Summary: A Sith Academy story. Maul attempts to justify his
thing with Obi-Wan.
Feedback: Pretty Please With Interesting Tatts On! Any type,
any time.
Disclaimer: My undying gratitude goes both to George Lucas for
characters like the devilicious Darth Maul, and also to
Siubhan. Without her Sith Academy, where would I get my chance
to literally LOL? And where would I get my fix of M/O? ;}
BANG! The doorhandle slammed into the hole in the plaster as
Darth Maul's front door was flung open for the umpteenth time.
It was greeted only with silence.
Sidious, resplendent in his Palpatine guise, paused in the
doorway. He had decided to take advantage of the greater light
from the hallway to practice his Dramatic Entrance #26, but the
traditional expression of jaded smugness deflated a moment
later when he noted the continuing lack of a suitably
appreciative audience. He pouted and tried a mental shout.
Maul!
...Nothing.
Sidious drew breath to shout aloud and paused, sniffing at the
air. Yecch. ...Nooo, surely not? His revoltingly undomesticated
(yet mouthwateringly built) Apprentice couldn't have done
something rash, ...well, more so than normal? Like actually
eat one of those old pizzas of his? Even those young
enough not to have developed entire civilizations, weren't what
you'd call the breakfast of champions. They tended to lurk
under the couch, creeping out after dark to scavenge toenail
clippings, horn filings and hairballs, and hunt down occasional
gym socks which strayed from the herd in the dirty laundry
basket. One of the more savage pepperonis, crazed from hunger
after Maul's recent cleaning jag had deprived it of its normal
prey, had actually pounced on Maul's Apprentice, and had almost
managed to make a Sithkitty burrito of itself before the Furry
Paws of Death finally shredded the thing.
Oh well, only one way to find out. Torn exquisitely between
apprehension and a certain sadistic anticipation, Sidious
stepped into the darkened living room. There he saw Maul,
sitting hunched forward in the couch. Staring with grit-jawed,
fiery-eyed, feral concentration. ...But not, for once, at Darth
Lara Croft or the latest eyewatering incarnation of Jedi
Roadkill. ...At a book.
The Sith Handbook stared right back at Maul, giving as good as
it got. The light from the doorway fell on the wrinkled, uneven
surface of its rather suspicious leather cover, and the shadows
seemed to form a wizened face, creased into a mocking grin.
Sidious waited. The staredown continued. A fly blundered into
the airspace between the two and vanished in a fzzt of
red sparks. Neither blinked.
"Maul, what are you doing?" Sidious snapped at last.
Without turning his head, Maul grated past his clenched teeth,
"I'm sorry Master," the absentminded nature of the apology was
duly filed by Sidious for future revenge, "I'm just...
persuading this damn book to spit it out!" The
last words were a pantherish hiss of concentrated menace. If
possible, the furious focus of Maul's concentration tightened.
Sidious had never seen Maul throw the kitchen sink into a Mind
Whammy before. He was, reluctantly and very secretly,
impressed. So, it seemed, was the book, which reared back and
opened just wide enough to ruffle the edges of its pages
skittishly. But a moment later it rallied, and something flat
and rounded poked a short way out from between its pages,
lolling as insolently as a tongue. Maul pounced instantly, in a
way that even made his Apprentice sit up and blink, grabbing at
the shiny thing with his fingertips and heaving with all his
might. The book wasn't giving up though: it growled, dug in its
corners and heaved back in a grimly determined tug of war.
Sidious leaned up against the doorjamb to feast in the sight,
taking in every detail of those hard young muscles. His eyes
followed their writhing movements beneath the tattooed skin of
Maul's arms and shoulders, left delightfully bare by the ratty
armholes of that inevitable Sith Lords Kick Ass t-shirt.
Sidious inhaled the sudden musk of Maul's sweat trickling down
his straining body as he redoubled his efforts. But above all,
Sidious tried not to soak the front of his shirt in drool. Or
the front of his pants, come to that.
In an attempt to distract himself enough, Sidious asked, "What
exactly are you two squabbling over?"
In that moment the book's grip on their bone of contention
suddenly failed and Maul was flung backward into the couch hard
enough to rock it back into the wall with a crunch of plaster.
Unfazed, Maul snapped to his feet on the rebound. Something
gleamed brightly, clutched in Maul's fist as he pumped it
victoriously at the ceiling.
"Yesss! I am Hot Shit!" he snarled in a most Sithly manner at
the book, which had levitated onto the top of the bookcase to
sulk. Triumph stretched Maul's patterned face into a savage
grin as he turned to wave his prize at Sidious. "This..." Maul
cried, "is the beta CD of 'Jedi Temple Raider: The Swimsuit
Edition'!!!" The fire of a true fanatic blazed in Maul's eyes
and Sidious contented himself with a nod and a feigned look of
interest that wouldn't have fooled a blind Jawa. But it was
enough for Maul, high as he was on the rush of the Dark Side.
He raved on, "After I sent my demos from 'Jedi Temple Raider:
Storm In a D Cup' to MicroSith, they wanted me to give my, ahh,
Creative Input on their next game." he leered. "The final
version won't be in the shops for six whole months! And by the
time it gets there, I'll have left MY personal mark aaall over
it!" Maul smiled like a shark. Life is good!
Sidious hmphed and turned the disk over. "Well you've certainly
left your personal mark over this version too." A gloved hand
tapped the unlabelled side of the disk, where not only
fingerprints, but the tracks of Maul's claws were clearly
visible, gouged there in the struggle for the disk. Maul
strangled a whimper in his throat as he snatched the disk,
opened the PlayStation and tried feverishly to load the game.
"NOOOoooOOO!!!"
