Chapter Text
Bruck was there to meet them on the landing platform when their little shuttle from the Arkania Temple touched down. Anakin bounded down the ramp first, new travel pack in one hand, excited to be back on Coruscant and that much closer to his apprenticeship, and stopped short, seeing another brown-robed figure at the foot of it. He and Bruck exchanged mutually surprised looks then both laughed.
“Hello!” Bruck said, offering a hand. “You must be Ben’s replacement. Congratulations. I’ve heard a lot about you. I’m Bruck Chun.”
“Pleased to meet you, Se—er—uh—” Anakin looked him over, found his braid, grinned, “—Padawan Chun. My name’s Anakin Skywalker.”
They shook hands very formally but each wearing the trace of a smirk, sensing a kindred spirit in the other.
“You two are going to be trouble together,” Obi-Wan observed, carrying his own and Qui-Gon’s bags down the ramp. “This is a friend of mine, Ani. Don’t believe anything he tells you about me.”
“Hey! Is that the thanks I get for putting up with you all these years?”
Anakin, who didn’t know quite what to make of Bruck, or who “Ben” was, watched in confusion as this new padawan wrapped his arms around Obi-Wan and kissed him soundly, Obi-Wan returning it with the same spirit in which it was given, dropping the packs and sliding his arms tightly around Padawan Chun’s waist. Over the past several tens he’d gotten used to Master Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan kissing and hugging and touching each other, enough so that it didn’t seem strange anymore. Especially not for Master Qui-Gon, who was as mushy as his mom. But it surprised him to see Obi-Wan like this with anyone else. Usually he was so . . . stuck-up with other people. And he’d thought—
“Congratulations, Oafy,” Bruck grinned as they separated. “When’s the ceremony?”
“Thanks, B-Boy. Three days from tomorrow. All the forms have been submitted and approved. I just have to go through the rituals. I’m still getting used to the idea. . . .” He trailed off, smiled a little wistfully.
“Yeah, hard to believe. I mean, it isn’t and it is. It’s not like you weren’t ready for it. But . . .”
“Yes. But,” Obi-Wan agreed, stymied to explain any further the mixture of fear, anticipation, and excitement he felt.
“It’s always a somewhat awkward transition,” Qui-Gon remarked, standing at the foot of the ramp with his hands folded calmly in his sleeves, smiling a little, “for everyone involved. Much more so than the one from initiate to padawan, if a bit less fraught. Usually.”
Bruck looked around his lover’s shoulder, taking the tall Jedi Master in at a glance. Better than he’d expected, from Ben’s accounts, but . . . changed. A little thinner. A little greyer. A bit worn around the edges. And yet more solid, somehow; more there. “I’m glad to hear it. I think I’d rather take the standard trials than the trial-in-extremis. You’re looking well, Qui-Gon.”
The older Jedi inclined his head slightly. “All things considered. Thank you. It’s good to see you again, Bruck. Will you be here for Obi-Wan’s knighting?”
“Oh yeah. Barring anything last-minute from the Council, of course. Andreth and I were due for some down-time anyway. Bant’s here, and Reeft, too. And Tianna. It’ll be a good party. That is, if Ben makes it back from the Sanctum.”
“Those are just stories to scare initiates with,” Obi-Wan snorted. “Once you’ve passed the trials, there’s nothing down there to scare anyone.”
“Only what you bring with you,” Qui-Gon said quietly.
“Was it really a Sith, Ben?” Bruck asked sleepily, snuggled up tightly against his lover, one hand cupping Kenobi’s hip, thumb stroking into the hollow of the ball-and-socket. Obi-Wan combed through his hair lightly with one hand, the other interlaced with Bruck’s.
“Apparently,” he answered with equal languor, stretching under Bruck’s hands, hips arching gently against the padawan’s groin. The other young man’s cock stirred with renewed interest.
Obi-Wan felt more relaxed than he’d felt in a quarteryear. He’d gone off with Bruck after seeing Qui-Gon and Anakin settled in their quarters, and it still seemed strange to have done so without asking his master’s—his former master’s—permission. Instead, he had merely told Qui-Gon he would be out that evening and to expect him back sometime the following day. “Enjoy yourself,” was all Qui-Gon had said, looking up from his datapad and smilingly mildly.
He and Bruck had had dinner together in the refectory, catching up as they usually did after a time apart—except that there was so much more to catch up on this time, and they were interrupted every few moments by someone new coming up to congratulate him and inquire after Qui-Gon’s health. Bruck sat through the interruptions very patiently, watching Obi-Wan bask a bit in all the attention with a small, amused smile.
