Title: Writer's Workshop
Author: Banaoire
Rating: PG this time/ NC-17 next
Characters: Qui Gon and you
Archive: That would be nice.
Feedback: I've already made a fool out of myself by whining about feedback,
so this time I'll just say, in a nice polite little voice: yes, please.
Summary: ABH--You're attending a writer's workshop and get the surprise of
your life.
Disclaimer: George owns it all. sigh.

---------
Writer's Workshop, Part 1/?

You click "Okay" to save the story and then switch off your laptop. It closes
with a soft click and you look up, stretching your neck--feeling the breeze
in your hair. Looking up you see the diamond dusted ocean before you, the sun
low in the western sky. It's nearly time for bed, but you're too excited to
wind down. You've just completed the best story of your life.

Too bad no one will ever read it.

You smirk to yourself and stand up. The laptop rests on the large driftwood
log you've been resting against for the past hour. You smell the ocean--not
fishy this time of year, but rather clean and sensual. August is your
favorite time to be here.

You've been staying at a friend's cabin for a little over a week while
attending a writer's workshop. The college you attended as an undergrad
offers this workshop every year and this time you got up the nerve to attend.
It has been one of the most intensely rewarding weeks of your life. Learning
from some of the countries most celebrated authors--most of them women--and
writing with more power and depth than you had ever thought yourself possible
of.

Every day begins with each student reading some of their work, followed by a
round robin discussion. Characterizations, plot development, use of symbolism
and metaphor are bandied back and forth, and criticism is given and taken
with equal kindness.

Even so, your peers have been remarkably receptive to your work. The small
samples you've read have been the talk of the workshop.

If only you could read this, you think looking back at the laptop.

And then you laugh. A rueful sound against the hissing waves.

How could you possibly expect them to understand your obsession with Star
Wars. You used to tell people about it, but they always gave you "that look."
The one that said, "aren't you a little old for that?" or "you're a girl, why
do you like that?" or "that's just fantasy, get real!"

So you don't tell anyone anymore. You keep it to yourself. You go to the
theatre by yourself, and dream your private dreams and write your stories.

What you wouldn't give to become one of those writers who actually gets paid
to play with the Jedi. Kicking a stone loose from the white sand, you snort
at the thought that one of those writers lives just down the coast 20 miles
or so. Another is inland 30 miles. Your state seems to have become the center
of Star Wars authoring activity, and you've met more than a few of them.
They're all nice, they sign the books, and they get the checks.... But, they
don't really understand Star Wars. Not really.

Luke's not a wimp. Obi Wan isn't Qui Gon's puppet. And Qui Gon can do sooooo
much more than look stern and bark orders!

Yes, well, you know that, and perhaps some other women know that, but it
would never be part of George's Star Wars. Sigh.

You turn to pick up the laptop. It's a good half hour walk back up the beach
to the cabin. You still haven't eaten though, and the thought of making a
sandwich back at the cabin just doesn't appeal. You head straight east into
town and once up the concrete stairs you get your bearings.

You're in midtown and it must be later than you thought, because there are
only a few tourist milling around. You walk down the sidewalk, stopping for a
moment to look at a garden in front of a well tended cabin. It always amazes
you how well things grow at the beach. The scent of jasmine and roses fill
the space close to the sidewalk and you breath deeply.

You close your eyes and lean over the old-fashioned rose, drawing in its

wonderful scent. The sound of the ocean is filling your ears and you feel
yourself slip into that place you call your center. Peaceful, calm.

You open your eyes to look at the rose, but something moves in the corner of
your eye. You look to your left but seeing no one, you shrug and look back at
the rose. It has so many petals. So different from the hybrids you grow back
in the city.

Again, movement to your left. This time you turn your whole body and stand
up. But, there's no one on the street. No movement at all.

Concern slips into your gut, and you decide it's time to get moving. The
nearest restaurant is a pizza place and you head there with a brisk step.
Once inside you relax and walk up to the counter.

"Hi," a teenaged local girl asks, her cheeks streaked with flour. "What can I
get you?"

"A slice of three cheese, and a small salad to go, please." You dig into your
jeans pocket to get out the money.

"Okay, that's $4.25." You hand her the cash, "The cheese pizza is finishing
in the oven, it will be about 7 minutes."

"Fine." You get your change and move away from the counter. The only space
left in the small restaurant is next to the windows facing the street. A
counter and bar stools line the wall under the window, and you grab a stool
and sit, to wait for the pizza.

Down the counter you see a copy of the Star Wars Insider. Your eyes nearly
pop out of your head as you realize you haven't got this copy yet. It must
have arrived while you were attending the workshop.

Furtively you look around to see if anyone is going to notice this
30-something woman picking up a Star Wars magazine. No one is even looking in
your direction, so you slide it across the counter and open it carefully.

Your breath stops when you see all the glorious pictures inside.
How--can--they--be--so--damn--gorgeous? Especially Qui Gon. Oh, wow. You've
always had a thing for teachers. And you suspect there's quite a few things
he could teach you.

In the middle of "Prequel Update" you get that strange "I'm being watched"
feeling again. You quickly look to your side, and then the other. The counter
and its stools are empty. Then you look out the window.

Across the street there is a shape. The sun is setting and the light is very
low, but there is definitely a shape between two cabins across the street.
You don't know for sure, but it looks like a man--too big to be a woman.

The shape does not move, and you realize you're holding your breath, as if
breathing will make the man disappear.

"Your order's ready." A voice says from right behind you. You jump and yelp
from the surprise. The room becomes quiet, and with a red face you turn
around to take the sack from the girl.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you." She says, looking at you strangely.

"No, it's okay. I was... Anyway, thanks." You have no way of explaining, so
you don't even try.

The door is two steps away, and somehow your shaky legs get you there. How
you're going to make it all the way to the cabin you don't know, but you grab
the handle of the door and walk out into the deepening dusk.

You try not to look obvious, but you do look back at the spot where the man
was, and are half disappointed to find that he's no longer there.

*What am I thinking? Why would I want someone to be following me? Jeez, get a
grip!*

With the take-out sack in one hand, and your laptop in the other you step
quickly onto the sidewalk. You pass the shops and the restaurants but don't
really notice them as you hurry back to the warmth of the cabin.

You reach the cabin in record time, retrieve the key from it's hiding place
and open the door. Even though your mind is laughing at you, you turn and
look around before you walk in. There's nothing out there but the huge
old-growth trees and the two other cabins on this unpaved street. You sigh
and enter the cabin.

Once inside you set your laptop on the dining table and move into the kitchen
to get something to drink. You take a soda out of the fridge and walk back
into the main room. You sit at the table and look around the cabin. It's
small, but very comfortable. Well maintained, and modern, even though it was
built nearly a century before. The main room is for dining and relaxing. It's
focal point is the enormous river rock fireplace. You haven't started a fire
this week--it's been nearly 80° during the day, but tonight you feel chilled
and wonder if it might not be nice to have a fire.

You turn back to the table and open the sack. The pizza is cold, but still
good and the salad is very crispy. As you eat you use your left hand to open
the laptop. It quietly whirs into action and you open the story you finished
on on the beach.

***His lightsaber was held before him, the green glow illuminating his smooth
brow.

"Step back, now. She's no concern of yours." Qui Gon stepped closer to the
young woman on the ground, waving the blade of the lightsaber slightly in the
air as a warning.

"She's ours, Jedi. We paid for her, we're taking her." The leader growled
back, reaching for his blaster. His cohorts looked as if they thought he was
crazy, but they reached toward their weapons too.

The girl looked up at Qui Gon, her violet blue eyes imploring him. "Help me,"
she begged.***

You look up from the screen. The image of the alien street, the girl, Qui Gon
and his lightsaber vivid in your mind. The chapter goes on and of course he
saves her, and in brilliant swashbuckling style. Like a god he'll overpower
the cowards and sweep the girl into his arms.

You sigh. "If only," you think to yourself. Stabbing your fork into the next
bite of salad, you raise it to your mouth, but stop. The hairs on the back of
your neck begin to stand up, and you look out the nearest window.

"This is getting ridiculous. I'm never like this at the beach." You think to
yourself. It's your favorite place. The place where you feel the most at
peace.

But not tonight. You stand up. You'd only had the chandelier over the table
on, and now you turn on the lamps and room lights. You walk to the front
door, lock it and then turn on the porch light. You peer out the tiny window
in the door, but see no one.

Taking a deep breath, you decide that your story has just got to you--your
imagination is taking over. You need to think about something else for a
while. You plug your laptop into the phone line and dial up to get your
e-mail.

The number of messages waiting for you is staggering, and you only get
through half before you realize you've just yawned for the third time in a
minute. You disconnect and close the laptop.

Standing, you stretch and then move about the room turning off the lights. It
seems comical now that you had panicked. Nevertheless, you leave the porch
light on.

You quickly change into shorts and a tee and brush your teeth. Slipping under
the flannel sheets you wiggle down and turn off the light. You hear the
ocean, faint in the distance, and it lulls your overactive mind to sleep.


The next day you head off to the last day of the workshop, feeling sad that
it's over, but looking forward to the private consultation you'll have with
one of the instructors. She's a science fiction writer you've admired for
years and you're hoping she has good things to say about your work.

This morning's assignment was to read a recent poem. You're not as fond of
poetry as you are prose, but you had managed to write something two nights
ago that felt good. Something deeply emotional. Achingly romantic, passionate
even. It was very personal and you barely had the nerve to read it.

But you weren't so sure how good it was when you finished reading it. The
last syllable hung in the air and there was silence in the room. Dead
silence. They normally laughed or gasped or clapped. But this time, nothing.

You look around you, trying to figure out what was wrong. One woman close to
you had tears in her eyes. You look sharply at the instructor and she starts
to smile.

"Beautiful." She sighs. Then you notice everyone start to breath as one. They
had been holding their breath. You feel a tremendous lump in your throat as
you realize that they had been spellbound by your words.

The rest of the morning goes along without you really aware. It's as if the
spell you'd woven for the rest of the class has now claimed you, and you find
it hard to concentrate.

Lunch, eaten with the students today, is loud and somewhat raucous. The class
is using the cafeteria of the grade school the workshop is using. Everyone is
getting ready to say goodbye, and it's more like a party than lunch. Several
people come by to ask for your address so they can keep in touch. You ask for
theirs and smile at their kind words about the poem.

One woman sits down and begins to tell you how her life was so much like
yours. She's very nice, but she has no idea what she's talking about. She
rambles on and on, hardly taking a breath. You nod and smile, but the smile
freezes on your face when you see a tall man walk into the room. The
cafeteria isn't large, but for some reason he seems to be a bit too far away
to see his features. You stare, and tilt your head, as if trying to
understand why you can't *really* see him.

Taking a deep breath, you try again to make his face clear to you.

