Chapter Text
Obi-Wan Kenobi was fourteen when puberty struck, lightning-quick, catching him in its maelstrom and ripping through him like the biological storm it was. After barely a year with Master Jinn, he was both frustrated and angry that something like this should take him now. Now, of all times, he groused to himself, tossing on his sleeping couch, completely unable to return to his dreams.
The dreams were the problem.
Odd and stark, what he remembered of them, they didn't even seem procreative: saber drills, images of swimming with crechemates, his master's generous smiles—all inspired equally erotic responses from his body, and he hated it. Hunching over onto his side, he curled his knees up and practiced calming breaths. For the third time in as many days he had awakened in the aftermath of such astonishing physical releases that they tore him from his night-visions and dropped him gracelessly, gasping, into his sticky, writhing body. He wasn't even willing to get up for fresh sleeping pants, not at this point. It would likely happen again before the cursed night was over.
He glanced furtively across to his master's bed, the lights from the City's nearer towers outlining the silent, sleeping bulk of his teacher, wondering… but no. Even though the tapes he'd been given only months ago promised it was true, he simply could not imagine Qui-Gon Jinn ever having suffered something so… well… embarrassing.
Why is it embarrassing, Obi-Wan? his master would ask of him. Almost like a child, was Qui-Gon Jinn, with his infernal and eternal questions why.
Obi-Wan's first and only answer was the lack of control. He'd found that his body would respond anywhere, to anything, regardless of provocation or lack thereof—he was incredibly grateful for the concealment his apprentice robes afforded. Was this why all Jedi wore robes? No, it couldn't be. The lessons would have said, and instead they promised that this was merely a stage of growth, a change from one form to another. The caterpillar moving into the chrysalis, Master Jinn had commented absently. He sighed, punched his headrest in irritation, and stared at the patterned ceiling until sleep took him once more.
A full week passed, with little respite. Master Jinn had taken to smiling indulgently at him, while never invading his privacy. He would have preferred a direct frontal attack on the problem, frankly, and eventually frustration alone drove him to speak first.
They walked through a rooftop courtyard, one of Obi-Wan's favorites, in fact; seventy meters to a side and only a few dozen stories high, it was a verdant, lush intersection between dormitories, indoor training rooms, and the main dining hall adjacent to the west Temple entrance. Walls rose up on all sides, strewn with clinging plants and vines, and paths meandered through at seeming odd angles. His body goading him as they neared the center of the courtyard, he blurted out, "Master, is this stage so for everyone?"
"And what stage is that, Padawan?"
He glanced sidelong at his teacher, relieved at the calm contentment in the deep voice. Even in this short span of months with Qui-Gon Jinn, he had already learned that the man usually knew the answer to a question before he asked it. "Adolescence," he replied. "Puberty. This miserable sexual awakening."
"Ahh." Qui-Gon slowed, and gestured to a bench beneath an aging, spreading iquia tree. "And what is ‘so' about this stage?"
He sighed, fidgeted for a moment, chewed on the inside of his lip for another. "I feel like a prisoner in my own body. These urges take me at odd moments. They leave me flushed and distracted. I can't control them, but I also have no desire to be, well, intimate with someone." Perish the thought; the girls' squealing annoyed him as much as their silent superiority—and the boys… no, he wasn't interested in touching or being touched yet, no matter what his body suggested.
"Most humanoid species experience something like this, yes," Qui-Gon answered quietly. "Just as a muscle is trained and exercised before it is tested with a partner, so is your sexuality. Your body knows this, and is beginning those exercises. If you aren't yet ready to practice that dance with a partner—and I agree that you're not—you need simply continue with private drills." Qui-Gon's grin seemed conspiratorial enough that he knew he was missing something important, but he wasn't quite ready to ask.
"I'd rather just make it stop," he sulked, crossing his legs under himself. "Can't I do that, instead?"
"Obi-Wan, like so many things, this awakening isn't meant to be controlled. In fact," he smiled down, patting him lightly between the shoulder blades, "it should be enjoyed. Your wakening sexuality is a gift of the Force; accept it, revel in it."
"How?"