Afterwards, they’d headed back to Bruck’s room. Once inside, with the door closed and privacy-locked behind them, Bruck had pushed him against the wall and pinned him with his mouth. Their teeth cracked together and Obi-Wan tasted blood for a moment, and again when Bruck nipped his lip. “Missed you,” Bruck murmured, pulling back for a moment and kissing him much more gently. “Yeah, you too,” Obi-Wan agreed and pulled Bruck more tightly against him, bucking against Bruck’s superior weight, grinding their pelvises together until both of them were hot and hard. Then he turned the tables with a quick movement that left Bruck pinned in his place, face against the wall, panting, one arm behind his back.
“Knights-Elect get to be on top,” he hissed in Bruck’s ear, reaching inside his leggings and cupping Bruck’s genitals, kneading hard.
“Yes, Master,” Bruck whimpered in mock humility, rocking into Kenobi’s hands. “Tell me what you want, Master.”
“I want you to suck me,” he growled, letting go of his lover, who turned and sank to his knees gracefully, long fingers already reaching for the fastenings of Obi-Wan’s trousers. “Oh gods, Bruck, make me come. Please. It’s been so long. . . .”
His voice broke off into a moan as Bruck freed his cock and, holding him at the root, closed his hot mouth around Obi-Wan’s shaft. Kenobi’s hands fisted in Bruck’s hair as he slid down Obi-Wan’s length and back up again, sucking, tongue working over the throbbing vein on the underside, over the sensitive spot beneath the crown, pushing his foreskin back to lick over the head. He’d already begun to shake by the time Bruck began to repeat the motion and when his cock hit the back of Bruck’s throat again he came, shuddering from head to foot, hands clenching in the short white hair, hips thrusting hard, head thrown back in a guttural, tortured cry. Bruck swallowed hastily and hung on as Obi-Wan emptied himself, bracing himself against the wall above Bruck’s head.
“Oh Little Gods, B-boy, thank you,” Obi-Wan sighed, breath hitching in his chest. “I needed that.”
Bruck pulled Obi-Wan down into his arms, hands stroking up and down his sweaty back, then opening his tunics and pushing them off into a heap on the floor. “You’ve never come that fast before. Guess it has been a while,” he grinned. “Qui-Gon not up to it yet?”
“No, he wasn’t for some time, but he wants to wait, now, until I’m knighted,” Obi-Wan muttered with a trace of annoyance in his voice. “Apparently I’m neither fish nor fowl as a knight-elect and he seems to think it would be awkward somehow. I just couldn’t go into the Sanctum so wound up though.”
“You’ve got hands, you know,” Bruck smirked, rubbing his back and slowly divesting both of them of clothing.
“Not the same,” Obi-Wan murmured, nuzzling against Bruck’s neck and gently biting his earlobe.
Bruck’s arms tightened around him and he shivered. “No, it’s not. I’ve missed you, Ben. And I’ve been worried about you. When I heard what happened to Qui-Gon . . . It must have been awful. I’m glad he’s okay.”
“Thanks, love. I’m so glad I’ve got you,” he said fervently, squeezing. “Tell me what you want.”
Bruck looked at him for a moment, holding Obi-Wan’s face between his hands, thumbs gently stroking his cheeks, scanning his features until Obi-Wan wondered what he was looking for. “I’m not any different now than I was,” he said wryly.
“Yes, you are,” Bruck contradicted, thumbs gently rubbing the crease between his brows then over them to his temples.
“How?” he said, truly puzzled. He didn’t feel any different, not really.
“Just . . . I don’t know . . . older, or something. More sure of yourself, maybe. The way you just waltzed out of your quarters this afternoon. Even the way you walk is a little different. Not like you’re trying to keep up with your master any more.”
“Is it? I hadn’t noticed. Is that so bad?”
“No,” Bruck grinned. “I like you this way. Kiss me.”
Obi-Wan leaned in and pressed their mouths together, Bruck’s opening willingly under his own. “Tell me what you want,” he murmured, then went back to nibbling Bruck’s lower lip. Bruck’s hands slid down Obi-Wan’s back and came to rest on his ass, kneading bruisingly, pulling him tight. “You know what I want, Ben. You know what I like,” he answered when he could free his mouth. “Let’s take this to bed. I spend enough time on my knees on hard floors.”
They moved apart briefly, and Obi-Wan lay back on the soft cotton mattress, the rush mats beneath rustling under his weight. Bruck followed, snagging a bottle of oil from the chest beside the bed. Obi-Wan pulled Bruck down against him, running hard, calloused hands over the smooth skin of Bruck’s shoulders and back, kissing him slowly and deeply, running his tongue against Bruck’s, along his palate, savoring. By the time they broke apart again, gasping, long minutes had passed and Bruck was whining deep in his throat. “Open me up, B-Boy. I want you inside,” Obi-Wan whispered.