And then you gasp. The woman across from you stops talking but you don't
notice. Because, across the room, leaning against the door frame of a
cafeteria in a small town on the West coast of the United States is Qui Gon
Jinn.

You try to swallow, but your mouth has gone desert dry. The woman says
something unintelligible to you and you just barely nod in response. You know
she gets up and leaves but you still don't really see her. You only see him.

And he's looking at you. His blue gaze is locked on yours and he's not
moving. His face is stunning to behold. You want this to be true, but your
mind refuses to accept the image before you. You open your mouth to say
something to him--what, you have no idea--but you have to make sure that
you're not hallucinating.

He raises his right hand to his lips and signals you to be silent. Your brows
knit in confusion and dismay, but he just nods to you and slips back out the
door.

Suddenly the room is loud, as if you had un-muted your TV and the volume had
been set too high. You look around dazed, noticing that lunch is over and the
students are leaving to meet with the instructors.

You grab your satchel and heft the strap over your shoulder. Feeling
lightheaded, you carefully step over the bench, wondering how in the hell
you're going to concentrate on anything for the rest of the day.


Part 2

"Come in," you hear a voice behind the door of the classroom. You turn the
knob and walk into the room. The instructor sits at a child's desk with
papers and a laptop computer in front of her. She waves her hand, beckoning
you to the desk.

You sit down--a little hard, forgetting that the chairs are made for first
graders and are a little closer to the ground than you're used to.

"I'm glad you're my last appointment." She says looking you in the eye. You
set the satchel down on the floor and hope that she's glad for a good reason.

"I wanted to spend a little more time with you than the others." She opens a
file. You try to see what she has but she picks it up, cutting off your view.

"What would you say if I told you that you were the most talented student at
the workshop this year?" She looks over the file.

You blanche and wonder how to take this. "I'd say I was surprised." You
answer honestly. There had been some experienced writers in this year's
group. "I'd also say I was pleased."

She nods her head, as if she had anticipated your reaction. "What would you
say if I told you that I sent some of your work to my agent?"

At this your jaw drops and you find yourself completely speechless. Your
heart starts to race and you realize your legs are shaking.

"You did?" you finally squeak out.

"I did, and she liked what I sent. Very much." She hands the file to you
where you find a fax from the agent. You scan the letter quickly and then
look back at your instructor.

"She particularly liked the sci-fi short you wrote." And your mind races to
the story about aliens and first contact. You nod your head. "She has room for
another sci-fi writer and wants to talk to you."

This day just keeps getting weirder and weirder. You swallow hard, trying to
take it all in.

"I'd be thrilled." You reply.

"She's working with Del Rey a lot..." She lets the publishing house's name
hang in the air.

"That's nice." Wondering why that name has special significance for you. You
read all the sci-fi from all the publishing houses.

"Look," she leans in closer, "I don't know how you'll take this, but I turned
down a job I think you'd be perfect for. Romance, adventure, space opera!"
She sounds nervous, as if she's telling you how to catch the plague.

"Sounds interesting." You say noncommittally.

"And if I said it was Star Wars?" She says, almost in a whisper. "See," She
goes on in a rush, "these jobs are great for getting your name out, and they
pay *really* well. I'm in the middle of a book right now, or I'd consider it,
but..." She stops, looking to see if she's offended you by her suggestion.

Vaguely you wonder what your face looks like. You're sure it has drained to
white by now. Your jaw can't go any lower and you haven't blinked since she
said Star Wars.

She interprets your look as one of indignation. "Oh, jeez. I'm sorry. Look, I
thought you might like Star Wars. I didn't mean to insult you."

You're waving your hand in front of your face as you struggle to say
something.

"That's not it," you finally choke out, then finally take a deep breath. "I
love Star Wars." There, you admitted it.

"Oh, well, great! It's for the new films--they want to do back stories for
each of the characters; you know, here's Obi Wan when he was 12, here's um,
the Master guy..."

"Qui Gon." You breath the name.

"Yeah, Qui Gon, what he was like at 20. That kind of thing. They might need
writers for the new Jedi arc too, I don't know. But, the job they offered me
was specifically a back story about the two Jedi in Phantom Menace. What do
you think?"

"I think I've lost my mind." You say with some sense of humor coming back to
you. Your heart is still beating way too fast, but the idea that you might be
considered worthy of writing for the Star Wars genre is warming you from your
toes on up.

"I might even have a story idea." You say, looking her in the eye.

"That's great! Should I call my agent then?" She says pulling out the fax.

"Yes, please."

"Okay, well, it's already past 6 pm in New York, so I'll call her first thing
Monday morning and we'll get you two together. Are you going to be in
Portland on Monday?"

"Um, I hadn't planned on it, but I don't have a phone here, so I guess I
better be." You respond, your mind racing over all the ramifications.

"Okay, I have you're number--do you have a machine?" You nod yes, "Then I'll
have her leave a message if you're not back yet. Don't worry, she'll keep
calling you until she gets you. She wants this job too!"

You laugh at that. The idea of an agent is almost too preposterous to
imagine. The idea that one would hunt you down to talk to you is just bizarre.

"Oh, and by the way," She says all serious again. "I must have a copy of the
poem you read today. I loved it."

"I'd consider it an honor to give it to you." You say as she stands and you
shake hands. She pulls you closer and gives you a quick hug. You both laugh
again and you pick up your satchel and leave the room.

In the hall your legs betray you and you fall back against the wall. You
close your eyes trying to calm down, but you're far too excited to even get
close to calm.

You take another deep breath and open your eyes. Children's art still hangs
in the hallway even though it's summer. One picture across from you catches
your eye and you walk over to it, happy that your legs cooperate.

It's a crayon drawing above a lined section of white paper. Two stick figures
face each other with green and blue sticks in their hands. Below the figures
you read "When I grow up I am going to be a Jedi Knight. Ben K., Rm. 103"

You read it again. And again, and then a giggle starts in your chest,
bubbling up your throat. Quietly you laugh yourself senseless in the hall, tea
rs running down your face--whether because of the child's drawing or because
you've just been offered the dream of a lifetime, you're not sure. But, the
laughter feels great and you turn to go.


Part 3

The walk home passes in a haze. Your mind is racing to that galaxy far, far
away and the town around you ceases to be important. You find yourself at the
door of the cabin in what seems like the blink of an eye.

Placing your satchel on the ground you find the key and let yourself in. The
day is still brilliantly warm and the humidity of the cabin is uncomfortable.
You set the satchel on the ground and leave the door open to admit the ocean
breeze.

You nearly bounce into the kitchen, poor yourself a glass of water and
quickly gulp it down. You walk back into the mainroom and sit at the table,
intending to pull out your laptop and check your e-mail. You have the machine
starting up and the phone line plugged in, but you're fairly bouncing in the
chair, and you know you'll never sit still long enough to get through all the
mail today.

You jump out of the chair and do a half turn in the room, arms stretched
wide. You can't remember feeling this happy. All at once you know the perfect
thing to do. You walk back to the bedroom and open the closet. You didn't
bring much with you, but you did bring one particularly nice sundress. The
idea of walking on the beach, wearing this dress right now seems deliciously
appropriate, and you wiggle out of your jeans.

Slipping the dress over your head you turn to the mirror. You've had your
hair in a pony tail all day, and that doesn't seem right either. You pull the
band from your hair and turn your head upside down and shake it out. It's
grown so long this summer--you've never let your hair grow long in the summer
before. You look back at the reflection, and are please with the pink in your
cheeks.

"You are a writer." You say to the mirror. Your smile answers back, like the
one you wore on Christmas morning when you were a child.

Slipping on a pair of flip-flops you walk out of the room. The breeze blowing
through the house stirs the sheer curtains on one side of the door. You can
just see the billowing white material around the corner of the hallway. It's
dreamlike.

You turn the corner and your hand suddenly grasps at the wall for support.

Qui Gon stands in the doorway. His eyes are scanning the room and they stop
when he sees you. He stares at you, you can feel his gaze on every centimeter
of your face.

"Breath." His low voice pours into your ear.

You realize you haven't been breathing, and you take his advise. One unsteady
breath, followed by another. Your hand is riveted to the wall where it
clutched the door frame of the second bedroom. Your knuckles are going white.

"May I come in?" He asks, some amusement twinkling in his eye.

"Y...yes?" You respond. How exactly were you supposed to treat hallucinations
anyway?

"Thank you." He steps across the threshold and enters the cabin. "I'd
introduce myself, but I believe it's not necessary?" He says moving closer to
you. "But, I'm afraid I don't know your name."

You whisper your name and he stops two meters in front of you. "Beautiful, it
suits you."

You can feel the heat in your cheeks as blood rushes to your pale face. Did
he just say I was beautiful? Oh, gods, what a day to loose my mind.

"I can see that my being here has shocked you." You nod affirmatively, "But,
I thought you knew I was here?" He asks. "You saw me last night, and then
again today while you were eating."

He steps closer. "I apologize for surprising you." And still closer. Your
neck is tilting up so that you can still meet his gaze. You're becoming more
and more aware of his nearness, his presence. His large frame now fills your
view.

"I heard you calling, and I am here." With these words his hand reaches out
and pries your hand off the door jam. He brings it to his lips and brushes
the back of your hand with his lips. Sudden electricity pulses up your arm
and you gasp at the unexpected sensation.

"I called?" You're still whispering, as if it's correct thing to do--to
whisper to a hallucination.

"You did. I heard it very clearly. I'm afraid it took me a few more days than
I would have liked, but you were very far away after all." He was still
holding your hand. It feels tiny in his grasp and you try to imagine the
strength contained within its gentleness.

"I don't remember calling anyone." You say, not sure what else to say.

"Sometimes we do not use our voices to call for help. There are other ways."
Now he's pulling you to him. You're surprised that you're still standing and
when you try to take a step, your knees become liquid and you feel yourself
stumbling.

His Jedi reflexes anticipate, and he's wrapping his other arm around your
waist before you even know what's happening. He feels very solid at your side
and you realize he's wearing normal everyday American clothes. Jeans and a
dark blue tee-shirt, leather shoes, no socks.

You shake you head and wonder when exactly this dream will end.

That's it! I'm dreaming. The whole thing--the poetry reading, the book deal,
and most certainly him. It's all way too good to be true. You're dreaming.
You laugh to yourself, and find strength returning to your legs.

You stand straighter and he loosens his grip on you.

"Thanks. I'm okay now." You step away slightly and are surprised that you are
aware of his warmth. Vivid dream!

"I think you should sit down." He motions to the chairs on either side of the
fireplace.

"No, I'm okay. Don't worry." You slip your hand out of his and walk past him
for the door. Usually when you leave a room in a dream, you enter another
kind of dream. Perhaps, if you leave the cabin you'll end up back home or at
work or something equally mundane. That should work. You keep walking toward
the door.