The hand slipped away, and Obi-Wan watched as those large hands crept into the sleeves of his master's robes. He looked up, hesitant, but Master Jinn's quiet face only reassured and warmed him. "I suppose sharing my sleeping room has thwarted attempts at self-exploration… Perhaps it's time for you to move into your own chambers," he said gently.
Obi-Wan pondered this. "Master, I'd rather not return to the dormitories. Is there not some other way I can deal with this?"
"You won't be returned to the dormitories, Obi-Wan," Master Jinn was quick to reassure. "I'll submit a transfer request to larger quarters for us both. We'll share reception and work space, and you'll have your own room across from mine. All right?"
He nodded, still troubled. "Master? How exactly does one go about… self exploration?" Masturbation; strange word, really. He found he preferred his teacher's less direct choice, which sounded both more general and more specific. He had developed more than one theory of his own on the activity, but he'd yet to put any into action, assuming in this as in all other things that first he would study, then he would model, and only then would he do. The lessons had been vague about the actual modeling requisites.
Much to his relief, he sensed only amused tolerance from his master. "That's one thing you get to learn for yourself. Read, if you feel you must. If you're really determined I'll locate and recommend a training video or two. But each individual is unique, and a thorough tactile examination of your own body should stand you in good stead." His master paused, and for the first time Obi-Wan sensed mild discomfort from the man. "Your mind may play games with you, Obi-Wan. You may find erotic inspiration in people and things which seemed commonplace before. This is normal as well; if it happens, don't let it trouble you."
He nodded, thinking. Certainly he'd learned the most common anatomical forms; it was early studies for field first aid. Certainly he understood the implication of erotic inspiration in commonplace things; he had found his own master's form terribly distracting in the last weeks, and this sexual response seemed to happen so easily around the man that combat practice had begun to fill him with dread. He shrugged and followed when his master rose from the bench and started walking again. If Master Jinn said this was normal, then it was. If Master Jinn said he could figure it out for himself, then he would.
And so he did.
And he found that private sleeping quarters had their merits, though he wondered if perhaps he wasn't spending too much time in them. Again, his master offered only silence on the subject, and he decided from this that his activities were his own. He caught himself, in moments when he should have been studying his lessons, studying his master's form instead, wondering if Qui-Gon touched himself. Reminiscing on his rising fantasies of what it might be like if Qui-Gon touched him. But, as his teacher had implied, these thoughts were his and his alone, and he did not speak of them.
And so the time passed. His private time remained so, and his studies remained ever-more difficult—physical skills taxed him as he threw himself into dance and gymnastics, philosophies left his brain muddled but oddly refreshed, and species and cultural studies fascinated him endlessly.
The weeks flew by.
They hadn't received an assignment in some time, so when his master interrupted his holochamber studies, he accepted the news eagerly. He had begun to wonder if perhaps the galaxy was settling down; bad time to study to become a Jedi, he mused, if the Republic had no more use for the Order. Happy thoughts, in their way; the Force craved peace even as he knew that chaos was a rule of creation.
"Obi-Wan."
"Yes, Master?" he answered, pausing the viewer.
"We've received a new assignment. Study up on Shalsteer, and examine the data on this chip closely," he said, settling the tiny crystal on the side table. "We leave in three days."
"Yes, Master."
"And Obi-Wan. It will be more appropriate for you to leave your solitary pursuits here, on Coruscant," he added softly. "Shalsteer, as you will learn, is home to a very conservative people, and the upper classes have a narrow view of sex and sexuality."
"Yes, Master." Hmm. He wondered what the absence of his new hobby would be like, and cocked his head, trying to remember the last night he'd fallen asleep without its aid. Qui-Gon still hovered near. "Master? Was there something more?"
Master Jinn pursed his lips, then puffed out a breath of air. "I think you may have been unaware of certain new behaviors, Obi-Wan, and I hesitate to point them out to you. Unfortunately, you must be made aware of them so that you may curb them."
"New behaviors?" he asked, confused.
A hand settled gently on his spiky hair, petting briefly, and Qui-Gon smiled. "You touch me, Padawan. Quite often. And your eyes linger on my body far longer than Shalstii custom will abide. Have you not noticed the occasional brushings, your hand on my arm, your fingers testing the weight of my hair when you braid it? Have you not recollected these moments at other times?"