“Roll over,” Bruck growled, nipping along his neck and shoulder.
Obi-Wan turned in his arms, onto his side, drawing one leg up. One of Bruck’s arms snaked over his shoulder, down his chest, caressing, finding one nipple and teasing it to tingling hardness. The other hand, already slick with oil, ran over one muscular cheek, fingers sliding into the crevice between and finding the tight, puckered muscle, stroking over it. Obi-Wan pushed back into him, wanting. “Don’t tease, B-boy. Just do it,” and Bruck pushed two slick fingers into him, stroking along his prostate. Obi-Wan shuddered, engulfed in a sudden wash of fire, moaning and arching. Bruck’s fingers worked inside him and he kissed and bit lightly along Obi-Wan’s neck and shoulder, the other hand pinching one nipple.
Obi-Wan closed his eyes, panting, feeling Bruck’s fingers inside him and the tension in his body, a tension that had been accumulating for a quarteryear during Qui-Gon’s recovery, one that had been only briefly dissipated by his recent orgasm. It wasn’t just sexual tension, but a great deal of anxiety he’d been unable to work off or release into the Force and it was a relief to channel it into this kind of action and let Bruck help him burn it off in the heat of sex. His cock filled and arched again and he felt the urge to move.
“Do it, love, do it. Fuck me now.”
“I’ll hurt you—”
“Doesn’t matter,” Obi-Wan gasped. “You know how I like it. C’mon, do it! Please, oh gods, Bruck, c’mon c’mon c’mon—”
“Shhhh,” Bruck hushed him and then, slicking his cock, pushed inside, hand on Obi-Wan’s belly, holding him, and it was so good to be that full and feel Bruck’s skin sliding along his own, and the heat and tension in his muscles building, building and Bruck rocking into him, deeper each time, stroking over his prostate. And now they were both breathing hard, Bruck’s hand stroking his cock, and he knew he was going to come again quickly. Bruck seemed to know it too, and gently teased his sac lower and looser, stopping and then holding himself still, trembling a little.
“Bruck . . .” he whined. “Gods Bruck, please—”
“Hush, Ben. I’ll take care of you. Let’s make it last.”
“You bastard,” Obi-Wan snarled, frantic and trembling. “This is just payback for all the times I’ve done this to you.”
“Would I do that to you?” Bruck murmured in amusement, rubbing his hip.
“Yes! C’mon! Fuck me!”
And Bruck obliged, thrusting into him hard, Obi-Wan’s cock in his hot fist and they were moving together in a smooth, fast counterpoint, Obi-Wan pushing into Bruck’s hand, and rocking back onto the heavy cock inside him, taking in as much as Bruck could give him. “Let go, Ben,” Bruck gasped. “Come for me.” And that was all it took. Obi-Wan arched sharply into Bruck’s hand, coming in a quick jet, the cry torn from him as tortured as his first.
Something welled up in him then that he couldn’t really identify except that it was wound up in all he’d been through in the last quarteryear. There was fear in it and pain, and all the anxiousness for Qui-Gon he’d been feeling, and there was also a deep sense of relief, as well as one of having been touched by something he could only call grace in surviving it all with the people he loved intact. He squeezed his eyes shut against the tears rising in them, but couldn’t stop them. Bruck was still moving inside him, but he hardly felt it, hardly knew when Bruck held himself still and tight against him and came hard, panting and moaning, hardly felt it when Bruck relaxed against him with a deep sigh, cock softening inside him. And it took Bruck a moment to realize his partner was still shaking.
“Hey—” he said, sounding a little alarmed as Obi-Wan folded his arms across himself and bent over, inhaling sharply as though he’d been punched. Bruck folded strong arms around him gently, holding him as though his ribs were glass, rubbing his cheek against Obi-Wan’s. “It’s all right, Ben. Let it out. Let it out.” Obi-Wan tried to exhale and found he could only inhale in short hitching breaths until his lungs were so full they ached. Bruck squeezed him, whispered, “Breathe, idiot,” in his ear and kissed the back of his neck.
All that captive air came out in a sound he didn’t expect, something keening and high, and Bruck began to rock him. “It’s all right, it’s all right. Let it out. Let it out,” he murmured into Obi-Wan’s ear.
He calmed gradually, and Bruck’s cock slipped from him, leaving him sore and sated and languorous, wrapped in his lover’s arms.
“Sorry,” he said, nestling against the warm, sticky body at his back.
“For what?”