"Where are you going?" He calls after you. You're almost to the door.

"I said, where are you going?" His hand has landed on your shoulder. One more
step and your out the door and out of this dream--only... You stepped out of
a door at the school. Several in fact. And you don't remember the dream
changing. What will you do if you step out of this door and he's still here?

"You're not dreaming." His mouth whispers in your ear. Your eyes close and
you shiver. His calloused hand feels intensely hot on your shoulder. You
struggle to step out the door, but he's pulling you back inside and now he's
swinging the door closed. You hear the latch click and you open your eyes.

He'd said you weren't dreaming. Then what in all the hells was going on? He
turns you around and now he's leaning over, looking closer at your face.

"You called, I am here--it's not a dream." He repeats. Then his face is
closer and you realize he's about to kiss you.

Part 4

"You called, I am here--it's not a dream." He repeats. Then his face is
closer and you realize he's about to kiss you.

You feel your pulse fluttering in your breast but forget about it completely
as Qui Gon's lips press against yours. You resist, eyes open, looking at his
closed eyelids. *This is insane.* You try pulling back, but his hand that had
been holding your shoulder slips down to the small of your back and he pulls
you closer.

His lips are firm and warm. He smells like a man who's been walking on the
beach--tangy, clean. You taste salt on his lips and you melt. Suddenly you're
responding to the kiss. At first hesitantly --after all this is a delusion,
how passionate should you get with a delusion? But, it feels so good, and you
tilt your mouth sideways on his and kiss him more passionately.

Qui Gon feels your response and meets your passion. His lips caress yours,
nibble yours, moving around and over your lips. The tip of his tongue grazes
the bottom of your upper lip. You gasp, and then come back for more.

He pulls back, and you realize you're gulping for breath. "So, now, do you
believe?" He says, with some amusement in his rich voice. You notice the
slight Irish lilt that drives you crazy.

"Gods, what a day." You whisper, your voice shaking along with the rest of
you.

"You really need to sit down." He pulls your arms along with him and soon
you're seated in the overstuffed chair by the fireplace. He kneels before
you. On his knees his face is just the same height as yours. You look up,
still weak from the embrace, and try to study his face.

His hair is pulled away from his face, just as in the movie, and it has equal
amounts of silver and light brown. It looks very soft and you stop yourself
from reaching out to touch it. His brow is smooth--quite smooth for a man of
his years, and strong. His eyes are focused on you, intense blue gaze that
holds more magic than a room full of sorcerers. How can anyone's eyes be so
beguiling. Your gaze shifts to his aristocratic nose and down to his
mustache. The hair on his face is neatly trimmed in the short beard and
mustache you've dreamed about.

The corners of his mouth are turned up every so slightly as if he's enjoying
your scrutiny. You yearn to feel his mouth pressing against yours again, and
his smile broadens.

You look back into his eyes. The small crinkles around the corners reveal his
mirth as well.

"Well, if this isn't a dream, can you tell me what the hell is going on?" You
try to make your voice sound normal, but under the circumstances there's not
a chance of that.

"I told you..."

"Yeah, I called you. Thing is, I don't remember calling you. I wouldn't even k
now how. And, by the way, in case you don't know it--you don't exist!"

"Do I not feel real to you?" His huge hand descends on your thigh. The warmth
of it seeps through the thin cotton of your dress.

"Uh, wow," you stammer, "yes, I would have to say you feel real." Then,
trying to take a little control of the situation, you place your hand on his.
He smiles at you and you feel a rush of wetness between your legs. *Gods,
this man is beautiful. If this is a dream, why the hell am I resisting this?
And, if it isn't a dream, why the hell am I resisting this?* Right now, with
his gorgeous face close to yours and his hand on your thigh, it seems like a
win-win situation.

"I sense you've made a decision about me." He declares, rubbing his hand ever
so slightly against your thigh.

"A decision? I guess you could call it that. I've decided that I don't care
if you're real or not. How do you like that?" Your question is almost a
challenge.

"It will have to do for now." He brings his other hand to rest on your other
thigh. "You have a most passionate aura, did you know that?"

You close your eyes, trying to stay in control. His touch alone makes you
want to rip your dress off and straddle him. Instead you manage to say, "I
didn't know I had an aura. Too bad I can't sense yours." It's only small
talk, a way to keep from acting on your impulses.

"Oh, but you can. You have the ability." He sounds slightly more like the
Jedi master now.

"I...I do?" Your eyes open at that.

"You are strong in the Force--otherwise I would never have heard you calling
me." He looks as if it's the most obvious thing in the galaxy.

"The Force? Me?" Okay, dream/delusion, whatever, this is going where you've
never gone before. "And, I suppose I'm going to become a Jedi too." You scoff.

"Hmm," he closes his eyes. "That, I do not know. I'm not as good as
predicting the future as Obi Wan."

Gulp. Obi Wan? Ohmygods, I'd almost forgot about him. "Is Obi Wan here too?"
You squeak out.

"Mmm? Oh, yes, he's back at our ship." His nonchalance is maddening. "But,
back to your Force abilities. My dear, are you sure you aren't aware of your
power?" He seems confused that you don't know that you're a Force sensitive.

"Well, I've always wanted to be able to use the Force, but it's not something
I thought was real. It's just a metaphor, you know, takes the place of all
the supernatural powers humans believe in. I'd like to believe in it, but..."
you shrug.

"Always the doubter." He says, and he removes his left hand from your thigh.
You miss the warmth, but soon his hand is touching the side of your face,
cupping your jaw, fingers woven into your hairline.

He closes his eyes and you are left with the impression that he's
concentrating very hard.

As if you have suddenly become very sleepy, your eyes slide shut and you see
nothing but blackness before you. Then, images slide into your consciousness.
Images of you as a child, standing up to a bully on the playground for the
first time in your life. The time you sang solo in front of the entire school
and received a standing ovation. The time you disarmed your fencing
instructor in college--something no one had ever done before. The first time
you felt sexual power. Faster and faster the images speed past. All your
greatest achievements. Then, you see new images, as if seen from a different
perspective.

You're sitting against a log, typing on your laptop, tears streaming down
your face, the ocean roaring in front of you. Your hair shines in the sun and
there is an unmistakable glow around you. White, tinged with pink.

The image shifts again. You're leaning over the fence, smelling the rose. The
light around you is brighter than it should be for sunset, and you see
yourself smile, then glance left and right.

You realize these are Qui Gon's images of you. He'd found you on the beach
last night. He sees something about you that you didn't know existed.

The images fade and there's a star field. Pinpoints of bright crystalline
light rushing past. It goes faster and faster and you feel your breath taken
away as you're pushed through.

You stop just before a blinding blue/white orb. It pulses and radiates power.
You have no idea what it is or what it means, but you feel it is important to
touch it. You reach out and push one finger into it's dancing light.

Sensation floods your body. You hear music, see colors, feel warmth, taste
sweetness, smell the ocean. It's overwhelming and you know you're about to
pass out. Then, the sensations slacken, and you feel yourself drifting back
to yourself.

After a while you become aware of your lungs moving, your heart beating. You
hear another person breathing close by. You know you're sitting, but where,
you haven't a clue.

Carefully you open your eyes, and immediately close them again. The light in
the room is blinding.

"Gently, it will take some getting used to." You hear a man's voice. Then you
remember. Qui Gon! What just happened?

*I showed you your power.* You hear inside your mind. *You should be able to
feel it now.*

"How... what?" You say aloud, and this time you do open your eyes, but still
squint against the brilliant brightness of the room.

"Many people are strong in the Force, but for one reason or another have not
unlocked it's power inside them. I helped you." His hand is still on the side
of your face, and you look at him, dumbstruck.

Then you notice the light that surrounds him. White/green with sparks of
silver shot throughout. You gasp at the unexpected beauty of it.

"Oh, wow," You sigh.

"Indeed." He laughs. Then he leans in, placing his other hand on your face
and pulls you to his. Qui Gon's lips meet yours hungrily this time and even
though you feel lightheaded, you meet his hunger with passion of your own.

You kiss him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him
closer--between your knees. He moves his arms to wrap them around your back,
pressing his fingers into your ribs and down your spine. He's tasting your
lips with his tongue and you open your mouth with a whimper. He traces the
sensitive skin just inside your lips with maddening licks and then his tongue
is in your mouth searching and probing.

You sit further forward in the chair, bringing your legs farther around his
sides and press your chest against him. He moans when he feels your tongue
sliding over yours and giving back a little of what's he's been doing to you.

His hand moves to the back of your neck. The tie that keeps the top of the
dress up is swiftly undone and he pulls the material down your front to your
waist.

Qui Gon releases your lips and then you feel him moving back. You open your
eyes to see him sitting on his heels, looking at you. You feel your cheeks
get even pinker, if that's possible, as his eyes scan you from the roots of
your hair to the skin of your abdomen. His eyes come back up slightly to rest
on your breasts. You shiver as you physically *feel* the sensation of his
gaze. He sees this and a smile tugs at his mouth.


Part 5

Then his hands are moving again. He's placing one huge had over each breast,
the warmth, both physical and through the Force is breathtaking. You arch
your back, pressing yourself into his palms. Suddenly, you feel his mouth
taking his right hand's place, gently kissing you and lightly licking the top
of your breast. There is a new rush of wetness in your slit and you moan
again.

He begins sucking on the nipple with the same tenderness as the kisses
before, but you're fire is starting to build and you press against him
urgently. He deepens the pull with his mouth and starts to use his fingers on
your other breast. Deep inside your body you feel the delicious pulling that
you know you'll need answered soon. He keeps the rhythm constant, pulsing in
time with his own need.

You growl at him and run your hands over his back, pulling at the tee-shirt.
It comes free of the waist of his jeans, and your running your hands up and
down his back in time to the sucking of his mouth.

With a cry, he backs away and pulls the shirt over his head with one swift
motion. Your eyes devour the sight of his muscled arms and chest. Soft brown
hair covering his chest, making a narrow line on his flat abdomen and into
the waist of his pants.

He pulls you closer again and you're sitting just on the edge of the chair.
Your legs are open wide to get him as close to you as possible, and you can
feel the hard bulge on the front of his pants against your opening and up
over your mound. He's got his hands under your skirt and is rubbing them up
the outside of your thighs.

You wiggle just slightly against the feel of his hands and his erection and
his eyes take on a wicked gleam. His mouth goes down on your other breast and
you cry out his name. At the same moment, his hands find their way around
your butt, and he traces the line of your slit with the tips of your fingers.
Even though you have one more layer of material between you and his hands,
you feel the strokes as if you were already striped naked before him.

