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Archive: m_a, and my LJ. All others, please ask.

Category: PWP

Rating: NC-17

Series: Part of the Fifty Ways challenge

Summary: See the title. It says it all.

Disclaimer: They aren?t mine.

Thanks to Sage for doing the beta.

The street corner was lit by a single lamp mounted above. Its cold light bleached all colour from the figures standing beneath. Several young humans loitered on the sidewalk, clad in clothing that barely covered them, despite the chill in the air. Crowded together, they watched the pedestrians pass by, waiting to catch their eyes. Dusk still hung in the air, and the traffic had thinned out, changing the character of the neighbourhood with the setting of the sun.

Obi-Wan Kenobi stood among the loiterers. He leaned casually against the building, watching the others talk to potential customers through half-lidded eyes. Still recognizable as a Jedi Padawan, but barely, his normally layered tunics were reduced to one thin open wrap held together by a sash and narrow belt. It gaped loosely, revealing his well-developed chest. Heavy work boots were replaced with soft leather ones, securing the bottoms of very tight pants, accentuating sculpted thigh and calf muscles.

Just a few feet from the padawan, stood the red and black tattooed Zabrak, Maul. They had exchanged a few words when they first arrived at the corner but the Zabrak had fallen stonily silent, eyeing potential customers like prey.

As the sky darkened, the pedestrian traffic picked up. A tall figure walked gracefully down the sidewalk and stopped just a few meters away from the youthful gathering. Their experienced eyes identified the newcomer as a Jedi. Obi-Wan recognized the man immediately as his master. Their eyes met, and Obi-Wan’s breath hitched as Qui-Gon lowered his hood. This was no casual customer. His master held Obi-Wan’s gaze for a few moments, then glanced over at Maul. Even with the chilled air, the Zabrak wore no shirt. He stood with his hips thrust forward, the tight black leather of his pants riding dangerously low. Maul hissed quietly and closed his eyes in acceptance, before gesturing toward the alleyway. Qui-Gon nodded, and Maul preceded him into the laneway. Obi-Wan turned, staring at their backs as they disappeared, a frown creasing his forehead. After waiting a few minutes, he backed nonchalantly toward the alley. It was dark, but he heard the rustle of cloth and heavy panting. As his eyes adjusted to the low light, he saw the silhouette of his master pressing the smaller man against the cold stone wall. Maul’s hands were planted flat against the stone and his legs were spread, the leather pooled around his feet. Qui-Gon hunched over Maul’s body, one arm wrapped around the Zabrak’s chest and the other covering a tattooed hip. They settled into a heavy staccato rhythm punctuated by grunts and groans.

Obi-Wan stared, wide-eyed, listening to flesh slap against flesh as Qui-Gon pressed his body into Maul’s over and over again. Maul’s arms stretched above his head, his stomach scraping against the stone as his body was pushed into the wall. Obi-Wan could hear low growling either natural or a performance to push his customer close to release, he wasn’t sure. A few moments later he saw Qui-Gon’s back stiffen, his neck arch and heard a low groan as he fell forward onto Maul.

Obi-Wan stared for a moment longer and backed out of the alley quickly, to the relative safety of the light post.

A moment later, Qui-Gon walked out, his robes back in place. As he passed, Obi-Wan looked up at him. He whispered, “Master, of all people, why him?"

Qui-Gon smiled, “Silly Padawan, tricks are for Sith.”