Obi-Wan felt himself flushing crimson, wondered anew at this embarrassment that swept him. Qui-Gon had said he was normal, that this was common. Certainly he'd whispered to more than one apprentice of his age group about the surpassing beauty of his master, and been met with somber nods and eager, pride-filled comparisons to their own teachers. Apparently many students felt their own teachers by far superior in beauty and grace.
Again, it must be the issue of control. That he was doing things of which he was completely unaware, but which an entire people would identify and judge… it frightened him.
"I…" he felt as if he'd stolen something not his own. "I am deeply sorry, Master."
"Well you're wasting your energy, then," Qui-Gon replied airily. "You have nothing to be sorry for. One day you'll understand that yours is a compliment, sweet and naïve, yet of incomparable value. It honors me." Qui-Gon shrugged, and sighed, somehow conveying his tolerance for the backwards ways of peoples. "Don't worry about it. Be aware of it, though, and curb it, for now. Yes?"
"But—" He felt the flush darken, was flustered by these sweeping new feelings. Impulsively he reached for his master, seeing his own smaller hand caught up by the darker, bigger, adult flesh. He permitted himself to be distracted by that contrast only for a moment, then looked up to meet his teacher's eyes. "If I am unaware of my actions…"
"Hush, Padawan," Qui-Gon chided. "You're aware now, and you're a very smart boy. Every individual is unique; you know this. Observe others, and see what they do that they do not know. Therein lies your lesson."
"Yes, Master," he said, nodding his head unhappily. He sighed. Trained nearly from birth, knowing no other life, he still boggled at how very much there was to learn.
The Shalstii were a provincial people, indeed. Covered from crown to heel, wearing veils across their faces and long gloves, every inch of skin save a two-inch band across their eyes was covered. They peered with something akin to shock at his own bare hands and his master's. As he walked beside Master Jinn from the docking bay, following their escort in silence, he peered surreptitiously around himself, wondering if they knew what their actions revealed. He thought not, for they were diplomats as well. More, he sensed a naiveté; certainly they had seen Jedi before, and knew that Jedi deeply respected cultural mores even as they rarely adopted them. Out of respect, he drew up his cowl and slipped his hands into the sleeves of his robe, receiving a warm look from Master Jinn that crinkled all the way to the corners of his blue, blue eyes.
Pursing his lips, Obi-Wan recaptured his wandering mind and set the subject aside for later conversation as they approached the huge stone arches overhanging the palace gates. It was a beautiful planet, really; semi-arid desert air swept over the earth of which there was much to see: gnarled trees, carpets of white, flowering grass, and buildings that meshed with the landscape rising mountainous in the near distance.
The palace itself was cut from stone of the Landier mountains, his studies had told him. Yellowed by sulfur, the stone reflected light like a mirror, tiny glints and bright washes that tickled and drew the eye. Only a few stories tall, placed on the earth like a cut jewel in its setting, it radiated and sparked, visible for miles. He smiled in his mind as they passed through the arches and onto the footpath through the gardens. Provincial they may be, they still had a fine respect for first impressions. What little of the surface he had seen during their descent convinced him that this place was built to inspire and impress. There were no buildings more yellow nor more bright, no domes more polished, no gardens more beautiful.
Their escort left them in the marbled foyer, handing them off to a lone woman he recognized from the Senate, though even her eyes were covered by a sheer gauze screen.
"Master Jinn, Apprentice Kenobi," she said formally, nodding to each in turn. "I am Shalar Zai, undersecretary to Senator Morae. We welcome you to the Regent's palace. Let me escort you to your rooms."
"We thank you, Undersecretary Zai," Master Jinn answered for them both. "It has been a long journey." Obi-Wan, for his part, was flattered to be included in the welcome, and offered a brief smile.
Her eyes, behind her veil, smiled before she returned her gaze to Master Jinn. "Yes, of course. This way, please. A servant has been placed at your disposal; you may call on him at any time."
"Again, we thank you."