Sidious basked again, this time in the rich emanations of
despair that rolled over him from the young man who was
currently banging his head against the coffee table. The gashes
his horns left gave the term 'distressed furniture' a whole new
meaning. Ohh yes, Sidious thought as he gorged himself
emotionally, this Apprentice of mine is a treat for ALL my
senses. ...But too much of a good thing, Sidious added
regretfully, he's going to blunt those wicked horns if he
keeps this up.
"IF you've finished your homewrecking, Maul..." Sidious said
briskly.
Maul blinked up at Sidious, somewhat dazed by the crushing
impact of defeat and hardwood. "What did you want..?"
Sidious narrowed his eyes and drummed his fingers on his thigh,
as tiny arcs of purple lightning snapped, crackled and popped
at their manicured tips.
"...Master?" Maul finished the sentence hastily.
Sidious rallied, and struck what he at least thought of as a
fetching pose. "I 'want' you..." he paused and leered for
effect's sake, rewarded as always by the wave of utter
revulsion from his pupil's battlescarred psyche, "...to come
with me to the Darkside Strutters' Ball."
Maul boggled, wrestling with his imagination and his intestines
simultaneously. Panicked, he settled for the first lame excuse
that came to mind (better lame than lame') "But I don't have
anything to wear."
"Nonsense," Sidious trilled, "You SHALL go to the ball!"
Darth Cinderella sniggered the cat into his mind,
earning a glare from Maul that almost set her whiskers alight.
Sidious peered into the sadly silent TV screen, admiring the
reflection of himself in his new royal blue crushed velvet
disco suit. Maul's Apprentice had already passed sentence on
Sidious's latest fashion crime by a deftly executed rub-and-run
sideswipe which left so much white cathair on the flared
trouser bottoms that they now seemed to be fringed with marabou
feathers.
"Really, Maul, I don't understand you," Sidious drawled,
oblivious to the cat-egorisation of his sartorial sins, "You
have such marvelous natural assets," he turned hopefully, but
since Maul was sitting on said assets, Sidious couldn't really
ogle them. "And yet, you flatly refuse to show them off to
their best advantage! Well I'm not going to let you get away
with it any more, my headstrong young Apprentice. 'Clothes
maketh the Sith.' It's in the Handbook." Maul's head whipped
around to impale the hated book with a baleful stare of
warning. But the book just curled its cover at him in a sneer
and rustled its pages, happily finding the best place to store
Sidious's latest addition. "You, my boy," Sidious advanced on
him, regaining his wandering attention, "have absolutely no
sense of Fashion!"
And then, so high was Sidious by this time on the continuing
silent outpouring of Maul's hatred and disgust, that he
actually started to sing. Warming up for the Karaoke no doubt.
At the mental images that conjured up, Maul shuddered
until he thought his bones would dislocate.
"If you're blue," a twitch of the wide lapels of the cobalt
velvet coat, "And you don't know where to go to, Why don't you
go where fashion sits, Puttin' on the Sith!"
It didn't help that Maul, now so deep into a deep blue funk
that he might never see daylight again, thought of his own last
line at the same time. It also didn't help that it rhymed,
unlike Sidious's line. It really didn't help that Maul hadn't
shielded his thoughts. Givin' me the shits!
Maul ducked the lightning bolt by a hair, or he would have if
he had any. It punched a small hole through the wall separating
Maul's apartment from the one next door, and was greeted by a
gratifying and very familiar "NOOOoooOOO!!!", followed by a
certain Twit Padawan's voice sobbing, "Oh Master, look, all the
wiring in the walls has blown! I told you we shouldn't have
tried to run the RotoVibraStim 2000 off domestic power! It said
it needed JediCell AlkaSabre batteries!" Two dark heads turned
as one, staring toward the smoking hole in the wall with shared
fascination, which was superseded the next moment by a shudder
on Maul's part and a truly evil smile from Sidious.
Sidious turned to face his apprentice again. The Sith Master's
smile turned positively sweet. Maul stared, mesmerized, at this
horrible sight, and beads of cold sweat started to meander down
his skull. "Well, if you're going to persist in being sullen
and ungrateful," Sidious said waspishly, "then I order you
not to come with me to the ball!"
Relief crashed over Maul Yeah, like that's a punishment!
But a moment later it was followed by a frantic scramble to
hide this reaction, and by rising suspicion. No. It couldn't
be that easy. My life's not like that. Maul swallowed,
licked suddenly dry lips and said, "Of course. I obey, Master."
in a carefully neutral voice.
That saccharine grin widened. "Of course you will." Sidious
purred, before turning away, leaving the room. Maul trailed
after him as he walked to the front door, his hot eyes bright
with a new hope. The old bastard's leaving! Don't tell me
he's actually going to let me get away with this?
Sidious paused, silhouetted dramatically in the doorway. Maul's
heart simultaneously fell into his boots and rose into his
throat (or was that his breakfast?). "Mind you, it's a pity,"
Sidious said airily over his shoulder, "Darth Mary Sue was sooo
looking forward to, ah, renewing her acquaintance with you at
the party. And afterwards."
Sidious almost floated down the stairs, buoyed on his way by a
glorious tide of young-and-horny-Apprentice-flavored despair.
"NOOOoooOOO!!!"
Hours later, Maul was still pacing and snarling like a caged
tiger. "I am going to KILL HIM! I am going to Force-reach
straight down that flabby neck of his, grab him by the asshole
and TURN HIM INSIDE OUT! Then I'll make pate' out of his guts,
assuming he HAS any, and feed it to all the morons who voted
for him, and watch THEM die like the sheep they are!" The book
rustled, unsettled by the rebellion in the air, and Maul
whirled on it and added, "I do know his hide'll be thick enough
I can use it to cover a whole set of NEW Sith Handbooks, and
I'LL write them all myself! And there'll be enough of them to
gang up on you, and beat the dictionary out of you!" The book
shouldered its way in among the others in the darkest corner of
the shelf, and cowered there.
