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He could hear the whispers as he walked the corridors of the Enclave, could see their expressions as they watched him. He was surprised at their lack of control, surprised that their curiosity, their anger and jealousy and awe should be so openly expressed.
Yet there was cause, perhaps, for it was a momentous occasion. His Master had issued Challenge for the leadership.
Even his most serious meditations and mental shielding had not been enough to calm him and he had fumbled more than once in the training moves, making mistakes the like of which he'd hardly made since being sold by his family to the Sith. The Trainer had no interest in the cause, only in ensuring he met his Master's standards. So he had been tied to the wall rings for the half dozen strikes of the cane, silently accepting, making only the small permitted sounds. Even the punishment was part of the process, the teachings of fear and sensation. Use fear, draw on it, generate it in others, but never allow yourself to be consumed by it. Pain was a sensation, one step from a lover's touch.
It wasn't his place to question, but he did wonder at the timing. They had been together as Apprentice and Master for a moon. Their link was strong, far stronger than he had considered it would be and he had visited the Seer some days before to ask its advice.
It was called Yoda, and it had been the Sith's Seer for eight centuries. It read the flow of the Force, linked to all Sith like some grotesque green spider at the centre of an emotive web. It knew all the secrets, was the one creature they could trust never to lie to them. It read the temper and the state of the Sith and took them to the heart of their own dilemmas.
There was a central courtyard in the main tower, covered by smoky glass and entirely submerged by greenery, a tiny piece of jungle in the midst of stone and steel. Snakes are there too, and insects that it bred and ate and if one didn't know better, it could be seen as just an animal in a fairly complex cage. Obi-Wan had never seen it outside its dwelling, though he had heard tales of Sith taken in there for punishment. Of their screams that went for hours, and how the insects multiplied for many days afterwards.
It saw him at his request and he found it perched on a rotting tree trunk, large feet wrapped around it, naked and gleaming in the green light. Eyes of a dull copper watched Obi-Wan's approach, accepted his obeisance with a grunt and signalled him to sit.
"So, young Obi-Wan," its husky voice whispered, "taken by my Qui-Gon you have been." It lazily eyed a featherwing, then took the bird with a swipe of it's large tongue. "Saw it in the Force, I did."
"Yes. He is everything I want in a Master. But. ..I have concerns."
"Concerns?" Yoda smiled and he watched the featherwing struggle in its mouth. "Ah, the challenge."
"Not of the Challenge so much. Our link seems strong. Very close, very deep. I have no experience to guide me in this." He fumbled at the words, wondering how to ask of something so intimate. "It seems to go down somewhere I have never been, under my heart - oh, I am not explaining myself very well." He sighed and sank back and it laughed, a coughing sound. He smelled its breath and tried not to blanch.
"My Qui-Gon." Yoda nodded slowly. "Always hungered he has to destroy Mace. Sought for the perfect pattern he has, searched always and found you. A Forceunion he builds, tying you together."
It explained to Obi-Wan about Forceunions, something never mentioned in the Sith annals; a link between lifeforces so that the stronger could draw on the weaker. Short term, the stronger would benefit. If the weaker lived it would learn to do what the stronger did and benefit. A positive, a promise - and a terrible danger.
"Tied you are," it said, watching the young Sith with pleased interest, "tied by spikes set deep in the essence. Die you will if he dies. Die he may if you do. The rewards are great but costs there are, yes, costs."
And it would say no more and sent Obi-Wan away.
He had much to think about then. How cunning he was, how perfect, such a one as he had for Master! The risks were enormous - anyone learning of such a union could take him and use him to destroy his Master. His Master bargained on his loyalty, and more…he knew something Obi-Wan barely acknowledged himself. Qui-Gon knew he would die for him - Obi-Wan knew now he would live for him, no matter the cost.
It tangled him, that logic which seemed to defy rationale. Was he property or mate? Was he Apprentice or lover? Was he tool - or Qui-Gon's most terrible weakness? Obi-Wan had no choice, but this barely concerned him, since he had never had a choice. The dark tides of their lives seemed to be sweeping them into something that perhaps even his Master could not command.
