This takes place about three years before "The Phantom Menace." Thanks to Rachel Wyman for the beta.
"Quiet your mind, Obi-Wan."
Qui-Gon watched as his beautiful young apprentice knelt in meditation, his mind apparently anything but quiet. Obi-Wan furrowed his brow, bit his lip, and let loose an involuntary snort.
"What's troubling you, Padawan?"
Obi-Wan rubbed his hands across his face in frustration and opened his eyes. "I just can't concentrate."
A flush rose to his cheeks. "It's nothing."
"Oh, it must be something to get a reaction like that out of you."
"Dammit, don't make me say it."
"Then don't make me go into your mind and find out."
Surging to his feet, Obi-Wan stormed, "Fine, you want to know? Here I am on Coruscant for the first time in six years and you've had me cooped up in Jedi headquarters training non-stop for weeks. When can I get out?"
"You're not here to sightsee, Padawan. You are here to train."
"I don't want to sightsee!"
"I know very well what you want," Qui-Gon countered with a knowing look in his eyes.
"Look, I'm training to be a Jedi knight, not a monk. I'm an adult now. I have needs."
"A good Jedi suppresses his emotions."
"Well maybe tonight I don't want to be a good Jedi," Obi-Wan countered as he stormed out of the room.
"Where are you going?"
Qui-Gon watched the door swish shut behind his young apprentice and shook his head. He'd allow him this one luxury. He was a frustrated, horny 23-year old once. He remembered what it was like. He just hoped that Obi-Wan wasn't too reckless. He let a wry smile cross his face when he realized just how appealing his Padawan's tight workout togs would be in the Coruscant club scene...
Obi-Wan grabbed a bottle of something alcoholic from the nearest night vendor, climbed into a taxi and said, "Just take me to the nearest nightclub."
"Cloud scraper or sub-level?"
"Sub-level." Yeah, that was the ticket. Something seedy and anonymous. Something completely the opposite of everything Jedi. That's what he needed. He tipped the bottle back and felt the alcohol sear a hot path down his throat, making everything slightly blurry at the edges. Fuck control. Fuck Jedi training. Fuck it all, he thought. I deserve this. Everyone else gets it, so why the fuck can't I? He tipped the bottle back again, draining the contents, and sat back with a relaxed sigh.
The taxi sank to the deepest sub-levels and let the young man out in front of a hole in the wall with neon red alien writing above the door. This was just the ticket. Stepping through the door, Obi-Wan was engulfed by a loud, throbbing beat and a throng of sweaty faceless people. He could get lost here if he tried, just closing his eyes and feeling the life force, patterns of flashing light through his eyelids. The meditation that eluded him earlier rushed over him in a perfect trance. He was one with the rhythm of noise and blood and raw emotion pulsing through the room.
A body pressed up behind his: short, powerful, and male, and he felt electricity coursing through his soul. Leaning back into the stranger's body, the two of them swayed to the music, pulses racing, beat fueling the crackling heat sizzling between them. God, it almost felt like the Force, only more alive, more animalistic. He wanted more. He needed more.
Teeth bit into his bare shoulder, and Obi-Wan threw his head back with a gasp. Turning to face his partner, he drank in the exotic sight of red and black tattoos, small horns, and tight black leather pants. "Where'd you learn to use the Force?" he shouted above the din.
"Washed out of Jedi training as a kid," the stranger replied, running his hands up the front of Obi-Wan's tank top.
Obi-Wan grabbed the stranger's hips and pulled them to his, the rhythm of the music throbbing through their raging hard-ons. He was going to come right here in his pants if he didn't watch it, and that's not what he came out here for. "Let's take this someplace a little less public," Obi-Wan proposed before raking his teeth across a horn, and smiled as his partner jerked spasmodically at the sensation.