I wouldn't think too much about skinning my master, if
I had such an interesting hide myself... smirked a
small voice in the back of Maul's brain.
He crouched down and glared into the cat's sneer, "I've only
got two words to say to you: 'catskin moccassins'!" he hissed.
The cat hissed back and took a swipe at his nose, which he
barely managed to duck. He'd had enough of her ideas of tattoo
remodeling for one lifetime. And she still hadn't forgiven him
for that copy of "101 Uses For A Dead Cat" that he'd
Force-levitated out of a remainders bin and left open on the
coffee table, as a hint about just who was Master round here.
Which was ridiculous, Maul's Apprentice thought. She already
knew very well who the real Master was. She smirked to herself,
and bided her time, shedding while she waited. When Maul went
back to his pacing and muttering, she squirmed through the
latest hole in the wall the moment his back was turned in
mid-rant.
Maul was so preoccupied in dreaming of the sort of revenge that
would keep ILM employed for years and give the most hardened
horror fan nightmares, that he didn't even notice she had gone.
It took the distant voice of the blithering-idiot-next-door to
do that. "Ohnonono. Ooooza silly liddle furry fing den? Come
away from Fluffi-Wan's door, therrrre's a goood fuzzy baby."
Gah! The twit was talking to that other hamster of his. Maul
turned to head for the kitchen. He needed beer, Drano, anything
to wash the overpowering taste of saccharine out of his throat
and make him forget. But the next words froze him to the spot.
"Awww you're a WUVwy fwuffy kitty, aaaren'tchoo? Yess oo is!"
Maul's eyes widened and the next moment he was out of there. He
didn't even bother with the lock to the twit's apartment, just
Force-palmed the damn door out of the way with a crash and
bounded in.
And stood, gapejawed and frozen in shock. There was Obi-Wan,
sitting in the lounge with My Apprentice on his lap. Draped
along his lap. All four paws in the air, white belly showing.
Maul crept nearer, gripped with horrified fascination, until
the slit-eyed, loll-tongued expression of bliss on the cat's
face glued him to the spot. Obi-Wan had his head lowered over
the cat's belly fur and was rubbing his cheek softly against My
Apprentice's chest, cooing over her like a baby.
Maul was speechless. There it was. The end of the world as we
know it. His Apprentice had all of Obi-Wan's face, both of his
eyes, his jugular for Sith's sake, all right under her
paws, and what was she doing? Purring, hard enough Maul
wondered if her legs might come off.
Maul swallowed, fighting down rising panic. And rising
memories, of those hands moving over his own skin. And
rising... No! This had gone too far. He'd take his damn cat,
shove some plaster in the wall, and go home. And never come
back. ...Any minute now. ...Move, damn it!!!
With a sniffle, the twit looked up and smiled. There was a,
well, wan quality to it and Maul noticed that the Padawan's
eyes were red rimmed. An allergy? I can only hope...
"Oh, hi, neighbor. I found her having a little play with
Fluffi-Wan. You should have seen her climbing around on top of
the HabiTrail. Those two get along so well, she just can't stay
away from him..."
She comes over here to destroy her opponent, as any
true Sith should! ...And stop purring like that! Have you no
shame? The cat opened one eye, then let it drift closed.
The purring stayed loud, the tongue stayed out, the cat stayed
put.
"Don't be mad at her," Obi-Wan went on, noting the direction of
Maul's glare, "I really don't mind. It's nice to have something
warm to hold..." He bowed his head over the cat again. And
there was another, unmistakable sniff.
Allergy. Maul closed his eyes and gritted his teeth.
Tell me it's an allergy. I really don't want to deal with
this...
The sniffs graduated into quiet crying. That prized Maul's eyes
open. No luck. The cat was still lying there, soaking up the
Jedi's shaky-fingered stroking. And soaking up quite a lot of
tears. That's WATER! Maul howled into his Apprentice's
mind. You're getting wet! Rise up and KILL HIM!!!
And miss out on petting like this? Are you out of your
pointy little mind?
Maul reached out in a last-ditch effort to grab the cat and get
out while he still had some rags of sanity left, but Obi-Wan's
arms tightened around her, caressing as his sobs increased.
Maul drew breath to demand that the twit unhand his Apprentice,
or be unhanded himself. Instead he found himself growling,
"Lemme guess. Qui-Gon. Again."
"He's gone to a - a class reunion. Didn't even tell me I
c-couldn't come until I asked. I mean, I'd just assumed... But
apparently it's sniff strictly for the Jedi Academy
graduates of Qui-Gon's year."
Maul felt his favorite evil smirk return to his lips, after far
too long away. "Fascinating..." he purred, sitting on the couch
beside Obi-Wan, the better to shove that smirk right into the
Padawan's weepy (yet attractively flushed, no stop it!) face.
"Gee, I wonder who else graduated in Qui-Gon's year. It
wouldn't be..."
"Maaace Winduuu-hoo-hoo!" sobbed the twit. Maul sank slowly
back into the couch cushions, momentarily boneless with delight
as the wave of jealous despair washed over him. Could there be
any higher bliss for a Sith soul than a Jedi's negative
energies?
Lazily, My Apprentice oozed to the floor, shaken off Obi-Wan's
lap by the escalating sobs. Great, Maul thought. All
I have to do is grab her and get out... He leaned forward,
reaching over for the cat. Trust the twit to misunderstand his
reaching arms completely, and collapse, weeping, against Maul's
chest. Yellow eyes snapped wide in panicked revulsion and
tattooed hands closed hard on the Padawan's shaking shoulders,
intending to push him away. But the loss the boy was radiating
into him from this close range was so rich that it made his
mouth water. The claw-fingered clutch faded imperceptibly into
a non-committal hold.