*Your wish is my command, my dear* You hear in your head. He backs up out of
the embrace of your legs and stands you up on shaky legs. With swift grace,
he strips the elastic waist of your skirt down over your legs and you step
out of it, dressed now only in your panties. And then he's reaching for that
last garment, but you stop him with a look, and pull them down yourself. He
makes a low growling noise in his chest when he sees you finally stripped
naked, and you close your eyes at the intensity of his gaze.

Still, he's wearing much too much. *Your turn* your project at him. His hands
find the button of his jeans and undo them. Then you reach out and find the
zipper inside. Slowly, you pull the zipper down, pressing ever so slightly
against the hard shaft inside. He moans twice as you do this, and his face
looses most of it's serenity.

A rush of power overcomes you and you quickly pull the pants over his legs.
They are long and unabashedly powerful. You marvel at the fine curly hair
that covers them. His pants on the floor he steps free of them and his shoes
in two simple motions.

His erection is held back only by the black boxers he wears now, and you
reach out to hook a finger in each side of the elastic at his waist. With the
same slow motion you pull them down, carefully releasing his shaft.

His face is still contorted in a mask of control, and you kneel before him.
There's already a bead of moisture at the tip, and you wrap your lips around
it and suck.

"Aaaaah" He growls, and places his hands on your shoulders, digging his
fingers into the skin ever so slightly. You don't mind the touch, in fact it
makes you even more aware of his longing, and you resolve that you will meet
this man every step of the way.

You open your mouth and relax your throat, and slide him in as far as you
can. He shudders and your tongue moves up and down on the underside.

"By the Force!" he yells, and you feel even wetter. You only manage to move
your mouth up and down his silken steel twice before he's pulling away and
grasping your arms with his hands.

He turns you and gently pushes you to the floor. The rug feels soft under
your back. You look up and he towers above you, looking like that god you
imagined in your story.

Then he's down on one knee, and then the other. Touching your thighs with his
hands, asking you to part your legs.

It doesn't take much encouragement. You part them, and he smiles at you.
Never taking his eyes off yours, his hand brushes over the soft curls of your
mound and then you feel the pressure of two fingers on the top of your slit.
As if in slow motion, the pads of his fingers find the warmth buried at the
top of the slit and slowly slide down to your opening. He stops just at the
edge, and you squirm against his hand. He smiles again at your impatience,
and then he plunges his fingers into you. You feel him move them every so
slightly inside as you arch up and grab at the carpet.

On the way back out he stops to circle the bundle of nerves deep inside. *How
do you know about that* You project to him. But, he doesn't answer. He just
keeps smiling and then his fingers are circling your clit.

You shake under the jolts of sensation he's sending through you. Then his
fingers push down again, and inside. This time he finds the spot right away
and he rubs in over and over again quickly. You scream out his name and close
your eyes. You know he's now leaning over your body, you can feel some of his
hair brushing the skin at your waist. You worry about totally loosing
control, but he's not giving you much choice.

Your hips thrust against his fingers. *Don't hold back, come for me.* You
know he's using the Force to sense exactly what you need. You're going higher
and higher. You're screams come faster and faster and then with a cry you're
over the brink, bliss filling your every fiber.

Your body shakes with aftershocks and he's left his fingers inside to feel
it. You open your eyes and see him leaning over your body. One arms
supporting his weight next to your hip, the other hand still deep inside you.
The sight is unbelievably erotic. No dream could possibly be this good.

He feels your stare, and he looks at you. Dark blue, intense beams of energy.
Your left hand relaxes its death grip on the carpet and you slip it up and
rest it on the top of his perfect butt. His smile returns.

As if stroking the most precious velvet in the world, you reverently caress
his bottom. He closes his eyes--his hand is still inside you, not moving.

With one finger your trace the line of his crack and then underneath. You
brush the finger against the soft fuzz on his sack, and he wiggles a little
and seems about to giggle. To relieve the tickling sensation you cup the sack
with your hand and he sighs with relief.

Ever so gently you kneed him and he squirms against the deepening sensations,
his arousal rising higher. You can see the shaft becoming harder and harder,
but you can't reach it in this position.

He senses your need to touch him, and he move his knees closer to your
shoulder. You slide your hand between his legs and wrap your hand around his
shaft from behind. With your palm you begin to stroke him.

His fingers twitch inside you, and you gasp at even this slight movement. You
haven't forgotten that he was there, it's just so unbelievably erotic to have
his fingers filling you.

You rub from the tip down to the base and then past the balls and to the
slight ridge of skin between his sack and his anus. With your index finger
you press slightly against the ridge, and he groans with pleasure.

You run your hands back up and repeat the motion on the way down. This time
when you rub that spot he curves his fingers up and rubs the bundle inside you
. You groan this time.

Faster and faster you each rub the spots that give off the most intense
sensations. His erection is twitching for release.

*Please." he begs in your mind, *Now! I want to bury myself in you.*

You pull away from him and he looks lost for a moment. You decide to see if
he really has awaken some kind of Force power in you.

You project the image that you've seen so many times in your dreams it's part
of your soul. You lock on the image of you straddling him, rocking up and
down, his hands grasping your hips.

Instantly, he's grabbing you by the waist and pulling your body to cover his
on the floor. His cock hard against your belly. He's kissing you fiercely as
you continue to send the picture of you impaling yourself on him.

"Oh, yes!" He rumbles, your breasts feeling the depth of the sound in his
chest.

His hands reach behind you and the fingers delve between your legs parting
your legs. You place your hands on his chest--so tiny against the breadth of
his muscles.

Your knees are resting on the carpet now and you can feel his erection
against the slit of your behind.

You raise your hips carefully, and place the tip of his huge length precisely
inside the lips of your opening. Then, with more grace then you can believe
yourself possible of, you slide down on top of him, taking him deeper and
deeper inside.

It seems you will never reach his full length, and you begin to worry that
this position won't work, because you aren't going to be deep enough. But,
you feel his hips against the inside of your thighs and you push yourself
down hard and fast to take him in the rest of the way.

You both scream out when he's buried to the hilt. His hands clench and he
grasps for your arms, squeezing them almost painfully. You feel his mind
bumping against yours, unable to believe that he want's more of you than your
cunt, you fumble at lowering your minds defenses.

He's there, now, inside you with his cock and his mind. Hot, grinding,
devouring passion. You nearly come from the intensity of it.

You pull your hips up again, and then down faster. He screams your name and
you're up again before he has the chance to overwhelm you.

His hands are on your hips now and he's digging into your flesh. He's lost
control you realize and you rock faster and faster, desperate to pleasure
this beautiful man. This man who makes love to you in your dreams.

If possible he's grown even larger inside you and his mind continues to
devour you. Your legs begin to shake and you feel the animal side of you take
over. Arching your back, you feel him shift inside you to the front of your
canal, and he's desperately trying to pump under you. His hips raise off the
carpet and all at once your both screaming. The unimaginable intensity of the
orgasm fills you both with searing heat.

You don't remember how many times you screamed, or what he screamed. But,
when your body finally stills you collapse on top of him, grasping his arms
hard and smashing your breasts against his chest. He's still buried inside
you.

He recovers slightly faster than you, and you feel him stroking your hair and
murmuring comforting words. You're sure he knows he didn't hurt you, but he's
acting as if you are a precious fragile thing he's been too rough with. The
idea is touching.

You lift your head to look up at his face, his hair is tangled and the
leather band has been lost. You reach up and finally touch it. He opens his
eyes and smiles, turning his head so he can kiss the smooth skin on the
underside of your forearm.

*You called, I came.* He says--double meaning implied. You smile back at him
then lower your head to place your ear on his chest. You can hear his heart
beating out a slowing rhythm. You realize that you're surprised how quickly
his heart rate is returning to normal. He's in amazing shape.

Releasing your arms he places his hands on your back--they nearly cover your
whole upper back--and you snuggle against him.

*Still believe that I'm not real?* He uses the Force to ask.

*Gods, I hope not.* You respond in kind. *But I still don't understand how I
called you.*

*I told you, the Force is with you. I could not have ignored your call if I'd
wanted to.* His last words are soft and you realize he's drifting off to
sleep. You sigh, and with the sound of his heartbeat filling your ears, you
drift off too.


Several hours pass, the two of you blissfully unaware, wrapped in each
other's arms. You've slid off his body and are nestled close to his left
side.

It's nearly midnight before you feel yourself becoming aware of your
surroundings. The first thing you notice is the tickling of his long hair
against your cheek. Thinking that it's your own, you raise a hand to brush it
away and find his torso instead.

Instantly, you're fully awake and your breath is quickened. It wasn't a
dream. Qui Gon is laying next to you, sleeping, naked. Your eyes open and you
see his golden skin, the muscles of his chest. You shift your neck ever so
slightly so you can see his face. He wears an expression of extreme
serenity--looking ever so much more like the Jedi Master than he had in the
throws of ecstasy. You smile at the thought.

You had pleasured this man; this unbelievably gorgeous, strong, serene man.
He had lost all composure and had begged you to join him in his passion.

Your stomach does a flip and tightens as you feel the sensual delight take
flight. How did this happen? What did you do to deserve this?

He makes a sighing noise and you look up at him again. His tongue licks his
lips ever so quickly but that is all. He doesn't show any other sign that
he's actually waking.

The sight of his tongue makes you think of other things and you shiver even
though the cabin is still warm.

"Do you want a blanket, dearheart?" His voice softly caresses you.

You smile to yourself. If you had used the Force you probably would have been
able to tell he was awake.

"I'm not cold. How about you?" You inch up slightly and whisper in his ear.

"Mmm, not in the least." He opens his eyes. "I am hungry, however." And from
the way he's looking at you, you're not sure what he's hungry for.

"Is there something special you're hungry for?" You ask, batting your eyes
and playing innocent.

He laughs and pulls you on top of him. "There are so many things.... But,
since neither of us have eaten a meal since midday, don't you think it would
be wise to find something to eat?"

You're still not done teasing him, and you arch your eyebrow. He laughs again
and pulls your face closer to him, kissing your forehead. But, you feel his
stomach rumble under yours and decide that perhaps a good meal would be in
order.

"I don't have much in the way of provisions. I've been getting take-out all
week." You're not sure if he understands this, but he seems to.

"I'm sure we can come up with something." He asks, his hands tracing your
back. You have no doubt that you can.

"I have an idea." You say, pushing yourself up. "It won't be much, but it
will get us through the night--that is, if your staying...." For the first
time, you let some doubt enter your voice.

"I'm not leaving." And now he's serious, his eyes turning dark.

"Then, I'll get something for us to eat and be right back." You start to
stand up and he grasps the fingers of your left hand and places a kiss on the
back of your hand, just where he'd kissed you when he'd first come into the
cabin.

"Is there anything I can do?" He asks, the model of chivalry.

*So many things,* your mind whispers. You wonder if he's aware of your
undiminished passion, when he turns your hand over and places nibbling kisses
on the palm of your hand. His eyes still intense.