Their rooms were spacious and gilded, ornamentation trimmed with leaf in gold and platinum, and Obi-Wan felt his eyes widen in surprise. In their few travels he had yet to see appointments so rich afforded to the Jedi. He glanced sidelong at his master, wondering again at how able a man had taken him as apprentice.
"Don't be too impressed, Obi-Wan; these rooms were designed for just that."
"Why so, Master?"
"To put us at our ease." He shrugged. "To lull visitors with honors regardless of those visitors' merits. Self-importance and hubris make one blind to all but what others wish one to see. Remember that well." His arm swept around, encompassing the spacious quarters. "Enjoy them, but," he smiled, "don't take them personally."
"Yes, Master. But… why would a people waste such efforts on us? We're merely witnesses to the coronation, eyes of the Senate."
"Indeed, Obi-Wan… why?"
Shash. The ‘why' game again. "Well," he pondered, peering about himself, "perhaps they wish to afford the Jedi an honor?"
"Perhaps. Again, why?"
"They're new to the Republic," he speculated, for the first time catching a glimpse through billowing curtains at their view; the palace proper stood fifty yards distant, eclipsing the sun even as it glinted and cast its own lights. "Perhaps… perhaps we intimidate them, and they hope this show of wealth will intimidate us in return."
Master Jinn's lips compressed as he nodded sagely. "Perhaps. Again, why?"
Obi-Wan sighed. "Perhaps they simply know no better… or they wish to record our conversations and so have hidden all manner of observation devices in these trappings… or they wish to lull us into a sense of false security and then lop off our heads whilst we sleep—"
Qui-Gon raised a hand. "Enough!" he chuckled, shaking his head. "A fountain of possibilities, young Padawan. You're certainly right about that. And the only mistake would be to accept this at face value as if it could only be one thing. So," he rumbled on, finally opening his outer robe and shrugging it off broad shoulders, "learn if you can what answer might best reflect the reality of our situation, and share it with me when we leave this place."
"Yes, Master." Study, he sighed inwardly, always study. He started settling them in, to give himself something else to do. Peering through various doors leading off the reception room, he found a master bedroom and a smaller sleeproom off that, which he took for his own, and unpacked his clothes. Then he went in search of his Master's bags and did the same for him.
He felt the presence while he was still in the closet, hanging Master Jinn's formal robes. He turned, found a wry smile on his master's face where he lounged in the doorway. The Jedi stood so tall, his bulk taking up much of the entry, one shoulder propped carelessly against the frame, his arms crossed across a chest so vast… he caught himself, then caught himself flushing, and dropped his eyes.
"Will you never tire of waiting on me, Padawan?" his master asked, letting his slip pass.
And while he knew he was being gently teased, as was his master's wont, he answered, "My contract encourages me to ease your way, Master, as your teachings ease my way to the Force. These small tasks are nothing by comparison."
"You know," Qui-Gon replied, turning back to the main room as he spoke, "I think you take your contract just a bit too seriously."
Hardly, he thought. He wasn't sure that was even possible. Qui-Gon Jinn was among the very most accomplished of Jedi Knights; almost everyone agreed with that. In being accepted as student, Obi-Wan had received a gift he could never, ever repay.
An image of his master swimming in an exercise fountain on Coruscant, long arms cleaving the water as Obi-Wan was taught a new stroke, rose to his mind, and with it this new frission of tension in his skin; he squelched it ruthlessly, remembering his teacher's words. Now was neither the time nor the place for such indulgence. There would be time, later, after they'd left this planet behind. He stored away the image for future contemplation, and turned back to his work.
He decided, after days on days of attendance to pomp and speeches, that this would have been an incredibly boring mission without his master at his side. The Regent, Lon Abitar, had just reached her 20th year. Her ascendance to the throne was merely formality, as was her position. The royalty held dignitary duties on this planet, mainly: opening congress, attending events of state, and keeping a social calendar meant to assure and inspire the people. But the people loved her, which served this planet well. She was demure and wise, he found on his brief occasion to speak with her—and beautiful, he noted in afterthought. Her robes swung about a full body, golden threads in every gown she wore marking the passage of her form with light. He repressed that thought as well, sneaking a peek at Master Jinn. His master, if he noted such things, did not show it, and so neither should he. As he continued to study this planet during his morning readings, he learned what an insult indeed it would be to make such observation openly, and sighed.