Obi-Wan's arms slid around Maul's waist and he nuzzled in as
the tears ebbed, tucking his head under Maul's chin and rubbing
his cheek against the hard neck and chest muscles. Maul could
feel a single tear on the skin below his collarbone meander
tantalizingly down the middle of his chest. The Padawan
murmured unsteadily, "You're the best neighbor a guy could
have." He shifted, moving up and back enough to look at Maul.
Brimming eyes locked with Maul's, who tried desperately not to
think about how the tears made them glow a deeper shade of
blue. But all that delectable misery, that marvelous heartache!
Obi-Wan was incandescent with it, a glorious icon of innocence
in pain. Maul simply could not resist leaning in, sliding his
hands round to cup the buzz-cut skull, hold it still. Slowly
his mouth opened and he licked the shining wetness from those
hotly flushed cheeks with the very tip of his tongue. As
Obi-Wan's eyes drifted blissfully shut, and Maul moved in to
press his lips to soft human eyelids, something in his brain
snapped.
With a low growl Maul dived in, claiming that tender mouth in a
voracious kiss, the wet muscle of his tongue thrusting past
Obi-Wan's lips. Obi-Wan 'mmm'ed in reply and his sinewy arms
wound themselves around Maul's body, drawing him closer as they
half-turned until they were facing on the couch. Human hands
hauled at his t-shirt, but Maul broke the kiss to purr, "Not
here. Not unless you want full-body rugburns." Obi-Wan gave a
breathless chuckle of agreement and they extricated themselves
reluctantly and rose, not entirely steadily, to their feet.
Obi-Wan hurried toward the bedroom, as fast as he could given
the wickedly inventive and agile pair of hands that groped him
from behind with every move he made.
When they entered the darkened room, Maul took tremendous
pleasure in ripping the cream cotton shirt and earth toned
pants off Obi-Wan with a series of impatient wrenches that
scattered buttons like shrapnel. By contrast, Obi-Wan somehow
managed to get Maul's prized t-shirt off in one piece, or as
much in one piece as it was when he put it on. Given the rising
urgency in the room and the peril of navigating the collar over
Maul's horns, there must have been quite a bit of Force
involved. Obi-Wan slid Maul's ratty cutoff jeans down, taking
his own sweet time, returning some of the groping he received
out in the hallway. Kneeling as Maul stepped out of the pants,
Obi-Wan pressed his face to the thick erection jutting inside
the black silk boxers, inhaling the smoky spice of Maul's
pheromones.
"You look so hot in these..." Obi-Wan rubbed his cheek
teasingly against Maul's satin-covered shaft until with a growl
of impatience Maul slithered out of the boxers and reached for
the Force. Obi-Wan's eyes went wide as he was picked up like a
leaf and hurled across the room, landing unceremoniously onto
the bed on his back.
He didn't have time to bounce before Maul was on him. Maul
writhed slowly over him, stroking him with his whole body, as
merciless hands closed round his wrists, holding him down,
clawed fingertips biting into his skin. Maul's rock-hard
muscles and glossy, hairless skin radiated an inhuman, fever
heat. As Obi-Wan gasped and began to move under him, Maul
ground his hips downward so that their erections rubbed and
slid against each other, pressed between two tightly muscled
stomachs. As their thrusts matched rhythm and began to pick up
speed, Maul's grip on Obi-Wan's wrists loosened. He propped
himself on one hand, leaning back just far enough so he could
send his mouth roaming over the Padawan's neck and chest in a
series of hungry kisses interspersed by quick, startling bites.
As he moved, he growled low and continuously from somewhere
deep in his chest. Obi-Wan panted, stunned by the rising
pleasure, by the intoxicating sense of danger: arching over
him, black and strong, its presence filling the room like the
night. He was mesmerized by Maul's predatory voice, an ominous
rumble like distant summer thunder. He held darkness in his
arms. Darkness and the beast.
Obi-Wan groaned aloud at the hot sensation of their cocks
rubbing together, lubricated by shared sweat. His hands slid
down the tautly defined cables in that tattooed back, kneaded
wantonly at Maul's ass as it pumped above him, even as his own
hips arched in the same rising rhythm. Then he grabbed Maul's
shoulders and hauled him down to lie flat, stretched along him
one more time as his shudders built toward a peak. He clutched
the back of Maul's head and kissed him, deep and forceful, as
his climax seared through him in a wave of white fire. Maul
snarled lustfully into Obi-Wan's mouth, as the warm, wet pulses
pouring from the human cock onto his own, hurled him over the
edge and sent him plummeting into the abyss.
For an endless moment, they lay like that: Maul stretched out
over Obi-Wan, covering him like a hot second skin, both bodies
boneless with satisfaction. Obi-Wan slid his arms around Maul
and held him, stroking gently down his nape and back. Just for
a moment. Then the face that was buried in his neck was lifted
away. Maul reared back, forcing Obi-Wan to loosen his embrace,
which was rather too tender for the Sith's taste.
Obi-Wan glanced down, pouting a little as his moment of
coziness was disturbed, but the look turned quickly into an
appreciative leer when he caught sight of Maul's tattoo-covered
cock, still jutting proudly toward him, hard enough to pound
nails. Maul reveled in the Padawan's wanton stare. Not even
enough alcohol to choke a Bantha could erase Maul's memory of
Obi-Wan's delighted surprise when he first found out the truth
about Maul. Not the fact that Maul was better endowed than
humans of equivalent body size (the
not-as-innocent-as-he-lets-on Padawan probably noticed that way
back in the bar), but the fact that once roused, Maul only lost
his erection when completely sated. Not that Maul had any
complaints in that sense about Obi-Wan: he seldom had to wait a
minute for Obi-Wan between bouts, even with the rumored effect
of alcohol on human males. Already Obi-Wan's half-hard shaft
was stirring, lifting its head as if wondering where Maul had
gone.
