapsed against Obi-Wan for a few moments as his own orgasm died down. Then he pulled out from Obi-Wan with a sigh, falling to the side on his back, drenched in sweat, almost unable to catch his breath.
Qui-Gon's eyes darted from the ceiling over to Obi-Wan. He reached for the tissue box and withdrew a few, pressing them to Obi's face. Then he pulled out a few to carefully wipe himself off. Obi-Wan rubbed the tissues at his nose, then propped himself up on his elbows, looking back over at Qui-Gon. Qui-Gon hesitated for a moment, then offered the box over. Obi-Wan took a few and rolled over on his side, wiping his own seed from his stomach. Timidly, he passed the box back. "Are... you all right?" he whispered.
A soft smile breaking out on his face, "All this, and you ask if I'm all right?"
Obi-Wan nodded, smiling sheepishly, looking down at the bed. "Yes... well..." he looked up into Qui-Gon's soft eyes. "You did all the work."
Qui-Gon gave a laugh. "I wouldn't exactly call that work..." He lifted his arm, hesitated, then held it out. "And you, my Padawan?"
Skipping over the wet spot he had made in the bed, he snuggled up to his Master's side. Qui-Gon bent his arm, wrapping it around the smaller man in comfort. And Obi-Wan did not flinch at the touch this time. He did not seem completely comfortable with it, but the initiation had been his and he was stubborn to the last, not giving into those feelings he knew had not been genuine. Qui-Gon had not driven the memories of the torture from his mind. Instead, he had replaced them, taken them over with his own way of hurting Obi-Wan, his own way of showing how much Obi-Wan was loved. It was not the pain of punishment that Obi-Wan now associated with his being with Qui-Gon, but the pain of pleasure. And that no matter what, they would be bonded more than a few days of torture and mind games could destroy.
In answer, Obi-Wan yawned, sniffled, and closed his eyes, draping his arm over Qui-Gon's chest with a small hug. //Don't let me sleep too long,// he said softly, his cheek pressing into Qui-Gon's warm chest.
Qui-Gon smiled and reached over with his other hand, stroking Obi-Wan's cheek, and feeling his forehead for fever again out of habit. He could feel a bit of uncomfortable-ness through their bond, and knew it would take more than just a hard fuck and some kisses to make it all better. But that moment was not far away now. "Sleep as long as you need, my Obi-Wan. I'm not going anywhere now that I have you back."
//Even if I sleep for another four days?// he asked, opening one eye and looking up curiously.
//Even if,// Qui-Gon replied, craning his neck to kiss the top of Obi-Wan's head. He nuzzled his face into the soft, buzzed hair, closing his own eyes. But he did not sleep. He stayed awake, cuddling and holding, in fear that breaking the touch now would be detrimental. And when Obi-Wan drifted off to sleep, he watched over his Padawan, his lover, and protected him from any more dreams of his experiences though they did not surface. It seemed as though Obi-Wan had finally made peace with the mission and, lying safe in his master's arms, did not need to be protected any further.