His nights, blessedly, were without vivid dreams, and when they finally departed the planet a tenday after their arrival, he was rather proud of himself. His master was, also.
"You did well, Obi-Wan," Master Jinn commented heartily, as they exited the palace gates. A waiting ground car stood open for them; apparently one was only required to be impressed on his way in to this place.
"Thank you, Master."
A brief chuckle caressed his ears. "Not a single misstep, young Padawan; the new queen was quite impressed.
He raised his brows, surprised. "Excuse me?" The ground car hovered up and accelerated fast, swallowing the distance from palace to spaceport with all good speed.
Master Jinn nodded. "She was, indeed. She thought you an excellent student, and a very bright young man, and told me so with all due formality last night at the after-dinner reception."
Ahh. He had been ordered back to their rooms after each evening meal, and festivities had continued "without the presence of children." It rankled, just a bit, to still be treated as a child when his teachings told him he was becoming a man, but far be it from him to ignore the mores of an entire civilization. "I am happy to have pleased her." In afterthought he added, "I liked her as well."
"Yes, I noticed." Was that an undertone of humor in the dry voice?
"Master, I—"
"Don't concern yourself. She is a beautiful young woman, and your observation went unnoticed. I, however, am especially observant of my student."
"You're prettier," he said, smiling sunnily when Master Jinn's eyebrows swept up in surprise.
"And you, lad, have a common case of hero worship. I prescribe an additional two hours of daily study for you, and far more difficult physical drills; that should cure you of it."
Obi-Wan didn't worry; more work meant more time with his master, and besides, he had no wish to be cured of it. Qui-Gon Jinn appealed to him in all ways, from gentle humor to surpassing skill, from complex spirit to well-honed body. Perhaps especially to well-honed body, he surmised, finding himself staring too long—and they hadn't even reached the spaceport! Where was his precious control, now? Resolutely, he set his eyes front and drew deep, even breaths until they were deposited with thanks at the docks, dropped just outside the port at Master Jinn's request.
Only when they were truly alone, walking along a bustling street, did Master Jinn begin his post-mission review. "You remember my question about our well-appointed rooms, Obi-Wan?" he asked, tucking his hands into his robe's sleeves.
Obi-Wan mimicked his movement, and nodded. "Yes, Master."
"And what is your conclusion?"
"That as new members of the Republic, they feared political misstep. They erred on the side of generosity rather than risk insulting us."
"An acceptable hypothesis. Why?"
Obi-Wan struggled to weigh his reasons, most of which weren't intellectual and therefore were difficult to explain. "They were… timid with us, yet not with each other. They did not seem to have a clear sense of their place, as equal members of the Republic. Their manners were consistent, what I saw of them, and never did I sense disdain. I…" he gave up, and ended with, "I just had a feeling."
"Excellent, Obi-Wan. Trust in your intuition. It will always serve you well."
"Was my conclusion correct?"
Master Jinn shrugged. "Does it matter?"
No, he supposed not… but he still wanted to know. He kept his mouth shut, waiting patiently until his master sighed.
"It was a good evaluation of all the factors available to you. As it happens, you were missing information. I have sensed some trouble here, rumblings between the controlling classes and the service classes, that the rich hope their queen's presence will quiet. I believe they did indeed fear risking our offense, as you said, but more, they will seek our favor and support in case conflict breaks out."
"Ahh," Obi-Wan said, trying to sound studious as he took in the sights of this bustling public port. It was more ordered than most, and smaller, perhaps because it was so near the palace. Only a few species populated it, and the throngs around them were fully 3/4 natives. He sighed; he had seen cleaner ports and he had certainly seen dirtier ones. By the time they reached the ship he had put the matter out of his mind, aching to be off-planet and in his own, private, cabin. Once onboard, he stowed their gear, adjusted his chronometer to ship's time, noted happily that it was well into night-cycle, and bade his master a good rest. Then he tore off to his own cabin, recalled that image of Master Jinn swimming, explored himself to exhaustion and, eventually, slept.