Challenges come along rarely and were never issued frivolously. They were to the death, and some had been seen the death of both. Only two weapons were allowed - the Force and the Claws. Obi-Wan had never seen a challenge but he had read the Annals and heard the tales.
The Challenge was given and accepted and posted throughout the Interlink. It would be fought in the Great Hall with the Council in attendance to witness. There were no judges, no rules, no time limit. They would fight, and one or both would die.
They did not have sex the night before and though he slept badly, his Master hardly moved. Obi-Wan watched him lying there, his hair massed around him, the steady rise and fall of his chest, and sensed his peace. When he woke finally, he looked up into his Apprentice's eyes and touched Obi-Wan's chin with a gentle hand.
"You know."
He tasted the finger tip, nodded. "Yes. I asked Yoda what it meant."
Qui-Gon sat up and swung his feet to the floor. "I will not die. Your strength will give me the speed and endurance I need. Mace is over-confident and his Apprentice loathes him." He stood and walked to the window, natural in his nudity and stretched, subtle and graceful. He rested his palms against the glass and paused to watch the dawn. "It will be. . .difficult." He turned his head, his hair sweeping across his shoulders. "But I shall win. We shall win - and then I shall command the Sith."
Obi-Wan prepared his meal as he always did, to ensure no poisons, and was particularly careful that morning. They ate together, and he made his Master's favourite tea before accompanying him down to the Council level.
The baths had been closed off for his use, and Obi-Wan helped him prepare. He washed his Master, shaved him completely so that there was no hair anywhere on his body, taking away even his beard. He paused and held the long hair in his hand. By rights, it should go too - there should be nothing that Windu could take and use against him. Qui-Gon watched him holding it and smiled.
"He will expect me to appear before him as bald and ugly as he is. Bind it tight and pin it up. I will take the risk."
When his hair was bound and pinned tightly Obi-Wan went to work on his body, massaging it until every muscle and joint was subtle and warm. There was a special oil for his use and he rubbed it into his skin until Qui-Gon was slick and glowing under the dim lights. With the addition of a small genital sack attached to a slender string around his waist that slid down between his buttocks, he was ready.
The Master stood before the long mirror and studied himself, stretched out one arm and flexed his hand. Movements like tiny lightning bolts flickered at the ends of his fingers as his Claws slid out. Half-again as long as each finger, they were tinged pink with his own blood. The skin tended to grow back across the claw case and flexing them out always hurt. He didn't flinch, turned each hand around to study each tiny, deadly blade, then held them out to his apprentice for cleaning.
At the appointed time a Ceremonial came to collect the Challenger and Obi-Wan followed him with his cloak and tunic and his favourite soft boots, feeling somehow disconnected. He had watched his Master dance naked through the midair katas, seen him soar like the deadly predator he was and felt proud to call him Master. His Master. In a way, he knew they were there, at that pivotal moment, because of him. It was a matter of pride, mixed with only a little fear. Fear wasn't what Obi-Wan needed then. Anger he required, hatred, the dark emotions that would swell his touch with the Force and make him strong.
The Chamber was lit by a central spot shining from the high dome and by the light coming in through the upper level windows. Shadows lay around the edge, hiding the seated Council and Windu stood alone in the middle of the room.
The sight of him was enough to create the hatred Obi-Wan needed to ignite the Dark within him. Tall and strong, Windu stood with his arms crossed over his chest, motionless and arrogant. He was joined by Councillor Koth, whose horned head dipped briefly to say something to the waiting, naked Master. The apprentice had heard rumours that Koth and Windu were lovers, and made note to keep some part of his attention on the other Master. He wasn't sure whether outside interference was permitted during a challenge, but naivety and stupidity were not in his nature and he took nothing for granted.
Eeth Koth moved away from Window, folded his arms into his robe sleeves and bowed to each quadrant of the huge room. His voice was low and deep yet seemed to carry through the echoing shadows.