Smiling savagely, Maul leaned in. In the gloom, his eyes
glowed, hot as coals. "I want to fuck you..." he rumbled. There
was so much concentrated lust thrumming behind his tones that
ripples of gooseflesh ran over Obi-Wan's skin. Maul's feral
smile widened as he saw the Padawan's shivers of apprehension,
and felt the rising tide of Obi-Wan's need pouring into his
mind. "Ohhh yesss, you want me to, don't you?" he purred, one
hand sliding its way under Obi-Wan's ass, clutching and
kneading possessively at one taut cheek. "You want me to throw
you down and ram it all the way into that tight little ass of
yours. You want me to fuck you until you come screaming." And
with that he lifted the hand that was groping Obi-Wan, tried to
turn him over onto his stomach. "You want it." he growled again
as Obi-Wan gathered strength to resist.
"Nono... Yes, I do, just not that way," he clarified
hastily after a disbelieving snarl from Maul. "Come here,
lover." he added. Maul growled, instinctively unsettled by that
word, so Obi-Wan continued, "I want it like this..." He settled
back onto his back, and spread his legs without shame as he
held out his arms, beckoning Maul into his embrace. "I want to
see you fuck me. I want to see your face when you come
inside me." Obi-Wan whispered intensely, and Maul hissed his
hunger aloud. As Maul started to move closer, Obi-Wan added,
staring at him with imploring, lust-glazed eyes, "Please. Use
some lube. It's so thick, it hurts too much without it."
Maul bared his teeth in a silent snarl. Whaddaya mean 'it
hurts too much'? Isn't that the point? He drew
breath to refuse, but the sight of Obi-Wan, sweaty and flushed
and staring wantonly at him, desperate for him, was too much to
resist. Then, the warm scent from their bodies gave him an
idea. None of that wuss lube for him, but what about...
Maul ran his hand carefully over their bodies, collecting their semen,
Obi-Wan's cream and his own amber gel, and stroking the slippery mixture
over his cock, coating it until it glistened wetly all over. Obi-Wan panted
"Ohhyeah... C'mon, lover, c'mon!" and Maul was too far gone to even care
about the word. As Maul lunged for him, Obi-Wan arched his back eagerly off
the bed, wrapping his legs around Maul's waist. With one hard thrust of his
hips Maul stabbed his thick cock deep inside Obi-Wan's body. The human shouted
and clenched reflexively
around the sudden invasion, and Maul hissed "Yesss..." and
pumped his hips, thrusting deeper and deeper into that spasming
tightness.
A lascivious smile spread across Maul's face as he slammed
harder and harder into Obi-Wan. Ohhh yeaaah... Sssooo
tight... His eyes rolled up in his head, so he didn't see
when Obi-Wan reached up to him, started caressing and kneading
his shoulders and chest with a lover's sensual touch. Maul's
gaze snapped back to Obi-Wan's sultry eyes, and then human
hands slid up his neck, his cheeks, until fingertips traced
slow circles round the horns at his temples. A new storm of
pleasure crashed over Maul, radiating from the exquisitely
sensitive skin at the base of his horns. A deep groan rolled up
from the pit of Maul's throat and he couldn't stop himself from
bowing his head into the caresses, wordlessly begging for more,
accidentally bringing his face down to where Obi-Wan could kiss
him. Obi-Wan dived in at once, lacing his fingers behind Maul's
neck, bending as Maul leaned closer until his legs were hooked
over Maul's shoulders. And he kissed Maul, slow and searching
kisses, stroking softly into that hungry mouth. Passionate.
Intense. Loving.
By the time Maul noticed it had happened, his strokes had
already slowed, in time with those kisses, and with the hands
that meandered over his chest and arms, trailing fingertips
over the lines of his tattoos, caressing the hard contours of
his muscles. He was astonished to find that his pleasure didn't
really fade: instead it seemed to transform, to become
something timeless. He reared backward with aching slowness
until he almost pulled completely out, and then there seemed to
be no limit to the long blissful slide back into Obi-Wan's
tight body. They were groaning in unison now, snatching breaths
between kisses. Maul almost felt like he was floating.
His heavylidded eyes snapped wide a moment later. He was
floating. Or rather, they both were, drifting lazily in midair,
a slow, ethereal flight. Maul knew damn well it wasn't his
doing. He smirked inside. Nice trick Padawan, but now it's
my turn!
Maul reached out for the Force, as stealthily as only a Sith
can, and slowly started to build his rhythm, ever so gradually
thrusting faster and faster. Harder and harder. Heat and lust
and pure, animal pleasure rose higher in Maul, burned in him
like wildfire, and he radiated it deliberately into the sweaty
human in his arms. So tight and hot and deep... Ohhh
yeahhh...
When Obi-Wan groaned into Maul's mouth, he broke off the kiss
but leaned in below the line of Obi-Wan's chin, licking and
biting at his throat. The next moment, Obi-Wan thrashed in
mid-air so hard that Maul had to hang on. He chuckled. Obi-Wan
had just been goosed by the most unorthodox use of a Force-palm
he was ever likely to find. Maul rolled up mental sleeves,
cracked mental knuckles, and really got down and dirty.
In no time flat, Obi-Wan was writhing around on his nice little
Light Side cloud, growling like an animal in heat and begging
to be fucked like one. Maul snarled and slammed into Obi-Wan's
ass with the whole weight of his body behind the thrusts, and
as countless invisible 'hands' formed by Maul out of the Dark
Side, attacked Obi-Wan all over, stroking and pinching and
fingering and groping and fondling him clear out of his Jedi
mind.