It's hard not to give into the warm impulse you're feeling, but you do manage
to retrieve your hand and say, "Why don't you run us a bath. We can eat in
the tub." This time it's his turn to raise eyebrows, and you wonder if you've
overstepped your place.

"I'd like that very much." He says, relieving you. You hold out your hand to
him again, and he holds it as he gets to his feet. You feel week in the knees
again at the largeness of his body. You crane your neck to see his face. His
hair is in a disarray, and his lips are slightly swollen. You only hope you
look half as good.

He hands you a thin blanket from the back of the sofa, and you wrap it around
your body, holding it with one hand.

"The bath is at the end of the hall. Turn both handles all the way and it
will warm up in no time." He nods his understanding, pulls on his boxers and
heads off down the hall.

Alone in the room, you suddenly feel like it's a dream again. But his clothes
are there on the floor, next to yours. It's not a dream. You hear the water
in the bath and turn to go into the kitchen.

Opening the fridge you "tsk tsk" to yourself at the lack of supplies. You do
have some lovely cheese from the creamery down the coast. There's also a
bottle of white wine. You pull both of these items out and turn to the
counter behind you.

There you find the loaf of sour dough you bought at lunch the day before. You
had planned to have it with dinner tonight. Well, you think, this is
dinner....

Cheese, bread, and wine. Would it be enough for a man of Qui Gon's size? You
slice the bread and cheese and open the bottle of wine, but you worry that he
needs more.

*It will be enough. Come, the water is ready.* His voice is in your mind. You
tremble from the sound of it. Very intense, very sensual.

You find a bamboo tray and place the cheese, bread, wine and two glasses on
it. Remembering your days as a waitress, you hold the towel with one hand and
balance the tray against your upper arm. You leave the kitchen.

You can hear the water rushing into the tub as your bare feet pad down the
hall. You smile when you remember how you'd called your friend "foolishly
extravagant" when she'd remodeled the bathroom three years ago. Now, you
can't think of a way to adequately thank her.

When she had returned from a trip to Japan four years ago she'd been enamored
with the Japanese bathing rituals, and had been determined to build a
Japanese style bathroom for herself. She had decided on converting one of the
bedrooms into a bathroom, with all the Japanese elements. Wood paneled walls
and floor, stones built right into the walls for shelves and seats. Bamboo
and rice paper screens. It was all delightfully exotic and serene.

The best part, in your opinion is the Japanese soaking tub. Large enough for
at least four people, the tub had been a huge extravagance. You had never
used it on any of your visits, instead using the shower.

Stepping into the bath you see Qui Gon kneeling on one knee at the side of
the tub testing the water with his hand. Steam rises from the surface of the
water. He looks at you up and sees you standing in the doorway looking at him.

His hand beckons and you walk closer, carefully to avoid stepping on the
blanket. He stands and takes the glasses and wine off the tray. You set the
tray down on one of the rock ledges and turn back to him. He hands you the
glasses and then pours the fragrant wine into each.

He places the bottle next to the wine and cheese and then looks at you. The
intensity of his gaze has you rooted to the wood floor. Your mouth is dry and
you know the vein in your neck is showing him how fast your heart is beating.

His hand comes up and wraps around the back of your head. He pulls you closer
and you close your eyes. His lips press against yours with delicious warmth.
But, he's not demanding; rather it's like he's reassuring you that you don't
need to rush. You sigh when he pulls away.

He takes a sip of the wine and raises his eyebrows.

"This is quite nice."

"Thank you. I'm glad you like it."

"It's similar to a wine from Alderann." He's looking at the color in the
glass.

You can't help it, you stifle a giggle. He looks at you.

"I'm sorry," you say, "I just can't believe I'm standing here, drinking wine
with you and... and you're really from that galaxy far, far away. I mean, it
just struck me as funny for a moment. I hope you understand." Your last words
come out in a rush, your face burning with embarrassment.

"My dear, I think I do understand." His glass goes back to his lips and you
can see they're turned up at the corners. His sense of humor is so dry--so
very subtle. You'd love to see the man laugh.

He reaches for your glass and you give it to him, wondering what he has in
mind.

"You said something about a bath?" His head nods toward the waiting tub.
"Shall we?"

"By all means." You agree.

You start to unwrap the blanket, but his hands stop yours and then he's
standing close, pulling the blanket from your body. Your body trembles at his
touch.

His eyes are still dark under the shadow of his brows, and his look is saying
all kind of wonderful things. You close your eyes and smile.

You hear the sound of his boxers sliding off his legs and then a small
splash. You open your eyes again to find him standing on the first step of
the tub--his hands reaching out for you.

You place both your hands in his and follow him into the tub. The water is
hot--almost painfully so, but you put your other foot in. He steps down again
and you follow. Soon the water is up to your mound and its up to the middle
of his thigh. It's hard not to look at his member growing in front of you. He
feels your attention and a small moan escapes his lips.

Suddenly, he's easing into the water pulling you to him. The wooden tub has
benches around the parameter and he settles against one in the far corner,
bringing you with him. The water is very hot against your upper body, and you
hiss at the feel of it at first. But, within moments, it ceases to be painful
and you sigh as the warmth seeps into your bones.

You look at Qui Gon to see what he thinks of the bath. His head is resting
against the wall behind the tub and his eyes are closed. Your first impulse
is to grab a handful of his hair in each hand and us it to pull your self on
top of him. The idea makes your nipples stand on end. But, it's too soon. He
really is hungry and you should help him regain his strength.

You glide across the tub to where the tray is and place a slice of the cheese
on a piece of bread. Carefully keeping it above the water you move back to
the corner where he seems oblivious to the world.

"Qui Gon?"

"Yes, dearheart?"

"You said you were hungry..." You hold the food out to him. He opens his eyes
and smiles. His hand comes out of the water and takes the offering from you.
He takes a bite and begins to chew. You glide back and get his wine glass and
then set it on the ledge closer to him. He nods his thanks.

You go back to the tray and help yourself to the bread and cheese, staying on
that side of the tub to eat. The two of you are studying each other. He's
still wearing that slight grin.

Finally, you have to know. "What?!"

"You want to know what I'm thinking?" He says. There is definitely a twinkle
in his eye.

"Well... I think I do." His strange expression makes you wonder if you really
do or not.

"Love, use the Force! I've been whispering in you mind for the past 10
minutes and you haven't heard a thing I've said." His smile broadens. He's
not lecturing, and he doesn't seem upset, just amused that you've forgotten
the new power he's awaken in you.

"I don't know how yet, I guess." You reply, trying not to become defensive.

"Of course," he stops smiling, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to tease you."

He looks at you again. You can tell he's trying to send you something, and
you close your eyes and try to find that place in your soul where you think
your center lives.

*Yes, that's it. See, you knew what to do all along. You just haven't had
anyone around to communicate with.*

*I see.* And you do, it's absurdly easy once you know what to do. *I have
always thought of this place as my center.* You tell him.

*Yes, that's a good name for it. It's the place of balance within you. Every
Jedi knows this place--lives in this place. It's where we find our connection
with the Force.*

You nod, trying to understand.

*Qui Gon, what were you trying to send me earlier?* Curiosity overcoming your
interest in learning about the Force.

*I was telling you how beautiful you are. How good your body felt on top of
mine. How I'd like to make love to you over and over.*

You gulp and open your eyes. He's looking right into you--almost through you.
There's a wetness between your legs that has nothing to do with the hot water
in the tub.

"I thought you were hungry." You whisper.

"Very." He replies. But, then he takes another bite of the bread and cheese
and releases your eyes.

You almost groan from the sudden slacking of tension. *What was that?* you
think to yourself.

You finish your bread and cheese at the same time he does and then turn
around to make him another slice. You hear the water sloshing behind you and
start to turn around, but his hands grasp your shoulders and he keeps you
facing away from him.

He pulls your hair away from the left side of your neck and you feel his lips
on the skin behind your ear.

*I can't keep my eyes off you.* His voice echoes in your mind. *You don't
know what you're doing to me.*

You whimper as his teeth and lips nibble at the side of your neck and you
lean your head back. His hands lightly rub the tops of your shoulders, and
then they're under the water stroking your arms. His fingers trace patterns
on the back of your hands and then back up the arms.

*What I'm doing to you! Gods, Qui Gon, I'm not doing anything. You're the one
doing everything!* You send to him.

His hands hold your shoulders again, kneading the spot at the base of your
neck. You purr like a cat as he finds the tension spots you always need
massaging. You hear him hum, as if to say "this is no good, you're so tense."
But he keeps the massage going and soon you fell the tension in your neck
dissolve.

He senses it too. His hands now travel over the front of your shoulders and
slip under the water again to your breasts. You gasp when you feel his
calloused fingers take each nipple in their grasp. He twists them just
slightly, but enough to send jolts of sensual delight through your body.

*Qui Gon!* You send.

*Yes? Is something wrong?* You can hear his amusement in his voice. He knows
there's nothing wrong.

*More.* You answer. *You know what I want.*

*Indeed.* He replies, as one hand slides down your stomach, pulling you back
against him. He moves both of you across the tub to where he was sitting
before. He pulls you into his lap, his hardening shaft slips against your
back. Once you're on his lap, his hand is tracing patterns over your stomach
and then his fingers start to touch the skin around your mound.

He's not going any further though, and you squirm against his touch, trying
to get him to stop teasing. His other hand continues to finger your nipple
and the dark pink aureola. The nipple is terribly hard under his touch, as
you're sure other pleasure centers are as well.

What is he playing at? His hand just barely brushes past the curls again and
you growl when he does nothing more. You start to feel frantic to get his
hands inside you, and you reach for his hand with your own.

*Are you using the Force?* His mind purrs in yours.

"I could never find my center now!" You voice rasps.

*Yes, you can.*

You want to do as he says, but his petting is making you crazy. You grit your
teeth and take a deep breath. His presence is waiting for you and shows you
how to find your center in the midst of the swirling emotions.

You slip into it and he rewards you. Through the Force you feel his hot
desire for your body at the same time as you feel his first two fingers slip
over your hard bud. He strokes it hard three times and you squirm against him
in response, rubbing his shaft against your bottom and back.

*See, that wasn't too difficult, was it?* His voice has taken on a different
tone. He's not playing around any more.

*Not difficult...but not easy.* You respond, barely able to form words. *Oh,
gods Qui Gon. Your fingers...!*

He strokes you again and again, then slips into your wet opening. Spreading
your legs as wide as you can you push against his hand. You both groan at the
slippery delight he finds there. Again, he's out and then fingering your
clit. There's a rushing sound in your ears, and you know it won't take much
more.

He knows too. He senses everything you do. His fingers plunge in again and
then he's stroking you hard and fast--water sloshing across the bath. You
begin to keen with every stroke. He's holding your upper body against him
with his free hand, fingers still working their magic on your breast.