"We are here to witness Challenge. Master Qui-Gon Jinn has challenged Master Mace Windu for the title of Supreme Lord of the Sith. Are there any present who question this challenge, giving or receiving?"
They all waited in silence for half a dozen heartbeats before Koth spoke again.
"Very well. You may proceed. The rules are as always - you fight with your bodies, your Claws and the Force. You fight until one is dead. The Dark Force be with you."
Obi-Wan backed away, leaving the two Sith Masters standing alone in the middle of the floor, facing each other across a dark, deadly space.
He found himself a place off to one side, apart from anyone but Mace's apprentice. She was a girl a little younger than him and she was crouched, hands gripping her knees, her eyes fixed on her Master. Every now and then she shook, strange twisting flicks as if she was in the grip of an invisible hand. Obi-Wan looked back to his Master, sank down to sit as relaxed as he could, and opened himself to their exotic, powerful union.
Like a flood of water he was filled. He could taste Qui-Gon in his mouth, smell his musky sweat, hear the whisper of his breath, sense the tiny multiple pleasures of his Claws aching as they moved in and out of his fingers. He was centred, absolutely balanced, his rage and hatred controlled and ready to be released. He rode the Darkness, buoyed by it, ready to unleash himself on his-their-his prey.
He was one with his Master. He was him.
The overwound coil can snap. The overfilled vessel can rupture. The secret was to know when is too much. The dark emotions swelled, pain balanced with purpose. He did not wait for his enemy to move, he did not hurry, he did not pause. When they were joined and the power came to him just right, he attacked.
His Master flew. The Force exploded around him as he leapt into the air, Claws flashing down towards Windu in a streaking arc. The dark Master twisted aside and slashed upwards. Too slow. Qui-Gon landed on his feet on the other side, pivoted on one food, swept up his hand, closed his fist and jerked his arm back.
Windu stumbled as an invisible hand grabbed him. He rolled with the pull, tumbling over and kicked out with a sweep at Qui-Gon's legs.
~ ~ ~Without the Force, without a lifetime of training, he could not imagine fighting that way.. .can barely see him move, cannot think to move, can only go with reflex and instincts. . .as he kicks, he also shoves, a blow through the Force like a bludgeon that I barely deflect. . .more and more I call on that other source of energy, pulling it, dragging more of it into myself. I am so hot. I burn. ~ ~ ~
Obi-Wan watched him spin in midair like some improbable bird, fighting to land behind Windu, to find some weak spot. As he landed he stumbled and Windu moved so fast he was a blur - one hand lashed out full length and four thin red lines appeared across his Master's upper right arm. He moved back fast, unhampered, but Windu had drawn first blood. . .
Further, deeper, drawing more and more and they were closer, were melding. He could hear a strangled sobbing off to one side, saw vaguely as Windu's Apprentice lay on the floor in an anguished bundle, twitching and spasming as her Master pulled every last part of her lifeforce.
Whereas Obi-Wan gave. He poured myself into his other part, quenching every thirst, fulfilling every need.
~ ~ ~ Windu is good, but he always knew that - they had watched each other train and exercise often enough, learning each other's moves, judging. Windu was younger, very fit, very fast, muscles like metal springs. Confident, he was very confident. As he spun around a tiring Qui-Gon in a blur of light, he hawked and a blob of spittle landed on Qui-Gon's sweat-sheaned face.
"You're getting tired, old man. . . ." He laughed and spun again and spat again and somehow Qui-Gon dodged the outflung arm. . ."Maybe I'll just cripple you and keep you as a warning, and then I'll take Obi-Wan - yes, I'll enjoy branding him and mounting him like a dog. . ." ~ ~ ~
They fought and fought, cutting each other, tearing skin, twisting bone and muscle until they both limped and bled from a hundred wounds. So tired, Obi-Wan felt his Master's bone-aching fatigue and he knew that if they didn't end it soon both would die. Through blurring eyes he saw Mace coming, claws shining red with both their blood. Qui-Gon went to his knees, Windu yelled in triumph as he arched upwards - and with some last burst of power Qui-Gon threw out his hand, watched the blades tear from his fingers and fly to slice into the unwittingly offered throat.