It would be hard to say which was louder: Maul's roar of
lustful triumph, or Obi-Wan's scream of "YEEEeeeEEEsssSSS!"
Obi-Wan came so hard he actually passed out, but the bounce as
they both landed on the bed the next moment snapped him out of
it. They lay there for some time, panting and dazed by the
aftermath. Then Obi-Wan reached with the Force for the covers,
and drew them up over them both. Maul turned onto his side and
slid his arms around Obi-Wan, pulling him up to nestle against
his chest. Just for bodyheat. And that's the only
reason. Maul thought hazily, as his fiery eyes dimmed
toward sleep.
He couldn't see Obi-Wan's smile as he waited until all sense of
Maul's sharp, suspicious mind had drifted away. He didn't feel
Obi-Wan reach out with the Force and tuck the cover in behind
his back. And he certainly didn't overhear Obi-Wan's thoughts.
Kissing during, holding each other afterwards... It's not so
bad, now is it? Even if you never admit it in words, we both
know what you really are to me: lover. My wild lover. ...How do
you bring the wild thing in from the night? By feeding him what
he hungers for the most. He slid one hand over Maul's,
stroking it softly until the clawed clutch on his chest eased.
Maul woke up with one of the Padawan's appendages in his mouth.
I am going to bite this OFF one of these days! He spat
the braid out, noting approvingly that at least he'd soaked it
in drool while he was asleep.
He reared up onto one elbow, staring down at Obi-Wan, who still
slept curled on one side in front of him. The tangled sheet
draped almost sculpturally around the Padawan's legs, and his
surprisingly muscled chest and arms gleamed in the morning sun.
A satisfied smile curved the sleeper's lips and Maul gave a
brief, feral grin of his own as lustful memories surfaced. But
the grin faded into a narrow-eyed, considering look a moment
later.
No. What does the Handbook say? 'Once it's happenstance,
twice it's coincidence, three times it's enemy action.' How
many times does this make it? ...Too damn many. He reached
out and shook the Padawan's shoulder, trying not to admire the
contrast between that pale skin and his own patterned fingers.
When Obi-Wan just rolled over onto his back, smiled and
murmured something drowsy and unintelligible, Maul sighed
impatiently and gathered his concentration into a Force-shout.
Wake up!
Obi-Wan startled into a sitting position, then blinked at Maul
and smiled. "Well hello there. So you've decided to stay around
for more?" Obi-Wan murmured, blue eyes smoldering as he reached
for the other man. He was greeted with a hastily-raised Force
wall.
"Oh no you don't!" Maul hitched backwards across the bed for
good measure "You keep your hands off me!" As Obi-Wan's eyes
widened in a delicious look of shock and hurt, Maul growled,
"Now. You're going to give me some answers, for once!"
"But Maul," Obi-Wan wheedled, "Don't I always tell you
everything? How about that time when somehow my hair removal
wax was replaced with contact cement?" Maul grinned
nostalgically. Oh yes, that had been a good one, well worth
breaking into the twit's apartment. The screams when he helped
apply the turpentine were excelled only by the ones when he
actually pulled off the 'waxed' strips. "Or that time with
Qui-Gon, the new cuffs, the psychotropic lube and Boss Nass?"
"No, you didn't tell me about that one." As Obi-Wan opened his
mouth, Maul added Forcefully, "Don't!" He took a moment to beat
the resultant swarm of speculative yet disgusting mental images
back, though he couldn't do it physically of course. Slapping
himself in the forehead would be a good way to impale his palm.
"Now," Maul growled when he'd recovered his focus, "you are
going to admit that all this," he waved an arm vaguely, "the
entire setup, has been nothing but a deliberate and
underhanded plot to get me in the sack!" He glared
accusingly at the Padawan, who was looking infuriatingly
innocent at the moment, "And don't look at me like that! I mean
everything. Sucking up to My Apprentice, those revolting crying
fits, the lot." His rant gained momentum and he leaned in until
he was snarling nose-to-nose with the Padawan, yellow eyes
blazing. "Why I wouldn't be surprised if even that little
lovers' tiff with Qui-Gon was an out-and-out lie!" He
sat back, smirking. "Yesss, a lie. What sort of conduct is
that for a Jedi!" he added, twisting the knife.
Welcome to the club, Obi-Wan! I'll enjoy making an
Apprentice out of you, once I finish making Palpatine de foie
gras.
Far from being driven back by the close-range tirade, Obi-Wan
leaned in. His eyelids were half-lowered and a sultry smile
dawned on his lips. Captivated by the expression, waiting for
the Padawan's final capitulation, Maul let him wind his arms
around his waist, gather him into a tight, hot embrace. Soft
human lips brushed his ear, the tip of a tongue toying with the
stud in a way that sent shivers down his spine. Obi-Wan
breathed, "Ahhh Maul, but it's all in a very good cause,
I assure you." Maul froze, and he felt the mouth brushing
across his skin curve into a smile. "Think about it. The Force
is in balance. Everything one side can do, the other side can.
So, if people can be seduced to the Dark Side, why can't I
seduce you to the Light?"
Maul wanted to kill. It would be so easy. A simple headbutt
would punch a horn through the human's temple at this angle.