The stranger all but dragged him to the bathroom where they tumbled into the closest stall. Obi-Wan ran his tongue up and down another horn, humming, "You like that?" His partner countered by growling low in his throat and ripping Obi-Wan's shirt off, fastening his teeth on one nipple and biting down until it bled. Obi-Wan jerked back with a cry, then surprised himself by pushing the tattooed man's face away from his chest and pulling him in for a bruising kiss that left them both bleeding. Hands fumbled with buckles, pants quickly fell to the ground, and the struggle for dominance ensued. The close confines of the stall only made the battle more difficult, but neither man was about to give in. Obi-Wan tried pinning his partner to the wall, counting on his greater size to help him, but the smaller man lunged forward, planting a searing bite on Obi-Wan's neck that nearly shorted out all rational thought, strong hands grabbing his ass so hard that he could feel welts forming. This was raw power personified. He'd never felt anything like this in his life. It would be so easy just to give in and let this stranger ride him raw, to truly let go and be used. To hell with the force and staying in control...
No, he was going to be the one fucking, not getting fucked. A searing ray of determination sliced through his lust-addled brain and he grabbed the smaller man by the throat and slammed him back against the wall, watching his head bounce from the impact. A dazed smile crossed his partner's face, and Obi-Wan felt the Force surging through his veins. He hissed, "You like this?"
"You like doing it," his partner countered.
"Yeah, I like doing it," Obi-Wan sneered. "You want it."
"No, you want it."
"Yeah, I want it," he agreed as he pushed the smaller man up the wall, the rough tile scraping at the bare skin of his back.
His partner wrapped thickly muscled legs around Obi-Wan's body, balancing between him and the wall--a move that was equal parts Force and brute strength. "You need it," he hissed.
"Yeah, I need it," Obi-Wan said as he drove his penis into his partner's body with one long, vicious stroke. "Give it to me."
Obi-Wan started driving mercilessly into the smaller man, the sound of flesh pounding flesh punctuated by moans and the scraping of skin against the wall. The Force had never felt so alive. He had never felt so alive. Blood smeared across the wall, oozing precious life energy, feeding Obi-Wan's need. He could almost taste it. He needed to taste it. "Does it hurt?" he hissed.
Tattooed thighs tightened around his body, strong hands dug channels into his back and Obi-Wan intensified his attack, thrusting blindly as his mind expanded then shattered into a million brilliant pieces. As he heard his partner laugh triumphantly, he sank bonelessly to the floor...
He woke in the alley outside the club, the first rays of the morning sun beaming into his eyes. He groaned and threw his arm over his face. Damn, his head hurt like hell. What had he done last night?
A long shadow fell across him, and he squinted up to see the disapproving face of his Master staring down at him. "You spent the night in the alley?"
"Um, yeah, I guess. I can't remember" he croaked.
"You're a mess, and you reek of alcohol."
"Are you going to tell me what happened last night or should I just imagine the worst?"
Obi-Wan crinkled his brow in earnest thought and said, "I honestly don't remember."
"Well, I hope it was worth it," Qui-Gon said, waves of disgust rolling off his body. He didn't want to know any more. The sight of his battered and bruised Padawan said it all. Those bite marks didn't come from a bar fight, never mind the hand-shaped welts on nearly all his exposed skin and the blood smears that probably weren't all his. And he'd hoped Obi-Wan might be the one... Apparently not. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up. I'm willing to overlook this one time, but don't do it again."
Obi-Wan took his Master's hand, and tail between his legs, slunk into the waiting taxi.
"So my young apprentice, what did you learn?"
"The force is strong in him, my Master, but he is undisciplined. He is impulsive and rash, and his emotions quickly rise to the surface and take possession of him."
"Excellent. If anything should happen to you..."
"...he would make a fine Sith apprentice, my Master."
"And he remembers nothing?"
"I clouded his mind. The Jedi will simply think that he was drunk."
"You have done excellent work, Darth Maul."
"Thank you, my Master. It was a pleasure."
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