Windu stumbled as the blood fountained from his throat and he fell at Qui-Gon's feet. . ..
The highest of the Towers is at the very edges of the atmosphere, where the air is dry and cold. There is an altar there made of black stone and there his body was laid. In time it would desiccate, shrivel to dust and blow away, become part of the air and sky. His Apprentice, barely alive and hardly sane, was gently killed and laid at his feet.
Obi-Wan washed his Master in silence and tended his wounds, fed him nutrients and healing power that he trusted only one to give him. Then, dressed in red-trimmed black floor-sweeping robes, with his hair once more around his shoulders, he took the highest of the stones in the ring of the Council and became Supreme Lord of the Sith. For a time, for as long as he had the strength and wisdom to hold his place, he would stay supreme of their kind.
Rituals observed, oaths sworn and duty put aside, they retired to their new quarters. Everything that had been Windu's was now Qui-Gon's, all of the coup trophies, the weapons, clothing - which he disposed of - the treasures and small things, some of which he kept. The rooms were luxurious, set in the main tower with a balcony and its own indoor pool and exercise rooms, fully equipped.
Though he was tired and hurting from many wounds, the sight of Obi-Wan tending him on his knees, smoothing lotions into bruises and cuts, excited him. His Apprentice had undressed in silence and with care, folding away the formal tunics and stripping his Master down to the skin to tend to his body. Qui-Gon's fingers fisted in the soft wealth of Obi-Wan's hair and forced the younger man's head back, holding him in place.
"Serve me."
Obi-Wan rested on his haunches, the picture of Sithly subservience - thought the Master could sense the fire held under control beneath the calm surface. Blue-green eyes tinged with gold looked up to him, wide and bright.
"How?"
"Touch me."
Obi-Wan lifted one hand and carefully gathered in his Master's hard penis. Sturdy, callused palm and warm fingers stroked him, moving up and down, joined by a second hand that carefully fondled the heavy balls.
"Harder."
The fingers squeezed him, pain mingled with the pleasure as he liked it, sweet and dark. Obi-Wan's eyes were half closed as he worked, the tip of his tongue slipping out between his lips as his fingers rubbed over the hooded tip of his Master's cock.
"Should I take you into my mouth, Master?" His voice was a husky whisper and his eyes never left the cock standing up almost vertically in front of his face. At the sense of agreement Qui-Gon projected, Obi-Wan ducked his head and slowly swallowed the large organ, angling his head and moving forward and down and down as if he would absorb the flesh he held and tasted and intimately pleasured. He gagged a little, held his breath and pushed further trying to take in as much as he could.
It took all of Qui-Gon's control not to move. Soft hair whispered against his groin as Obi-Wan bent, velvet skin trembled against him, and he was inundated by sensory input. He felt Obi-Wan's pleasure and it looped with his own, mounting moment by moment until he wondered if it was possible to die from pleasure.
He locked his knees and held on, swallowing his groan as Obi-Wan worked him, sucking and licking in a persistent, exquisite massage of his most vulnerable flesh. It felt so good, he wondered if it had ever felt that good before - hands slid around his thighs, carefully, languidly. One stayed at the back of his left leg, the other moved behind him, kneading his ass, fingertips edging between his ass cheeks to touch him there. . .just there. . .and he knew he could learn from that touch if only he found the self-possession.
Rocking slightly, he watched his Apprentice. . .his lover . . .whatever they were now. Something no Sith ever were, something he suspected Jedi understood. The Sith did not love, because it was a weakness. Yet in that moment, as he was held and caressed and brought to an impressive climax, he understood how they could be two parts of a whole, and not be the weaker for it.
They retired to the bathing room and indulged in a hot bath together. Obi-Wan sat between Qui-Gon's legs, his back against his Master's chest, long arms wrapped around him. Large hands stroked across his chest and he relaxed in dreamy satisfaction. For a time, that they both sensed would be fleeting, they knew a privileged peace.