Never! Never! he howled inside his mind. He wanted to
Force-hammer Obi-Wan into a smear on the ceiling. No, too
impersonal. He wanted to feel human blood spurt beneath his
fingers! But when he moved his hands, they insisted on relaying
the delicious softness of Obi-Wan's skin. His nostrils
twitched, thirsty for the salt of tears and gore. But every
breath only hotwired the animal depths of his brain with the
scent of sunwarmed human body, and the aromas of last night's
passion. His hands weren't his own. He wanted to strangle, they
wanted to caress. His body wasn't his own. He wanted to murder
this upstart whelp of the Light Side, it wanted to grab that
supple, sinewy body, throw it down, and have wild, passionate
sex with it, over and over again.
After an endless moment poised agonizingly between reactions,
his fevered brain seized on the solution. Maybe I can fuck
him to death! Maul owed it to future generations of Sith
Lords to investigate this possible new assassination technique.
Very carefully. Over as long a period as possible. Trying every
combination of position, potion and tool could easily take
years. So what if it would be unusually slow, and merciful?
What the hell? A roguish leer spread over his face as he raked
Obi-Wan's body with that hot gaze. It was his turn to lean in,
taking Obi-Wan's earlobe in his teeth and biting it, before
murmuring, "Ahhh, Obi-Wan, but just who is really seducing
who?"
As hard, tattooed arms closed tight around him and they fell
sideways onto the bed, Obi-Wan wondered dazedly Maybe this
is what Qui-Gon means when he talks about finding a Balance in
the Force... Then, dazzling flares of the Light and roaring
storms of the Dark blotted out all coherent thought.
"Well! Just what sort of a reception is this?!"
The furious voice prodded them both out of sleep. They surfaced
from an indiscriminate (but enticing) tangle of limbs and
blinked at the vision of Palpatine, this time in a silver lame'
jumpsuit that suggested that either he'd been clubbing
recently, or that they'd both died of sexual exhaustion in
their sleep and been sent to Fashion Hell. But the foppish face
wore a thunderous frown that Obi-Wan had never seen there
before. Maul had, but not while his Master was still in his
Palpatine persona. This could mean only one thing: Sidious was
seriously losing his grip. Depending on how the next few
minutes played out, Maul might be Master of the Sith. Or he
might be a smoking hole in the ground.
Maul, you start radiating anguish and conflict so strong
that I can sense it all the way across town - and on Coruscant
that's saying something - I dash back to rescue you, and find
you cuddled up to this Jedi idiot?
"I can explain..." Maul said aloud, thinking fast. As far as
Obi-Wan knew, Palpatine was his sponsor. OK, just try to keep
the fiction going, just in case the Sith doesn't hit the fan
after all.
Don't bother. Sidious's voice hissed into his mind,
Corruption of innocents is all very well, in fact it's high
time, but you're supposed to kill them after you finish, not
hold them!
But Master, he is a Padawan. That's what makes it such a
challenge. But challenges can't be completed overnight. He's
been training for years. Overcoming that training will take
more years. ...But won't it be worth it? To not only take
someone Jedi-trained from them, but to actually turn him to the
Dark Side? Maul gathered all his energies and Mind Whammied
Sidious like he'd never Whammied anything before in his life,
including that Handbook. He felt the Force roaring through him
in an unprecedented torrent. In fact, if he hadn't known
better, he'd swear he was focusing more than he himself could
raise...
Hmmm. Not a bad idea at that. Not bad at all... Maul had
the impression Sidious was filing the concept away for future
reference. Well, carry on, then. Sidious thought
grudgingly. But you had better not let me catch you showing
weakness with this toyboy of yours, or the consequences will be
terrible! You two looked entirely too loving when I came
in. Maul caught the postscript (And gorgeous...) The
mental leer that followed was almost as sickening as the
earlier prospect of being Sith-kebabed on one of Sidious's
lightning bolts. Maul backed hastily out of the mental contact
while he could still hang onto his last meal.
At that moment, they all heard a key in the front door lock.
"Padawan, I'm ho-ome," singsonged Qui-Gon's voice, and the next
moment the overgrown hippie was silhouetted in the doorway,
holding out a pink teddy bear with a Padawan braid and a
pennant saying "Class of '69"
Sidious noted the use of Dramatic Entrance #35 with a
connoisseur's eye. At least Qui-Gon has enough hair to
stream in the breeze and carry it off. Lucky cow. Sidious
thought, still charged with righteous (wrongeous?) anger and
needing something to take it out on.
Qui-Gon drew himself up to his surprisingly imposing height and
said, "Senator, what are you doing in my Padawan's apartment?"
The sting of unexpected sexual frustration and dawning jealousy
from the Jedi Master attracted "Palpatine's" full attention.
"Don't be ridiculous, it's not that," More's the pity
Sidious sighed, "I just came here when I found my A-ssociate's
apartment empty," Sidious changed the word from Apprentice at
the last moment, "and wondered what he'd been up to. You'll
never guess what I found." Sidious stepped aside from
the bedroom door and waved the Jedi Master in, smiling
bitchily.
Qui-Gon visibly steeled himself before he peered round the
doorway, to find his Padawan and that... that tattooed freak
from next door, naked together in bed - Obi-Wan's bed! He
fought the memories down with difficulty. Obi-Wan was sitting
bolt upright with the sheets pulled up to his shoulders,
blushing furiously. Hornboy lounged back on his elbows,
watching the Jedi Master with knowing, tiger-yellow eyes and an
insolent sneer. That one probably couldn't feel enough
shame to blush, not that you could see it if he was.
Sidious poked his head round the door. Thirsty for more of
Qui-Gon's simmering jealousy, he added, "Apparently, one of the
things they teach in Padawan training is how to whore yourself
with the first" exotically handsome young "male in
sight."
"Excuse me," Qui-Gon intoned frostily, "but I'd rather you
didn't speak that way in front of my Padawan."
Anger! Genuine Jedi Master anger, coming straight at him!