He's found the sweet spot deep inside and he's going over and over it until
you scream his name and convulse against him.

Gently he rubs you, and then pulls his fingers free. You can't help but lean
your head back against his shoulder, gasping for breath. The rushing noise
starts to fade and you turn sideways on his lap to look at him. His shaft,
still hard and asking for attention against your body.

*Do they teach you that in Jedi Master School?* You tease, while radiating
your pleasure at him.

*Not exactly.* is his amused response. *That's something I've picked up on my
own.*

He shifts on the bench, and you can see him trying to stay tranquil in the
face of your recent orgasm.

*Why do you hold back?* You ask.

*I am here for you--not the other way around.* He says.

*I see. And if I say that I want to see you completely abandon your Jedi
serenity, what then?*

His eyes open and he looks a little surprised. You lean over and kiss him
deeply. Your tongue slips into his mouth and you feel him squirm on the seat.
Your hands press against his chest, touching the muscles and the skin with a
firm touch. You find his nipples, already hard and you give each one a pinch.
He groans into your mouth and your kisses become even more erotic.

You slip away from him for just a moment, and then straddle his lap--careful
to not let his member touch any part of you. His hips raise up, thinking
you're about to mount him, but you don't. You grab his silken steel with your
hand and give him a loving stroke.

He turns his head out of your kiss and cries out. You stroke him again and
his face becomes a grimaced mixture of pain and delight. The water makes him
slick and your hand travels effortlessly over his smooth hardness. One more
rub from tip to hilt and he's growling low in his chest.

*What do _you_ want?!* You ask insistently *I want to know!*

He sends you an image of his body over yours, thrusting and thrusting--you
calling out his name.

Your breath is taken away from the intensity of the image. Collecting
yourself, you stand in the bath and step back from him. He looks at you,
momentarily confused, but you hold out your hand and he grips it.


You lead the way across the tub and step out. He's already anticipating and
has used the Force to send two huge bath sheets to the ground. You bend over
and arrange them on the wood floor, flashing him an eyeful of your slit as you
do so. You can hear his breath quicken.

You turn around and arch your neck back to look at him. He's looking at you
with fierce desire and it's almost overwhelming. You remember the image he
sent, and gulp, trying to figure out the best way.

You glide down his body until you're kneeling before him. His shaft hasn't
softened in the slightest and it juts out from him, clearly straining for
release. You blow across the wet tip and it twitches.

Suddenly you find yourself on your back--his hands pushing you down, but he
catches you before you slam into the hard floor. He kisses you fiercely,
moving his mouth from yours to your neck and then to your breast. You arch
your back when his mouth sucks hard and the throbbing between your legs
becomes as fast as your heartbeat.

You spread your legs wide and wrap them around him. With a swift thrust, he's
inside and you both cry out.

He's so unbelievably deep--pressing against your cervix already. It's an
exquisite kind of pain. Filling you so completely you know you'll miss it
forever when he's gone.

The thought frightens you and makes you frantic. You squirm against him when
he doesn't go back up. You look at his face and it's contorted in
concentration. He's so close, you realize. So, you hold very still and let
him find his way.

*Thank you!* His mind gasps into yours.

You feel a change in his aura and he draws on some of his legendary strength.
Slowly at first, only a couple of inches at a time, he moves in and out, as
if testing the waters. You can feel his hilt leave your opening and then
press against it again. You sigh at the sensation.

He finds a rhythm and begins to pull out further and further. Thrusting
against you over and over, yet somehow not pounding you into the floor.

He fills you and then grinds against you, making your clit throb. He does it
again and you scream his name.

"Oh, please, Qui Gon!" You shout.

"Yes!" He shouts back. His thrusts turn deeper if possible and his cock is
arching now and pushing against your sweet spot. Faster and faster.

And then you're there. He's driving you into the floor with his need and his
mind is shrieking animal pleasure in yours. Your screams match his as he
thrusts one more time and you can actually feel the hot liquid fill your
body. You strain against him, trying to match his strength.

His head falls forward and his wet hair slaps against your breasts. His
breathing is ragged. You reach up and pull him slowly down on top of you. His
weight is considerable but so wonderful, you feel completed.

An almost giddy joy fills your entire being. He senses it, and reaches up to
touch your face with his hand.

*Is that what you wanted?* You ask.

*And then some.* He replies.

*Good,* comes your self-satisfied response. He chuckles at this and lifts his
head to look at you.

"You are amazing." Qui Gon says. "I think, for the first time in years, my
shields slipped." The look on his face is blissful, but slightly embarrassed.

"Is that a bad thing?" You ask, trying to match his mood. If you really had
driven him to that, you couldn't be more pleased.

"I am a Jedi Master after all--I should have more control." He says around
the light kisses he's planting on your jawline. "And Obi Wan will never let
me live it down."

Your eyes pop open at that. Oh, gods, Obi Wan..!


Qui Gon stops the little kisses at your forehead and looks at you. Your eyes
are distant, and he rubs his nose against the end of yours.

The contact brings you back to the moment, and you smile at him, but he sees
the uncertainty in your eyes.

"What is it love?" Qui Gon asks.

"You think Obi Wan...? I mean how much does he know...?" You ask, trying to
keep the sound of your racing heart out of your voice.

"Hmm," Qui Gon closes his eyes, "He's aware that you have unarmed me."

His eyes open, mirth clearly in his eyes. "You stripped me of my defenses, my
love, and had me begging for more. He knows this...." He closes his eyes
again. "He's finding my predicament rather funny, actually." There's a
somewhat sour look to his smirk. You get the impression that the two Jedi are
having a discourse, and that Obi Wan is getting the better of his master.

"Will everything be all right?" He looks at you trying to understand what you
mean. "Does this effect your relationship?" You wonder about the closeness of
these men, and how would sharing this kind of intimacy effect the
Master/Apprentice relationship.

"Well, since I've been dealing with his --shall we say, passions--for many
years, it's not such a bad thing to have him get some of his own back.
Perhaps he will understand better now."

"Understand what?"

"Understand why it drives me crazy when he doesn't shield properly. A Jedi
Master doesn't have the same liberties as a Padawan. He...well, let's just
say he doesn't spend much of his free time alone." He shifts off your body,
and you sigh as the warmth leaves you. He reaches out his hand to reassure
you, and strokes your stomach.

"I see." And you think you do. If Obi Wan is anything like you've imagined,
it would be hard to think of him spending hours and hours in meditation. He
probably had a girl in every spaceport. But, what about Earth?

"He's alone right now, isn't he?" You ask, your hand brushing his hair away
from his face. He leans into your hand. You can't believe how large his face
is next to your hand.

"Hmm? Oh, yes, I had him stay and guard the ship." He turns and kisses your
hand. "You know, we didn't really take a bath."

"I guess you're right." You say, enjoying the relaxed intimacy he's sharing
with you. "Should we do something about that?"

In answer, he stands up and holds a hand out to you. You grasp it and get to
your feet.

The two of you enter the tub and you gently but firmly show him that you want
to bathe him. With something of a ritualistic feel, you bathe his body
tenderly. You even wash his long hair out, running your fingers through the
soft thick mass. When you finish he's resting comfortably against the corner
of the tub--head resting on the wall behind him.

"That was, perhaps the most enjoyable bath I've ever had." He murmurs into
your hair after you've snuggled against him.

"Good." you whisper back. Your eyelids are becoming impossibly heavy and you
yawn.

"I felt that." He chuckles.

"Sorry."

"Don't be. Let me bath you and then we can find a more comfortable place to
sleep."

"I don't think I can stay awake." You confess. He looks at you and you feel
his mind reach out to yours.

"I see. Well then, we'll give you that bath in the morning." Qui Gon stands
up and moves to the far side of the tub. He steps up and over the edge and
picks up a towel from the neatly folded stack on the bamboo shelves. Opening
it he turns around to you.

You glide across and step from the water. He wraps the bath sheet around
you--it covers you from shoulders to below the knees. He holds you close and
you lean into his warmth.

You pull back a moment when you see another towel float across the room and
settle on his shoulders. Wrapped in the towels you both find your way to the
big brass bed then drop the towels and snuggle under the flannel sheets. He
spoons against your back and you both fall deeply asleep.


When you wake, you're time sense is telling you that it's well into morning.
The birds aren't singing their morning song, and the light through the bedroom
window is high on the wall.

You turn over in bed, looking forward to finding Qui Gon asleep next to you,
but the bed is empty. You sit up, looking around the room, and find no trace
of him. You slip out of the covers, pull on your cotton robe and step out of
the room.

You look to the right, the bathroom door is open, but he's not there; so you
walk to the main room. Your clothes have been picked up off the floor and
placed neatly on the sofa. His are no where to be seen. Crinkling your
forehead in confusion, you walk through the room to the kitchen.

On the stove, there is a kettle of water, gently simmering, and you see that
there are two cups on the counter. You open the cabinet and get out the box
of tea. You're about to open the box when you hear voices.

Two voices, both of them male. You walk to the other end of the kitchen where
the cabin's back door is slightly ajar.

You stand at the door trying to listen.

"She _is_ the one, Obi Wan. I knew it the first time I saw her, there, on the
beach. And last night..."

"Hmm. Yes, master, tell me all about last night." Obi Wan interrupts, his
voice is suggestive, and borders on lewd.

"Obi Wan!" Qui Gon voice is a warning. There is a pause and you wonder if
Qui Gon is angry. You open the door just enough to see them.

Qui Gon's face is turning a fine shade of red, and Obi Wan is rocking back
and forth on his heels with a all-too-knowing look on his face. He's smiling
at his master as if he's the most innocent Padawan there ever was, and you're
startled to realize that Qui Gon is embarrassed.

"That's not what I'm talking about." Qui Gon finally says. "She feels the
Force, Obi Wan. She is the one who called us here, I know it. Her sense in
the living Force is very strong."

"I sensed that as well, Master." Obi Wan replies, still looking
oh-so-innocent, but with a tone of voice that's anything but.

This time, Qui Gon can't help it. He starts to chuckle, and then when he sees
that Obi Wan is laughing, his chuckle turns into laughter. You stand, open
mouthed, watching these two warriors laugh. You're not offended. They're not
laughing at you--they're laughing because of what you did to Qui Gon. They're
laughing because the ordinary, male instinct to preserve dignity at any cost
has been obliterated. Obi Wan finds Qui Gon's lapse hysterical.

"Would either of you gentlemen like to join me for tea?" You ask, opening the
door wider.

Qui Gon immediately stops laughing, and his face actually starts turning pink
again. Obi Wan's smile is wide and warm.

"Good Morning, my Lady." Obi Wan says, as he steps forward taking your hand.
He presses his lips to the back very swiftly and then looks back at Qui Gon.
You raise your eyebrows, but refuse to give him the satisfaction of seeing
that you're surprised.