“Losing it like that. I’m not usually—”
“Yeah, yeah, Obi-Wan Always-in-Control Kenobi,” Bruck replied, gently mocking. “I can’t call you Perfect Padawan anymore, can I? Maybe you can stop being it, too. Want to tell me about it? I’ve only heard the official version, and you know how much those leave out. Was it really a Sith, Ben?”
“Apparently. I can’t think of anything else it could have been.” He started with the bare physical description of the thing he’d fought and, as Bruck had known he would, found himself telling all of it, from the moment they’d arrived on the Nemoidian flagship, as Bruck pulled up the blankets and ran his hands gently over Obi-Wan’s skin. He listened quietly, for the most part, only a few events eliciting comments.
“Qui-Gon said that right in front of the Council? Before he’d told you? I can’t believe he’d do that to you,” Bruck seemed more outraged over his master’s behavior with Anakin than Obi-Wan was.
“I couldn’t either. Especially when he’d just got done telling me, ‘you have much to learn about the Living Force, Padawan,’” Obi-Wan intoned in a more than fair imitation of Qui-Gon’s voice. He expected Bruck to laugh and was surprised to see a wince instead.
“That must have hurt.”
He opened his mouth to say one thing and heard another come out. “Yes, it did,” he heard himself say in a subdued voice.
“What got into him?”
“I don’t know, it’s hard to tell with Qui sometimes. He comes to the Force from such a different place than I do that sometimes I think I don’t understand him at all. I certainly don’t understand his obsession with this boy. He needs to be trained, obviously, and better Jedi trained than Sith, but—”
“You don’t think he’s the Chosen One either.”
“I don’t know. He’s incredibly powerful in the Force. Who’s to say?” Obi-Wan shrugged.
“Still, it’s no excuse to treat you like that, Ben, like you’re something he can just throw away when he feels like it. Little Gods, you’re lovers!”
“Look, it’s all right—”
“No, it’s not. Not unless he’s apologized.”
“We’ve worked it out. Drop it.”
Bruck had his mouth open to argue and shut it again at Obi-Wan’s tone. But something in his face closed down and he pulled away, sitting up with his back to Obi-Wan.
“It’s not the same, Bruck. It’s not like what was done to you. He was right. I was ready.”
“You must have been,” he muttered, “you kept the bastard alive.”
Obi-Wan sat up, angry now. “Is that it? Were you thinking you’d have me all to yourself now? Is that the problem?”
Bruck said nothing, sitting with his shoulders hunched. Obi-Wan watched him, finding his anger dissipating with each moment. “Let’s not fuck this up, Bruck,” he said finally. “Not now. You’re too important to me. I’m sorry. That was cruel and you didn’t deserve it.” He laid his hand on Bruck’s back, feeling muscles and spine stiffen beneath it, and gently pushed at their lover’s bond. There was some resistance along it, but after a moment, Bruck’s shields yielded to the wash of love he sent down it. Obi-Wan drew him back down and held him.
“I did deserve it,” he said quietly after a while, lying against Obi-Wan.
“No, love. I know it’s not easy for you, sharing me with Qui. If it’s any consolation, it’s not very easy being shared, either. It’s hard not to bring my relationship with Qui here.”
“And the other way around?” Bruck asked a little sourly.
“That’s easier. I don’t have the problems with you that I do with Qui.”
Bruck propped himself up on one elbow and looked and Obi-Wan in puzzlement. “What problems?”
Obi-Wan stroked a hand down Bruck’s chest. “Our relationship is different. With you, I can say and do anything—be myself. With Qui . . . no matter what, I’m his padawan. Even if I weren’t, the age difference between us makes it so. With him, I’m always trying to be older than I am. He’s always going to be my master, no matter what, the same way Yoda’s always his master. You’ve seen the two of them together.”
“Yeah, but Qui doesn’t exactly act like the Perfect Padawan you do. I’ve heard him call Master Yoda a ‘little green troll’ to his face more than once.”
Obi-Wan smiled. “No, he’s not exactly deference incarnate, is he? I wonder sometimes if that isn’t why he’s so irascible with Yoda and the Council though. Here’s his master, older than dirt, been a Jedi since there were any, sitting on the Council he’s got to report to all the time—how would you ever establish yourself in his eyes when you’ve been his padawan, short of open rebellion?”
Bruck was silent for a moment, considering. “Never thought of it that way. You might be right. What about you and Qui-Gon?”
“He’ll be busy training Anakin now, so I suppose I’ll be on my own anyway. That should help. We’ll have to see. In the meanwhile,” Obi-Wan murmured, flicking the little gold barbell piercing Bruck’s nipple, “I have a quarteryear of celibacy to make up for before I start my vigil. Want to help?”
Bruck grinned wickedly and dived in for a kiss.