Sidious's mouth watered and he had to swallow thickly before he
said, "Very well, then why don't we take this to the living
room?" He ironically waved Qui-Gon out and stalked eagerly
after him.
Maul exchanged glances with Obi-Wan and they both sat forward
with one accord. Obi-Wan tilted his head and cocked one ear, as
he strained to hear His Master's Voice. Fortunately for them
both, this display of gratuitous cuteness went unseen by Maul
as he too concentrated his Force-sharpened ears on the other
room.
Not that it was necessary. Soon, Qui-Gon and "Palpatine" had
escalated into a full scale queeny screaming match. Both Maul
and Obi-Wan soon abandoned their use of the Force. A little
while later they leaned back against the headboard. A bit later
than that, they'd ducked under the covers in an attempt to
screen their ears.
In the dark, Maul grinned. He knew that quavering undertone in
Sidious's voice of old. It meant that the old bastard was so
high on that rarest of drugs, pure concentrated Jedi Master
negativity, that it'd take him days to come down. Worry stabbed
suddenly at Maul. A hopped up Sith Master was capable of any
horror.
But then, all at once, the voices ceased. Obi-Wan's tousled
head popped up above the covers, listening, followed a moment
later by Maul's. Dimly they caught sounds. But not the sounds
they'd heard before. Giggles. Moans, quiet at first but
building. The telltale squeak of couch springs.
Maul and Obi-Wan turned to face each other, aghast. Maul was so
pale his tattoos had faded to pink and grey. The two listened,
frozen, for a long moment, which was broken by a cry of "Ooo!
Spank me, Love Monkey!" from Sidious. They gave a simultaneous
shudder of pure, skincrawling horror. Maul buried his face in
the hollow of Obi-Wan's neck, squeezing his eyes shut in a
futile attempt to block out the mental images his accursed
Master was tormenting him with. Bitterly, he realized that, yes
Virginia, there are some things that squick even a Sith Lord.
From his apartment, he sensed the Handbook opening lazily and
snapping shut, crushing his errant thought like a bug
between its pages and preserving it for posterity.
With one thought, they lunged at each other, desperate to do
something, anything, that would block out the noises crawling
through the walls and make them forget the ones they'd already
heard. They made some interesting discoveries together: that
thigh muscles make for very effective earmuffs. That it's hard
to yell with your mouth full. That human semen doesn't taste as
bland and creamy as it looks. And that, in at least one
way, a certain Sith was really surprisingly tasteful, even
sweet.
A short while later, Maul was stretched out flat on his back,
and Obi-Wan was curled up by his side, one arm draped over
Maul's taut stomach. The noises from the other room had died
down, which only added to the post-canary-catlike smiles on
both their faces. Idly, Maul reached out with the Force, that
famous speeder-wreck curiosity driving him to find out what was
going on in the other room, regardless of what damage it might
do to his unsuspecting psyche.
"Mmm, Qui-baby, that was toooo scrumptious," 'Palpatine'
simpered. What was worse was, Maul could sense that Sidious
meant it! "That really was the best I ever had." What with that
rich entree of Jedi anger and jealousy that Qui-Gon had fed
him, Sidious was probably telling the truth about that. The
truth. To a Jedi. What the hell sort of conduct is
that for a Sith Master? Maul sat up, listening
intently, forgetting even to breathe.
The tones in the room beyond lowered to something more closely
resembling Sidious's real voice, as he continued, "Still, don't
Jedi have rules against indulging themselves in negative
emotions? Ones such as jealousy? Anger? ...Outrageous,
ravening, lussst?" Sidious drawled triumphantly.
Maul could hear the grin in Qui-Gon's voice. "Ahhh Palpatine,
but it's all in a very good cause, I assure you." Maul's
eyes widened in delighted anticipation, and a huge shit-eating
grin plastered itself over his face as he listened.
Obi-Wan caught Maul's change of expression, but only managed to
say "What...?" before being silenced by tattooed fingers
pressed with absentminded softness to his lips.
"Shh. Any moment now..."
"If people can be seduced to the Dark Side, Ethril my darling,"
they could hear Qui-Gon murmuring affectionately into
Palpatine's sweaty ear, "then why can't I seduce you to the
Light?"
Maul smiled with savage delight at Obi-Wan. "Here it comes..."
"nnnNNNOOOoooOOOoooOOO!!!!!"
A wail of horrified, existential realization. A cry of
absolute, cosmic helplessness in the face of a greater force.
And for once, for ONCE, it was coming from Sidious!
Turnabout's vicious, Sid! Maul sneered inside.
Maul stretched luxuriously and collapsed backward onto the bed.
A slow sigh of absolute physical bliss worked its way up from
his toes and rolled out of him, blowing away years of
frustration with the hypocrisy of a very flawed Master who
still expected perfection from his luckless Apprentice. Maul's
eyes rolled back in his head as his Sith spirit bodysurfed in
the black tsunami of horror and shame that his Master was
providing for him, for once in his miserable life.
It just doesn't get any better than this... Maul thought
dimly, dazed by the pure power of his Master's despair. Dark
Side, take me now. Now I can die happy...
Until a hand, warm, the muscles surprisingly strong under that
soft human skin, trailed its way softly down his body,
following the jags and swirls of his tattooing, slowly drawing
closer and closer to hard and throbbing flesh.
A purr rumbled from Maul's chest and one hand slid up Obi-Wan's
satiny back. Tinted fingers curved to cup the back of the
bobbing head in a grip that was half possessive clutch, half
caress. Force tendrils dark as the void uncoiled from the
depths of Maul's being as his ecstasy soared. His dark essence
reached for the other man, twining with the Padawan's dazzling
rays as the world behind Maul's clenched eyelids went to white.
Aaaah... Now... NOW nothing could be better... than...
THIS!!!
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