He's probably a good six inches shorter than his Master, and he's wearing his
Padawan tunic and trews instead of adopting the local dress, as Qui Gon had.
You look at his short shorn hair and the braid. His eyes come back to yours
after looking at his master, and then he looks at your hand still in his.

You're startled to realize that you haven't taken back your hand, and when
you do, you see him smile and raise an eyebrow at you.

"Ah, yes, well," you stammer, "It's nice to meet you too, Obi Wan." Qui Gon
walks toward you, obviously watching the interaction closely.

"Tea is ready, would you like some." You say, looking at Qui Gon. His hair is
loose and his shirt hasn't been tucked in. He looks so relaxed, so strong.
You swallow hard, trying to keep your knees from buckling.

He smiles at you and says "I'd like some very much. Join us Obi Wan?"

Obi Wan smiles, "Thank you Master. I think I will."

A shiver flies up your spine and you know there's more going on here than
meets the eye. You close your eyes as the men step past you into the cabin.
You stretch out with your feelings and brush against Qui Gon's sense in the
Force.

His is amused, and relaxed, just as he had seemed on the surface. You sense
that he knows what you're doing. There's also a sense of pride that you're
attempting to use the Force on your own.

Then you shift toward Obi Wan. His sense is completely different from his
Master's. It's warm to the touch, yet ambiguous--as if in many places at
once. It's not wrapped on Obi Wan's physical body nearly as tightly as Qui
Gon's is. You press a little harder trying to understand it. You think you
sense amusement, and curiosity.

And then you feel you're own mind being probed. Just the slightest of
touches, but it sends buzzing electricity through your inner mind and your
eyes open wide. You look into the kitchen at the two men, leaning against the
counter. Both of them are looking at you, but you know which one had returned
the touch--it was so different from his Master's.

Your eyes have taken on that "deer in the headlights" look, and you blink
twice.

"Tea?" Qui Gon moves to the stove and picks up the kettle.

"Right." The spell is broken, and you move into the space between the two
Jedi, pull another mug from the cabinet, then open the box of tea and place th
e bags in each mug.

Qui Gon pours the water into the mugs.

"Do you often drink tea?" You ask, turning to both of them.

"It's a very common drink. Though yours smells different from what we're used
to." Obi Wan replies.

Qui Gon is watching him very closely. You look back at Obi Wan and know for
sure there's something else going on. Trying to use the Force on these two
was obviously _not_ going to work. You'd just have to fathom it out the old
fashioned way. Watch their body language and listen to the double meanings of
their words.

You hand Qui Gon a mug, than Obi Wan. They both nod their thanks and Obi Wan
blows on his to cool it.

"My Master says you feel the Force." Obi Wan says.

"He..." you look uncertainly at Qui Gon, who just keeps looking at his mug of
tea. "I guess so. I never did before yesterday, but he showed me how."

"Is it unusual for people from your planet to feel the Force?" Obi Wan asks.

"Unusual? You could say that. Up until yesterday, the Force was part of a
fictional story I am fond of." Were you really going to try to explain Star
Wars to them? "No one believes in it--or rather, no sane person does. There
are some fans that are... a little scary. But, on the whole, the Force isn't
really something anyone takes seriously."

"How extraordinary." Obi Wan replies.

Qui Gon has drunk his tea and turns to you. "I'm sorry I left your side so
early." He looks meaningfully at Obi Wan, who shrugs. "You didn't get your
bath." He reaches out and takes your cup from your hands.

Both men are looking at you intently, and you get the feeling that your
response is very important. Your breathing becomes a little shallow.

"Ah, that's okay. I can take one later." You mumble. Any thoughts of the bath
are become increasingly erotic, and you're afraid of the ideas that are
flashing through your mind. Your face turns pink from the images and your
eyes betray you when they dart suddenly to Obi Wan's face.

His eyes catch yours with an intense hazel stare. You try but can't look
away. His face fills your mind and you wonder why you're suddenly drawn to it.

"Remarkable." Qui Gon's quiet voice breaks into the silence. You see Obi Wan
look away from you to his master.

"Just as you thought, Obi Wan." Was there a hint of sadness in Qui Gon's
voice?

You swallow hard, "Look, what's going on?" You ask.

"When I heard your call, I thought it was just for me." Qui Gon's low voice
definitely sounds hurt.

"I told you, I don't remember calling you. I don't know how to do that."
You're very upset that he seems hurt. "Qui Gon, what is it?" You reach out
and touch his chest with your hand.

"Obi Wan felt your call as well." Qui Gon whispers. "I didn't believe him. Or
rather, I chose not to believe him. I saw you on the beach, and I couldn't
take my eyes off you." He turns away. "You are so beautiful. And when I
walked in here last night, you were so willing. You made me feel...." The
sound of his voice is making your heart break.

You feel anger. Anger that he's been hurt. Anger that the perfect bliss the
two of you have shared is being spoiled.

You round on Obi Wan, fire in your eyes. "I told your master, and now I'm
telling you. I don't have any idea how to "call" anyone. I didn't even
believe in the Force until last night--so if you're saying I used the Force
to call you, then forget it! That's just not what happened." You raise your
hand and are pointing at Obi Wan's chest. "And I still don't know what's
going on here, but, if--you've--hurt--Qui-Gon--I--want--you--out--of--here."
Each word punctuated with your finger tapping him in the chest.

Obi Wan's face is a mask of surprise. Then Qui Gon turns around, some of his
serenity restored. He reaches out and takes hold of the hand you'd been
jabbing at Obi Wan.

"Shhh," he soothes, stepping closer to you. "I'm not hurt, my love." He pulls
you closer. You look back at Obi Wan who looks remarkably like a small boy
who's been scolded.

"I told you she didn't understand." Qui Gon says to Obi Wan.

"But, Master, how could we both have heard it from so far away?" Obi Wan's voi
ce has taken a much more respectful tone.

"I'm not sure." He turns to you again. "You mentioned that people on your
planet do know about the Force?"

"Yes, sort of."

"And were you thinking about the Force recently?" He asks.

Thinking about the Force...?

Your story! Of course you were thinking about the Force. And about these two
men... The blood drains from your face as you realize that your obsession
with them must have been what called them...somehow, you were using the Force
while writing the story and your devotion to them had called out to them.

Your mouth has gone very dry and you start to feel very lightheaded.

"Master," Obi Wan says as he reaches forward to support your elbow.

"I see it, Padawan." Qui Gon reaches around your waist pulls you against him.

"Come, sit down." Qui Gon half carries you to the nearest chair. You sit at
the dining table and feel Obi Wan's hands on your back pushing your head down
below your knees.

You feel most undignified, but they both wait silently as you get your
breathing under control, and feel the lightheadedness leave. When you sit
back up you avoid their eyes.

You feel Qui Gon's mind pushing at yours and you try to erect some kind of
defense. He reaches out with his right hand and grasps your chin, turning
your face toward him.

"What are you so upset about?" He asks.

"I don't even know how to explain." You reply weakly.

"Start at the beginning, that usual works." Obi Wan suggests, sitting in a
chair next to you.

You give him a wry look, and then look back at Qui Gon.

"The beginning...well, that would be when I was 12, sitting in a little
theater in a small town..."

You begin telling them the story of your lifelong obsession with Star Wars.
You don't tell them the actual story...because afterall, that's in their
future; but you do tell them about the magic, the hope and the fun you found
in the story.

And then your eyes settle on the laptop computer in front of you.

"What's this?" Obi Wan reaches over and pulls the computer closer to him.

"It's a portable computer." You reply.

"I sense it holds a key." Qui Gon says to Obi Wan.

"I do as well, Master." He's about to open it, but you reach out and quickly
slap your hand down on the top of it.

"It is the key." You tell them. "I use this computer for writing stories..."
You look up at Qui Gon.

"Stories about you." You barely whisper.

"About him?" Obi Wan blurts out.

It takes you a moment, but you finally turn to Obi Wan and say "About the
both of you."

"Oh." Obi Wan seems to take this piece of information and turn it around in
his mind for a moment.

"I guess that's how..." You start to say.

"That's how you called us." Qui Gon finishes. He looks relieved. In fact he
looks pleased. Why, you haven't a clue.

"It must be a very good story, don't you think Obi Wan?" Qui Gon's sense of
humor has returned.

"Yes, Master. A most powerful story." You press your hand down harder on the
laptop as you sense Obi Wan trying to pull the computer away from you, but
he's determined and before you know it, he has it in his hands.

"Please, don't!" You plead.

"Why not?" Obi Wan asks with a wicked grin.

"It's ... not ... I don't...." You're trying to grab it away from him, but he
gets out of the chair and is standing now.

"Qui Gon, please." You turn to the Master.

"Obi Wan, put it down." Qui Gon orders.

Obi Wan looks disappointed, but he does as his master says.

"So, that mystery is solved." Qui Gon says as he stands. "Only one left." You
look up.

"Are you disappointed that I made Obi Wan stay in the ship last night?" Qui
Gon asks.

You swallow hard, and look back at him. You can't believe he just asked that!
He'd been acting so hurt earlier--did he really want to know the answer?

You decide you'd rather die than hurt him again, and so you get up and start
walking across the room. You pick up your clothes from the sofa and walk
toward the bedroom. You're surprised that neither one calls you back or asks
why you're leaving, but you keep moving.

You're about to open the bedroom door when hands are pulling you back. You
let out a startled cry--you hadn't heard them moving at all.

The hands turn you around fast and you find Qui Gon towering over you, Obi
Wan standing right behind him. Qui Gon pushes you against the door frame and
says, "What are you running from?"

"I'm not running." You reply, trying to squirm out of his grasp. Obi Wan has
walked up and is watching you with hawklike eyes.

"Let go." Your voice shakes out.

"She was running away, Master." Obi Wan sounds like he's reporting the
movements of some wild prey. He steps even closer. You feel the material of
his tunic brush against your arm.

The two men look at each other for a moment. You reach out with the Force to
try to hear them. Qui Gon looks back at you, pinning you to the wall with his
eyes.

"I'm sorry. If I did something I shouldn't have..." you start to apologize.

"You haven't done anything wrong, dearheart." Qui Gon leans in and whispers
in your ear. But, then you feel a hand touch your face. You know it's not Qui
Gon's because he's still got your arms pinned to your sides.

You turn toward Obi Wan. His hand is tracing your cheekbone, and he's looking
at you as if you're a mystery to be solved.

He looks at Qui Gon again. "Master?" He asks permission.

"Yes." He replies, still holding your arms.

Obi Wan's face comes closer and then you feel his lips pressing against
yours. You resist, trying to turn away from the kiss, but his hand is holding
your jaw firmly and not letting you move away.

