Den of Chaos Fiction
Star Wars: the Phantom Menace
Notes: This fic was written as a gift for a friend. Thanks for your friendship, Raven.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Used without permission. No money being made.
I love my Master. I have for ages. It is a thought unspoken, a desire unfulfilled. It is my utmost shame and deepest despair. For in our time, in this place, it is verboten for a Master to love his student, for two men to love one another. I am double damned, once by my faith and twice by the Force. Yet in that damnation lies my salvation. For it is only through being Jedi that I have found where I belong. It is the beliefs of the Jedi that allow me to remain with him, the duties of a Jedi Padawan that allow me to hide my love, concealing all the gestures that would give me away within the simple facade of a faithful Padawan. All the warm touches, the caring niceties imbued with my love for him remain safely hidden, performed under the guise of my Padawan duties.
There is a freedom in being his Padawan, the freedom to touch, to care, to protect. All done out of love, all concealed out of duty. What I shall do when I am no longer his Padawan is a question which haunts me. I have learned to take my Master's advice and focus on the present. I live in the moment as it is all I will ever have and thus, it must be enough.
He comes home weary from another of countless battles with the Senate. If they had only listened to him in the beginning, they wouldn't be facing a planet on the verge of civil war. Sadly, they did not and now my Master is forced to pay for their continued shortsightedness. For my Master, the only thing more exhausting than dealing with the Senate is when Master Windu is at his most stubborn during a session with the Council. Part of me feels guilty for the pleasure I take in caring for my Master at these times, but that doesn't stop me from selfishly taking advantage of the opportunity they offer.
I remove my Master's cloak, lifting the physical weight from his slumping shoulders. The rest of the evening will be devoted to easing the emotional burden that rests there. He carries the worries and cares of too many living creatures. He feels too much, holds too much empathy for the living beings that populate our universe. One man is not designed to bear the responsibilities he takes on. Tonight, I will be the perfect Padawan, dedicating my every action to bringing him comfort and solace. This eve, he will know peace, a cessation of all the duties and responsibilities that weigh him down.
I shoulder him over to the couch with careful nudges, respecting the silence with which he has so eloquently communicated since entering our quarters. As I settle him into the warm, comfortable embrace of our lounging couch, I wish for nothing more than to be what shelters him, what cocoons him in warmth and comfort. Yet that cannot be and I have no desire to waste this time wishing for something that will never come to pass. Not when what I can have is here waiting quietly in front of me.
I kneel in front of him and undo his boots, my hands adroit upon the clasps after years of familiarity with the task. His feet quickly freed, I rest them on my thighs and slowly start to massage his calves. The muscles are tight, taut beneath his skin. A wordless communiqué to me of just how worn and exhausted he is. I move gradually to his feet, careful to keep my touch competent and efficient instead of worshipful as I long for it to be. I may not be able to touch him with desire but I can let my love permeate these touches, fill them with gentle care and adoration.
I hear him sigh above me, a sound of pleasure and release, and dare a quick glance up at him through lowered lashes. The creases around his eyes are disappearing as the tension begins to dissipate, leaving his body the way a morning mist is washed away by the soft rays of an early sun. Next on my list is to erase the lines drawn around his mouth and the tightness so painfully evident in his neck and shoulders. I set his feet onto one of the floor cushions scattered about and flow upwards over his body. My hands reach for his belt and his eyes open with a start of surprise. I simply look at him, lips half quirked, eyes hiding my lover's desire. Showing nothing but a Padawan's desire to assist his Master. He sighs again, this time a sound that I can't read the meaning of and inclines his head. I take his gesture as acquiescence, undoing his belt and pulling him forward to slip his tunic off.
Now that he is clothed only in a loose undertunic and pants, I manipulate him into lying down on the couch. I have to leave him somewhat covered as I don't trust myself to hide my love, my desire, if there is no barrier between his flesh and my touch. There are limits even to Jedi control and I have become intimately familiar with where mine lie. Although I do tread as close as possible to that line, in part for the sweet agony that comes from tormenting myself with my unfulfillable desires but mostly because I wish to do everything I can to bring him comfort.
My hands move with surety over his body, smoothing out the knotted muscles and leaving a creeping lassitude in place of the tension that had previously resided there. Occasionally as I work out a particularly stubborn kink he makes a soft half groan, his breath catching in pleasure. I capture these sounds, store them away in my heart and memory. The knowledge that one day all I will have is my secret hoard of stolen moments creeps to the forefront of my thoughts. But why would I wish to reflect upon that barren future when I have a dream in front of me?
I slide my hands through his hair focusing only on its rich texture as it glides through my fingers, allowing the sensation to banish unwelcome thoughts of the future. I feel him arch into my palms as I rest them against his skull using the tips of my fingers to gently massage his temples. He has a lazy grace lying there, sprawled against the cushions, making sleepy half murmurs of contentment. For a moment, secure in the safety of his somnolence I allow all my desire, my love, to shine through and I see him colored with it. The fall of light playing across his body, flirting gently over the curves and angles I have so recently caressed. He is beautiful. He is my life.
He makes a soft questioning sound and I realize my fingers have stilled, as caught in the moment as the rest of my body. I shush him, a quiet movement of breath, and slide my love back into place, hiding it behind my Padawan guise. My hands start a gentle stroking motion, not so much relieving tension now as encouraging relaxation, helping to convince his body to release the last of its battle wariness. He has no need of it now, here with me.
I move slowly, taking my time, fingers trailing across his body sending a soothing message of safety and respite. Inside I exult at the feeling of bringing him comfort and peace, at the sheer joy of touching him. A gentle exhalation precedes the last of his troubles and concerns leaving him. He is now wholly mine. Nothing else exists in this moment other than the weight of my hands, the soft rustle of cloth, the warmth of my body next to his. I do nothing to break the spell I have woven. I am content to stay like this for hours, allowing him to float in the serenity that I have brought to him.
An indeterminate time later he shifts slightly, a signal that this interlude is drawing to a close. My hands start a gradual withdrawal, touches growing lighter and slowing even more till they are just barely ghosting over his body. When he finally rises to seek his bed, body heavy and somnolent, he looks at me. It is within this moment that I dwell, for his eyes carry a message that warms my heart and gives meaning to my life.
My Master loves me, and that is enough.