At first your mind shouts out against his touch. His lips are warm and firm,
and he's not really trying to force you to kiss him. It feels more like he's
testing you. You try not to respond--afterall, you're not the kind of woman
that's accustomed to having one man hold you (whom you'd just made love to
twice in the last twelve hours) while another kisses you. It's bizarre.

But the young Jedi's lips are intoxicating. Surprisingly, you find yourself
kissing him back. Hesitantly at first, and then you're pressing forward to
get closer to him. His other hand comes up and holds the other side of your
face.

You suddenly feel your arms released and Obi Wan pulls you very close. His
mouth travels across yours, down your chin to your neck. Your eyes are closed
and your breathing has become very fast. His mouth is like soft wet
electricity on your skin.

His right hand moves to the back of your neck and down your spine. He rubs
the small of your back, pressing you against him. You can feel his arousal
now, and gasp from the sensation of his body pressing against yours. His body
is humming with energy, you can sense it, and his hands are now flying all
over your body.

His mouth finds yours again and you moan when his tongue presses against your
lips. You want to find out what he can do with that tongue, but all your
senses are screaming that this is wrong. It must stop.

"Arrrgh, NO!" You push him away, growling like a cat. He steps back just
fractionally, and looks at you. You open your eyes and desperately search for
Qui Gon--eyes darting to either side of the young man in front of you.

"This is wrong." You tell him, "Where's Qui Gon?"

"Here." You hear his voice behind you. You turn and see him in the door of
the bath. He's stripped down to his boxers and you can see his arousal
pushing at the black fabric.

"I ... " you look at him and then back at Obi Wan. The look on the Padawan's
face sears through you. He's not happy with having to stop. He looks
impatient, like he's straining against a force field.

"I don't understand." You try not to sound as scared as you are. "What's
going on?"

This time Obi Wan answers, "You called, we are here."

Your knees start to turn to jelly, and you back up against the door jam to
keep yourself from falling. Did he say "we?"

Qui Gon moves next to you. "I sensed you would like to get to know Obi Wan
better." He whispers in your ear, while at the same time stroking your
shoulder. His hand, his warmth feels safe to you.

"Qui Gon, I'm confused. Did I displease you?" You ask, barely able to form
the terrible words.

"No, dearheart. Just the opposite. Now, we'd like to please you. You're most
secret wish--what is it, my love?"

Obi Wan's hands are kneading your other shoulder, the fingertips finding all
the most sensitive places. You curl your head against his touch and moan.
Images of the three of you touching and kissing--straining and releasing.
Warm embraces-- you tucked between their safe Jedi strength. There's a rush
of liquid between your legs as you contemplate the undeniable pleasure these
images gives you. All these things happen in a split second.

Too late, you realize you haven't any shields. Their physical contact makes
it easy for them to read you.

You feel yourself being moved into the bedroom--who's hands are pushing and
who's are pulling you'll never remember. You feel the bed against the back of
your legs and you look up.

Obi Wan is stripping his tunics off, the last layer he tosses aside with a
violent motion. His hands are on the tie of your robe. He pulls it slowly at
first and then jerks it free of the bow. Your body moves with it, toward him.
He's wrapped the tie around each of his hands and he's pulling you closer.

His kiss burns through you. This time, he's not testing, he's demanding.
There's something about the fierceness that almost scares you. His tongue
splits your lips and he thrusts into your mouth. Licking, probing, his tongue
doing an imitation of sex. You moan against him and bring your hands around
to his ass.

You're not really even thinking about what is happening now, it all moves so
fast. He's reacting to your touch and he grinds his groin against you. The
single layer of clothing you have on isn't enough to pad you from the
hardness. You whimper from the deep kiss he's giving you with his mouth, and
the throbbing he's creating deep inside you.

You hear movement behind you and wonder what Qui Gon is doing. Then you hear
the sounds of the blankets and sheets being flung from the bed. His body is
soon pressing against yours. You feel his shaft against your back. He moves
side to side ever so slightly--rubbing himself against the soft cotton of
your robe.

"Oh, gods." You cry out. Obi Wan's body pressing you from thigh to chest in
front, Qui Gon's rubbing against your ass and back. Your hands fly up over
your head and you pull Qui Gon's head down by his hair to yours. He kisses
you gently, and then more deeply. Obi Wan's body leaves you for just a moment
and then he's back. His thumbs slide under the edges of the neck of your robe
and he pulls it back and off your body. Qui Gon nestles close against you.
You can feel his hot arousal, skin to skin. And then, Obi Wan's naked body is
pressing against your front.

You violently pull out of the kiss you were sharing with Qui Gon. Your
breasts are pressing against Obi Wan's strong chest and his shaft has
actually slipped between your thighs. His eye's are hooded, you can barely
see the irises. You stand immobile, wondering what you should do. You feel
his organ brush against the curls between your legs and instinctively you
arch your back and try to get him into your slit. The hunger to feel him
moving inside you is pounding out a faster and faster rhythm.

Qui Gon's hands are kneading your shoulders and he pushes you against Obi
Wan. Obi Wan's mouth is suddenly on your left breast. He's already
sucking--no teasing for this man. His fingers find your right breast and he's
pulling in rhythm with his mouth.

You push up against him harder. You feel his shaft teasing at the curls and
the skin between your legs. You don't know whether to spread your legs and
slide him into your slit or push up harder with your breast against his
mouth. You feel dizzy from all the sensations.

"Master." Obi Wan's voice rasps out.

"Not yet." He responds. You know they're on a whole different level of
communication. Qui Gon is still in command, but Obi Wan's need is becoming
urgent--unmanageable.

Qui Gon kisses your shoulders, neck and face. He nuzzles against that
extraordinarily sensitive place where your neck and shoulder meet, licking
and nibbling.

You cry out again--no words, just incomprehensible moaning sounds. You feel
the rush of juice between your legs again, and you start to pant.

"Master!" Obi Wan's hands push at your waist. He's trying to get you up on
the bed, trying to push Qui Gon back with your body.

Qui Gon responds by placing his hands under your arms and pulling you onto
the bed. He backs up and pushes your shoulders down against the mattress. You
look up to find his shaft above your face and his face beyond that. He's
looking at you with such hunger, you shiver and feel frightened. How are you
ever going to satisfy both of them?

"No worries, love." He says, reading your thoughts.

Then you feel Obi Wan's hands on your legs. Your thighs are pressed together,
your legs dropping over the side of the bed at your knees.

He presses his hand against your curls and grinds it ever so slowly.

"Ahhhh!" Your voice sounds alien in your ears. You've never even dreamed your
body could feel the way it does.

Both his hands grasp your knees and pull your legs apart. You look down at him
through your lashes. He's looking at the wet petals of your slit as if it
were a delicacy to devour.

Your eyes roll back in your head when you see his face start to move down.

His tongue finds the lips first and he kisses them--pressing against the
wetness. Then his tongue lashes out to whip over your bud and you buck
against the lightning sensation.

He does it again and again, and then when he feels your legs starting to
tremble, he slides his mouth down to your opening and drives his tongue into
it. His voice rumbles against your flesh as he makes love to you with his
mouth.

You're unbelievably high. You can't see how you can get any higher, but then
he plunges two fingers in and you scream. Your climax shaking your whole body.

Instead of letting you come down, he keeps stroking you. You see through half
open eyes that he's not looking at you, but rather at Qui Gon. You look up to
see him touching himself. Stroking his hard organ.

You reach up and put your hands on his. He stops and looks down at you. You
pull his hands away and start to trace his shaft with your fingers. He moans
and his hands twitch, as if he's grasping for something.

You form an image in your mind. It's the only thing you can think of, so it's
not hard to project.

They both see it and they both make sounds as if they've been punched in the
gut.

Obi Wan pulls you forward so that your bottom is just barely on the bed. He
puts one leg up and over his shoulder.

You feel your legs going higher as he comes in closer.

At the same time, Qui Gon turns around with his back to Obi Wan and straddles
your shoulders. Your tongue stretches out and licks the underside of his
cock. He shudders.

And then, at the same moment, Qui Gon's shaft slips between the lips of your
mouth as Obi Wan's cock slides hard and hot into your cunt.

Your cry is muffled around the hugeness of Qui Gon. You try to relax and take
him further in.

Obi Wan senses your difficulty, and not wanting his master to be unfulfilled,
he doesn't move.

You're able to relax and then you feel both of them pulling out and then they
push back in as one.

The taste of Qui Gon is salty, and manly. You make lapping noises as you wrap
your tongue around his head.

Obi Wan hears this and suddenly his body is moving fast. He thrusts against
you and grinds on you hard.

All at once he pulls out and you moan from the lost contact. Then you feel
his talented fingers inside you. Reaching, rubbing and finding that spot.

You start to moan and pant. He thrusts his shaft back in--very deep and very
hot.

This time you can't help it. You take your mouth off Qui Gon and scream. Qui
Gon knows you can't control it, but his need is cresting. He sits back on
your stomach--not his full weight you are certain and then he reaches for
your hand and places it on his organ, pumping against your fingers and your
palm. He's slick from your mouth and moves easily against your skin.

Obi Wan's thrusts are pounding into you. It feels so hot, so intense, you
think maybe you're going to split in two.

You don't know how they do it, but you feel Qui Gon's shaft twitch in your
hand and Obi Wan thrust deep and grind against you just as you feel yourself
about to scream out. Qui Gon's come shoots onto your breast--hot and wet. Obi
Wan fills your throbbing cunt--your muscles clamping down and holding him
fast.

The three of you shake with the release and the percussive burst of power.

The next thing you are aware of is your face being kissed. Light kisses, over
your eyes and nose. Your lips are brushed ever so gently.

You open your eyes to see Qui Gon, still straddling your body. You smile
weakly at him.

Obi Wan slips out and you moan from this immeasurable loss. Qui Gon lifts up
to his knees and Obi Wan moves behind your head to grasp your shoulders.

The men effortlessly pull your body up, and onto the bed. Your legs are
shaking and you still haven't caught your breath.

Obi Wan's eyes have mellowed to just barely smoldering and he leans over you
and gives you a deep kiss on the mouth. You respond, but weakly. He pushes up
on his arms and looks at you with a smile on his lips.

Still, he looks at you.

"What?" Your voice is horse.

"I can see now why my Master had a difficult time with his shields last
night."

Color raises from your chest up your neck and over your cheeks.

His hand is stroking your belly, and you squirm against the ticklish
sensation.

Then Qui Gon lays down on the bed next to your other side. His hand touches
your face, fingers tracing the cheekbones and your jaw.

Their touch is gentle, caring. You feel as if you're wrapped in a cashmere
blanket. Their bodies press comfortingly against yours.

You sigh, and Obi Wan chuckles. You see the covers float up from the floor
and settle like fall leaves over your bodies.